by Anya Nowlan
There were no gunshots to be heard, so at least that was a good sign.
Be careful, Wes, she chanted in her mind as she reached the building and opened the door.
She was immediately hit with a damp, musty smell as she stepped inside. From the inside, there was nothing left of the building but its bare bones. Exposed metal beams gave way to broken windows, most of them nailed shut. There was trash everywhere, adding to the mixture of odors.
Since most of the windows were boarded up, the place was dark, and she kept to the walls as her vision adjusted. Keeping her steps light, she moved forward, listening for any signs of movement.
The place was huge, and she didn’t even know which floor Elias could be on, so she started clearing the building room by room, to make sure there weren’t any surprises hidden anywhere.
The first floor was mostly made up of production floors, huge, bare rooms with high ceilings. She found nothing there, so she made her way to the staircase leading up to the second floor.
Remembering the story about a kid falling through the stairs, here, she carefully tested each stair before stepping on it with her full weight. The wood was waterlogged and rotted, and the handrail had already mostly fallen off it.
Heart pounding, she finally made it upstairs. Stopping at the landing for a moment, she listened again, until she was sure she could hear a faint tapping coming from the hallway leading to the right.
Backing up against the wall, she slowly walked down the hallway, peeking inside abandoned offices as she went. Some had abandoned file cabinets in them, with yellowed papers scattered on the floor, but nothing really screamed out ‘secret spellcasting room’.
The whole second floor was a maze of different-sized rooms, which Dakota attempted to mentally map out for herself in case she needed to make a quick getaway. Most of the doors were hanging open, and some rooms didn’t have doors at all, so when she spotted a closed entrance to a room at the end of a hallway, that’s what she headed toward.
A smell wafted toward her as she set her sights on it, stronger than the general scent of mold and mustiness. It was the stench of decay, a warning to her senses that urged her to turn around and walk away.
But she didn’t. She couldn’t, not when she was now sure she was on the right track.
As quietly as she could, she took a bolt from the pouch strapped across her body, and armed her crossbow before opening the door. The smell hit her two-fold now, making her gag. But she suppressed that reflex, walking forward, her head on a swivel.
The small window in the room was only boarded up halfway, so there was some light. Where she was standing, she could see every corner of the room, and there was no one there.
Frowning to herself, she walked over to a desk pushed up against the back wall.
Yes! she thought to herself, her gaze immediately fixing on the books she had been looking for all this time.
But there was more.
A metal bowl was placed in the middle of the desk, and it seemed there were decorations of some sort placed around it. It was as if the bowl represented the sun, and the pieces placed around it were its rays.
But something was off. Dakota’s stomach clenched as she got even closer, suppressing a cough as the smell of death clawed at her senses. Standing over the desk, it was clear to her the ‘decorations’ she had noticed weren’t decorations at all.
They were human fingers. And the bowl was filled with thick, coagulated blood. It was also smeared over the desk, making up symbols that were mostly unfamiliar to her.
Son of a bitch, she swore to herself, backing away. Fuck.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t known dark magic dealt with some fucked up shit, but seeing it for herself was something else. The flesh on the fingers looked to be decaying, turning blue and brown, so they had to have been there for a while.
They have to be from Timothy. Unless there’s a human finger store I don’t know about.
Footsteps coming from somewhere in the hallway made her whirl around, the adrenaline pounding through her veins making her even more on edge. Could it be that Wes had shifted back and had come looking for her? Or was it Elias, coming to continue whatever gruesome ritual he was in the middle of?
Just in case, she lifted the crossbow, and aimed it at the doorway. The steps stopped for a moment outside the door. And then, a familiar face appeared.
“Ms. Thompson,” Elias said, giving her an insincere smile. “You do realize you’re trespassing?”
“Really?” Dakota scoffed, noting that even in this place, Elias was still dressed in a suit, a watch glinting on his wrist, and his hair carefully slicked back. “You want to talk trespassing while you’ve been finger painting with someone else’s fingers?” she shot back, aiming the crossbow right at the man’s chest.
