“Better get that shoulder back in place.” The man grabbed Marcus’s right arm. “On ‘three’. One…”
He yanked on Marcus’s arm, popping his shoulder back into its socket. Marcus grunted, the pain of it barely registering in the chaos his senses were throwing at him.
“I find these things go easier when unexpected.” The man pulled Marcus to a sitting position, then wrapped his arms around Marcus’s middle and helped him stand. “Come on. Walk it off.”
The man supported Marcus’s weight as they took a few steps together. Marcus felt his pain recede—gravity and his dweller nature aligning his leg and anklebones and knitting them back together. His mind cleared enough to think.
Why doesn’t this guy feel like prey?
The man turned in Marcus’s grasp so that they stood face-to-face, holding onto each other’s shoulders as Marcus swayed on his feet. The voice in his head was silent as Marcus tried to figure out who this person was.
Dark gray hair with streaks of silver, tan skin, a nice suit—somehow untouched by the rain—and flat black eyes. The fading light that fought its way through the cloud cover didn’t cast any reflection in them.
“There you are, brother.” He cast a warm smile at Marcus. “Good as new.”
Marcus coughed again and shook his head. He swallowed down what little blood remained in his mouth, then took a deep breath through his nose.
The scent of leaf rot filled his lungs. The scent of Tessa’s dwellers. Which meant…
“I’m Edgar,” the man said. The guileless smile remained on his face. “I’m here for my wife, Tessa.”
Marcus roared. He grabbed Edgar by the sides of his head—briefly registering the confused expression on Edgar’s face—then twisted and pulled. Edgar’s head popped off in Marcus’s hands.
“That was extraordinarily rude,” Edgar said.
The shock of it was enough that Marcus let the head drop to the ground. He staggered back a step.
Edgar’s body hadn’t fallen and didn’t look put out in any way by what Marcus had done. It bent down and picked up Edgar’s head. As the body held the head on top of its neck stump, the tissues of Edgar’s neck reformed, pulling his head back in place. Edgar worked his jaw a few times, turned his head side to side, then straightened his tie.
And smiled.
“Did that help you feel better?” Edgar said.
Marcus couldn’t bring himself to speak. He stood in place, ready to fight or…run? He had torn Edgar’s head off, and it hadn’t made the man bat an eye.
“I’ve heard of you,” Edgar said. “The werewolf who fights for the Blades.”
Where the hell was Dexter?
Edgar chuckled. “You need to be careful about that. It isn’t natural for us to oppose each other. We should be helping one another. Which brings me back to my business here. Tessa.”
“You can’t have her,” Marcus growled.
“Is that so?”
“She’s joined my pack. She’s mine.”
“I see.” Edgar laughed and shook his head. “She’s wrapped you around her finger, hasn’t she.”
Marcus growled again.
“My friend, Tessa is a hunter. She would never join a werewolf’s pack, unless she was trying to take them down from within. She’s also a master manipulator, who is very adept at using men to get what she wants. Human or dweller.”
“It isn’t like that,” Marcus said.
“Isn’t it?”
No. She wasn’t using him. The connection they had—the feelings growing between them—were real. Even if they’d happened in only a couple of days…
Edgar shook his head. “Well, then, I suppose you’ll want to turn her. It doesn’t make sense to have a ghoul living in a pack of werewolves. I’ll just retrieve my dwellers and be on my way.”
“You can do that?” The words escaped before Marcus could stop them, filled with a desperation he knew he shouldn’t reveal. And worse—triggering a longing he didn’t want to recognize.
Once her dwellers were removed, Tessa would be free of Edgar. Free and whole. And human.
“You could turn her. Make her one of us”
Marcus shook his head, as if that could dislodge the thought—the thought he wasn’t entirely certain came from his dweller.
Edgar smiled. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”
It didn’t matter if Tessa could become a werewolf. She wouldn’t want to. And Marcus would never turn her against her will.
He growled louder and took a step toward Edgar.
