“Pressure points,” Scott said.
“No way. No way! You weren’t anywhere near them.”
Oh well. It was too much to hope that Isaac might be that gullible. Scott took a menacing step forward, doing a quick self-diagnostic. He felt good. Strong. He hadn’t thrown around enough magical energy that it would weaken him physically, although he had gotten close. This would have to be a purely physical fight, just like he’d hoped.
Isaac lunged for Scott. He neatly sidestepped, letting the force of the other wolf’s movements take him across the room before he managed to stop and turn around.
“You’re dead,” Isaac said. He tried to sound threatening. He was trying to elicit fear. It didn’t work. Behind the posturing, Scott could practically smell the other wolf’s uncertainty. The sideways glance at his fallen wolves made Scott upgrade uncertainty to fear.
Isaac rushed at Scott again. This time, Scott used his momentum against him, knocking him to the floor.
Fast or slow? He wouldn’t learn Madison’s condition until after he made his decision, so he would have to make his determination another way.
When Scott risked a glance at the other wolf still standing, he had his answer. He needed to take care of this quickly. If he took too long, that wolf might see it as a sign of weakness or worse, if the prolonged fight took enough out of Scott, he might attack.
Isaac tried to stand, but Scott pinned him to the floor with a well-placed knee on his upper back. The other alpha was strong, but not smart. He had no idea how to fight, and was probably one of those who thought brute force would always be enough.
It wasn’t, and in the next second, Scott demonstrated the fatality of his error. It wasn’t as easy to snap a man’s neck as movies often made it look, but this position made it easier than usual. Grabbing hold of Isaac under the chin with one hand and the top of the head with the other, he twisted, hard.
Death came instantly. Werewolves could heal from a lot, making them seem invulnerable, but it was just their accelerated healing allowing them to recover from wounds that would eventually kill a normal man. A wound that would instantly kill a normal man would instantly kill the wolf.
“Do I need to fight you, too?” Scott asked the last man standing.
“I’m not as stupid as Isaac. I know power when I see it.”
“Does that mean no?”
“It means not now.”
“Fair enough.” Scott rose and faced the other wolf, a solid, thirty-something man, from the looks of him. “What’s your name?”
“Jack.”
“Well, Jack, where do you suppose your packmates are taking my mate?” She wasn’t his mate, he reminded the part of himself that leaped with joy at the mere thought of making such a claim. He was just using the word he knew would command the fastest response.
Jack hesitated anyway. “One of the boys who took her, he’s mine.”
Scott growled.
Jack stepped back, hands in the air. “I’ll tell you where I think she is. Hell, I’ll show you, but not if you’re going to hurt my boy. I’ll die first.”
Looking into Jack’s eyes, Scott believed him. He even respected him for it. “I won’t kill your boy unless I have no other choice.”
Chapter 10
AT LEAST THEY DIDN’T LOCK HER in the trunk of the car. Black shirt, or Bret, as she heard him called, wanted to, but Green Shirt, Mick, vetoed him. Instead, they shoved her in the backseat of an ancient Ford Taurus, not even bothering to restrain her. Talk about not perceiving her as a threat.
Madison had been kidnapped once before, but comparing the two incidents felt like comparing a banged knee with a broken leg. Thinking back now on the third worst day of her life – which was quickly getting downgraded – she couldn’t remember feeling anything like the fear that gripped her now.
Or maybe... maybe there was more than one kind of fear. Scott had kidnapped her on that day by the simple expediency of a command. At the time, she’d still been deeply indebted to him and had been forced to go with him. She’d hated him for it, for putting her in that situation, but she’d also understood his need to save his sister. Evan had hurt her more, frightened her more, because unlike Scott she had never seen him so angry. Also, because she’d had no idea what he might do.
But she’d never feared for her life. She had not conceived of either Scott or Evan killing her. What had she feared, then? Had it been fear of the unknown that had ruled her on that day? Or had generalized fear simply masked stronger emotions – anger and betrayal?