“Touché,” Elias laughed. “I guess you’ve got me,” he shrugged.
Dakota narrowed her eyes at him.
“You’re awfully cheerful for someone in the sights of a crossbow,” she remarked.
“What have I got left to fear?” he spread his hands. “I’ve already met demons. And no offense, but you’re not half as scary.”
“Shut up,” Dakota replied, tired of hearing his slimy voice. “Now get out of my way, or I’ll show you how scary I can really be.”
“You’re a stubborn girl, aren’t you?” Elias carried on, unfazed by the threat.
“Determined,” she replied. “And you must have been real pissed when the demons you sent after me turned out to be useless,” she added, giving him a wide smile.
Elias’ jaw clenched, just for a moment.
“I do admit I underestimated you,” he shrugged, pursing his lips. “But I’ve learned from my mistakes.”
The skin on the back of Dakota’s neck prickled. She had thought she had gotten to Elias before he could use the books again… Could it be she had been wrong?
She got her answer when a vise-like grip suddenly caught her from behind, pinning her hands to her sides and crushing the air from her lungs. She tried to gasp in a breath, to call out, to scream so that Wes would know she was in trouble… But she could do none of those things.
All she could do was watch Elias in the doorway, his head thrown back in laughter.
So much for the plan.
Thirty-Six
Wes
“Just get the goddamned keys!” Wes heard Grover yell as he approached the corner of the building, following the men to the back of the warehouse.
“I can’t find them,” was Jenkins’ panicked reply.
With a growl in his throat, Wes quietly padded toward the men’s voices, every muscle tense. Dakota had to be inside already, and Wes wasn’t about to let Elias’ guards get in her way. And the faster he dealt with these guys, the faster he could go and make sure she was all right.
Unfortunately for Elias’ men, that meant he was all out of patience.
“Cooper, you keep an eye out and be ready to shoot that thing,” Jenkins added, glancing over at the tall man Wes had jumped before in the middle of his cigarette break.
Carefully peering around the corner, Wes could easily see the three men huddled around a door in the dark. Jenkins was patting his pockets, all but turning his jacket inside out. The man that had been smoking before had his gun in his hand, looking around. And Grover had wrapped his jacket around his arm, grimacing as he peeled it aside to get a better look at his wound.
Not wanting to wait until the men adjusted to the darkness around them, Wes shot forward from his hiding place, aiming for the biggest threat first – Cooper.
With Wes’ paws soft on the dirt, and his body low to the ground, it took Cooper a good second to even notice the wolf charging toward him. The man aimed his gun, and was already squeezing his trigger when Wes reached him. But Cooper was too late. The bullet never left the barrel.
With nothing but the thought of reaching Dakota as soon as possible in his mind, Wes leapt at Cooper, his long nails slashing across the man’s shir
t as he tackled the guard to the ground. Cooper screamed, and Wes could hear the man’s flesh give way beneath his claws.
With a growl in his chest, he took savage pleasure in the scent of blood in the air. It meant the battle was on, and his wolf was ready to slash through anyone that got in his way. But Wes knew he also had to stay sharp and focused. He was outnumbered, after all, and it would only take one well-aimed bullet for him to be out of the equation for good.
Whipping his head around, he noted that Jenkins had stopped his attempts at finding his keys, and Grover was fumbling around, awkwardly gripping his gun in his left hand.
Whirling around, Wes charged at him next. He needed to throw the guy off balance before Grover got a good shot at him. The first part of Grover he could reach was his thigh, so Wes didn’t hesitate to sink his teeth into the man’s flesh, as deep as he could.
Shaking his head, Wes tore at Grover’s leg, ignoring the way the man howled in pain. Cooper was still on the ground, clutching his chest and quietly moaning to himself. Pure adrenaline pumped through Wes, making him care about nothing but taking these men out.
