Meg laughed. She couldn’t believe it, but she did. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” Eli shook his head. “I don’t know what he expected from her if they’d ever met after he manifested.”
“She was his mom.”
“She was a hunter,” Eli said. “Through and through.”
“But she raised him.”
“Jan… She knew I worked the weird cases. She let me see her at those crime scenes. Then one day, I caught her in my morgue, all tricked out with weapons. She tried to get me to leave, but I wouldn’t. I demanded an explanation. Then something burst out of one of the cold chambers, all spindly legs and tentacles and—”
He shivered. “I never did find out what it was called. She killed it with a flame thrower. Triggered the sprinkler system. After it had vaporized, we just stared at each other for a minute, dripping wet.” He chuckled. “Then she offered to buy me a drink.”
Meg rested the side of her head on her knees, watching Eli’s face as he remembered.
“You probably needed it,” she said.
“Yeah. But more than that…” Eli’s voice took on a wistful tone. “She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. So in command of herself, fearless. I was smitten. I helped her out with cases. She called them ‘hunts’. Then one night, she brought Brock’s mother to me.”
The lines around his eyes deepened. He started chewing on his lower lip again, hard enough Meg was afraid he’d draw blood.
His voice was just above a whisper when he went on. “Katey was four months pregnant and at full term. Scared. Terrified. And she just wanted her baby to have a chance. Jan was standing by with a bone saw.”
“Oh my God.”
“I kept telling myself it was for the mother. In case she turned—which she did. After she died on the table. But not before bringing Brock into the world. This perfect little boy, born in a morgue.”
“Katey died delivering Brock?”
“She died because Edgar killed her,” Eli said. “He knew she’d turn, with what he did to her. He’d already infected her with enough of his dwellers to turn her into a Hive Mother.”
Eli shook his head sharply. “Jan managed to get Katey into the incinerator. Then Jan turned to me and looked at the baby in my arms.”
“She couldn’t have been thinking—”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to know. I asked her to marry me right on the spot. We weren’t even dating, but I was already crazy about her. I told her we could give Brock a chance, a family. And if he ever manifested… Well, we’d deal with it then.”
“Jan must have really loved you.”
Eli glanced over at her, surprise plain on his features. “How do you figure?”
“If she was really as hardcore as you and Brock have both told me, the only way she would have taken you up on your offer was if she wanted to.”
Eli was quiet again for a few moments, then said, “Maybe so.”
“Thank you for sharing this with me. It helps me feel closer to him. To Brock.”
“I’m the one who should thank you,” Eli said. “I’ve never seen Brock as happy—as alive—as he’s been since he met you.”
“I wish I could do more.”
Eli snorted. “Don’t we all? Even with everything I’ve learned about humans and dwellers, I never could figure out what it was about him that was different. Every single test I’ve ever run shows Brock being completely human.”
Meg shook her head. “But he can’t be.”
“I know. Vaughn and Porter were working on this theory that Brock builds up quantum energy till he has enough to split. That would explain why he’s weakest right after a split and gets stronger as time passes.”
Hope surged through Meg, strong enough to make her skin tingle. She remembered Brock mentioning quantum…something earlier.
She sat up straighter, and said, “That’s great. If he just needs energy, can’t you find a way to give that to him?”
“Even if we could figure out exactly what kind of energy he’s processing and a way to channel it into him safely, it wouldn’t matter. His body is human. It’s not meant to process whatever the hell has been going on with him the last twelve years. The only way to save him is to stop the cycle. And I’m afraid we might be too late for that.”
Eli gestured across the room. “Jon and Nathan, they didn’t come out right. Normally, the new brothers look exactly like Brock. They have the same body weight, match in every detail. Jon and Nathan are as big as Brock was before the split. Their hair, the way they were acting. This split is different. And watching Brock’s vitals slip…”
Eli shook his head. “We have to face the facts in front of us. Brock can’t handle the stress of this. His body is failing. It’s only a matter of time. And when he goes, the others will too. All my boys.”
“They’re not going to die,” Meg said.
Eli looked over at her and rested his hand on her knee. “You’ll have a home here no matter what—”
She smacked his hand away and stood. “Brock is not going to die.”
Eli stared up her, almost like he was a little awestruck. No one had ever looked at Meg that way before. She held her ground, hands fisted at her sides. Her nails were digging into her palms.
“I won’t give up on him,” she said. “And neither should you.”
“You’re right.” Eli nodded, then rose to his feet stiffly. “I better get back to Vaughn. I don’t know that much about engineering, but I’m helping him as I can.”
“Do you need me?” she asked.
“I think the best thing you can do is stay here with Brock. Keep an eye on them all.”
“I will.”
“Thank you.” He headed to the door, casting one last glance at her over his shoulder before leaving.
When he was gone, she said, “I’m not giving up on you. Any of you.”
There had to be something she could do. She sat on the bed next to Brock and picked up his hand. Blood smeared his skin.
She gasped, but then saw that it was coming from her palm. She stretched out her fingers. Her nails had lengthened and curved. Like claws.
