Wolf Hunter

by Jane Godman

  The doorman’s pants and shirt fitted okay, but his shoes were too small. Sebastian shrugged. It was better than going back for his own clothes and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d carried out a mission while barefoot. He had deliberately chosen that time of day when most people would be on their way home, or preparing their evening meal. If anyone even noticed the guy with the oddly fitting clothes and no shoes, they were likely to write him off as an eccentric and return to thoughts of their own world.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, he ran up to the third floor. If his sources were correct, Fenk used this space as both living and office accommodations.

  As he stepped onto the final turn in the stairs, the silence hit him. He had come here alone, unarmed and with no back up. Samson was right. He was vulnerable. He had known that before he reached this point, but it hit him now like a slap in the face.

  It was too late now. He was here and there was no turning back.

  As he moved closer, Sebastian wasn’t sure what he had expected from Fenk’s private area. Some sort of security for sure. If he was right and Fenk was linked to Chastel and Fenrir, then he should have anticipated magic and trickery.

  He certainly hadn’t anticipated that the door at the top of the stairs would be wide open as if in invitation.

  * * *

  Just as Cindy had expected, the press conference was beyond surreal. Hendrik sat between the Governor and the Chief of Police while journalists, delighted to have a story of this magnitude, fired questions at them. She could picture the following day’s headlines.

  Senator Returns from the Dead!

  Cage Killer Did Not Murder Rickard!

  She and Valetta clasped hands, watching in silent outrage as an event they should not have to witness unfolded before them. The chief of police fielded questions about the investigation, promising an inquiry into what had gone wrong. Then everyone’s attention turned to the man at the center of the story.

  “How does it feel to be home, Hendrik?”

  “I’m sure you can write your own answer to that.” Hendrik’s smile illuminated the already brightly lit City Hall conference room. “But it feels awesome to be back with the people I love.”

  The words provoked a tiny unwolflike hiss from Valetta.

  “What are your plans now, Hendrik?”

  “Rest. Spending time with my loved ones. Then back to normality.” He smiled again. “I’m sure the climate change skeptics have missed me.”

  There was a ripple of laughter. Hendrik, the environmentalist was back. Cindy had to hand it to him. Fraud or not, he knew the right things to say. Except for the brotherhood and Valetta, no one in this room suspected that he wasn’t Hendrik.

  The conference was winding to a close when the crunch question came.

  “So where have you been for the last six months, Hendrik?”

  Hendrik narrowed his eyes, looking toward the back of the room at the young female reporter who had spoken. And he didn’t reply. Or smile. Or react in any way. He simply sat very still, his head slightly cocked to one side.

  “He’s waiting for Chastel to tell him what to say.” Valetta’s whisper was filled with revulsion.

  “Sebastian will have arrived in New York by now,” Cindy murmured. “Judging by his mood when he left, Chastel may have other things on his mind.”

  The silence was becoming embarrassing. Around the room, people were starting to get restless. Glances were exchanged. Muttered comments were made. Hendrik appeared not to notice.

  Eventually, the governor intervened. “I think we can see that this has been a tiring occasion for Hendrik after a major trauma. In the circumstances, I’m going to wind this up. Thank you for your time.”

  He got to his feet, and signaled for the chief of police to do the same. When Hendrik didn’t move, each man placed a hand beneath one of his elbows, assisting him to rise. They then escorted him from the room.

  “I suppose we should go and act dutiful,” Valetta said. “Is it too much to hope that he’s going to start unraveling?”

  They spoke in low voices as they made their way toward the office where the governor had taken Hendrik. “It all depends on Chastel. If Sebastian gives him a hard time and he can’t keep up this charade, then I can’t imagine fake Hendrik will last much longer. But Chastel must have wanted him here for a reason.”

  “Other than the shock value?” Valetta asked.

  Cindy had given it some thought. “It was a hell of a lot of trouble to go to just to upset us. I still believe there was another reason for sending him into our midst. Hendrik asks a lot of questions, of me more than anyone. I think he’s Chastel’s spy.”

