The Road to Wolfe (The Sanctuary Series Book 4)

by Nikita Slater

  Christine reaches out to pat her hand. "Nothing, sweetie. She’s been in a perpetual bad mood since she was born. She’s fine, really. Anger is how she expresses love. Now, let me see what you have there."

  Christine moves her chair closer to Hannah and the two women bend to examine the cards. Dolly opens her mouth, probably to decry them for cheating. I shake my head at her and wink. The game is supposed to be a friendly release after a long week. We’ve all been putting in our best efforts to create and implement programs designed to pull the city together. Tabitha and Anita have been working together to create inner city greenhouses. Anita designs the buildings while Tabitha plans the gardens and hires staff. Anita has also been working with Wolfe on strengthening the city fortifications. Dolly has been making daily trips out to the water treatment plant to work on the automated systems, many of which stopped working decades ago. Whenever I see her, she’s usually frustrated and weary. However, the construction of several new ground wells has been successful and fresh water now flows into the city, which takes some of the pressure off Dolly to get the treatment plant online any time soon.

  Hannah and Christine have done a truly excellent job of designing educational programs that will be functional and practical. So far, they’ve opened one school, hired five citizens to help teach and gathered more than 80 children to attend. They’re working on putting together similar programs at three other locations spread across the city. I’ve heard from several grateful parents that their children are already starting to exhibit better behaviour due to the supervision and direction given at school.

  In comparison to what these women have been doing, my job seems easy. I supervise all of the city projects, travelling out to the various job sites, giving advice and providing direction and supplies when asked. There is only one project I’ve been avoiding, partially because the Warlord has demanded I keep my distance, and also because I’m not brave enough to enter Dr. Summers’s lab knowing Silas is inside.

  As though I’ve conjured her with my thoughts, the door bangs open and Dr. Summers rushes in. She peels off a scarf, wrapped three times around her neck, a jacket and a sweater before plopping down into Tabitha’s vacant chair. I laugh at the amount of clothing she’s wearing. It’s the middle of summer and she’s acting like it’s about to snow. Having spent my early years in the north, I know what true cold feels like.

  She turns excitedly to me and says, “I think we’re on the verge of a breakthrough in the lab. It’s been so valuable being able to observe live Primitive subjects. And my new assistant is a complete godsend. He listens to everything I say without challenging me. He may not have a strong background in medicine, but he’s making up for it with hard work and persistence.”

  I take another sip of my drink and nod my approval. “What kind of breakthrough?”

  She glances around, sees the wine bottle and snatches it up. Anita slides a glass over to her and Dr. Summers pours herself a drink. She takes a long sip and daintily wipes her mouth with the edge of her scarf. She turns to me, a grin playing around her lips. “We’ve managed to isolate the antibody that causes Necrotitis Primeval and have reengineered the current vaccine to be more stable, so it won’t react quite as harshly when introduced to Primitive physiology. This might actually work as a viable treatment.”

  I stare at her, completely at sea with her explanation. “Uh huh.”

  She laughs and turns her body so she’s facing me directly as she speaks. “Based on the results of what happened to your sister’s friend when she was given blood that was immune to the virus, we know that it is possible to reverse the effects of Necrotitis Primeval. The main problem is that the reversal is extremely hard on the subject’s body, which ultimately leads to massive organ failure and death. So, what we’ve done is take the antibody found in your blood and make a diluted version of the vaccine and bolster it with a few other components. We’re hoping if we give several small doses, rather than one large dose, the Primitive’s body will be able to recover over time.”

  "You are so smart," Dolly says in awe. "Like mind-blowingly smart."

  Dr. Summers smiles at Dolly and shakes her head. "I’m a good doctor, but I could never do the things that you do with technology. It seems like magic to me when you take an old computer system and bring it back to life."

  Before Dr. Summers can continue, Hannah interrupts, "Will you be able to cure Silas?"

  A heavy silence falls on the room, and even Tabitha doesn’t say anything as she walks back in with a bowl filled with freshly baked potato chips.

