He took a swig, the cool liquid and bubbles surprisingly refreshing.
“So,” said David. “I’m going to assume you’re here because of all this shifter business I’m hearing about on the news.”
“You assume right.”
“I don’t know what you think I can do to help. Like I said, I don’t work for that department anymore. Hell, I don’t work anymore, period.”
“How did this woman—Winters—get you out of your job?”
“There was an ... incident. I got managed out on a psychological report. Apparently, I couldn’t handle the stress of the job.”
“That’s bullshit. You’ve got the strongest psyche of anyone I know. So what are you doing now?”
He shrugged. “Not much. I was discharged on a full pension.”
Peter could barely believe that the man who once ran the whole research department now sat at home, doing crosswords and playing the occasional game of golf.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he told his ex-colleague. “I know how much you loved your job.” Even as he said the words, he experienced a pang of guilt.
“I loved my job before you came into my life, Peter. I loved it when things were simple, when I was still able to put my faith in science.”
Peter took another swig of beer, swallowed, and then said, “After you found out about me, about what I was, you could have kept quiet. You didn’t need to tell anyone.”
David shook his head. “I never wanted to get involved with any of this shit. You think I wanted to know that freaking werewolves walked the streets with us? I loved my country, I still do. I had to report it.”
“What about the research we were already working on? When I first started, you were already working on combining human and animal genes. You were okay with that, but you weren’t okay with the existence of shifters?”
“That’s different. What we were doing was science. What you’re able to do—what I caught you doing that day—is more like magic.”
Peter sighed, shifting his weight against the counter he was leaning on. “I never meant for you to see me. I was young, and the animal sometimes felt more powerful than the man back then.”
“You put me in an impossible position, Peter. I didn’t want to lie to anyone, but I did, for you. And what happened? I get moved to a God-damned Paranormal Unit, and you get my job.”
“I’m sorry. I considered turning it down, but when I found out the research was now being directed toward the existence of shifters and being able to use our powers, I just couldn’t. I needed to know exactly what was being discovered and when.”
“I could have told them at any time what you were.”
“I know, and I’m thankful you didn’t. But if you’d never told them about the existence of my kind, we wouldn’t be in the position we are now.”
He sighed. “It was a game-changer, Peter. We could have stronger armies than anyone else in the world. A super-army.” He paused. “I love my country,” he said, again. “I couldn’t not tell them.”
Tension simmered in the room. Both men took swigs of their beer, Peter trying to align his thoughts so he could continue. They couldn’t remain delving into the past. What was done was done.
David placed his now almost empty beer bottle onto the kitchen counter. “So what do you need from me now?”
“There’s a woman, Doctor Autumn Anderson, who came to work at the research facility for Operation Pursuit.”
David nodded. “I know the name.”
“It turns out that not only is she a brilliant geneticist, she also comes from the original line of those who first created spirit shifters. It seems her blood contains the element needed to change ordinary men and women into shifters.”
David’s eyes lit up. “It’s been done?”
“Not fully. Not that I’m aware of. There’s a woman who tried to experiment on herself, but the change hasn’t been completed. She appears to be stuck mid-change.”
“Why would anyone do that to themselves?”
“In many places, shifters are revered, not feared or experimented on. That’s why one of their kind appeared on television, and sent out the video footage of himself shifting. He wanted to change things ...” Peter shook his head. “But that’s off the subject.” Peter still hadn’t decided if what Chogan did was right or wrong.
“You remember Calvin Thorne?” he said.
“Of course. If there was a bigger asshole around, I never met one.”
“Well, he’s got hold of Autumn Anderson and has taken her somewhere. That’s where you come in. I need to know what other facilities are around the area—secret facilities that were part of your team—that she might have been taken to.”
David frowned. “Why would I tell you that, Peter?”
“To help.”
“But it sounds like we’re not far away from achieving what we’d planned all along. Why would I give you information that might put a stop to it?”
“Not ‘we.’ They managed you out, remember?”
“That might be the case, but I still support my country.”
“But it’s wrong! It’s kidnapping and torture!” Peter tried hard to keep a hold on his temper.
David frowned. “Don’t try to act like you didn’t know this kind of thing was going on before. Why the moral conscience all of a sudden?”
“Autumn is my girl’s best friend. I’ve promised I’ll help her. Please, David. I’m not asking you to come with me. Just give me some idea of location.”
From somewhere in the house, the low wail of an alarm sounded. In the corner of the room, a light began to flash in a strobe.
David sat upright. “Shit!” He jumped to his feet and ran over to the window, using his index finger to pull the blind down so he could peer out. Peter realized all the blinds in the house were drawn.
“What is it? What’s happening?”
“Someone is here. Were you followed?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Well, someone knows you’re here, and I don’t fancy being questioned by them. You need to follow me.”
