Azure (The Silver Series Book 5)

by Cheree Alsop

  Ben and Brian walked out with unconvincing nonchalance, while Drake and Max hurried after them throwing worried glances in my direction. It hurt a bit that the grays would go, but there were too many males at Two and the fewer egos, the better. The grays knew better than to butt heads with me directly, but their internal meddling and constant bickering with the other grays made their departure easier to accept.

  Brian waved with a sardonic smile at the edge of camp, then the group disappeared through the red pillars into the starlit night.

  I sat down and breathed easier for their absence. I worried about them because I felt responsible for their wellbeing, but it was good to let them go and not worry about being jumped in my own home. I waited until a jeep engine roared to life, then listened to it fade into the cacophony of desert insects, the howl of the wind through the myriad of caves along the top of the red rock ridges, and the cold chill that crept like a finger of icy flame to steal the warmth that remained of the day's sunlight.

  I took a breath of the night air so familiar I knew it better than my mother's scent; sometimes my brain linked the two because it had been so long since I had actually seen her. I sighed and padded softly back through the tunnel to my quarters.

  ***

  I shrugged gently and Nora lifted her head. “We're here,” I whispered.

  She blinked groggily, then perked up when she remembered what we were doing. She peered out into the parking lot and pointed at the lone truck waiting near the other end. “That's him!” she said.

  I chuckled at her enthusiasm. “I assumed as much, seeing as it's the only other vehicle here.”

  She shoved my shoulder, but was too happy to say anything.

  I pulled up a few rows away and put the jeep in park. Nora opened the door, then hesitated and turned back. My breathing slowed at the look on her face. “I’m not leaving for good,” she said; she sounded like she wanted to convince us both. “I have your number and I’ll call as soon as we get home.” She glanced back toward the truck. “Even if Dad is against the idea.”

  I watched her, unsure of what to say. I had never been great at goodbyes because they were too final in my life. I gritted my teeth against a surge of regret.

  She touched my face and her eyes held mine. “I’ll be back,” she promised. “Nothing could keep me away from you.” My heart rose with her words and she kissed me, her lips parting mine. I breathed in her scent as we kissed, and felt surrounded by every part of her. Her fingers lingered on my shoulder where she could feel the scar of the bullet through my thin shirt. “I’ll make up for that,” she promised with a quiet breath.

  She looked as if she wanted to stay, and for the briefest second I hoped that she would tell me to turn the jeep around and go back to Two. She looked at the other vehicle, torn, and we both knew she had to leave. “Go,” I said quietly past the lump in my throat.

  “I don’t want to,” she replied. The heartache in her voice held me fast.

  “It’ll be alright. I’ll see you again soon.”

  She nodded at the words she needed to hear. She pushed open the door and ran across the pavement, her scent a sweet reminder as her kiss lingered on my lips. The door to the black truck opened and a tall man with thick muscles barely contained by his tailored suit climbed out. He held open his arms and she crumbled into them. I could hear what she said to him even through the distance and the windshield, but I ignored it to give them their privacy.

  Foreboding rose in my chest. I studied the landscape around us, but nothing appeared out of the ordinary. I turned my attention back to Nora's father's truck. The sun rose slowly behind it, casting the plateaus around us in a wash of red and gold. I blinked into the rays, wondering if he had chosen the position strategically. My eyes focused and my heart slowed at movement from one of the back windows.

  A barrel glinted in the light an instant before a bullet slammed through the jeep's windshield and into my arm. Nora screamed and I gazed at the hole in shock. My survival instincts kicked in above the dull pain. I opened the door and slid to the ground, then crawled to the back of the jeep amid the ricochet of more bullets that peppered the pavement around my hands and feet. Glass flew everywhere as the windows shattered above me. Shards fell to the ground and bounced around my hands, catching the light of the rising sun. Bullets tore through the metal doors with a sound like a tin can ripped open and amplified a hundred times by my sensitive hearing.

  The rocks on the pavement bit into my hands and knees. The jeep tipped as the right front tire was shot, followed shortly by the left. Metal rang out when they hit the brush guard; bullets sunk into the engine with echoing thuds. My heart thundered in my chest.

