“You’re a little too late,” Ramirez said, eyeing Bane. “The distress has been put down.”
“One of them has. There are others—hundreds, in fact.”
Ramirez cocked his head. He felt the other foot about to drop.
“In my vision, I saw Claremont Estates. It’s under attack, right now, by these beasts.”
“We’re not beasts,” Adam said.
Colonel Dayton reached for his firearm.
Dixie stepped between Adam and Dayton. “Oh no you don’t. Adam isn’t a threat.”
“She’s right,” Major Ransom said, “he’s trying to stop what’s happening.”
Dayton removed his hand from his gun and relaxed, but still kept a watchful eye on Adam.
Ramirez faced Ransom. “What do you mean ‘under attack’?”
“Call your office,” Ransom said, “I’ve already called mine. The National Guard should have a perimeter set up around Claremont Estates by now.”
Ramirez pulled out his cell phone and dialed Metro. “This is Detective Marco Ramirez, I want to speak to Sheriff Hendrickson. What? Oh my God, when?” He hung up and faced Major Ransom. He spoke in a halting, slow whisper, “The National Guard has sealed off the roads. Several distress calls were made from our units onsite. It’s a massacre. Sheriff Hendrickson is dead.”
Dixie put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Marco.”
He turned to the major. “But how could you have known…”
“My vision. I called our home office and set up the response.” She turned to Dixie. “The message I received tonight came to me from someone very close to you—your aunt.”
“Aunt Rose?” Dixie’s eyes widened. “What has she got to do with all of this?”
“Everything. She needs to see you now—right now.”
****
The drive to Aunt Rose’s house is a bit awkward to say the least. Detective Ramirez is driving with Dixie, in tears, beside him. Major Ransom, Colonel Dayton, and I sit cramped together in the backseat, squeezed together like pickles in a jar.
The drive gives me time to think, to reflect on all that has passed between Dixie and I—between myself and the pack. I wonder what kind of future I might expect. I’ve heard people say, “Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.” I hope so. I want, more than anything, to live in the human world. I want to get to know people, to have friends. I want to grow old and look at my drawings, memories of my life as a human. Most of all, I want to be at peace—to know I did what’s best, that I made the right choices.
“Don’t worry, Adam,” Major Ransom says. “I understand what you’re going through.”
When I first heard the major possessed a special gift, I thought it was some sort of trick.
“It’s not a trick,” she says.
I stare over Colonel Dayton at her. She reaches across the colonel and puts her hand on my knee.
I’m acutely aware of Colonel Dayton eyeing the major’s hand and almost expect him to growl as he lifts it up like he owns it, holding it tightly in his.
“Don’t worry,” she says, her eyes still on me. “Just relax.”
That’s the last thing I can do. I look out the window and concentrate on the passing desert. I force myself to think about Bane and Mikael and The Convergence—I keep my mind occupied with anything other than her rummaging through my thoughts like items at a garage sale. I think about Lucy.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Stop it. I don’t appreciate you being in my head.”
“Stop right here,” Dixie says.
Ramirez parks at the curb, and we pile out.
Aunt Rose opens the door and greets Dixie with an ear to ear smile—then she sees me. “Come in, my boy, come in.” When I enter her house, I smell the rich aroma of baking bread. I love it.
“Aunt Rose, this is Adam.” With a quick glance at Ramirez, she says, “Remember, the one I told you about the other day?”
“So this is Adam? You have no idea how glad I am to meet you, my boy—no idea at all.”
“I’m sorry it’s so late,” Dixie says. “I don’t know exactly why we’re here. This is Major Ransom from the United Nations. She said you were in some sort of trouble.”
“Oh yes, I sent for you,” Aunt Rose says in a matter of fact tone. “Where’s the conduit? Ah, there she is, and who is that with her? Oh well, never mind, introductions can wait; come in, come in. Marco, so good to see you again.” She holds the door open and ushers everyone inside. “Dixie, why don’t you ever answer your phone? I’ve been calling for hours.”