Cautiously, Peter followed David back into the hall. Other than the low siren and the flashing lights, nothing else had changed for him—well, other than his old colleague’s sudden paranoia, of course, but he guessed he couldn’t blame him for that.
David pulled open a door beneath the stairs which, Peter assumed, led to the cellar. He turned back to Peter. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
Peter had no idea.
A crash at the front door made him jump, and he had a sudden feeling David was right.
“Quick,” David hissed. “Move, now!”
Peter did as he was told, hauling himself through the door and down the staircase beyond. David pulled the door closed behind them and set to work pushing more deadbolts into place. Peter took a moment to survey the room he’d ended up in. A single bulb hung from the low ceiling above his head. The floor was concrete, the staircase leading down, wooden. A couple of items of old furniture were dotted around the room, but so was something else. Peter frowned, just as David ran down the stairs and headed to the things Peter had been frowning at. Canisters were placed strategically around the room, and David finished fiddling with one, only to move onto the next.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
David didn’t answer the question. “Move that dresser over there.”
Peter glanced around. An old fashioned, dark wood dresser was pushed up against the wall. “What? That one?”
“Do you see any other?”
The banging from the front door increased in volume and speed.
“Someone really wants to get in here,” Peter said, nerves beginning to jitter around his stomach again.
“Yeah, and they’re after us. Or at least you. They wouldn’t be interested in me if you hadn’t led them here.”
“Sorry.”
“Too late for sorry now.”
Peter crossed the room, put his shoul
der against the dresser, and pushed. The heavy piece of furniture scraped against the concrete floor, the wood groaning. He stood back and blinked in surprise. A small door, not much higher than his chest, was cut into the brick behind.
“What is this?” Peter asked.
“A way to save both our asses. Now get in there.”
The banging against the front door erupted in one final crash, and the sound of wood splintering followed. Heavy footsteps thumped above their heads, together with shouts of warning. Peter was thankful David had as many deadbolts on the door to the cellar, but it wouldn’t hold them off for long.
“Right, I’ve set these babies off. We have exactly three minutes.”
“For what?”
“For us to get far enough away.”
David turned and ran toward the small door, pulling it open to reveal a hidden tunnel beyond. He crouched and ran at a stoop into the enclosed space. Peter followed, turning to pull the door shut behind him.
“Don’t worry about that,” David’s voice came, echoing down the tunnel. “Clock’s ticking.”
He’d already managed to pull the door partially shut, so he left it as it was. He turned in the confined space, and followed David in the same running crouch. I should shift, he thought. This would be much easier to run down in the shape of a mountain lion.
Though he knew he needed to focus on what he was doing right now, he couldn’t help but send his spirit guide back into the room to find out what was happening, and who was after them. The mountain lion padded up the stairs and passed through the door. As he’d expected, men in combat gear, holding weapons and a battering ram, were trying to break down the door of the cellar. So far, the door had held, but from the way the wood had already splintered, he doubted it would for much longer.
The door burst open, and soldiers stormed through, weapons out held. They shouted warnings Peter couldn’t quite pick up.
Suddenly, a bright light burst through the room, followed in a split second by a huge explosion. His spirit guide instantly withdrew, and Peter found himself back in the present again.
A rush of heat came roaring up the tunnel.
“Move!” David yelled.
He realized what had happened. David had somehow set the canisters he’d seen in the basement on a timer to explode.
Peter got moving, trying to outrun the explosion. A decent amount of distance had been put between them and the basement, the door and dresser partially protecting the entrance of the tunnel.
Despite this, the force of the explosion hit him like a hot wind, a burning fist slamming against his back, throwing him forward. The air was sucked from his lungs in a scorching suction. He hit David just in front, knocking him to the ground, and landing on top of the other man. Peter froze, hoping his body would protect David from the force of the heat. He would heal faster than the human man from whatever injuries he might sustain.
The last pop and crashes of the explosion finished, the smack of burning on the air. He didn’t want to hang around long enough to find out if any of the soldiers had survived the blast and were still coming after them, though he suspected part of the cellar roof may have collapsed. Peter hoped and prayed the tunnel roof would hold up long enough for them to make it out of there.
David started to cough.
“Are you okay?” Peter asked, scooting backward to climb off him. The tang of his own singed hair and clothes filled his nostrils.
David staggered back to his feet. “I’m fine. We need to keep moving.”
Peter wasn’t going to disagree.
They got moving again. Every step hurt, the remains of his burned clothes rubbing against the raw flesh.
Finally, fresh air began to filter toward them.
The tunnel opened out onto a small ravine, a muddy creek running along the bottom. They fell out of the exit, tumbling into the water with a splash. Peter lay there for a moment, taking comfort in the cool water on his scorching flesh. The back of his jacket was almost gone. He lifted a hand and gingerly touched the back of his head. The hair was singed down to stubble. The skin beneath tender and hot. The hair would take a while to grow back, but within a few hours his skin would have healed itself. He’d suffered worse injuries.
