by Natalie Grey
“A bolt hole, maybe?” Eric suggested.
“A retreat.” Bethany Anne agreed. “So, what do we know? We know that Stephen dealt with the leaders. We know that the leaders were reckless and preyed on humans. We also know that the ones left behind are weak. So they are weak, and they are using systems set up by people who were reckless.”
She smiled. “I’d say we have a good shot to take them out easily. In time for breakfast, even.”
Bethany Anne was reaching for her coat when voices sounded in the hallway. A moment later, Ecaterina came in with the black-haired woman they had seen in the lobby. The woman looked shocked. She blushed again when she saw John, and shifted her gaze to Bethany Anne.
“She was going to find her brother,” Ecaterina explained.
“Where’s Pete?”
“He changed, so….” Ecaterina grinned. “Someone needs to bring him some clothes.”
“Or,” Eric suggested, “we don’t bring him clothes and make him get up here naked without being seen.”
Bethany Anne tapped her chin with a finger before pointing at Eric, “You guys kill me. And Pete’s going to kill you if he ends up out there naked.”
“I’ll go bring him some stuff.” Eric grabbed workout shorts and a t-shirt out of one of the bags and left the room with an appreciative glance at the black-haired woman.
Bethany Anne frowned. “I would have heard a fight. Why did Pete change?”
“To show her that her mother’s stories were real.” Ecaterina jerked her head at the woman. “This is Yelena, by the way. Yelena, this is Bethany Anne.” She had shifted back into Romanian.
John sighed and put his translation unit back in.
“It is very nice to meet you,” Yelena said politely. She swallowed, clearly torn. “We do not have much time. I do not want to be impolite, but whatever is going on here, my brother is in serious danger. I can feel it.” She said the last words almost defiantly, as if she expected Bethany Anne to think she was crazy for saying them. Her hands clenched. “If he has really been taken by changers, then I need your help.”
Bethany Anne cocked her head to one side, “You do not like admitting that you need help?” she asked her.
“Of course I don’t!” Yelena crossed her arms. “Trouble comes for you when you’re all alone, but it isn’t smart to rely on other people.”
Bethany Anne nodded, “I understand that way of thinking. And for a long time, I did not like to rely on anyone, either. But my team is made up of people like you. People, who push themselves very hard because they do not want to be weak or vulnerable. Like you, they want to help other people. I have learned to recognize people like you, and to trust them. Everyone in this room—and Pete, who showed you that the Wechselbalg are real—is someone you can trust.”
Yelena looked like she wasn’t quite sure if she believed that, and Bethany Anne realized it might be the sort of thing that could only be learned by experience.
“We are going to confront the people who have taken your brother,” she told Yelena. “These are dangerous people, so you should stay here for now. If your brother is there, we will rescue him and bring him back.”
“Nuh-uh.” Yelena shook her head. “Absolutely not. I am not staying behind.”
Ecaterina put a hand on her arm, “It is impossible for you to take on creatures like these on your own.”
“I don’t care,” Yelena said instantly.
“Don’t be foolish,” Bethany Anne told her. The truth was, she did not want this woman to come with her, only to find out that her brother was a member of the underworld.
She was still worried that Alec Nikolaev might not be as good hearted as his sister was. But was worried about suggesting that to the young woman, “What good will you be to your brother if you should get hurt?”
Yelena countered, “Why should you get hurt on my behalf? That doesn’t make any sense, either.”
“We have our own score to settle with them,” Bethany Anne explained. She knew her voice was growing deeper, taking on a tinge of her “Queen Bitch Mode,” as the Bitches called it. “And they will not be able to hurt us.”
Yelena had backed up into the wall when she heard Bethany Anne’s voice. She swallowed hard. She was clearly out of her depth, between Bethany Anne and Pete, but she refused to back down just because she was afraid.
“I’m coming with you,” she said simply. “He is my brother. Maybe you don’t think I can help. Maybe you’re right. But I love him. I will protect him as long as I am able to do so. And I am not staying here if I know he is in danger, wolf or no wolf.”
Bethany Anne nodded. She understood the call of honor. She knew that for Yelena, the chance of death meant nothing in the equation, and she would respect that. “Remember that we are hunting these people because of the things they do,” she explained. “We want to take them down because they prey on people. We will help you rescue your brother.”
“Alec,” Yelena nodded. “His name is Alec.” She said it like a prayer.
“Alec.” Bethany Anne nodded. “We’ll save him, Yelena. Everyone, get your gear. We are going to check out the house right now.”
None of them were willing to consider the idea that it might already be too late for Alec.
Yelena noticed the sword Bethany Anne pulled out of a pack and the pistols they all slotted into holsters before their coats covered them up.
Just who were these people?
Emilian raced through the hallways, shouting for Marcel. The man they had, needed to give them information now. Before, Emilian had just tortured him for fun … and because their client wanted the man to suffer.
Now he had to know if they had the right man at all.
He found Marcel in the room, nervously holding his hand in a fist, hesitating as the man in the chair strained at his bonds to get away. Emilian took a moment to curl his lip in contempt at both men. The man in the chair should know he could not get away—and Marcel should not be hesitating.
