Weregirl (15 page)

If I think of Piers, I will think of Sage and I simply cannot.

“Thank you all for coming,” Femke says, sitting informally on the edge of her desk as the rest of the group takes seats around her. “You know why you're here?”

“Revenants,” I say. “Someone is making werewolves.” I can barely speak the words, the idea is so repulsive to me.

She nods slowly, hands rubbing up and down her thighs. “We've encountered five so far,” she says. “All spread through Eastern Europe, though never in the same area twice.”

“Is there any evidence as to who is creating them?” Sunny's soft voice takes the sting from her words. I know they are all looking at me, though I stay focused on Femke.

“There is not,” the Council leader says. “That's why I've asked Charlotte to come. If anyone can identify the creator, it's her.” She holds up one hand as my anger spikes. “You know the physiology of your people far better than any of us,” Femke says. “Am I right to think if some rogue is making more of himself you can figure out how to track him?”

I relax, forcing myself to calm. I know better than to jump to conclusions. Femke has been nothing but fair and honest with me from the beginning, respecting the werenation's need for our own rule and autonomy.

“I should be able to,” I say, even as I hesitate. Should I mention the sorcery which blocked Isabelle? But that will raise more questions I have no desire to answer right now, stirring a story I'd rather forget.

“Excellent.” Femke stands, gesturing for us to join her. “I invited you all because I want this to be an open investigation. It is my belief we need to work together, not separately, and, to that end, I plan to keep you all informed of every issue that might affect us all.”

“Well said,” Sunny murmurs. “I'm more than happy to do the same.” Sebastian nods while I stay silent. I have no say over what they learn. That's my grandfather's job. And when Piers doesn't speak either, I know he's probably thinking the same thing.

“Considering this affects the werenation,” I say, a hint of irritation emerging, “I would think you would have alerted us long before now.”

Femke sighs, nods. “I know,” she says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t purposely keep you in the dark. Please, follow me.” She rises from her desk, face pinched in a frown. “I’ll explain everything.”

***

Femke leads us out of her office, down an ancient elevator to the basement of the building. I smell the revenants before the door opens, catching their scent even as I step through the doors to descend. The scent grows stronger as we plunge underground and I can barely stand it by the time the elevator doors swish open.

I have to breathe through my mouth, almost panting from the effect of the stench. Piers quickly offers me a handkerchief, monogrammed with his initials. I feel vaguely amused he carries something so old fashioned in spite of feeling a need to throw up.

Femke turns to me as we approach a door, her distress at my discomfort all over her face. “If you can't,” she starts.

“I need to see them.”

She leads me inside. The glare of the overhead bulbs leaves no shadows in the long, narrow room where five steel platforms, like hospital slabs in the movies, hold five twisted bodies. Unlike the make-believe of Hollywood, these bodies aren't draped in white sheets, but open to the air. Varying disfigurements mar their forms. Some with wolf-legs, another covered in fur though he appears human otherwise. The one on the end has a fully formed upper snout with a man's lower lip and chin beneath.

“Horrible,” Sunny whispers. “How absolutely horrible.”

I ignore her, going to the first slab to examine the revenant. There is a hole in his chest, a small wound though charred around the edges. I smell witch magic over the stench of his corruption.

“He was killed by an Enforcer,” Femke says softly in my ear where she hovers, out of my way, but available none the less. “We tried to subdue him, but it was impossible.”

I nod. “He's a revenant,” I say. “They are uncontrollable. You did him a favor ending what remained of his life.”

Sunny and Sebastian remain by the door, Piers watching me, but Alison drifts down the slabs, examining each of the bodies with distant curiosity. “I don't feel them,” she says. “It's as if their souls were never in their bodies.”

“Creating werewolves is the greatest offense,” I say, my own soul shriveling inside me, “because it dooms the revenant to certain death and, before their end, the loss of all they are.” I look up into Femke's eyes. “While making more of themselves, perpetuating the horror.”

Femke's lips tighten. “We killed him before he could bite anyone,” she says.

“You're certain?” I look back at the twisted, half-furred form on the table, barely human, not even close to werewolf. “Just one victim can turn into a plague of them in as little as a week.” In the past, whole towns had been burned to the ground, the Czar's guards surrounding and barricading them to keep revenants from escaping the flames.

“We're sure,” Femke says. “The odd part is their appearance, as if out of nowhere.” I follow her as she moves down the line to the next body. This man is tiny, barely over five feet tall and from the gray of his hair, he'd seen far more days than I have. “As if someone is testing something.” His upper body appears human, aside from the softly pointing ears, but the hindquarters are werewolf, shining silver like his hair. “But testing for what?”

I shrug, nose twitching though I grow used to the stench. The revenants smell of worse than death, worse than decay or defecation. They are a mix of all those things and more—the wrongness of them sparking a moment of memory at last as I lower the handkerchief and frown, trying to grasp the thought. It disappears as Femke goes on.