“It’s a long story.”
We follow Aunt Rose into the living room. She guides Ramirez and Dixie onto the couch, and she gives me a wink and a pat on the back.
Her familiarity is a bit disturbing. “Do I know you?”
“No, my boy, but you will. Are you hungry?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Well, you should eat all the same. I’ve got some nice hamburger in the fridge. Follow me.” She clutches my hand and rushes me into the kitchen. Her surprisingly strong hands hook over my shoulders and sit me at the table. “Here you are, Adam.” A plate of raw hamburger materializes in front of me. “Eat up.”
“Aunt Rose, what are you doing?” Dixie comes into the kitchen.
“What am I doing? Oh my sweet Dixie, where to begin?”
Major Ransom squeezes into the small kitchen. “I can tell her if you’d like.”
“No, my dear. Thank you for coming, but she should hear it from me.”
“Hear what, Aunt Rose?”
A voice booms from the living room. Detective Ramirez and Colonel Dayton have gotten into a heated argument. Dixie and Major Ransom rush out of the kitchen.
“That should keep them busy for a while,” Aunt Rose says with a grin. She sits next to me and holds both my hands. “My name is Rosalyn. I know all about you, but I had no idea you’re the one my Dixie is sweet on.”
Dixie’s “sweet” on me? The message makes me feel warm—the messenger, however, leaves me cold. I’m still uneasy about Detective Ramirez knowing my secret, Major Ransom rummaging through my mind, and Colonel Dayton giving me the stink eye. Now I’m having a private chat with Dixie’s aunt who says she knows all about me. This particular group of humans gives me the creeps.
“Oh, I’m far from human, my boy.”
“What the…you’re a mind reader, too?”
“I’m not as in tune as the conduit out there, but I have my moments. I couldn’t contact my Dixie, but the conduit was easy to communicate with, and through her—well, here you all are.”
Shouts come from the living room. Detective Ramirez and Colonel Dayton yell back and forth. Dixie and Major Ransom join in, trying to calm them down. The noise serves as background to my discussion with Aunt Rose.
“I wanted Dixie with me tonight, to keep her out of harm’s way, but then she arrives with you. Sometimes things work out in just the right way, at just the right time. I believe your presence here tonight is more than mere coincidence—it might even be providence.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You, and only you, will be able to blend in with the packs. You, my boy, just might be able to stop The Convergence.”
I’m stunned. “Who are you again?”
With a sad smile, she says, “I’m a Daemon, not a bad Daemon, a good one.” She says this as if I’m supposed to be happy. I’m just more confused. “They call for The Convergence tonight.”
“They? What do you mean?”
“There are some who would destroy humanity. But there are others, like me, who would not. Their numbers are small, but their powers are great. I wanted Dixie with me tonight, to protect her as best I can. And then you,” her smile grows, “you are here and I have a plan.”
“But there’s supposed to be hundreds of wolfhounds. How can I kill—”
“But you don’t have to kill the wolfhounds. You only have to stop the Alphas. Without t
he Alphas, the packs are as disorganized as a collection of homeless coyotes. The Daemon control the Alphas. The Alphas control the packs. And the Alphas are only human, after all.”
I hear what she’s saying, but I don’t think she’s hearing me. “How many Alphas?”
“Oh, I would assume no more than twenty, maybe thirty.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes, maybe a few more, forty or so.”
She didn’t catch my sarcasm.
“Yes, I’d say no more than fifty. You see, there are hundreds of wolfhounds and they are controlled by their Alphas. The Alphas are controlled by their Daemons. So, by my math, seven to eight hundred wolfhounds means seventy to eighty Alphas, controlled by six or seven Daemons. That’s all.”
I don’t think more sarcasm would help.
“Now, my boy, in order to blend with the packs, you’ll have to strengthen your powers. And there’s only one way to do that.” She stares at the plate of meat.
My stomach gurgles, and I shake my head.