Edgar held up his hands and stepped back. “I don’t want to fight you, brother. I honor our customs and will leave you in peace. But I must retrieve what I came for.”
Gravel crunched behind them as one of the vans approached. Finally, some backup.
“You took your sweet time,” Marcus said.
He kept his gaze on Edgar. After that trick with the head, Marcus didn’t want to let Edgar out of his sight.
In his periphery, Marcus saw a stingray held in shaking hands. Shaking hands attached to thin, pale arms that looked unaccustomed to outdoors or natural sunlight.
“Vaughn?” Marcus said. “What are you doing here?”
“Freaking the fuck out.” Vaughn pointed the stingray at Edgar aggressively. “Don’t try anything. We’ve studied your physiology and know enough electricity will kill you. This weapon is maxed out.”
Edgar held up his hands.
“Where’s Dexter?” Marcus said.
“Prepping the pit.” Vaughn’s voice was shaking. “Porter wants this guy brought in.”
“Why aren’t you the one prepping the pit?”
“I don’t know,” Vaughn yelled. He sounded borderline hysterical. “I only work here!”
The pit was the highest security holding cell they had. Marcus wasn’t sure it would be enough. But if Edgar really could cure Tessa…
They had to take the chance. Marcus would make sure that Edgar never got close to Tessa. Whatever he had in mind to remove his dwellers from her, Porter would vet the procedure, and Marcus would be there every step of the way.
He could save her. He could keep her whole.
But first he had to get Vaughn back inside.
Marcus stalked past Edgar and pushed his motorcycle upright. The wheels wouldn’t turn anymore, so Marcus lifted it over his head and carried it to the van. He leapt to the roof, then set the wreckage down with a grunt. He jumped back to the ground and picked up his helmet.
“Gotta love werewolf strength,” Edgar said, his smile never fading.
Marcus held out his hand to Vaughn. “Give me the stingray.”
“What?”
“Brute force doesn’t work on this guy. I need you to drive us in.”
“This is such a bad idea.” Vaughn handed over the weapon reluctantly and took Marcus’s helmet, then backed up several more paces. He tapped some commands into his watch and the back doors of the van opened.
His face was ashen white and his heart was pounding. Marcus could hear it. If they didn’t get back inside soon, Vaughn might pass out.
Marcus pointed the stingray at Edgar. “Get in the van.”
“Just…don’t let him spit anything on me, okay?” Vaughn said.
“Spit on you?” Edgar looked genuinely confused. “Why would I do that?”
“To turn me into one of your ghoul lackeys.” Vaughn sounded a bit uncertain.
Edgar just laughed. “You certainly have some colorful ideas. But don’t worry, I’ll play nice.” As Edgar passed Marcus, he said, “Your human pet is cute.”
“Hey, I heard that.” Vaughn craned his neck to look at them around the van, then ran to the driver’s seat.
“Get in.” Marcus waited for Edgar to jump into the back of the van before following. They sat across from each other on the bench seats.
The back doors closed automatically, and the faint buzzing from the front let Marcus know that Vaughn had turned on an electrical field meant to keep him safe. Marc
us hoped it would work.
When they started to move, Marcus brought his full attention back to Edgar, watching him for any sign of aggression. Edgar kept his hands folded in his lap, giving Marcus that unnerving smile.
Strangely, the expression reminded him of Porter. Marcus tried to shake the thought away, but something was nagging at the back of his mind.
“Nice ride,” Edgar said. “I’m glad to see that Tessa will be well taken care of.”
Marcus growled. “How will you remove the dwellers? I’m not going to let you touch her.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Edgar said. “If I’m close enough, I can call them back. The process won’t be completely painless.”
“Wait, this guy can take out Tessa’s dwellers?” Vaughn said.
Marcus nodded. “That’s what he says.”
“I still think this is a bad idea, but I get why we’re doing it now.” Vaughn pulled the van into the garage beneath the barn, then looked back at them over his shoulder. “We’ve made it this far. Dexter says the pit is ready. He wants us to help our guest settle in.”