  I leaned against the jeep and tried to catch my breath. Pain surfaced from my arm and my side, but it was dulled by the surge of adrenaline through my veins. I forced myself not to phase, worried that Nora was in danger, too. I waited until the spray of bullets stopped, then peered around the edge of the jeep.

  Nora's dad had a firm hold on her arm. She hit his chest, but he didn’t seem to notice. “You really think you could kill our Hunters and get away with it?” he asked loudly with a tone that said how stupid such a thought had been.

  I took a deep breath, then shouted, “I brought your daughter back to you. Let me go and no one gets hurt.”

  He laughed, a deep, dark sound. “One werewolf against seven armed Hunters? You’re either an idiot or want to die.”

  I had to agree, but decided against saying so. I hit my head against the back of the jeep, cursing our naive belief that he would keep his word after all that had happened.

  “Let him go, Dad. You promised,” Nora shouted.

  “I don't make promises with animals,” her dad replied calmly.

  “You promised me,” she said. The scent of her fear and anger carried to me on the morning breeze. I worried that she would do something rash. “Let me go,” she demanded. She raised her voice, “Vance, this was a mistake. This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

  “You’re a fool for trusting a werewolf,” her dad said in a tone heavily laced with disgust.

  “I’m a fool for trusting you,” she bit back.

  He didn't respond. Instead, I heard the thud of several footsteps as his men moved to flank the jeep. I looked around for an escape, but found none.

  “The men are in position, Rob.”

  “Good.” He lifted his voice, “Fight and be shot again, or give up and come quietly,” he said with an air that indicated he would rather shoot me again.

  “Dad, no!” Nora protested. The sound of a struggle ensued followed by a sharp slap.

  Nora sobbed softly and I longed to go to her, but knew any move in that direction would result in death. I kept a hand on my arm and reviewed my options.

  Soft rustling came from the bushes lining the hill to my right and a slight fall of sand from the plateau on my left indicated that I was indeed surrounded. If the bullet in my arm was any indication, they were ordered to maim, not kill, which meant Rob planned on taking me in regardless of if I surrendered. None of the werewolves from Two knew I took Nora back to her father, so a rescue wouldn't come in time. Nora's attempts at dissuading her father from his plan were obviously in vain, and I didn't want to put her at risk for further injury.

  I could choose to go with him and avoid more bullet holes which were swiftly becoming my least favorite thing, or I could wait for them to weaken me with silver bullets to the point that I wouldn't be able to defend myself. If the numbness in my arm was any indication, the bullets had been treated with the same coating that almost paralyzed me when Nora shot me at Two. Despite the instincts that demanded for me to fight back, I didn’t stand a chance.

  I took a deep breath, then stuck my hands out to the side of the jeep. “I'm coming out,” I yelled.

  “About time,” Rob replied in a satisfied tone.

  “No!” Nora protested, but she quickly fell silent.

  I rose slowly and stepped into the open. Rob gave
a minute motion with his hand. A bullet buzzed through the air and struck my thigh hard enough to knock me against the jeep. Pain flared through my leg.

  “Dad, he gave up,” Nora said with tears running down her cheeks.

  “Just making sure,” Rob replied. He nodded at his men and they advanced.

  My instincts screamed for me to phase and fight, but my brain argued that my odds against seven loaded guns and apparently trigger-happy Hunters were slim. One man stepped forward and slapped a handcuff on one of my wrists, then jerked them roughly behind my back and fastened the other tight enough to cut into my skin. Blood trickled down my arm and dripped onto his sleeve. He looked at it in disgust, then wiped it on the front of my shirt before shoving me forward.

  Nora shoved away from her father and ran across the pavement toward me. She hit the man on my right side across the jaw hard enough to rock him back, then followed it with a punch to the groin. He doubled over and she advanced toward the man on my left. He lifted his gun and took a step back, but glanced between Nora and her father and turned the gun on me instead.