“Honestly, killing humans is simple—and the Alphas won’t expect your attack. It should be easy. Go for the throat—it’s the most humane. Now eat.”
Again, I shake my head.
“Do you understand? You may be the only hope Dixie has of survival. I don’t know if I can protect her. I have no guarantees of safety should events go terribly wrong for the humans tonight. I knew at once what you were when you arrived on my front porch. More than that, I knew exactly why you were here.”
I hear her, but I don’t want to. She’s starting to make sense.
“Now you need to eat. You have to be able to change at will. You need the capabilities of the other wolfhounds. If you don’t meet them on their level, with their powers, you’re as good as dead.” That last word is followed by a smile. What?
“But, what if I kill you?” I point to the living room. “What if I kill all of them?”
“The creation spell was said to be flawed. The wolfhounds were tested, sent out to kill. Some, like you exhibited freewill. I know what you are, and I know what you’re not. Hurry now, time is our enemy. Eat.”
It’s as if a light turns on. She’s right. Lucy told me about the connection between red meat and controlling the transformation. That’s why Mikael, Bane, and Flynn were able to change so quickly and without the pain. That’s why they’re all so strong, and how they’re able to easily keep track of me.
The light that switched on in my head—the light I know Aunt Rose turned on, makes more and more sense. The Convergence won’t stop itself. I have to be the wolfhound I was bred to be: a killer.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Blood-stained pavement. Body parts half covered in shadows. The battle for the house at the top of the hill was over; The Convergence had begun.
Sounds of occasional gunfire, screams, and mournful howls carried through the pine grove on the incessant wind. Dark clouds, illuminated by the three-quarter moon, drifted overhead—unsympathetic observers of the bloodshed below. A light rain began to spray down from the heavens.
Sonny Russo never signed up for this, not really. True, he hadn’t complained about the money and power in exchange for his services. Also true, Gorgeous never kept the plan a secret. But now that The Convergence was a reality, it was time to get real. There was nothing for him here anymore. After all, exterminating the entire human race would put a serious dent in the casino industry.
He used to get depressed when he thought about the end of his empire. He hit the bottle pretty hard, hell, he hit everything pretty hard. But booze and violence didn’t do the trick anymore, not like it did in the past when he was just another thug on the streets. This was different; this was Daemons and killer wolfhounds and end of the world crap.
He knew only one thing would help, the only thing that ever cheered him up: revenge. He began skimming the regular skim at the casino about a year ago and put together a getaway bag. The duffel bag crammed with credit cards, a passport, and enough cash to last him the rest of his life waited at the penthouse. That was true revenge—living a life of luxury on some little island a million miles away from the wolfhounds, The Convergence, and especially Gorgeous.
Somehow he’d managed to keep his little plan of survival a secret from her. Maybe she never thought he’d try anything as smart as that, who knew? Maybe she knew all about his plan, but never thought he had the guts to carry it out. Wrong.
From what he could tell, the other Alphas had also been well rewarded for their services but, for whatever reason, they seemed to accept their role as middlemen between the wolfhounds and the Daemons as part of the deal. They actually fought alongside their packs against the police. What a bunch of losers. Didn’t they understand who the real enemy was in all this? Maybe their Daemons, or devils, or whatever the fuck they called themselves, kept a tighter rein on them than Gorgeous did him. Maybe.
In any case, he knew hanging around this war zone was out of the question. He’d had a good run; lived the good life, but it was time to get back to the penthouse, grab the bag, and hit the road.
He crouched behind a pine tree, concealed by shadows. Alphas and wolfhounds raced back and forth in a dizzying blur, but he kept still and out of sight. If anyone saw him, he’d use Plan A: feign injury and ask for help. After all, a lot of people were injured in the fight, he could hear them crying out for help in the distance. If that failed, he’d fall back on Plan B: the pistol tucked in his belt.
Another scream echoed through the pines. The few humans that were alive, those who’d managed to escape the house on top of the hill, were being hunted. A shotgun blast cracked. Another howl. Another scream.