How many lies had Roy told her? Was anything he’d said true?
The wounds on her palm closed as she watched them. The blood on Brock’s hand vaporized in a soft blue light.
If only she could give Brock her healing abilities. Her strength. She’d do anything for him, anything to save him.
She leaned over him, brushing her fingertips across his forehead and cheek, careful not to scratch him with the claws that wouldn’t seem to go away. Her fingers had darkened as well.
“The stasis chamber’s not a sure thing. Maybe I should let you bite me. Then we could be werewolves together.”
Brock’s words rang out in her mind. He had to have been joking. Hadn’t he?
She looked over at the monitor, watched the slow beat of his heart. There must be sensors built into the bed, feeding data to Vaughn’s algorithms. They would alert him if something changed with Brock.
If Brock changed.
She jumped up from the bed, unable to believe what she was contemplating. She didn’t even know if she could change herself, let alone someone else. And if she did transform, would Roy finally have access to her mind?
So what if he did?
Alphas weren’t alphas forever. There were constant power struggles within packs, werewolves struggling for a higher position. She knew that eventually a pair would have challenged Roy and Lydia.
Brock kept his replicants in check, which was a much bigger deal than she’d realized. Jonathan’s freakout when he emerged had scared the crap out of her, and it had only started after Brock lost consciousness.
No matter what other dynamics were going on among the Blades, Brock was their leader. He just…wasn’t a dick about it.
She smiled as she remembered him schooling Dexter on his behavior.
Brock was an alpha trapped in a human body. A dying human body.
>
What if she could do something about that?
She didn’t know where the cameras were, but she knew there was a blind spot behind Brock’s bed. The bottom half of the door to the side room fell in that space.
Before she could think herself out of it, she walked to the door and opened it. She left it open when she stepped into the small room.
The lights stayed off, probably on a manual control so that people using the room to rest weren’t disturbed. She hoped there weren’t infrared cameras or anything monitoring the place.
Vaughn was sure to find out what Meg was up to eventually, but she didn’t need much time to go forward with her insane and desperate plan.
She was going to save Brock the only way she knew how. She was going to turn him.
Chapter Nineteen
Brock’s guts were on fire. He’d already split. Couldn’t he have at least a little bit of time without excruciating pain?
He was supposed to be dead, anyway. He prayed this wasn’t what death was like.
His skin was burning. His brain felt like it was melting in his skull.
He forced his eyes open. The room was bathed in flickering lights. Blue, red, gold. Blue, red, gold. He pinched his eyes shut, but the strobe-effect continued. He couldn’t think.
Instinctively, he shielded his eyes, wincing at the arcs of pain that radiated out from his arm. Something wet and cold covered his skin. The sharp, metallic scent that hit him was unmistakably blood.
His stomach churned. More pain. New pain.
It wasn’t a split. His bones didn’t feel like they were stretching. No muscles were sliding against each other in ways they were never meant to. The unbearable pressure wasn’t there.
He felt like he was melting. What was happening?
He reached out to the link connecting him to his replicants. A strange buzzing surrounded his mind. They were cut off.
Rolling onto his side, he saw Meg sitting on the floor. Naked. She was hugging her knees tight to her chest.
“Meg?”
She smiled at him, but then let out a sob that shook her entire body. Her eyes gleamed like flashlights, reflecting off the tears coating her cheeks. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
What was she apologizing for that she looked so wrecked? And the blood… The blood on her mouth wasn’t vaporizing. It was human.
Shit.
Brock tried to push himself up. “Dad? Vaughn?”
“They’re not here,” she said.
What had happened to them? What had she done?
One of the machines near the bed started beeping. The room was spinning. Brock let his head drop, hoping it would help.
He was bleeding. Bite marks lined his forearm, a neat row of serrated holes that seeped red.
The sheet beneath him was stained in a clear outline of a clawed hand. A werewolf’s print, made in blood.
“Shit,” he said.
Roy must have found them. But then why was Brock still alive?
He groaned as another wave of pain hit him. The cloth of the hospital gown he was wearing felt like sandpaper. Brock slid to his feet, tearing it off and throwing it on the floor.
Meg was next to him in an instant. She reached out, grabbing his elbow to help stabilize him, but he shook her off.
“Where’s my dad?”
Brock looked out over the row of beds in the room. They were in the infirmary.
Dexter and Porter were in the closest beds, and Jon and Nathan were beyond them. The machines next to them all started beeping loudly.
“Probably on his way,” Meg said.
Brock’s heart was pounding. He could feel the blood pumping through his veins, see the pulses in the throats of the helpless forms lying before him. It would be so easy to rip them apart.
What the fuck?
“What’s happening to me?” Brock said. His lips curled back from his teeth in a snarl. He couldn’t stop it.
“I’m sorry.”
“What did you do?” he roared.
“I saved you.” Meg’s voice was small, but he could hear it perfectly, along with her heart pounding in her chest.
He looked at his arm. The wounds were starting to heal.
“Jesus… You bit me,” he yelled.
