Me, I turned to the side and heaved violently. Again and again, unable to control my body’s revulsion. At least I didn’t inadvertently fire my gun or anything; even in the midst of my misery, I had the presence of mind to lay the .22 carefully by my side.
“Kayleigh.” Tim’s voice rang cold and sharp as ice, and acted as smelling salts to my raw nerves.
The tawny wolf shrugged, actually shrugged, which I didn’t know was possible for a canine. Then she rose to her feet and stretched, a long and leisurely stretch, licked her chops, and changed into the supermodel. This time, she was probably beyond even the tastes of modern fashion: covered in flecks of blood, streaks of it matting her hair, looking like a murder victim herself.
“Sorry,” she said in her sweet, breathy voice, not sounding sorry at all.
Tim let out his breath in a hiss. “We’ll talk later. Go tie up the guard in the hall, he’s still unconscious.”
Guards. One, two, three… “Tim, there was another guard in the kitchen when I got here,” I said, sounding slightly hoarse. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve.
“Taken care of.” His voice gave no indication of the details.
Kayleigh flounced past Tim, leaving drops of blood in her wake. From the hall, came dull thuds as she none-too-carefully rearranged the unconscious thug and then I heard the unmistakable ripping sound of duct tape.
“Now this one,” instructed Tim.
When Kayleigh re-entered the room, the kneeling guard shrunk back. The vision of the tough blond thug nearly cowering in front of the gorgeous woman would have seemed humorous in other circumstances. Given what had just transpired, however, his reaction was pure common sense.
The sleek werewolf secured the guard firmly, trussing his hands behind him and binding his legs at ankle and knee. When she finished, she slipped the roll of duct tape onto her wrist like a bracelet and rose fluidly, waiting for further instructions from Tim. She didn’t spare a glance for what remained of the blond Were’s body, even as my gaze was drawn back to it, only to be jolted afresh by the sight. Afraid I might vomit, again, I rose shakily and pulled on a corner of Kayleigh’s former sheet to cover the lumpy shape of the body. The metallic smell threatened to overwhelm me, but I felt a bit better once I couldn’t see the mess. Even when blood started soaking the white sheet almost immediately.
Tim raised his brows.
“Sorry,” I said, swallowing thickly. “I’m fine.” I didn’t turn my gaze in Kayleigh’s direction, though I swore I sensed amusement in her silhouette.
Tim nodded once. He still held his gun pointed at the slim man on the ground next to Eliza.
“Eliza,” he said, neither voice nor weapon wavering, “back away.”
The buff-colored wolf obeyed. Her teeth remained barred, her back legs ready to spring.
“Stop.” Tim raised his voice and at first, I thought he addressed the man. I realized in the next instant Kayleigh had taken an eager step forward and froze again at Tim’s command. She tossed her blonde mane and slumped against the wall of the room.
“Eliza, change.” Obviously, Tim would prevent Kayleigh from approaching this captive any closer than necessary.
Between one heartbeat and the next, Eliza straightened to human form. Her fawn-colored hair was barely out of place, still secured in a straight ponytail down her back. She held out one hand toward Kayleigh who snorted and tossed over the duct tape. After securing the man, Eliza sat back on her haunches and fixed her gaze upon him.
“If I harm you, I’m dead, huh?” She echoed his earlier words. “Who are you, my friend, that your blood is so valuable?”
“Jimmy Bianco.” Tim answered the question.
When no other information came, I asked the obvious, “Who the hell is Jimmy Bianco?”
“His father is Joe Bianco, Joey White-hand. Brother-in-law to John Romano, head of the Romano family, based in Chicago. With a foothold in Las Vegas, so it seems.
“The question is,” Tim continued, as he stood over Jimmy, “who else is involved? How far up does this go?”
