“Why do you say it like that?”
Her frown deepens. “I don’t like it. Put aside the silver azide for a moment, we still don’t know enough about the blood chemistry of werewolves to be experimenting like this. We don’t have enough volunteers to keep up with sufficient research so we’ve no idea what this will do to them.”
Rayne and I share a look. She opens her mouth, but I get there first.
“Is any of it in Angbec right now?”
“It shouldn’t be. The Foundation authorized the initial synthesis and reproduction of the chemical on a small scale, but so far nothing from the Scotland team suggests it’s ready for werewolf testing. It should still be in their lab. How do you even know about this?”
“I think Maury used it on Wendy.”
Pippa’s eyes widen.
“You’re speculating, Danika.”
“Then why was he so cagey with me?” I glare at Rayne. “He wouldn’t tell me what it was when I noticed and tried to sneak it past me even before that point. Why?”
“Because you’re a known loose cannon with reckless disregard for authority?”
“Hey—”
“It’s true.” She shrugs. “We need to give him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, it may not be this new drug from Scotland. What if it’s something else?”
“And what if it isn’t?”
Pippa joins us at the table. “Guys, calm down. The drug hasn’t left Scotland. It can’t have. Last I heard, they still needed to find a substitute for silver azide and so far there isn’t one.”
“And what’s wrong with silver azide?”
“Aside from the fact that it’s an explosive? Not much. It’s pretty useful stuff, just incredibly volatile. A few milligrams of the stuff would make a significant bang.”
I stand. “We have to get Wendy out of that cell.”
“We will.”
“No, we need to do it now.”
“Danika—”
“It’s my fault he’s in there. He came to me for help and I let Maury bully me into putting him in holding. I should have fought harder to keep him out.”
A sigh from Rayne. “From what you’ve told me, Maury can’t bully you into anything, no matter how hard he tries. Besides, we can’t take Wensleydale from holding. We need proof.”
“But you didn’t see him this morning. He was lying there like some limp spaghetti string. I’ve never seen him look so out of it. If someone really is out to get him, then—”
“Then we stop them. We have to work it that way round, Danika, we have no choice. Please. Don’t do anything crazy.”
I’m pacing now, hadn’t even realized I’d started moving. At the end of the kitchen, I twirl and turn, following the line of the cupboards lining the kitchen.
She’s right of course. But in my mind’s eye I see Wendy’s docile smile again and the limp slide onto his bed. This can’t be good.
“Dani?”
I look down to my sister.
“I need to go, but…I don’t think you need to worry. For one thing, Mr. Gordan is one of the strongest wolves I know. It’s going to take a lot to hold him down and I don’t know that anything could for any length of time. He’s the pack alpha for a reason. For another, whatever it is that Maury used, it can’t be the Q174X. That’s still in a lab in Scotland, not ready to be used yet. He’ll be fine. Okay?”
I’m nodding, but the spiky lump in my throat makes that hard to feel genuine.
She pats my shoulder and heads out.
Rayne looks up at me from her slouch in her seat. “We should talk to the rest of the pack.”
“Yeah. Let’s take the rest of Kappa though.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. I think we’re going to need them and…I need to tell you something about the car.”
* * *
Rayne sits upright and stiff against her seat belt. Her nostrils flare as she scents the air, one hand tracing the gouge marks in the ceiling above the driver’s seat. “This is a lot of damage. Why would they do this?”
I’ve asked myself the same question over and over since this morning. Still no answers. Aside from fear of SPEAR following Wendy’s arrest, there are no reasons I can think of for the attack on me. Not from Wendy’s pack, anyway.
Funny, I hadn’t been nervous this morning, but now, even with Rayne at my side and other members of Kappa on the way, my stomach is looped into tight, rigid knots.
“Did they recognize you?”
“I hope not.” I flex my fingers on the steering wheel. “I mean, I’m a pack-friend. Wendy himself vouched for me and placed me under pack protection. If they knew it was me, then we have yet another problem to add to the list.”
Rayne nods and turns her attention to the road. Though it may not seem so to the casual observer, I know she’s now on high alert, scanning every dark corner and shadow for signs of danger.
So nice having a vampire on side.
The neat, clean streets give way to muckier, grimmer ones as we near the edges of Misona. Traffic thins, then dies off altogether, most humans well aware of the fact that this land belongs to werewolves.
Those few pedestrians out on the pavement walk with the graceful glide of edanes. Not all werewolves, to be sure, but certainly less squishy than the average human.
We pass a couple of hollow, burned out cars and the shabby carcass of a children’s play area wedged between two tall flats.
The road ahead is blocked, two skeletal cars shoved nose to nose with a stack of cardboard boxes, twisted shopping trolleys, and old furniture piled up behind.
Rayne wrinkles her nose. “That’s new.”
“Something to do with the new wolves?”
“Could be.”
I stop the car well back from the blockage, actually taking time to turn and face back in the opposite direction. While I don’t expect it to happen again, it would be nice to have a clean getaway path this time.
The moment I step from the car, I know something’s wrong.
Chapter Eleven
The very air tastes of menace, unease, and fear.