She didn’t know, but she knew that right now, she firmly believed these two werewolves could kill. She also believed that they would do other things to her, things she tried and failed to block from her mind.
Rape. One of the foulest words in the English language, but one she might end up learning the meaning of firsthand. She’d already learned more than she’d ever wanted to know by watching the attitude behind Mick and Bret’s crass suggestions and lewd gestures. It wasn’t about sex at all; it was about power.
Mick drove, and Bret kept casting evil looks at her over his shoulder, sometimes snapping his teeth to evoke a reaction. He got them, too. She tried not to react, but each time she saw that flash of white and heard the snap of jaws she found herself flinching. She didn’t have another flashback; either the potion had worked or they weren’t hitting her trigger. For her, it had almost always been the yellow eyes. But she still felt close to fainting, a response she couldn’t afford right now.
Will I ever escape that night? The thought drifted from nowhere, unbidden and previously unexamined. She had never really considered that the night was holding her hostage, but then again, she had never faced any part of it. She avoided Scott whenever possible, and had never spoken of the incident to anyone, at least not in any detail.
She’d been dealing with the trauma by ignoring it and now it was ruling her life.
How could I have known I would end up neck deep in werewolf issues, though? If Clinton had never been bitten, if he hadn’t called her at two a.m. in a panic, then maybe she never would have had to deal with it.
Wake up, Madison! You have to deal with it now. In her heart she knew she would have had to deal with it sooner or later either way. Something like that couldn’t fester endlessly in one’s soul.
In the front seat, Bret’s phone rang and he answered with a crisp, “Yo?” He listened for a few seconds, his face averted so that she couldn’t tell what was going on from his reaction. Then, “You’re shitting me.” Pause. “No... no... all right, all right. Later.”
They were nearly to the outskirts of Chicago by then, after about two hours of ridiculously fast driving that hadn’t helped Madison’s sense of mortality in the least.
“What happened?” Mick asked.
“Isaac’s dead.”
Madison’s heart fluttered. Their alpha was dead. Surely, Scott wouldn’t have killed him?
“How?”
Bret looked over his shoulder by way of an answer.
“Crap.” Mick’s knuckles grasped the steering wheel tighter, turning white. “Who called?”
“Clyde. Says he just woke up. The guy put the whole house to sleep and killed Isaac.”
“My dad?” Mick asked.
“Missing.”
“Crap. Who’s in charge?”
“Clyde’s the only one awake.”
“What’s he say to do?”
“Stay away from Isaac’s house. That’s probably where the psycho alpha will go.”
“Yeah, okay.” Mick took the next exit off the interstate and made a left, preparing to turn back the other way.
Madison cleared her throat, bolstering her courage. “Maybe you should drop me off somewhere. Otherwise, he’ll come after you.”
“She’s right,” Mick said.
“We can’t let her go. He killed Isaac. Now we’re just supposed to bow down to him?”
“You talking revenge?”
“Damn straight. You may not car
e, but Isaac was my cousin. He’s family.”
“I care.” Mick hesitated. “I just don’t know what we can do against a guy who took down half a dozen wolves. He’ll kill us.”
“Not if you let me go,” Madison interjected. Actually, she didn’t know if that was true or not. But it was what she had.
“Shut up,” Bret said. Then, shifting his attention back to his packmate, “We have to kill her.”
“We?”
Bret shot Mick a look of undisguised disgust. “I’ll do it. You just stay out of the way.”
“This isn’t like that other time.” Mick looked away, seeming to wither under his friend’s stare. “I can’t cover for you. He’ll kill both of us if you do it.”
“You afraid?”
“No.”
“Then prove it. He was your alpha. You just gonna let someone come in and get away with killing him?”
Madison held her breath. Her fate seemed to be, more or less, in Mick’s hands. He’d been the more reasonable of the two up until now, but would he go along with this?