For a man lying on his side with his hands and feet joined by duct tape, Jimmy Bianco showed remarkable poise. With no wolves threatening to rip out his throat, he’d regained some color. He had wavy dark brown hair that managed to fall perfectly across his forehead, shadowing the palest brown eyes I’d ever seen—like frothy milk touched with a taste of coffee. His forehead was broad, his jawline strong and set in pleasant determination, his khaki pants creased sharply, and only after Eliza forced his arms backward did his pale green golf shirt come untucked. He still looked handsome. In fact, in other circumstances, I’d probably flirt with him.
“The real question,” my voice shook with fear and anger, “is where the hell is my baby? What have you done with him?”
Jimmy looked at me, really looked at me for the first time. As the least threatening form in the room, I don’t think I merited his attention before.
“You know,” I continued, “my baby Carson, the Werewolf? The one your men have been following around the country and trying to kidnap?” My voice rose as I didn’t elicit a response and I stood over him, hands clenched, eager to kick him or something.
“I don’t have your son,” he said. “I don’t know where he is.”
“The hell you don’t. Dave Blythe took him, and I know he’s working with you.”
Kayleigh spoke up, her incongruous voice startling me once again. “Have you been in the basement yet?”
Tim, Eliza, and I turned to look at her.
“What’s in the basement?” I asked for all of us.
“I’m not sure,” Kayleigh said, “But I think we need to see it. Or them.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
After Kayleigh’s cryptic comment, Tim dragged Jimmy near the remaining guard and set Eliza to watch them both. Perhaps he didn’t trust Kayleigh with them; I know I didn’t. She seemed perfectly normal right now, but I couldn’t forget the sight of her savaging Ken’s body even after he was dead. Tim, Kayleigh, and I went downstairs, me trailing behind. My anxiety about Carson spiraled up my spine, now that I wasn’t distracted by life-and-death danger.
Kayleigh led our small group down the hall, toward the other locked door I’d noticed. I realized there was not one dead guard in the kitchen, but three. Killed cleanly, from the looks of things; a couple of gun shots and what appeared to be a broken neck. I looked at Tim with new respect. Not bothering to find a key, Kayleigh merely twisted the door knob and the lock broke with an audible ping. Then she flicked on the light and went downstairs. I followed the two Weres, rubbing my arms hard as energy mounted in the air. I realized with a start they both growled deep in their throats, so low I felt it in my chest as much as I heard the noise.
“What is that?” Tim asked sharply.
“I’m not sure,” Kayleigh said in response. “That’s what we need to find out.”
As we descended into the basement, I saw the space had undergone a recent remodel—hasty at that. A rough cement block wall stretched across the room, its gray expanse broken only by a heavy metal door. On this side of the new wall, the basement looked bizarrely like a cross between a hospital and mad scientist’s lab. A metal table stood just off-center, with several movable lights. Thick leather restraints outfitted the table, and coils of silver chain lay beside it. A glass-fronted chest glinted with various metal instruments, several IV poles dotted the side wall, and other bits of unintelligible medical equipment caught my eye as the Weres crossed quickly, very quickly to the metal door.
Tim raised his gun and thumbed off the safety. He cocked his head at Kayleigh, who lifted her chin in assent. Then, after checking the door handle, he threw his entire weight at the door.
The hinges snapped, door flinging violently into the dark space, and Tim ended in a crouch that put him well below instinctive target height. Kayleigh let out a cry somewhere between a roar and a howl and darted through the opening.
A cacophony of noise rose like a solid wall. I
stood, covering my ears against the growls and howls and screams. One voice rose loudest and the others responded, quieting into whines and scuffling noises.
Slowly, Tim stood to his full height. “Mother moon,” he breathed more entreaty than curse. “What have they done?”
I took unsteady steps to join him.
The area behind the wall was dimly lit. As a human, I couldn’t see as well as the Weres, so I reached out a hand in slow motion to flick a switch. Overhead lights flooded the area. A hall ran the length of the concrete block barrier, facing the cells. Or pens. Five of them. Each containing one or two…creatures…the stuff of nightmares. The things in the pen were neither human nor wolf, but something somewhere in the middle, something horribly, horribly in the middle. They were all different, like lumps of wax half melted between shapes, combining various aspects of teeth, hair, limbs. Each had the same eyes, though. Eyes full of horror and hatred and anguish and anger, reflecting the electric lights like cats caught in the middle of the street.