Emilian ordered Marcel curtly, “Hit him.”
Marcel did, though the hit was not as strong as Emilian knew he could summon.
“Again.”
Marcel hesitated.
“I said, hit him again.”
Marcel closed his eyes for a moment, but his sense of self-preservation was strong. His fist shot out and the man in the chair grunted in pain. The cuts on his chest were almost healed, and they had not festered as claw slashes usually did on humans, but Emilian was too distracted to think about that right now.
“Tell me your name, “ Emilian demanded.
“Alec Nikolaev.” The words came instantly through cracked lips. The man looked up at him. “Who are you?”
“The scalpel, Marcel.” Emilian watched the man pick it up. “Cut him on his chest.”
Marcel’s face was screwed up with distaste, but he did as he was asked.
Over the sound of the man’s cry, Emilian explained: “You do not ask question. I ask questions. What is your name?”
“I told you?” He tried to explain through the pain.
“Keep cutting,” Emilian told Marcel. “I will ask again. What is your name?”
“Alec Nikolaev! Please! I am telling you the truth!”
Cold certainty settled in Emilian’s stomach. The man was telling the truth. But it could not be true, he could not allow it to be true.
He grabbed the scalpel out of Marcel’s hand and jabbed it down into the captive’s thigh yelling at him, “TELL ME YOUR NAME!”
“I’m ALEC, my name is Alec!” The man was screaming the words hoarsely. “You don’t want me, I haven’t done anything! You want….”
His head lolled. He was losing consciousness, damn him.
Emilian slapped him across the face. “Wake up! Who do I want? Tell me or I’ll cut you again.”
The man’s eyes couldn’t focus. Blood was spreading over his thigh. “The other skier,” he slurred. “The man ahead of me.”
Emilian stared at him silentl
y before mouthing the words slowly, “What. Other. Skier?”
“Fell on the branch. Dunno where he went.” The man’s eyes went wide. “No—no! Don’t hurt him. You can’t hurt him!”
Emilian smiled at him coldly. “I can’t? You are in no position to dictate terms. Marcel, go back to the slopes. Find the other skier, and finish the job. At once. Call me when it’s done. And you, Alec Nikolaev….” He smiled as he picked up another instrument from his set. He turned it in the light, looking at the blade.
“You are going to suffer. Because I have had a bad day. And you are part of that. And because you tried to give me an order. You are going to suffer, as all humans will suffer when I come to power … if they defy me.” Emilian smiled down at the tied up man, “No one will say I can’t be benevolent when I want to be.” He shrugged as he slashed out to Alex’s cry, “I just rarely want to be.”
Out in the hallway, Marcel did not stop running until he could no longer hear the man’s screams.
He did not want to do this. He did not want any of this. But what could he do?
He knew he could not fight Emilian. A human could not do anything against a shape shifter.
He did not want to die. Slowly, trembling, he started into the woods. Either way, someone was dying tonight: him, or the other skier. That was just the way the world worked sometimes.
Chapter Eight
Jamie Constantin paced outside the old house.
His breath was making clouds in the air and his feet were going numb, but there was no way he was going back in there, even for a few minutes. The screams had barely let up for the past hour.
He had taken this job despite every instinct. He told them he could patrol around the house, yes. No, he didn’t care if he wasn’t allowed to go in except to one room on the first floor. Whatever. Rich people were weird, and the pay was all right.
Now he thought his instincts had been correct, though. What was this place?
First there was the guy who looked at people as though they were beneath him, and sometimes he actually goddamned growled. Who did that?
Then there were the screams.
He slumped against the wall. His mother was going to yell at him. She was going to remind him that this was the third job in three months. She was going to tell him that Cristina would never stay with a guy who couldn’t provide for her and the baby.
The scream decided him, though. He had to get out of here. He’d given them a fake name, on a hunch he wouldn’t even put words to. Hopefully they couldn’t find him. He took off down the road without a backward glance.
Better unemployed than dead. Only one of those two situations could be fixed.
He skidded around the corner and stopped when he saw the group in front of them. Huge guys that looked like bodybuilders, and a few women, all of them pretty. None of them seemed scared to be out at night.
“What are you running from?” A woman, in all black, strolled forward. She had a look in her eyes that said he didn’t want to mess with her.
He wasn’t going to. He wasn’t a total idiot. Jamie looked over his shoulder and gulped. “My boss is torturing someone.”
One of the women gave a little cry.
“So you just ran away rather than helping?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing in anger.
“Please.” Jamie held out his hands. “Please, you don’t get it, this guy is terrifying. He growls when he’s mad, three of the guys have gone missing in the past week and there’s blood on the stairs. I got a baby to take care of. I can’t get killed.”
The woman reached out. She didn’t look like a bodybuilder, but she dragged him close without any effort at all. Her eyes stared into his very mind without emotion, and Jamie felt more terror than he had ever known. When the woman released him, he thudded to his knees on the frozen ground.
“You are fortunate.” The woman’s voice didn’t seem human now.