His wolf reveled in the savagery, happy to finally be let loose. Grover tried to back away, to pry Wes off his leg, but Wes held on, even as blood filled his mouth. Grover’s fingers yanked at his fur. In desperation, the man tugged at Wes’ ears, tried using his other knee to push him off… But it didn’t work.
Wes only let up when a heavy boot smashed into his side, sending pain radiating through his body.
Snarling, he unclamped his jaws, his head whipping around as another kick landed against his ribs, knocking him back. The air was sucked out of his lungs, making him draw in a deep, painful breath.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Jenkins yelled, spreading his arms. “You want more?”
Fur standing on edge and his side aching, Wes took a few steps back, digging his paws into the dirt as he stared Jenkins down.
From the corner of his eye, he could see Grover slumped against the side of the building, hands clasped around the jagged wound on his thigh. Blood was seeping through his fingers, and he was looking paler by the second.
Cooper was still on the ground, but on all fours this time, probably feeling around for the gun he had misplaced in all the commotion.
I have to end this.
Pushing off, Wes tapped into every reserve in his body, speeding through the air like a bullet. He was headed straight toward Jenkins, but feigned to the left at the last second, coming up behind the man instead.
Jenkins was just starting to turn around when Wes bit into his calf, feeling tendons snap beneath his teeth. Jenkins went down, screaming in agony, falling to one knee before tumbling face-first into the dirt.
The night air was filled with the sounds of pain, of men struggling to get on their feet, to fight for their lives. Wes’ eyes swept over all of them as he released Jenkins’ leg, feeling blood trickle down his muzzle.
His mind was wild, overcome with the heat of the fight, so he had to focus to regain control. Pushing aside his animal instincts, he pulled on the reins of his wolf, willing the beast to retreat.
Bones realigning beneath his skin, Wes could feel his spine straighten and his muzzle pull back into his face. Skin replaced fur and paws turned to hands and feet as he let the shift wash over him, a wave that transformed every cell of his body. The transformation was smooth and practiced, painless except for when it came for his bruised ribs.
For a moment, it was odd to be on two feet again, but when Wes spotted Cooper’s fingers curling around his gun, half-buried in the dirt, he sprang into action. Wes’ boot came down on the man’s hand, moving as if he was putting out a cigarette.
Bending down, Wes picked up the weapon, with Grover and Jenkins staring at him in disbelief.
“It’s a goddamn shifter!” Jenkins exclaimed.
Grover was swimming in and out of consciousness at that point, unable to say anything. Cooper twisted his head around, eyes wide, as Wes lifted his foot from the man’s hand.
“You have a choice,” Wes said, looking at all the men in turn. “Your friend over there has lost a lot of blood,” he tilted his chin at Grover. “You can get in your car and drive him to the hospital before he bleeds to death,” he announced, holding Cooper’s gun at his side. “Or you can stay here and die.”
“Jenkins,” Cooper said, fear coloring his tone. “Come on, man. No money is worth this.”
Jenkins grunted something in response, pushing himself upward while avoiding putting weight on his mauled calf.
“I’ll get Grover,” he said, looking over at Wes. “And then we’ll get in the car and go.”
Wes nodded, walking over to help Jenkins get Grover up and moving. In battle, these men might have been his enemies, but now, they were just wounded men caught up in Elias’ machinations.
Stumbling and bleeding, all three guards finally made it to the SUV. Wes relieved them of all their weapons, emptying the clips and throwing them to the ground. Jenkins and Grover got in the back, both applying pressure to their wounds. Cooper got behind the wheel, wincing as his shirt clung to the edges of the jagged gashes on his chest.
“Leave, and forget all of this,” Wes said, as Cooper started the car. “If I ever see you again, I will not be this merciful,” he warned.
Cooper only nodded, and Wes pushed the driver’s side door shut. Wheels spinning, Cooper pulled away from the factory, gunning it for the exit. Wes watched the SUV speed through the open fence, and head back toward the city.