“Do it quickly,” Mick said. “No messing around. Just do it, dump the body, then we’re gone.”
She let out her breath. Dump the body. That was her they were talking about as if she were a piece of garbage. Or as if she were already dead. And she may as well be, if she didn’t start putting her brain into gear to figure a way out of this.
Mick didn’t turn back onto the highway. He kept going down the road, passing gas stations and fast food restaurants, until he found a garage that had been closed for the evening. He pulled into the parking lot and then drove around back, circling twice to make sure everyone had gone home.
Think, Madison. Think. Scott couldn’t save her now. Two years’ worth of target practice couldn’t save her now. The only thing she had left was her devil’s gift.
The only thing standing between you and real power is confidence.
The car pulled to a stop behind the garage and Bret got out, presumably to find a way inside. Mick put the car in park and waited.
What could she do? Her magic was suggestive more than manipulative. She couldn’t insert a command into their heads; it wouldn’t work. At least, she didn’t think so. She hadn’t often used the magical aspect of her gift except by accident, although she had calmed classes full of unruly school children who weren’t inclined to quiet down. That was something, wasn’t it?
The only thing standing between you and real power is confidence.
She hadn’t exactly tested the depth and breadth of her power. When would she have done it, and who would she have tested it on? Cassie used to say that no magic was truly black and white, only the uses to which it was put, but mind magic was already tinted a deep, dark gray.
Bret came back. “I got into the garage. We can put her in a trunk, and maybe no one will find her till morning.”
Madison took a deep breath. They were already afraid. Maybe she could work with that, ramp it up, make them think danger was right around the corner. In musical theory, she had learned how to form certain melodies that told a story, like the underscore of a movie. She thought back to what she had learned, drew in a deep breath, and hummed.
Her first few notes went off pitch, earning her nothing more than a perplexed look from the two wolves plotting her demise. She took a deep breath and concentrated, searching deep within herself for that creepy noise that always meant, “Don’t go up those stairs!” and “Don’t open that door!”
She did better this time. Bret looked over his shoulder, and Mick froze in the act of exiting the car. But she lost the tune again, partly because she couldn’t remember the precise pitch, but mostly because she hadn’t practiced.
The only thing standing between you and real power is confidence!
She could do this. She just needed to hear the music in her mind. She started to hum again, then paused, regrouped, and reached for a simpler tune, the classic shark attack tones from Jaws.
Du-duh. Du-duh. Du-duh Du-duh Du-Duh.
This time, both men jumped, and actively scanned the area for threats.
“This isn’t safe,” Mick said. “Something’s here.”
Du-duh. Du-duh. Du-duh Du-duh Du-Duh.
This time she did more than sing the tune, she emoted it. It wasn’t at all difficult for her to feel fear at them. She was made of fear at the moment. Fine-tuning it was a bit more difficult.
Something is after you. There’s danger, and it’s coming from the mouse in the backseat.
They took several steps away from the car.
Du-duh. Du-duh. Du-duh Du-duh Du-Duh.
Madison unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car. Her breath hitched for a second as she closed the door behind her, and Bret almost shook it off. She could see him fighting the compulsion. She didn’t have much time.
Du-duh. Du-duh. Du-duh Du-duh Du-Duh.
They would snap out of it the moment she stopped singing, or at least, Bret would. She didn’t know if her compulsions would last longer or grow stronger with time and practice, but right now the devil’s song would only work while she was singing it. She had to get away, leaving them stranded.
Du-duh. Du-duh. Du-duh Du-duh Du-Duh.
She opened the front door and slid behind the wheel. Mick had left the keys in the ignition, apparently having decided they wouldn’t take so long to kill her that he needed to cut the engine. So she pulled the door shut and hit the gas.
They started chasing her the instant she peeled away, breaking the tune, but luckily for her, werewolves had supernatural strength, not speed. How long would it take one of them, probably Mick, to realize that the mechanic’s shop behind them had cars, and likely keys to those cars somewhere within? Not long enough. She had seconds to decide which way to go with no money, no ID, no phone, and... she checked the gauge... less than a quarter tank of gas.