The back doors swung open. Marcus stood—crouched over—and leapt to the floor. He kept the stingray trained on Edgar as he followed.
“Very nice.” Edgar straightened the lapels of his jacket as he looked around.
Vaughn opened the access door to the sublevel of the ranch. As the ramp to the barn garage above lifted shut, he let out a huge breath, visibly relaxing. “This way.”
“Of course,” Edgar said.
He was being too cooperative. It was grating on Marcus’s nerves. But then, if they fought, someone would have to kill Edgar…somehow. And any hope for curing Tessa without removing her arm would be gone.
They all entered the elevator. Marcus stood between Vaughn and Edgar.
“This technology is…interesting.” For the first time, Edgar’s smile seemed a bit forced. He looked around at the elevator, then to the stingray Marcus held.
The doors whooshed open again. Edgar hesitated before stepping out.
“Go on,” Marcus said.
Edgar did as instructed, stepping into the slate-gray hallway of the pit. Cells lined the hall, made of a transparent material that wasn’t glass or clear plastic, but something stronger. Something Vaughn had “dreamed up” and that had taken the Blades several years to develop in their factories.
“Who designed this place?” Edgar said.
“Actually—”
Marcus cut Vaughn off with a sharp shake of his head.
“Actually, that’s none of your business,” Vaughn said. “Keep walking.”
Edgar’s interest in the site was setting Marcus off. If that interest turned to Vaughn, it would be that much worse.
Protect the pack.
Marcus could tell it was his own thought. Not his dweller’s. The voice in his head was still being quiet, but he could feel its steady presence in the back of his mind, watching.
Marcus stopped at the end of the hallway, in front of the door to the only cell that was lit. “This is it.”
The cells at least looked more like the levels above. Everything inside was white and chrome. The walls were completely smooth, with no places for anyone—or anything—to grip and tear. And even if something managed to smash through them, they would find another layer of Vaughn’s…unbreakable…not-glass. Then cinderblock. Then bedrock.
The ceilings were smooth as well, with lights built into the material. Some cells had a small opening for passing food into the room, but not this one. All it had was a vent made of pin-sized holes high up in the wall above the bench seat opposite the door.
Edgar wasn’t going anywhere.
He walked into the cell and turned in a slow circle. That damned smile returned.
Vaughn keyed in a command sequence using his watch and the door slid shut. Marcus could hear the room pressurizing.
“I hope you like the place,” Vaughn said. “Because you’re going to be here for a while.”
“Like it?” Edgar stared at Vaughn with the same intense scrutiny he’d been scanning the area with. “Why, it feels just like home.”
Marcus growled and stepped forward. Vaughn put a hand on his chest, holding him back.
“Hey. Come on,” Vaughn said. “This guy isn’t going anywhere. Let’s get back upstairs. We can monitor him remotely.”
They headed down the hall to the elevator. Edgar stood placidly in the center of his cell, hands in his pockets, as the doors to the elevator closed.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sleeping in Marcus’s bed was a hell of a lot more comfortable than Tessa’s old van. She rolled over and stretched, reaching for him. All she found were cold sheets.
“Marcus?” She propped herself up on her elbows and looked around. There was no sign of him.
Yawning, she rose and sat on the edge of the bed. Maybe he was getting ready to go on patrol. If so, she wanted to tag along.
She grabbed her clothes and pulled them on, checking her pocket to make sure the stingray was in place. As soon as she could, she’d ask Dexter about getting an upgrade.
Now seemed like a pretty good time. She headed to the ops room, thinking Vaughn would be there. He’d be able to tell her where everybody was—including Marcus.
She hummed some corny music as the elevator’s doors whooshed shut. Halfway through her song, her arm started to itch under her wristband. Her dwellers were probably still riled up from the surgery. She hummed louder, trying to ignore it.
By the time the elevator stopped and the doors opened, the itching had turned to stinging. She needed Porter, but wasn’t sure where he was and didn’t have time to search for him. She ran to the ops room for help.