  Dr. Summers’s gaze turns sympathetic. "What we’re creating isn’t exactly a cure in the purest sense of the word. It’s extremely rare to actually cure a viral infection. Even the common cold doesn’t have a cure and scientists have been trying to get rid of it for centuries. By introducing the antibody, created with Skye’s blood, we’re essentially boosting the white blood cells’ ability to fight back. Attempting to send the virus into retreat."

  "But what will this mean for Silas?" Hannah persists. "Will he ever be human again?"

  We all look at Hannah, at the desperation written on her face. We all feel the same. Maybe not for Silas, but every person in the room has lost a loved one to the virus. If we can have even a glimmer of hope toward bringing them back, we’ll cling to it with both hands.

  Dr. Summers speaks as gently as possible as she tries to give Hannah the most realistic answer. "The truth is, I don’t know. We’re making Silas as comfortable as possible, given the circumstances. We’ll experiment on the other two Primitives, tweak the treatment until it’s perfect, then we’ll treat the former Warlord. Even if he survives the transition, we won’t know what we’ll be facing. Will he still have a neuroblastoma? Maybe, but we don’t know. If he still has a tumor, will it be treatable? Again, maybe, but we don’t know. At the moment there just isn’t enough information to give you the answers you need. Then we have to think of the psychological and behavioral impact of Turning and then spending a year as a Primitive. It’s highly unlikely he’ll be the same man, even if we can turn him back."

  I silently praise Dr. Summers for her compassion. She’s doing the best she can with the information she has, and she wants to celebrate the victories and successes she’s achieving. But she understands how much this information means to the wives of our former Warlord. When Hannah opens her mouth again, I cut her off.

  "Thank you for explaining everything to us, Dr. Summers. We’re very grateful for the research you’re conducting." I reach out to squeeze her arm and Dr. Summers smiles at me gratefully. "What we really want to know though, is how do you go about making a zombie comfortable? I’m picturing couches, game boards and zombie socials."

  Everyone laughs, including Hannah, and some of the tension eases. Tabitha sets the snack down on the table and plops herself into her chair. "Who’s dealing?" She looks around at all the women as she attempts to get the poker game back on track. Her gaze lands on the doctor. "You in, Doc?"

  I push my chair away from the table. "She can take my place. I need to get back to the palace."

  They tease me on my way out, but they’re gentle. None of them are willing to step over the line with the Warlord’s woman. I don’t blame them. Even I’m wondering where the line is with Wolfe. Have I crossed it already? Should I keep pushing or should I settle down and accept my time with him. One year ago, I would have fought him tooth and nail. Now… now… I want to fight just for the stimulation of it. I want to prod and push him. The see where his edge is. See what he’ll do when I shove him right over.

  It hits me that if I’m willing to tease the Warlord, to poke at his eternal control as I find my place in his life, then I’m comfortable with him. I feel secure under his care. I don’t believe he’ll ever hurt me.

  I step out of the house and draw in a deep breath of air, savouring the scent of the cool evening with a hint of rain that has yet to fall. I look around for my bodyguards, but instead of Kingston and Denny, Wolfe steps ou
t of the shadows.

  Thirty-Four

  I gape at him for a moment and then a silly grin spreads across my face. I can’t help myself. I’m genuinely happy to see him. He stiffens as he watches me. I’m not surprised at his reaction. I almost never smile, certainly not at him. Yet, I feel good and I want to share that feeling.

  "Are you here to walk me back to the palace?" I ask, my voice husky.

  He shakes his head, but reaches for my arm, pulling me to his side. "I have something to show you."

  I’m feeling good enough that I don’t question him as he escorts me to his vehicle, holding the door open. I’m wearing my long leather skirt with a white shirt and leather vest. As always, I’m armed to the teeth.

  Wolfe drives straight for the city limits and is waved through the massive gates. I finally ask the burning question, "Where’re we going, Warlord?"

  Without looking at me he replies, "Not far."