  “Chastel never seems to have any trouble knowing what the brotherhood is doing.”

  “He targets one member at a time. This time it’s Sebastian. Chastel wanted to get inside his head, to know if he was going to break ranks and go after him alone. He can spy on the brotherhood, watch them from afar, get to know their routines and plans as a group. But he can’t get to know about one individual unless he has someone on the inside. That’s where the impostor came in.”

  Through the eyes of the fake Hendrik, Chastel had seen it all. He knew Sebastian had gone to New York in search of him against the wishes of his friends. The brotherhood was being torn apart from within.

  Inside the office, Hendrik appeared confused about what had happened at the end of the interview. “Blanked out? I don’t know what you mean.”

  “A journalist asked where you had been for the last six months and you”—the chief of police waved a hand as though searching for the right words—“switched off. Although, it is an interesting question. I’d like to hear the answer.”

  “If I knew the answer, you would be able wrap up your inquiry instead of having your own questions hanging over you about the handling of the original investigation.” Hendrik’s voice stopped just short of reproach. “After all, you still don’t know if Ivan Joseph killed someone else and made it look like I was the one who was murdered, do you?”

  Leaving the question hanging, and the chief mouthing a reply, he took Cindy’s hand on one side, and Valetta’s on the other, and walked out.

  As they reached her car, Cindy gave him a sidelong glance. His face was tense. She was debating whether to push him further, when Valetta got there first.

  “So, Dad, now we’re away from the press, you can tell me and Cindy the real story. Where exactly have you been for the last six months?” Her voice was cheerful.

  With a sound close to a growl, Hendrik stomped away, leaving them staring after him.

  “Where do you think he’s going?” Valetta asked, as they got into the vehicle.

  “Who knows?” Cindy started the engine. “I really don’t care. It saves the bother of lying to him instead of telling him we’re going to the airport.”

  * * *

  Sebastian’s every sense was on high alert as he stepped through the open door. The smell was the biggest clue that something was wrong. He was a werewolf. The scent of blood was one of his favorite things, but it was out of place here. He shouldn’t be smelling the sweet, coppery tang in this sterile modern building.

  Fenk’s domain occupied the whole of the third floor and was an open-plan room with a bank of computers taking up the entire wall opposite the door. To the right of this was a living area equipped with a bed, fridge, and microwave. The pulled-back curtain revealed that it could be separated from the rest of the space. Clearly Fenk didn’t believe in spending his riches on his own comfort.

  Nothing in the room could hold Sebastian’s attention, however. Not when there was a man lying on the rug with his throat cut.

  Ah, fuck.

  Sebastian dropped to his knees feeling for the guy’s pulse as he cursed the fact that his cell phone was in the bag he had left behind the dumpster. Unbelievably, he could feel a flicker of life under his fingertips. Despite the quantity of blood that had soaked into the rug and the devastating wound that had opened his nec
k from ear to ear, this man was alive.

  As he glanced around the room, searching for signs of a landline, or a cell phone, a soft, croaking noise drew his attention back to the man on the floor.

  “ . . . knew you would come . . .”

  “Don’t try to talk.”

  There was no way this guy should be breathing, let alone speaking.

  “Have to.” Sebastian had to lean close to catch what he was saying. “You need to hear.”

  “Are you Philip Fenk?”

  “Yes. When I . . . can be myself.”

  Sebastian still wasn’t sure whether Fenk was clinging to life by a superhuman effort, or whether someone—Chastel—was using him as a puppet.

  “Where’s your phone? I’m going to get you some help.”

  “No. Too late. Just . . . listen.”

  “Okay.” Although he agreed, Sebastian wasn’t sure about this. What if Fenk died while he was talking? Surely he should overrule a dying man and get the emergency services here anyway?

  “Four and a half years. Inside my head. Controlling everything I do.”

  “Who has been inside your head, Fenk? What’s his name?”

  “They. Two of them.”

  “Names.” Sebastian had to ask, even though he already knew the answer.