At my side, Rayne clenches her fists and stands close enough to actually crowd my space.
I give her a wry look, but she shakes her head and juts her chin toward the rear of the blockage. It takes longer than I’d like to see what she’s pointing out.
Eyes. Dozens upon dozens of gleaming eyes in creepy, shining pairs. Some yellow, some green, others amber, all of them fiery and fierce.
That knot in my stomach tightens significantly.
“My name is Danika Karson. I’m here on behalf of Wensleydale Gordan, alpha of the Dire Wolves.”
“SPEAR.” The hiss is soft but angry, from somewhere low and far behind me.
Rayne whirls and presses her back to mine, growling deep in the back of her throat.
The cry is repeated again and again, sibilant whispers on the dull breeze.
I fight every instinct that tells me to reach for my gun. “Yes, we’re from SPEAR. My companion is Rayne, you know her too. We are pack-friends.”
“Vampire.”
Again the voice from behind.
I nudge Rayne in the ribs, indicating that she turn. Though she grumbles, she doesn’t argue, instead sidestepping while keeping her back pressed close to mine.
Where the hell is the rest of our team?
Finally, I’m facing the opposite direction, toward our lonely-looking car out on the pavement edge. There are shadows around it, seemingly moving and swirling, but more pressing are further pairs of those eyes.
Why are these wolves in hybrid form?
“Where is your leader?”
“SPEAR,” comes the cry again, this time chased by low growls of anger.
“This is unusual werewolf behaviour, Danika.”
“You think?” I treat Rayne to another jab in the ribs. Then to the crawling night air, “I want to speak with Pete Dunn.”
Some of the growls stop. Not enough, but a few
. Several of the eyes wink and blink before dropping the eerie supernatural glow. Those in front, near my car, don’t.
Instead a figure fully eight feet tall steps out from the shadows. I catch a glimpse of a long sleek muzzle and tail before it darts out of sight.
“Hey—”
Rayne snatches at my arm, halting my step forward.
“Don’t you dare,” she mutters.
I glare, but wait, taking the time to clasp my hands in front of me. Got to keep them away from the gun.
Several seconds pass before a man approaches from the darkness. He’s taller than me, but most of that height likely comes from the twelve-inch Mohawk crowning his head. He’s dressed wholly in black, with acne-scarred skin and a tasteful ring piercing in his left nostril. His large hands hang loose by his sides, a gesture I might have taken for relaxed interest if not for the glint of edane colour in his eyes.
Each step in our direction cracks on the air like snapping twigs. His steps are light and soft, but I find myself flinching with each one.
Who the hell is this guy? He seems familiar, but I can’t place why.
He finally stops before us and smiles, hands resting lightly on the selection of slender, studded belts hanging stylishly on his hips. “I remember you being taller.” His eyes meet mine directly.
Guess the height is mostly hair then.
“Who the hell are you?”
I can all but feel Rayne’s eye roll, but I don’t care. Enough is enough.
The man eyes me a moment longer before cocking his head. “I’m Aleksandar. You can call me Alek, though. If you’d like.”
“I’m looking for Pete Dunn. Where is he?”
“He? Hmm. Not here. But you can speak with me.”
I open my mouth again, but Rayne’s hand is already on my shoulder. She squeezes hard enough to make me wince. “Danika.” Her voice is low, but enough for me to hear. The warning is clear.
“Wendy—I mean, Wensleydale sent me here to help. I know what’s been happening to your pack. I want to clear your names.”
“SPEAR wants to help us? How…interesting.”
“I want to help you.”
“Then we’d better have a chat hadn’t we, Agent Karson?”
I squeeze Rayne’s hand, flexing my shoulder as her crushing grip slips away. “I don’t know you. Pack law dictates that in the absence of an alpha, the second should step forward in their place and—”
“Don’t you dare cite pack law to me, human.” The calm, easy manner dissolves in an instant. Rage contorts Aleksandar’s heavily made-up goth features into something ugly and feral. Even his hair seems to bristle. “As if a low, human servant would know anything about how the Dire Wolf pack conducts itself.”
In an eyeblink, Rayne is no longer at my back, but beside me, bearing her fangs at the werewolf. She makes no move to attack, but the silver sheen in her eyes is hard to ignore.
“And a blood-sucking parasite to boot. The Dire Wolves were once the largest pack in this city. The strongest. Now we babysit SPEAR and allow oversized mosquitoes to walk our territory. Shameful.”
Footsteps from the right.
This time I can’t help it, the gun is in my hand and pointed before I can think it through.
What the hell is happening now?
* * *
Aleksandar snarls, but Rayne is in his path, still passive, but ready for action. Watching. Waiting. Taunting? Perhaps.
The person approaching from my right is running hard, leading a small gaggle of stragglers. Their paper-white skin seems almost to glow in the darkness, while their long, thin hair flaps behind them like a banner. They skid to a stop in front of me panting and gasping, clutching their skinny chest through a worn leather jacket.
“A-agent Karson?”
Short, pale skin. Wild, nest-like hair. Soft, whispering voice…wait, very pale skin. Colourless. Pale pink eyes. Ah, now I recognize them. Not what I expected though.