  He drives the dirt road around the city, toward the mountains. I gape in awe as we reach the base of the Santa Fe mountain range, currently lit up to a beautiful orange and red glow from the dying sun behind us. I turn to look at Wolfe, watching his profile as we drive straight into the mountains, following the bumpy broken road that's been here since before the Great Fall.

  Unless we're hunting, it's rare for humans to go into the mountains. Though zombies prefer not to travel through mountains, the hordes will sometimes hide out in them, especially toward the base of the range. This gives them cover as they organize themselves for attacks.

  Besides the Primitives, Outsiders are known to make their homes in the mountains. Far more cover than the desert. A thrill rushes down my spine as I realize that Wolfe is taking me to a place that could be considered dangerous. This is one thing that I like about him, he's never shied away from introducing me to danger. He loves the part of me that seeks and embraces hazardous situations. And while I'm sure he doesn't want to see me get hurt, he trusts me to handle myself.

  We drive higher and higher, farther and farther from Sanctuary, until he reaches a cliff face jutting out from the side of the mountain. As Wolfe pulls the car to a complete stop at the edge of the cliff, I'm able to see down the sheer side of the mountain and right into our Sanctuary.

  Without waiting for him, I push my door open and jump out of the car, eager for the glorious view. The edge of the cliff draws me, and my feet move almost of their own volition. I leave my car door open as the awesome beauty of the Santa Fe Valley stretches out below me. From this height, the city looks small, but beautiful. The greenery that has been slowly creeping through all of civilization looks like an emerald blanket from this height, crawling up the fortified city walls and into the city itself. Below our feet is a jumble of human ingenuity mixed with the nature that is slowly taking back its planet.

  "Our kingdom." Wolfe comes to stand behind me, speaking quietly.

  I shake my head. "Sanctuary belongs to everyone."

  Wolfe doesn't argue with my small rebuke but continues to stand with me looking at our city. Standing together, side by side, my shoulder touching his arm, we watch as the sun slowly drops beneath the horizon in the west. We’ll need to leave soon, before we’re completely out of light and unable to drive, but the sheer beauty of our slice of the world spread out at our feet is impossible to walk away from.

  "Thank you for bringing me here," I whisper.

  Wolfe does something unexpected. He moves behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and tugging me back until I’m pressed against his chest. His chin rests just next to the side of my head. Though he’s not a comfortable man to be around, I feel safe and secure in his arms. I don't pull away.

  After several long minutes, I sigh deeply and tilt my head back to look at him. "We should get back to the city, shouldn't we?"

  He looks down at me, his clear golden eye saying the words that neither of us wants to speak out loud. Our Sanctuary is a massive undertaking of repairs, organization, effort and sheer grit. Most days, the effort is rewarding. Some days, it's an overwhelming burden. If we could stay in this moment forever, we would. Separated from our Sanctuary but watching over it like the guardians we have become.

  "Do you want to go back?" he asks, running his hand down the back of my head, sifting his thick fingers through my hair as he speaks.

  I shake my head. Truthfully, I don't want to go back. Not yet.

  "I will give you anything that you want. Even if it means standing on this mountain all night."

  My lips tilt up in a sad smile and I shake my head. "We can't stay here forever. For one thing, the predators will get us."

  Wolfe lets out a dry chuckle. "I’m the worst predator out here."

  I look at him and then let out a laugh. "You have a point. I guess I can take care of myself pretty good too."

  His eye glows as he looks down at me. "Then we stay, if you want to stay."

  He pulls away from me and I’m immediately cold without him. He heads back to the vehicle, opening the trunk and reaching inside. I watch with curiosity as he drags a few packs out and tosses them in the dirt. He slams the lid down and reaches for the packs, striding back toward me.

  I realize as he gets closer that he's holding a bundle of blankets, a bottle filled with some kind of drink and a basket that's likely holding food.

  Hands on my hips I tilt my head. "You planned this, didn't you?"

  Without looking up at me, he reaches down to shake out the blankets on the hard ground, next to the edge of the cliff. "I plan everything."