She couldn’t make it back to the motel. She didn’t know where she was anyway, and two homicidal werewolves would be on her tail any minute. Best to take the unexpected choice, then. She made a left onto the highway, heading into an unfamiliar city.
Chapter 11
THE GAS LIGHT SWITCHED ON ALMOST as soon as Madison got on the highway, so she took a chance and got off at the next exit. She didn’t have money for gas, but she could borrow a phone from someone, get in touch with Scott, and pray the wolves went the other way.
She parked in front of a gas station with a tiny convenience store and only one clerk manning the desk. He was young, still fighting the bane of puberty – acne. She’d waged that war herself, not winning until her junior year of college.
Still high on adrenaline from her near-escape, she approached the lone clerk, tried her best to look like the damsel in distress she was, and asked to use his phone.
“There’s a pay phone a few miles up the road,” he said, not looking the least bit interested in her plight. Well, what had she expected? She wasn’t exactly the dainty female who drew the compassionate strength of knights on valiant steeds. She wasn’t even short.
“Please,” Madison said, “this is an emergency. There are these two guys chasing me, and I don’t have any money.”
He turned his back to her. The nerve! Madison stood there like an idiot for perhaps half a minute, mouth flapping uselessly, before she decided that if she could sing herself free of two werewolves, then perhaps she could sing this jerk into helping her.
Careful, Madison. That’s the devil talking. Was it? She didn’t know, and she didn’t have time to debate morals with herself. She opened her mouth, called to mind the incomplete lyrics to an old Beatles song, and demanded, “Help! I need somebody.”
He turned, and just as quickly as that, handed her his cell phone. As soon as she took it, he looked like he wanted to snatch it back, but she walked briskly towards the back of the store, stopping by the refrigerated section.
She didn’t know Scott’s cell number by heart, but she did know Evan’s, so she gave her half brother a call, hoping he wou
ldn’t be busy with his six-month-old daughter or his wife. He wouldn’t even recognize the number, so he might be inclined to dismiss it. To her immense relief, he answered on the second ring.
“Hello?” There was a definite note of question in his voice.
“Evan, it’s Madison.”
“Did you get a new phone?” Then he paused. “Or move to a new area code?”
“It’s a long story, and I don’t have time for it. I just need Scott’s number.”
“Scott Lee?” There was a steely edge to his voice now. “What’s going on? Does this have something to do with Clinton?”
“Please, Evan. There may be some people after me. I need to call him.”
“Where are you?”
“Just outside Chicago. Please, Evan. Scott’s nearby. You’re not.”
Evan muttered something under his breath, then rattled off a phone number that Madison committed to memory by repeating several times.
“Call me the instant you have a chance,” Evan said.
“Yeah, I will.” She hung up and dialed Scott, who answered on the first ring.
“Who is this?” Scott demanded.
“It’s me,” she whispered so softly he might not have heard her if he wasn’t a wolf. Then, feeling silly because he probably wouldn’t recognize her voice she added, “Madison.”
“Where are you?” he barked, sounding very much like the wolf.
“Just outside Chicago, in this gas station off I-90. I’m not sure if the guys who took me will find me or not, so I may have to move.”
“I’m ten minutes away,” Scott said. “What exit?”
She told him. “Please hurry.”
“Ten minutes,” Scott repeated. Then he hung up.
Madison clutched the phone, not sure whether to give it back to the clerk, who kept eying her suspiciously, or keep it in case they came back. Not that the phone would make a very good weapon. What she really needed to do was think of a good song, something that would hold them at bay for a few minutes until Scott arrived. She could try the Jaws melody again, but feared they might have developed a slight immunity to it. She considered her favorite songs, but she largely listened to country music, much of it involving couples getting together or splitting up.
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