  “Run,” Nora shouted, her voice full of pain at her father’s betrayal.

  Rob crossed the ground in massive strides and grabbed her upper arm in a tight grip that made her wince.

  “Vance, I'm so sorry,” she said, oblivious of the way her dad’s fingers tightened until they turned white. “I didn't know, honest.”

  “I believe you,” I said. Her eyes held mine, so green, sincere, and filled with such love it took my breath away. The man beside me shoved my shoulder directly on the bullet wound. I stumbled to the side, righted myself, and walked slowly to Rob’s truck. Rob spoke to one of his men who then took Nora and led her to a car that appeared at the edge of the parking lot. I climbed inside the truck and watched her until she disappeared from view, convinced that it was the last time I would ever see her again.

  Chapter 11

  “Wake up, mutt.” The sneered words were followed by a kick to my ribs that awoke the pain in my side with a vengeance. My arms and legs were tied, which prevented me from defending myself against another kick. I winced and opened my eyes to see a white-walled room full of cages. “He's awake,” the one who had kicked me said.

  “Throw him in the cage,” Rob's low voice answered.

  Two men picked me up and threw me in a cage with bars on all sides and the bottom. My skin burned when I hit the floor. One of the men stepped in and cut the ropes with a quick slice of his knife, then slammed the cage door shut behind him. I stood shakily in an attempt to keep as little of my skin contacting the floor as possible. My bare feet seared where they touched the bars. I looked up to see Nora's father on the other side of the cage door, his arms crossed casually in front of his tailor-suited chest and his eyes boring into mine.

  “Throw him a blanket,” Rob said. His dark tone carried a hint of amusement at my pain.

  A gray wool blanket that smelled of unwashed bodies landed in a heap at my feet. I stood on it, then met Rob's eyes again. “Where am I?” I demanded.

  A humorless smile touched his lips. “The Werewolf Refinement Center, or Lobotraz, as we've come to call it thanks to the fact that no werewolf has ever escaped.” He winked at one of the men next to him. “Alive, that is.”

  The three men chuckled and I wanted to smash their faces in as I had never wanted to hurt anyone before. I clenched my fists and pain ran up my arm where I had been shot. I glanced down to find a bandage over the wound. Another one had been wrapped around my thigh just below the tattered shorts I wore.

  “Heal 'em to kill 'em,” one of the other men said.

  “Good thing they heal so quickly,” Rob replied. He turned away, but said over his shoulder, “Makes torture that much more rewarding.” They walked through the room and shut a large metal door at the end with a resounding clang.

  I felt like I was going to vomit and sunk into a crouch on the blanket. I reached out a hand to steady myself, but stopped just before I grabbed the silver bars.

  “Good move,” a voice said from across the room.

  I looked up to find another werewolf in a cage. Eight more cages lined that side of the wall and a glance to my right and left showed the same number on my side. Each cage contained a werewolf who watched me with mixed expressions of boredom, empathy, and anger.

  “You want to touch the metal as little as possible. The coating absorbs in your skin and burns for hours,” the werewolf concluded.

  “Nice little trick he does with the blanket, too,” the werewolf next to him agreed. He was seated on the floor of his cage, his blanket spread out to protect him from the bottom of his cell. “Waits until you burn your feet before he gives it to you. Likes to give you something to think about.”

  “Smarts, doesn't it?” a female voice asked next to me.

  I turned see a girl a few years younger than me standing in the cell on my left. Mercifully, she had been given a tattered shirt to wear along with the unwashed ragged shorts that were the sole coverings of the other werewolves. She held something in her hand and lifted it for me to see. “It's just water,” she explained, “but the more silver you wash off, the less it'll burn.” She slipped her hand between the bars and waited for me to take the metal cup.

  I took it, then winced as it burned my fingertips. “More silver, really?”

  She shrugged. “They aren't very original. You get used to it eventually; at least it hurts a little less.”

  “You shouldn't lie, Gem. Gives the new guys hope,” the werewolf across from us admonished.

  She rolled her eyes and gave me a winning smile. “Don't listen to them. I think they're starting to enjoy it here.”