  Can't fault the man for his logic. He certainly does plan everything, right down to my kidnapping. "Do you think that we should set up camp so close to the edge of a cliff?" I point out, raising my brow at the two packs spread out side by side.

  He shrugs. "You're going to want to see Sanctuary once it's full dark." He pats the blanket, encouraging me to sit. "If it looks like you're rolling toward the edge, I'll chain you to my side."

  I sink down next to him and give him a sassy grin. "Is that a promise?"

  A full belly-laugh bursts from him and I jump in shock. I’ve never heard so much amusement spill from his lips. He is so perfect when he laughs, absolutely beautiful. He steals my breath.

  As if realizing that the moment has shifted into something else, he stares at me, a look of intense longing on his jagged scarred features.

  In the past several days, since we brought the zombies back into Sanctuary, I have slept in the Warlord's chambers, but the Warlord hasn't touched me. I'm not sure exactly why, but I suspect he's trying to give me space and time as I settle into the role he has chosen for me.

  I’m a fighter, and he expects me to fight. I wear my emotions on my sleeve. If one part of me is angry about one thing, the rest of me is angry about everything else. Maybe not the mature way of dealing with things, but it's always worked for me. He kidnapped me and I haven’t been able to let that go. Not enough that I can objectively look at the life he’s mapping out at my feet and wholeheartedly accept it.

  But the past several weeks, working side by side with Wolfe, I've seen just how much we can accomplish together. I'm not ready to become Warlord, as he insists I must, but I'm starting to see the wisdom in our match. He is the calm to my wild. I am the emotion to his lack thereof. We complement each other in a way that I've never been able to see before. Or maybe I never wanted to see it because I was the wife of another man.

  Now, everything has changed, and I must change with it. I reach for him, touching his bearded chin and running my hands up the livid scars that bisect his face. He stiffens, but he doesn't stop me. As if my fingers have a will of their own, they drift toward the simple black patch that covers his sightless eye. Without asking permission, I gently move it up, looking at his face without the covering.

  It should be a gruesome sight, but it's not. This is Wolfe and every part of him is becoming important to me, including the scarred flesh around his blankly staring eye. The damaged eye is white, devoid of colour and expre
ssion. He blinks and I realize that a deep scowl is tugging his brows down over his eyes. I lift my other hand and gently run my fingers over his eyebrows, trying to smooth his expression. Trying to show him through touch that he doesn't disgust me.

  I go up onto my knees and shuffle closer to him, still holding his face in my hands. I lean over and press my lips to his. The first kiss that I've initiated with him.

  At first, he does nothing but sit tensely next to me, accepting my touch but not returning it. I begin to wonder if I've made a mistake, if I'm overstepping. But I decide if he doesn't like me touching him like this, then he'll just have to suck it up, because I'm enjoying myself.

  Seconds later, his arm sneaks out, snaps around my waist and drags me to him. My chest mashes against his and my lips hover over his without touching. Our breaths mingle as the world around us fades away. There is only the two of us, sitting on a mountainside, a gentle breeze washing over us, binding us together.

  We stare at each other, more connected than we've ever been. I don't want this moment to end and I'm suddenly fiercely glad that he planned this overnight trip. He chose this spot on the edge of the cliff. Wildly dangerous and wildly beautiful.

  Then our lips meet and our souls merge in a moment of sheer heat and love.

  Thirty-Five

  Wolfe

  When her fingers stop on my eyepatch, hovering over top, I freeze at her touch. I am not a self-conscious man, nor am I particularly vain. I know what I look like. The man with the sort of face that makes women and children cross the road to avoid him. I am at peace with my scarred visage, yet I despise the idea of Skye seeing me at my worst. Seeing my vulnerability.

  She peels the eyepatch back and stares at me, her face unreadable. I’m tempted to shove her away and replace the eyepatch, but when she says nothing I begin to relax. I know that it’s not a pleasant sight, but her face reveals nothing. No compassion, no pity, no disgust.