  “Fenrir, werewolf god. And Chastel.” A faint sound, almost a laugh issued from Fenk’s bloodless lips. “Bastard.”

  “What did they tell you to do?”

  “All of it. Nerds United. Byte Me. The sale. The mind control over the subscribers. Eighty million of them, man. More every day. All under their control. All their idea. I do as I’m told.”

  Sebastian sat back on his heels. So he’d been right all along. His maverick way of thinking had paid off. Fenrir and Chastel had been building up their following of brainwashed supporters. They had been busy setting up their online gaming channels and using them as a front. They had been most active at times when the brotherhood had been tied up with momentous events. We didn’t have time to notice and possibly make the links to Fenrir. It looked like Fenk had been an innocent puppet in their plans.

  “Who did this to you? And why now?”

  “My so-called partner. Now? I am no longer needed. Cover blown. You figured it out.”

  “You partner? You mean Chadwick?”

  “Chadwick. Chastel. Pick a name . . .”

  “Is he still here in New York?”

  “TechKnow.”

  Fenk gripped his hand, before exhaling in a long, slow rattle. Sebastian didn’t have to check his pulse again. Fenk was dead. It was possible he had been dead before Sebastian walked through the door.

  I’ve been talking to a dead man.

  The thought should have scared him, or at least repulsed him. Instead, it was mildly comforting. As if the forces of good had finally scored a winning point over Chastel. Fenk’s spirit had been determined to hang on and communicate with him. How had he known Sebastian would come? Well, Fenk himself had said the computer geek cover was blown. They knew Sebastian had figured it out.

  When Fenk had squeezed his hand, Sebastian had taken it as an affirmative answer to his question. Yes, Chastel was still here in New York. Was he still posing as Chadwick? If that was the case, it meant he had no idea of the exchange that had just taken place between Sebastian and Fenk.

  He did a double check of the space around him. He hadn’t touched any surface on which he could have left prints. Once he was out in the street and had reclaimed his bag, he would make an anonymous call to the police. They would free the doorman from the closet and find Fenk’s body. The doorman’s story of a huge white beast might cause a few raised brows, but the poor guy would probably be dismissed as delirious.

  All Sebastian needed to do now was get out, get changed into his own clothes, get in a cab and gain access to his worst enemy.

  It was a good thing he had never believed this was going to be easy.

  * * *

  TechKnow was an iconic office building in the heart of Manhattan. Housing state-of-the-art technology companies, it was known for its quirky interior design and nontraditional approach.

  Sebastian had formulated a number of plans for gaining admittance, but none of them were necessary. He decided to try the simple approach again first, and was stunned by the response.

  “Mr. Chadwick is expecting you.” The concierge escorted him to a door that was hidden behind a bank of potted plants.

  “He is?” Sebastian heard the rising note of surprise in his own voice. So much for retaining the element of surprise.

  “Certainly, sir.” The concierge’s expression was impassive as he indicated a corridor. “Mr. Chadwick will meet you.”

  As the door closed behind him, the sensation that he was stepping into the lion’s den was overwhelming. Sebastian shrugged. He was a wolf. Lions may appear more powerful, but wolves didn’t perform in the circus. He’d rather have cunning than brute strength. Although if Chadwick and Chastel were the same person, he was going to need plenty of both.

  Sebastian didn’t know what to expect. Would he be confronted by another disguise, more trickery, or would he get to look Chastel in the face again for the first time in four years? The first and last time he had seen the bounty hunter had been on a remote mystical island in the Gulf of Alaska. Ulu was Chastel’s birthplace and the place where he had learned his magic from a powerful sorceress. It was also home to the ancient cave drawings foretelling the prophecy that Chastel would be killed by a giant Arctic werewolf.

  Chastel had interpreted that prophecy to mean that the only person who could kill him was Samson. Samson was certainly the largest member of the brotherhood. The cave drawings also depicted a shadowy figure in a protective stance alongside the giant Arctic werewolf. Chastel believed that figure was Valetta, the Shadow Wolf who was now married to Samson. His belief in the prophecy was so strong that he had tried to destroy the bond between Samson and Valetta.