His wolf still close to the surface, he marched over to the open front door of the factory building, Cooper’s gun still in hand. He could smell Dakota’s scent trail there immediately, but there was another smell that was a lot more potent.
Death, he thought, sniffing the air.
Cold, dark and musty, the factory spread out before him, a skeletal remain of what it used to be. Following Dakota’s trail, he perked up his ears. There was definitely movement on the second floor.
Not knowing exactly what he might be walking into, Wes tried to be as stealthy as possible as he rushed through empty rooms toward the staircase, listening to two hearts beating ahead.
Dakota probably already has Elias tied up in a corner, he told himself, even as the scent of decaying flesh got stronger and stronger.
Old floorboards creaking beneath his steps, Wes stopped at the top of the stairs, eyes fixing on an open door at the end of the hall. He walked toward it at first, but shot out into a run when he heard Dakota groan softly in the silence.
Barreling through the doorway, he skidded to a halt when he saw Dakota in the middle of the room, squeezed between two massive arms. Her shoulders were folded, elbows pressed together, the pain on her face clear to see.
Behind her, a giant of a man grinned back at Wes, crooked, sharp teeth on full display. Standing at least seven feet tall, with short, inky black hair and a thin, flat face, the man barely looked human. His clothes were odd, a mixture of fashions from different centuries, from breeches and brogues to a Led Zeppelin t-shirt.
As if the man’s strange appearance wasn’t clue enough, the scent that wafted into Wes’ nostrils was one he had only smelled once before – when he had been fighting Loch.
Demon, he thought, eyeing the man with a snarl on his lips.
And a powerful one by the looks of it.
Elias’ laughter echoed out into the room, and Wes spared a sideways glance at the man. He was hardly Wes’ biggest problem at that moment.
“Wes,” Dakota whispered, sounding like she was having trouble breathing.
Taking a step forward, Wes could already feel his wolf more than ready for round two, but he stopped himself when Elias spoke up.
“Stop,” he said. “Another step, and I’ll have my friend here crush your girlfriend like a cheap piñata,” Elias grinned, walking over to stand by the demon’s side. “And that would end things far too soon for my liking.”
Thirty-Seven
Da
kota
With her body squeezed against the demon behind her, bones aching from the grip he had on her, Dakota stared at Wes, who was standing alone in the middle of the room. Blood was smeared around his mouth, with trails of it leading down his throat, but he looked unharmed.
It’s not his blood, Dakota thought to her relief.
Growling, Wes’ gaze darted between her, Elias, and the creature holding her in place. Dakota looked down, trying to draw Wes’ eyes to the crossbow she had dropped on the floor. She couldn’t be sure if he got the hint or not, but either way, Wes was stuck for now.
If he moved, she had no doubt Elias would follow through with his threat and have his pet demon squeeze her to death. She could feel his hot, heavy breath on the top of her head, smelling like rotten eggs, and she pushed down her urge to gag.
“Make him let her go, or I’ll rip your throat out,” Wes snarled, fixing his gaze on Elias.
“And if I do that, you won’t sink your teeth into me the first chance you get?” Elias chuckled. “I’m guessing that’s the blood of my security guards that’s dripping down your neck,” he added, sounding more amused than anything.
“Wolf,” The demon, Marax, grumbled, making Elias arch a brow at Wes.
“You’re a shifter?” he asked, but Wes didn’t reply.
Dakota tried to struggle, tried to make herself limp and heavy, but nothing worked. The more she squirmed, the tighter the demon’s hold became, until she was having trouble getting in enough air. Already getting lightheaded, she stilled, hoping that would make the creature loosen its grip.
“Who did you…” she started, pausing to wheeze in a breath, “kill to get this goliath to show up?” she finished, angling her face toward Elias.
Her only hope was to distract Elias until either she or Wes could find an opening, a way to get out of this mess without dying. And Elias seemed to her like a talker. No doubt he would revel in laying his brilliant plans out to them, like some sort of second-rate Bond villain.