“Pete Dunn? I thought you were—sorry. Um, is it Petra?”
“Both.” They pull a shaky smile. “S-sorry…I took…so long…”
“It’s okay, get your breath back—”
“Y-you said there-there were new cubs hiding on the West Side.” Pete looks straight past me to Aleksandar.
Anger melts from Aleksandar’s face as though it had never been. His lips part into a small O of surprise. “They weren’t there?”
“No.”
“But there were several according to reports passed to me. And I just had to let you know, especially in the absence of our great and powerful leader.”
Wow. The air seems to chill around me, enough that I have to fight the urge to rub my shoulders. Instead, I tuck the gun back into my holster and step back far enough to give Pete a clear view of Aleksandar. Rayne joins me.
The pair glare at each other for long, tense seconds.
The men and women behind Pete stare with poorly concealed hatred in their eyes. Some of them even sport the long black fingernails of their hybrid forms.
In the space around us, behind the blockade and on the nearby pavement, other werewolves glare right back, with the same barely contained fury.
Pete drags slim, daintily manicured fingers back through their hair. “Great, well, uh, next time, like, be more certain. There were gargoyles nesting in the building you described. We had to bust our way out.”
Aleksandar presses both hands to his chest. “There were? I’m so, so sorry. Did everyone get back okay?”
“A few scrapes and bruises. But we’re fine.”
“Good. I’d hate if anything happened to you.”
Now there is a “fuck you” if ever I heard one. Rayne seems to think the same, because her fists are clenching and unclenching gently, even if her facial features are smooth, bland and placid.
A long moment of silence stretches between us.
It breaks only when the low rumble of an approaching vehicle drifts in on the night air.
It’s a SPEAR vehicle, a van laden down with the rest of my Kappa teammates.
About bloody time.
Aleksandar casts them a wary glance before turning. “Since you’re back, Petra, I’ll leave you to your meeting with these SPEAR agents. Maybe you will be able to find us some answers. Our safety depends on information.” With that last jibe, he walks away, back into the shadows near my car.
With him go many of the other pairs of eyes watching from the background.
Soon, they’re all gone, leaving just myself and Rayne with Pete and their little handful of companions.
Pete heaves a huge sigh. “Agent—”
“What the hell?” I yell.
“I know, I know, but—”
“Who is he and why is two-thirds of the pack hanging on his tail? Where even were you? What’s happening?”
They lift a hand. “Please don’t, okay? Like, enough shouting at me. One of you is enough. Can you just…will you come with me? Like, please? It’s not safe out here.”
Understatement of the year, anyone?
But instead of arguing, I follow, leaving Rayne to fill in the rest of our team.
We need to get to the bottom of this whole new pack mess, but apparently, there’s one more mess we need to deal with first.
Chapter Twelve
Pete leads me to the entrance of a squat apartment block a few yards on from my car. With a quick gesture for their companions to remain outside, they lead me inside and up two flights of steps to a landing of three closed doors.
One is twisted off its hinges and barely serving its purpose, the other two are wedged tightly shut. They rap on the second of this pair with the back of their knuckles, once, twice, three times.
It jerks open with a squeal of protesting hinges.
“Sir? You’re safe? What happened?” The voice from inside is sharp and clipped, a vague hint of some northern accent in the vowels. It belongs to a woman with straight black hair down to her hips and three small spiral tattoos on her left cheek.
“He lied,” mutters Pete and enters the apartment.
The woman rolls her eyes but doesn’t add anything else, instead looking me up and down before holding the door wider. She waves me in, then slips past to keep guard outside on the landing.
Inside the apartment is bare, dark, and cold. This isn’t a living space by any stretch of the imagination. No furniture or even light bulbs, just a few half rotted boxes and broken pallets.
The only reason I can see anything at all is because someone has left a dim, battery operated lamp on top of one of the boxes.
I squint. Sigh. “Pete—”
“Why are you here?” They don’t look at me, instead watching the street outside through the filthy, cracked glass of the nearest outward facing window. “It’s not safe.”
“I’m here to help.”
“You can’t.”
“Wendy asked me to.”
Pete stiffens. Their skinny shoulders draw up toward their ears. “You can’t help us. No one can. This is a wolf problem, like, we have to deal with it ourselves.”
“How old are you?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me.”
They draw the tip of one slender finger down the window glass. “Seventeen.”
I could kick Wendy. I could kick him and punch him for doing this to what is essentially a child. “And you’re second in command.”
“Yes.” Pete’s voice takes on a little growl. “Is that a problem?”
“I—no. No, it’s not a problem. We all have to trust that Wendy knows what he’s doing and—”
“Don’t call him that.”
I squint.
“Don’t call him ‘Wendy.’ It’s, like, disrespectful. He’s our alpha and leader. He deserves our respect.”
“Your alpha and leader is in a SPEAR cell right now, trapped, sedated, and off his stupid, furry face. He asked me to come down here and figure out what’s going on because he knows I can help.”
Pete’s fingertip stroke becomes a screeching claw scratch. “You think this is helping? I saw what happened to you this morning. You’re not safe here. You’re just getting in the way.”
“I’m doing my job.”
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