  One thing the brotherhood had learned about Chastel over the years was that he was a coward. Prepared to slaughter, torment, and destroy, he would never put himself in physical danger. At the first sign of a threat to himself, Chastel retreated, or sacrificed his followers to save his own skin.

  The unexpected was Chastel’s specialty. He delighted in being unpredictable. Sebastian was determined to outwit him. His hope was that this time he could stay one step ahead of the most evil villain the brotherhood had ever encountered.

  As he followed a corridor decorated with graffiti, Sebastian braced himself. When he reached the end, the man who stepped forward to greet him was slender and slightly shorter than average height with light brown hair, dark eyes, and unremarkable features. This was the real Chastel. He looked more like a mild-mannered bank clerk than a malevolent bounty hunter.

  “Should I call you Chastel or Chadwick?” Sebastian asked as he exited the elevator. “Or do you have Chadwick tied up somewhere?”

  “You look smaller without the brotherhood around you.” Chastel gave him a sidelong glance. “If there is still a brotherhood?”

  Sebastian debated how to answer that. His instinct was to hotly defend the brotherhood and all it stood for, but that wasn’t why he was here. Getting into a dispute with Chastel would be counterproductive.

  “I may hate you with every fiber of my being, but I can’t fault your knack for discovering what’s going on.” Sebastian risked stepping into the room. “The fake Hendrik was inspired. Vicious and hateful, but very creative.”

  Chastel inclined his head. “I thought he was a sign of my genius. I’m glad you liked him.”

  “I didn’t say that.” Sebastian managed to keep his temper in check. Just. “Because of your little stunt, his daughter had to see her father again.”

  “I imagine she’ll recover. Valetta is resilient.”

  Sebastian should have known keeping his teeth and claws away from Chastel’s throat would be almost impossible. He wanted to kill the guy, right here, right now. “What is the
deal with Chadwick? Is he dead? Did he ever exist? Are you him?”

  “I don’t have time to masquerade as a sad computer nerd.” Chastel’s voice was scornful. “Like Fenk, Chadwick has reached the end of his usefulness.”

  “I guess his throat has been slit as well?”

  “I had a little more time to dispose of him.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the full-length window. “Dumpster. It’s where he belonged.”

  Sebastian knew Chastel felt safe. Although he was alone with an Arctic werewolf, he didn’t think he could be killed because Sebastian wasn’t the Arctic werewolf. The one in the prophecy. He wasn’t Samson. The bounty hunter’s attitude revealed he was sure of himself, his arrogance showing through. It was what Sebastian wanted.

  Get him to relax, to open up.

  “And the new dream team? You and Fenrir?”

  Chastel grinned. “Me and the werewolf god go way back. He got in touch with me when he escaped from his prison. Remember that time? When he had you guys chasing after him like headless chickens? Now we have eighty million followers between us and the number is growing daily. Quite an achievement.”

  Sebastian took another step into the room. “And yet you hate werewolves. You’ve sworn to wipe us out. Fenrir has sworn to destroy all humans. How does your pact work? One of you has to lose.”

  “Very astute of you.” Chastel nodded approvingly. “And I thought all werewolves were dumb. Only one of us in this partnership has been chained under the ice of the Svalbard archipelago for centuries. I guess I’m pretty confident about the outcome when it comes to the final showdown. The one without the chains has the advantage.”

  How fucking deluded could this guy be? He was talking about Fenrir, the god of destruction. The mightiest werewolf of them all. A being so feared by the other gods that they had chained him and imprisoned him because of his capacity for devastation. If Chastel thought he could play mind games with Fenrir and win, he was even crazier than Sebastian had believed.

  “Fenk said Fenrir had been inside his head. That’s a dangerous move,” Sebastian said. “Allowing Fenrir to take control of another person’s mind—yours, Fenk’s, anyone’s—could give him a way to put his plans to destroy the human race into practice.”