Was this Roy’s idea of revenge? Turn Brock into a werewolf so that Roy could torture him for longer? Maybe get inside Brock’s head and twist it around like he’d been doing to Tessa, trying to get him to hurt the people he loved?
People like Meg.
Brock loved her, and she’d done this to him. She’d bitten him, which meant she could transform. And that meant she’d lied.
He clamped down on his muscles, fighting the urge to pick up his bed and throw it across the room. A surge of energy pulsed through him. He felt strong enough to actually do it.
“Was this the plan all along?” Brock said. “Get close to me so you could infect me?”
“No! I’d never transformed before.” Meg stepped closer. “I didn’t even know I could. I was desperate to save you. Please tell me I’ve saved you.”
“What do you—” His muscles cramped, a much more familiar pain. But it wasn’t nearly as intense as a split.
Each wave of pain left power in its wake. He felt strong. Alive. He was holding on so tight, trying to control what was happening.
If Roy thought this would be a way to get revenge, he was wrong. Dead wrong.
Brock would show him. Roy had handed Brock everything he needed to get his own revenge for all the pain Roy had caused Brock and his family.
He only hoped his brothers would be okay without him.
He blew out a breath and let go, dropping to all fours.
The burning in his muscles released, the pain in his guts settling into a steady burn that radiated out through his limbs. Brock breathed through it. He’d been through so much worse.
Blue light rippled over his body with each pulse of energy. His arms darkened, thick fur sprouting everywhere he could see. When the next wave surged over his body, he didn’t fight it.
He felt another energy—more familiar—like something crawling up his neck under his skin. The new energy burned along after it, consuming it.
The crawling settled in his brain, a last stand as his body remade itself. Brock couldn’t believe he was rooting for the werewolf parasite, willing it to win. His brain was on fire. His face burning as his nose and mouth lengthened.
He felt something seeping from his ears. His left eye was a ball of molten agony. He slammed his fist down on the floor, over and over again, then raked his claws along the metal, peeling it up.
Blue, red, gold. Blue, red, gold.
The world settled into a uniform red. Brock could see the outline of his claw marks on the floor in minute detail.
His breath was loud, deafening in his ears. He shook his head, then lifted it to scent the air in the room.
Meat was in front of him. Tainted meat, but it would do.
He stood. The room was smaller than he remembered. So was the woman standing in front of him.
“Brock?” she said.
He growled as he turned away from her—toward the meat lying still on the beds in the room. Annoying beeps came from the monitors mounted on the walls above them.
“No, no. Brock!”
The woman grabbed his elbow and pulled. Brock snarled, jerking his arm from her grip with enough force to send her flying across the room.
He laughed as he walked toward her. She scrambled to her feet, glaring up at him with glowing gold eyes. Beautiful eyes.
She was bared for him. Long legs, trim build, perfect breasts. He remembered sinking into her heat, using his other form to twine with hers for hours.
He would enjoy her again, after they ate. There was plenty of meat to share.
“I can’t let you do this.” The woman shook her head from side to side, her face elongating, fur emerging from her skin as waves of blue energy p
ulsed over her body.
Claws sprouted from her fingertips, her ears lengthened to tall points on either side of her head. She rose up on the balls of her feet as her legs changed shape.
Brock laughed again, wondering what she hoped to accomplish. Her other form was much more distracting.
She leapt at him, fangs bared. She must want to play before they ate.
He let her push him back a few paces. She wasn’t even using her claws.
The door to the room opened. Fresh meat stepped in. Good meat.
Brock grabbed the woman by the neck and lifted her from the ground. They couldn’t let this meat get away while they were distracted with their fun. She grabbed his arm, finally digging her claws in.
Familiar pain. Insignificant. He didn’t bother to try to get her to stop.
“Put her down,” the meat yelled.
Brock was surprised enough to pause. Did this meat really think Brock would obey him?
His skin crawled along the back of his neck. He knew this meat.
“Vaughn, shock Tessa with enough voltage to take down Marcus, too,” the meat said.
“What?” Another voice sounded in the room. Brock growled, looking all around to try to find its source.
“Why?” the voice said. “They’re both right here in their stasis chambers.”
The voice was Vaughn. Meat with a name.
Curator.
A shiver passed down Brock’s spine that he didn’t understand.
The meat at the door stared at them. Brock could smell his fear.
“There are two werewolves in the infirmary,” the meat said.
“Holy shit.” Vaughn sounded panicked.
Appropriate.
“That’s not Tessa and Marcus,” Vaughn said. “Get out of there, Eli.”
Eli…
“I can’t.” Eli glanced at the beds holding the tainted meat.
Sons. His sons. My brothers.
Brock shook his head, trying to get his thoughts to make sense. That damn buzzing was louder, static energy pushing on his mind. He reinforced his shields, blocking it out completely.
“Brock’s gone and,” Eli’s voice hitched, “there’s blood on his sheets.”
“If he were dead, the others would be, too,” Vaughn said. “Their vital signs are stabilizing, though. I’m running the footage for the room. Just don’t move. I don’t know why the big one isn’t attacking, but let’s not provoke— Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.”
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