When Jamie looked up, he screamed. Her eyes were red, and glowing red lines threaded along her skin. The air around her seemed to crackle with power. He scrambled to kneel and pressed his forehead onto the ground.
She was not of this world. He could only pray for mercy.
“I am letting you live because you did not participate in the torture,” she told him. “And because it would not be fair to your child if I were to kill you. But let this be a warning, Jamie Constantin.”
“How do you know my—”
“Stop … talking,” she told him before commanding, “Look at me.”
Trembling, he did so.
“You will never do something like this again,” she told him. “You will never again stand by while someone is hurt. If you do, the next time we meet, I will not be merciful. Do you understand?” he nodded.
She stepped around him without another word, and the rest of the team followed her.
Screams drifted faintly on the breeze and Jamie huddled on the ground, sobbing with fear. Eventually, he picked himself up and began to stumble back to town.
Never again, he promised himself. He would not ever think he was too good for work. He’d go back to working at the butcher shop in the morning. Good, honest work where he didn’t have to stand by and listen to people get tortured.
They’d never be rich, but he’d provide for the baby and Cristina.
He stopped at the bottom of the hill. The house behind him lost in the trees, but he looked back anyway. Then, he was smiling.
That bastard was about to get what he deserved.
In spades.
“I think you’re getting soft in your old age.” John flashed a smile at Bethany Anne as the group ran up the hill. He wouldn’t have dared say anything like that normally—at least, not without expecting a hundred push-ups while Bethany Anne stood on his back in very pointy heels—but Yelena looked like she was going to throw up.
“I got her!” Ecaterina slipped an arm around Yelena to help her and the others went ahead of them for the last little bit.
They could hear the screams now, and with every one, Yelena gave a whimper. She stumbled, and John remembered Ecaterina saying that Yelena felt her brother’s pain. He couldn’t imagine what this was like—but he knew this woman wasn’t going to let anything keep her from getting revenge.
“Let’s deal with this dickless regurgitated piece of mouse shit, and then you and I can see if I’m getting soft, Mr. Grimes,” Bethany Anne chuckled.
As they came up to the door, she brought up one foot and kicked it forward. The heavy old door, a thick slab of wood banded with iron, practically disintegrated with the force of her kick. She strode into the house, the energy radiating from her and Yelena noticed two pieces of iron glowed hot when she passed. “He’s upstairs, I saw in that guy’s mind that he was never allowed onto the second floor.”
“It smells like weak werewolf in here!” Pete called. He changed a moment later, following Bethany Anne up the stairs with a snarl and a clatter of claws.
Yelena could feel her brother’s pain radiating through her. She steadied herself on Ecaterina’s arm, and felt Bellatrix at her side.
“We have to help him, Trix.” She used the words to steady herself. “We have to.”
Upstairs, she could hear yelling and snarling. She forced her shaking muscles into a run. Her brother’s screams were echoing in her ears, unstoppable.
Alec, I won’t let him kill you.
She came around the corner to find Bethany Anne suspending a man by his neck. His feet kicked and he yelled contemptuously at her.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” he half screamed, half gurgled.
“I’m the fucking Queen Bitch, you cunt-rotting testicle wanking fuckwitted bastard!” Her eyes were glowing.
In the corner, Alec was slumped in a chair. Yelena ran to him, her heart in her throat. She could sense the pulse of life in him, but his skin was covered in bruises and cuts.
She worked at the bindings on his hands, “Alec, please. Please wake up, Alec. Alec, it’s me. It’s Yelena. Are
you still with me?” Her voice pleaded, “Please wake up, please, please, please….”
She was the Queen Bitch? Fuck that. The vampires were gone, dead from fighting amongst themselves. Everyone knew that. The rumors about space, about TQB—they were just rumors. The vampires weren’t seeking out new challenges, they were running away because they knew they were weak.
Of course, he didn’t have a particularly good explanation for why the woman’s eyes were glowing, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her steal his place. He had waited too long for this.
“Listen, bitch—“
Her fist sent him sprawling to the floor the very next moment. He could taste is blood as he choked on his teeth and bit his tongue.
“That’s Queen Bitch to you, you ass-faced monkey-fucking wank addict!” The woman stared him down. At her side, a huge wolf bared its teeth.
He was hallucinating. That was the only possible reason for this. Vampires weren’t as strong as this one was. She’d brought humans with her—humans they actually seemed to fight with. The humans needed to be shown that Emilian wouldn’t just roll over and play dead for them, that he wasn’t as sentimental and weak as she was and they would follow a real leader.
And he knew just the way to do that.
Yelena was crying. Bellatrix sniffed worriedly at Alec. She could feel his pain. She could feel whatever Yelena felt.
When her mistress was happy, Bellatrix was happy. When her mistress was sad, nothing was right with the world.
Right now, her mistress was terribly afraid. She was whispering to her twin, to the man who smelled so much like her and yet so different. He was nice, Bellatrix thought, even if he didn’t couldn’t understand Bellatrix the way her mistress did.
He was trying to talk now.
“What did you say?” Yelena leaned close as he fell, and she caught him. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”