He stood up, but stumbled right back down. “What the fuck?” He wasn’t feigning injury; he’d actually taken a bullet in his leg. He took off his jacket, tore the sleeve, and wrapped it around the wound. Even though the blood was already clotted, gunshot wounds were tricky, a lesson learned from his life on the streets in Chicago.
He stood up again, slower this time, and glanced around. Claremont Road was empty, but he still heard footsteps, two legged and four, scampering through the pines. Gunshots were few and far between now, unlike the initial assault when bullets exploded like firecrackers on Chinese New Year. The New Year was here now—the new age—one that held no future for him if he stayed on this hill. But right now, the chances of escape looked bad. In casino speak: odds against.
He took a few steps, his head on a swivel. Gunpowder filled the air, mixed with the unusual colored mists hovering overhead, making visibility poor. With each step, he kept a wary eye on his surroundings. Each rustling in the woods, distant movement, or flash of gunfire made him shiver. The road started to dip down, slanting toward the bottom of the hill. He picked up his pace, the mêlée receding into the background. For the most part, the battle was behind him.
An unexpected grin crawled across his face. He was going to make it back to Vegas. The farther he scampered down the hill, the wider the grin became until soon, it was a genuine smile. His odds of escape looked better: even money now.
Two yellow eyes and a set of gleaming fangs materialized out of the fog ahead of him. There may have been more gunfire in the distance, but the low and steady growl from the wolfhound was all he heard. Reaching for his gun would do little good, the animal was too close. He fell to his knees and put his hands on the sides of his head. The joy of escape vanished, replaced by the fear of death in one agonizing heartbeat. He’d seen other humans ripped to shreds by the wolfhounds—and now, so close to freedom, it was his turn.
“Why do you kneel?” a woman’s voice said.
He glanced up to see Nina, a member of his pack. She stood before him, naked, in human form, a quizzical look etched on her face.
“Where do you go?”
Sonny got up off his knees, expelling a genuine sigh. “I’ve been shot.” He pointed to his leg. “I need a doctor. Come with me.” All the authority, the power, of an Alpha resonated in his voice. “Help me.�
�
Nina bowed her head, an acknowledgment of the command.
His spirits flew. With her by his side, riding shotgun, the odds of making it off the hill were now in his favor. Nina was a warrior—a little slow on the uptake but, for her role in his escape that was perfect.
Twenty minutes later, they reached the bottom of the hill. He saw a small group of Alphas and wolfhounds through the pine trees. They mingled near abandoned police vehicles at the crossroads. The wolfhounds lifted their snouts toward him and sniffed the air.
Sonny stopped, putting a hand on Nina’s shoulder. “Let’s go that way,” he whispered, pointing to the right, away from the Alphas.
“But they will help you. Your leg needs tending.”
“Quiet. I said go to the right.”
They continued their march off the road which ran just parallel to them. They moved away from the group of Alphas. He kept the road in sight, looking for a deserted vehicle—a car, motorcycle, anything to take him away from this mess. He spotted a dark sedan, its driver’s side door left open, parked thirty feet ahead. His spirits soared. He was so focused on the sedan that Nina’s hand on his chest, pushing him back and stopping him in his tracks, surprised him.
A light gray wolfhound stared at them a few yards ahead. It blocked their path, the fur on the back of its neck bristling.
Sonny moved behind Nina. “Kill him,” he whispered.
She did not move.
“Kill him now.”
Nina transformed in an instant and pounced at the animal. In just a few seconds, she’d ripped the light gray wolfhound to shreds.
She hovered over the animal’s carcass for a moment, then turned back to face Sonny. A shot pierced the night and she crumpled to the ground with a yelp, blood oozing from her thigh. Sonny tucked the pistol back under his belt and sprinted to the sedan. The keys were in the ignition.
He’d done it—he’d beaten the odds. Time to head back to Vegas and cash in.
****
“I told you before, we’re wasting our time here,” Colonel Dayton said, his voice booming across the living room.
Sin City Wolfhound Page 17