Kayleigh stood in the hall, still as stone.
We fell silent, just as the creatures had ceased their noise, though they continued to watch us while pacing and shuddering in their cages.
In a flurry of movement, Tim turned on his heel and stormed back up the two flights of stairs, leaving Kayleigh and me to follow him, dragged in his wake. When he entered the room with our captive, Eliza sprang to her feet, looking at me wildly.
“What. Have. You. Done.” Tim punctuated each word with a sharp kick.
Jimmy didn’t cry out. Even after he’d regained his breath, he didn’t speak. Tim kicked him again, harder, right in the ribs.
“Were those…things…Weres?” I asked Kayleigh. She shook her head, mute.
“Fine.” Tim turned his back on the still-silent Jimmy. “Perhaps you’re not ready to talk.” With one quick motion, he threw the bound guard over his shoulder and set off through the house. I quickly followed him.
Back in the basement, Tim threw the guard roughly on the cement floor in front of the cages. The nearest creature slunk to the bars and tried to stick its muzzle through, sniffing and drooling.
Tim sat the man up, holding his head until he looked directly at the creature. The guard blanched.
“Do you remember what Kayleigh did to your friend Ken?” Tim’s voice was mild, oh so mild. “Do you have any doubt these creatures would do the same or worse, were I to open the cages and have you join them?”
The man tried to avert his gaze, tried to look at me, perhaps thinking I was the weak and squeamish link. I thought about Carson, and clenched my hands.
“Is your loyalty to little Jimmy worth such a death?”
The man’s mouth worked several times before he managed to make sound. “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. They were mistakes. Jimmy and Dr. D was gonna fix ’em.”
“What wasn’t supposed to happen that way?” Tim’s voice rang through the tense room.
“Changing them, making them change. They was supposed to be strong and real, like Ken. That’s why they volunteered. But he’s going to fix ’em, that’s why we needed to try another Were. And it’s working—look at that one.” The man jerked his chin in the direction of another cell, “He’s better now. Almost.”
The creature in question retained human legs and hands with his otherwise wolf-form. His face looked like lump of clay squeezed by a child’s fist. His eyes, one high, one low near his foreshortened stump of a muzzle, and mismatched: one a tender brown and the other green. Both shot with blood. He keened, pommeling his front legs at the bars of his cage. His fingernails were caked with blood that streaked his hands and the fur of his legs.
The man winced. “Jake,” his voice was gruff and broke slightly, “you’ll be okay, man. You’re getting better.”
My gorge rose again.
“These… You knew these people? These were people, you knew, that you… Were they all dark moons? Is this what happens when you change a dark moon?” I looked at Tim in desperation.
“No.” Tim’s face remained impassive. “When you change a dark moon, if it’s successful, there’s no difference between that Were and a born Were. If it’s not successful, the dark moon dies.
“My guess is these were ordinary people—regular humans—someone tried to change. With bone marrow transplants, yes?” Tim toed the guard.
The man sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before looking up at Tim. “Yeah. That’s right. Ken said the Weres just weren’t strong enough, though. Or maybe it was the blood-type. I’m no doctor.”
“But typing for bone marrow is a lot more complicated than blood type, isn’t it? I think it’s really hard to find a match.” I searched Tim’s face as if he had the answers.
“Where’s the doctor who did all this?” Tim asked. When the guard didn’t answer, he knelt down in front of him, holding the man’s chin and forcing their gazes together. “Do you think your friends—are you confident Jake is still Jake? That he still knows you? That he bears no grudge for the fact he is in there, like that, while you continue to help Jimmy mutilate and torture others, in a vain attempt to create Weres? Mafia Weres? What would happen, if I put you in his cage?”
The guard shot a quick glance at the-creature-who-had-been-Jake. A shudder crept over me.