Vaughn was tapping away on his desk next to Marcus, who was leaning against the table’s surface. His arms were crossed over his chest, showcasing his muscles. It was almost enough to distract her from the wriggling under her skin.
Almost.
He took one look at her and stood, hands curling into fists at his sides. “What’s wrong?”
She hurried over to them, at least letting herself be reassured by Marcus’s closeness.
“Do you know where Porter…” Her voice trailed off as she glanced at the monitors.
The view was new. The subject wasn’t.
A man was sitting in a plain cell on a smooth bench, hands folded in his lap, familiar smile on his face.
Edgar…
“What the fuck is that?” she yelled, pointing at the monitor.
Vaughn glanced up at it and started stammering. “Oh, that… Um… That’s…”
She grabbed Vaughn’s arm and yanked him out of his chair. “We have to get out of here. Come on.”
“Tessa, relax,” he said. “We’ve been watching him the whole time he’s been in there. All twenty minutes of it.”
“You have no idea how dangerous he is,” she said. “Or what you’re dealing with.”
“There’s no way for him to get out.” Vaughn shrugged off her grip and sat back at his desk, typing in commands. One of the monitors flickered, then showed a rotating line drawing of Edgar’s cell. “The door is the only way in or out of the room. When we close it, it’s hermetically sealed.”
“So it’s airtight?” she said.
“The door is.” Vaughn tapped a few more times on the desk, and a band that ran along the back wall of the cell was highlighted—the wall above where Edgar was sitting. “There’s a row of tiny holes for ventilation, but you couldn’t fit a needle through them. Even if he sent out a scout, Edgar’s dwellers are too big to fit through them.”
“No one can escape from that cell,” Marcus said.
Tessa’s heart was pounding so hard she couldn’t swallow. She had to push her words out to speak. Edgar had surprised her too many times before. Not even she knew the limits of what he could do.
“Edgar Eaton isn’t just anyone.” Or anything. She turned and started to run toward the door.
Marcus follow
ed, grabbing her arm. “He’s contained.”
She shook him off. “You’re delusional.”
The door whooshed open as she turned, fully prepared to run as fast as she could in any direction that took her away from the ranch. She made it one step before bouncing into a broad, black-clad chest. Strong hands clasped her arms.
Dexter stepped into the room, pushing her back in with him. He looked down at her, something close to concern etching a line between his dark brows.
“What’s going on?” he said.
“What the fuck is Edgar doing here?” Tessa’s voice was high and thin, cracking with the energy of her fear.
She shoved Dexter away, backing into a corner, glancing all around the room, wondering how tight the seals in the light fixtures were. The vents suddenly looked huge.
“I captured him,” Marcus said.
She froze, her stomach clenching. “You? You brought him here?”
Marcus was supposed to be keeping her safe. Not letting her personal nemesis into the house she had hoped would become her home.
“This is what happens when I let my guard down. This is what happens when…” She shook her head sharply. “Forget it. You’re all insane or too cocky or just plain stupid. I’m out.”
She tried to walk around Dexter, but he stepped in front of the door, blocking her path.
Rage swelled up in her. The stinging of her dwellers had turned to a steady burn. The hair on both of her arms stood on end. She prayed it was just from the adrenaline.
“You did not just do that,” she said.
Dexter’s voice was calm. “Tessa, we can keep you safe.”
“Step. Aside.”
Dexter didn’t move. Not even when she pulled the stingray out of her pocket and pointed it at him.
Marcus stepped between them. “Tessa, what are you doing?”
Her hand was shaking. Because her dwellers were activating—not because pointing a weapon at Marcus was breaking her heart.
“Step aside, Marcus. I don’t want to shoot you, but I will.”
“Go ahead,” Dexter said. “It won’t kill him.”
Vaughn piped in. “But it will piss him off.”
Marcus let out a low growl, glaring at Vaughn for a moment.
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