  A cup flew across the aisle between us and hit Gem's cage with a loud crash. Everyone fell silent for a moment, but the door at the end of the room stayed closed.

  “Smooth, Jake,” Gem commented dryly. She turned back to me. “Use a corner of your blanket to wipe it off your feet; otherwise you'll be up all night with the pain.”

  “I don't think I'll be sleeping much,” I said quietly, but I did as she instructed, and even though my feet still burned and angry red marks streaked across the bottoms where they had touched the bars, the pain lessened a bit.

  Gem gave me a sad smile. “They're always the worst on the first day. You'll sleep, trust me.”

  “What are you talking about?” I pressed.

  She toyed with the short strands of her blond hair which had once been trimmed into something resembling a pixie cut and refused to answer. I looked at the other werewolves. The one across from me cleared his throat. “I guess you'll find out soon enough.” He rose and stretched in the confines of his cage. “They'll beat you until you phase, then whip you like a mangy cur with a silver cat-o-nine-tails that'll leave you as striped as a zebra.”

  He turned to demonstrate and a lump formed in my throat. Black marks that looked like charcoaled burns ran up and down his back. He flexed, then let out his breath slowly and turned back around.

  “They healed like that?” I asked quietly.

  He nodded. “They coat the whips with the same stuff as the bars. It burns and makes the healing process slower. And it never really stops hurting.” He gave a grim smile. “They've got werewolf torture down to an art.”

  I dreaded the answer, but knew I had to ask. “What do they want?”

  “The location of your pack.” His even tone said that they had broken the information from him long ago. He met my eyes, his gaze grim and angry. “At least, that's what they tell you. Then, when you finally break and give it to them,” his eyes narrowed and his expression left no room for argument, “And you will break.”

  The surety in his tone sent a cold chill down my spine.

  He kept speaking, “Then even though they promised to kill you, they keep you here and torture you for the sheer, twisted pleasure of it. Day after day, month after month.” His voice had risen to an angry shout.

  He gripped the bars, ignoring the pain of the
silver gel that covered them. “And there's no escaping it because our werewolf instinct doesn't let us kill ourselves and they won't kill us despite their promises!” A growl ripped from his throat and he hit his head against the bars so hard a trickle of blood ran down his forehead. He staggered back and sat down on his blanket. He touched the blood, then stared at his fingers as though he saw something within the dark red liquid.

  “Don't mind Jake,” Gem said quietly next to me. “He's been here a while.”

  “Everyone's been here a while,” the werewolf in the cage next to Jake growled.

  I ran a finger over the knuckles on my right hand and frowned. “What if you don't phase.”

  “They beat you to death,” the werewolf on my other side answered. “But you'll phase. It's instinctual to protect ourselves and we can't fight it. It's their way of humiliating us after we’ve given in and told them what they want to know. They take away our humanity, forcing us to phase so they can beat us like dogs.” He ran a hand through his dirty brown hair. “It's degrading.”

  “My friends will come for me,” I said softly.

  Jake lifted his bleeding head and laughed. Blood ran into his eyes, making him look even more deranged. “Your friends will come for you? Your pack?” He snorted. “Buried as deep as we are? You're as delusional as Gem.”

  Several of the other werewolves chuckled, the bitterness of their laughter as biting as it was haunting. I glanced at Gem. She shrugged. “My parents will come for me. I know they're searching. They'd never give up.”

  “Give it up, Gem,” a female werewolf called from a few cages down. “After six months, I'd think you'd figure it out.”

  I stared at Gem. “You've been here six months? How old are you?”

  “Sixteen,” she replied. She gave a forced smile. “At least I don't have to worry about passing Driver's Ed.”

  “How did they find you?”

  A cloud crossed her face. “I was at the movies with some friends. They jumped us when we were walking back to our car.” She dropped her eyes, but I could still see the guilt in them. “They killed Kristy and Morgan when they found out they weren't werewolves.” The tears in her voice betrayed the carefully emotionless expression on her face. “They'd still be alive if it wasn't for me.”