“I dunno, man. I dunno where the doctor’s at. He comes in the mornings to start the procedures. You gotta believe me, I’m just the muscle here. They don’t trust me with nothing.”
Tim flung the man down, and I winced as his head hit the cement. A thin trickle of blood made its way from his blond hairline and all of the creatures scented the air with sudden avidness. Tim walked over in front of the cage holding Jake and investigated the lock with studied nonchalance.
“Really, I don’t know nothing! Ask Jimmy where Dr. D is, Jimmy would know.” The guard babbled on for several moments that stretched and stretched, as Tim remained facing the cage doors, holding the bars, ignoring the man’s words and then pleas.
With a disgusted look on his face, Tim turned around, picked up the guard, and left the basement. He motioned for me to precede him. Before leaving the room, he faced the cages once more.
Speaking clearly and with utmost formality, he said, “By mother moon and her silver light, I promise you I will return and I will see you either rehabilitated or granted the mercy of death.” He bowed his head to the misshapen creatures and closed the door firmly.
****
On our way up the stairs to the second floor, my cell phone rang. I jumped, understandable given my taut nerves. Were I a violin, my strings would snap. When I fumbled the cell phone out of my jacket pocket, I saw Sheila calling.
Carson.
“Did you find him? Sheila?”
“Jules, he’s fine. I scryed for him and he’s fine. He’s with Dave, and he wasn’t even crying and we’re going find him, okay?”
“Where the hell are they? Where are he and Dave?”
“They were in a car—”
“Dave took my baby in a car? Without his car seat?” I found myself shouting into the phone and took a deep breath. Perspective. Must maintain perspective. My baby had been kidnapped by a rogue Werewolf and car seat safety was not the straw to break this camel’s back.
“I’m sorry,” I said, much quieter. “Go on.”
“Okay…They were in a car, a cab, and I watched them pull up to a house, a fancy single-story ranch house right off a golf course. I even saw a sign for the Painted Desert Golf Club.”
I repeated the name once aloud and several times to myself.
“Where are you guys? What’s going on now?”
“Uh, long story. We rescued Kayleigh and captured Jimmy Bianco, who’s apparently the son of the brother-in-law of some head mafia guy named John something. We also have one of his guards as prisoner. Also, uh, several dead guards. We found eight…creatures. Half-man, half-wolf creatures. Apparently, they are regular humans the mafia tried to turn into Weres by giving them bone marrow
transplants.”
Silence on the other end of the phone and I imagined Sheila trying to digest the news. I heard Ian asking her if everyone all right, so I answered the second question and told her we were all fine.
“Okay,” said Sheila. “So now what?”
“Now I’m coming back to the hotel, and we’re going to find Carson. That’s what.”
I ended the call and walked into the bedroom where everyone congregated. Tim had dumped the guard on the floor about six feet from Jimmy. Jimmy sat up and provided monosyllabic answers to the Weres. At the moment, I cared about none of it.
“Sheila found Carson. I’m going back to the hotel and then I’m going to rescue him. Are any of you coming with me?”
“I am,” said Eliza, immediately.
“I’ll come, too.”
At Tim’s answer, Jimmy’s eyes visibly widened.
“You’re going to leave us here, with her?” he asked.
Kayleigh smiled, a feral movement of her lips, and said in her breathy voice, “We’ll have a good time, Jimmy. You and me. Just like the last few days. Although,” she made a slight moue, “a little different.”
Her wink might have been a gunshot, judging from Jimmy’s reaction. His gaze swung wildly to where Ken’s body still lay, barely covered by the now red-soaked sheet.
“I can be helpful,” he said, sitting as upright as possible given his bonds.
“You haven’t proven so,” said Eliza matter-of-factly.
“If you harm me, my father—and Romano—will kill you. They will hunt you down and kill you.”
“Now, that’s not helpful talk, is it?” Tim directed his next question to Eliza. “Shall we?” He motioned to the door.
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