David sat up with a sigh, propping himself up out of the water, against a rock. His glasses had gone askew, the lenses fogged with soot. He took them off and started to clean them on his shirt. “Now what?”
“You tell me. You’re the one who just blew his house to pieces.”
“It was only the cellar. The rest of the house should be fine.”
“I think the ceiling came down.”
His mouth twisted. “Or not.”
They sat, panting, trying to recover enough to get moving again.
“We need to come up with a plan,” Peter said. With his stomach dipping, he realized he wouldn’t be able to go back for his car. If the government hadn’t noticed it before, they certainly would have now. The vehicle would either be impounded, or they would let him take it and track him.
“I guess I’ll have to take you to the place where I suspected they have taken your friend.”
Peter turned to him, frowning. “You’re willing to take me now? How come?”
“I think my options have just been slightly limited. What else can I do?”
“I don’t know. You could have turned me in, back there. You could have opened your front door, invited the soldiers in, and let them take me.”
“Yeah, well I guess I know something about loyalty.”
“Thank you, David.”
“They would never have believed me if I said I hadn’t told you anything. They’re a suspicious bunch.”
Peter thought back to the locks and alarms, the secret tunnel, the bombs. “So I see.”
Cautiously, he got to his feet. He tested his limbs, rolling his shoulders. Nothing was broken, and already the burns were feeling better. The bottom of his pants was sopping from the creek water, but that was a mere irritation. Beside him, David also got to his feet.
In the distance came the sound of sirens. The explosions had obviously been noticed by others in the neighborhood. How long would it be before the military realized he and David weren’t blown to pieces, or buried under the roof collapse? They had that on their side for the moment, but as soon as the tunnel was discovered, the military would be back on their tail.
They needed transport.
Peter briefly considered shifting. He was big enough as a mountain lion to carry David, even though David was a big man himself. But any sights of a giant mountain lion would no longer be put down to an escaped, ill-considered pet, or an animal from a zoo. Instead, people would know exactly what he was, and now that would get him hunted. Plus, Peter still remembered David’s reaction the last time he’d seen him shifting.
No, they needed a car. The question was, how would they find one?
Chapter Fourteen
AUTUMN HAD LOST track of the length of time she’d been kept in this cold, sterile room by herself. She’d been left alone since Vivian Winters had slit her wrist, though the guards kept watch on her. She could see them standing with their backs to her through the glass panels on the door. Her wrist throbbed at the same pace as her pulse, a constant pain she struggled to ignore.
She sighed and shifted the position she’d been sitting in, her back propped against the wall. She had to do something. Had she been here a day? Two? Three even? Her intense boredom, combined with the lack of blood circulating in her system, and the remaining effects of whatever they’d drugged her with to get her here, made her groggy. When she slept, she had no idea how long she’d been asleep for. There were no clocks in the room and no windows to the outside world. The effect was completely disorientating. In the hours when she was awake, she worried about Blake and Chogan. Were they even still alive? The thought of something happening to either of them caused her heart physical pain. She tortured herself by playing out scenarios in her head where she found out they
’d been murdered. When she dragged herself out of her imaginary world, she found tears streaked down her face.
She had to do something to get out of here, or she was going to go crazy. It had only been a matter of days, and she could already feel her mind starting to slip. She could bang on the door, try to get the attention of the two soldiers beyond, but she had a feeling the people who made the decisions were right behind the mirror.
Autumn got to her feet and walked to the mirrored wall. Though she couldn’t see beyond, some kind of masking on the back preventing her from seeing through, she was sure someone, or even a couple of people, sat watching her the whole time.
She lifted the hand with the undamaged wrist, and pounded on the glass with her fist. “Hey! Can someone come in here? I need to talk to you about something.”
Nothing changed, no sense of movement beyond, so she banged again. “Come on. You can talk to me, you know?”
Her soft fist against the glass wasn’t enough to get their attention.
She looked around. A metal kidney bowl they’d used to drop the plastic parts of the syringes into after they’d been used sat next to the sink. She picked up the bowl and returned to stand in front of the mirror, staring at her own face, pale, wild eyed, grazes and scrapes all over her skin, her hair sticking from her head in a crazy mass of knotted curls.
Autumn raised her hand with the bowl and slammed the metal against the glass, over and over. The reverberations vibrated through her wrist. The clang, clang, clang, of metal against reinforced glass jarred through her, but there was something deeply satisfying about the noise. She kept going, a determination over all else not allowing her to stop. She had nothing else to do anyway.
No reaction came, and for a moment she worried that the room they’d placed her in was soundproofed, but then she remembered hearing Vivian Winters’ approaching heels clicking and knew that it wasn’t. Bet they wished they’d considered that oversight now.
Autumn Rising Page 10