“If someone is trying to make werewolves,” she says, “how possible is it they could come up with a viable means to do so?”

That's a more horrifying though than any other. “They can't,” I say, shaking my head.

“Maybe they can.” Piers's scowl tells me I've missed something. I'm well aware of my cultural biases. My, my inherent rejection of any such possibility dominates my thinking. I can't wrap my mind around what he's saying until he speaks again. “If they used sorcery.”

I shudder violently, forced to lean against Femke as she catches me before my knees buckle.

“Sorcery?” I whisper the word, thinking of Sage and Isabelle and Maks and wondering again why the feeling of the revenants on the table is so familiar.

“Your kind was created by sorcery,” Piers says with an apology in his voice. “Could someone be trying to replicate the process?”

I turn from them, head to the end of the room, let them talk it out. A far doorway twitches, eyes following me from the other side, but my watcher is gone before I register who he is. Or why he was smiling at me.

It doesn't matter. Not when the possibility exists my people could be in very serious trouble.

Piers comes to my side, his hand on my shoulder. “I'm sorry, Charlotte, but it's true.”

I spin around, not wanting to be angry with him while my inner wolf paces and whines. “It's not your fault,” I say. “But you realize if they succeed, if there are sorcerers out there trying to make revenants into viable werewolves, they could then use that knowledge to enslave my people all over again.”

“We will never let that happen.” Femke joins us, the vampires, too. “Never.”

I sigh, knowing my grandfather won't take her word for it and this will put him on high alert. It does, however, shake me loose from my fear and refocus my mind to those who might—if not know something—be on the fringes of this issue.

I certainly wouldn't put it past Andre Dumont to have his fingers in this. And it would explain his real reason for being in Europe.

I quickly tell Femke about the Dumont visit. “I know it's not illegal for them to be here,” I say. “But if there is a chance Andre has anything to do with this, you might want to investigate him.”

Femke hesitates. “Without proof?” She shakes her head, blonde hair almost white in the bright light. “I'm not sure I can. But, I will keep an eye on him while he's here.”

“Not to mention Caine and his people,” Piers growls.

Femke looks back and forth between us while I frown over another hint of memory. What connection is my mind trying to make? I can't think surrounded by the stench of the revenants. And with Sage's face floating unbidden into my mind.

“A visiting pack from California,” Piers says. “I don't trust them, and neither does Charlotte.”

I shrug it off as Femke opens her mouth to speak. “Werenation business,” I say.

She stops, nods, lets out a breath of air. “Understood,” she says.

We file out of the room, the vampires whispering among themselves. Femke stops me in the hall, pulling me away from Piers who shrugs and joins Sunny and Sebastian. The Council leader's icy eyes are intense, but full of caring.

“Charlotte,” she says, keeping her voice low in the gloom of the hallway. “Please remember I'm here for you.” I nod but she goes on. “If you need anything—anything at all—please don't hesitate to ask me. I'll do anything I can to help, you know that, right?”

I hug her swiftly before letting her go. “Thank you,” I say and leave it at that. Yes, I respect her and trust her, but Femke is the leader of her territory and has her own laws to follow. And she's a witch, has to put witch issues first.

So Syd is a witch, too. But she's proven over and over again she has my back. I know Femke's offer is genuine, but the fact she won't—or can't—expel the Dumonts tells me her offer is also hollow.

I watch Femke go, the vampires following her to the elevator. Piers lingers, waits for me, hand out. I let him take mine in his, sighing as he tightens his grip.

Don't be so stubborn and accept a little help now and then
. He grins at me.

Do I dare? He made the offer... I will feel so much better knowing Piers has checked in when I can't.

Speaking of which
, I send as we near the elevator and the others who wait for us, trying to keep my mental voice light.
I do need a favor
.

Anything
. His response is so fast I worry he isn't thinking things through.

I step into the elevator, the doors closing behind us, Piers at my side, still holding my hand.

I need you to find someone
, I send, cringing inside.
And make sure he's safe
.

Piers's hand loosens, his grip slack. He must understand the implications of my request past my attempt to hide my feelings. I show him Sage's face and his hand falls away.

Syd's martial arts guy
, Piers sends, mental voice dull with an edge.
What’s going on, Charlotte?
 

He’s my friend
, I send. Piers doesn’t comment. He doesn’t have to. I rush on.
He came here to see me, not knowing what he was getting into
. I leave out the details and how I feel, but Piers isn't stupid.

Understood
, he sends.
I'll do my best
.

He walls himself off from me and as the elevator doors open, strides off ahead of us all, disappearing into a black tunnel while my heart aches to call him back.

***

Oleksander seems to have forgotten our previous disagreement in light of the news I bring him. He paces the small room behind his throne as I finish explaining what I’ve seen and heard, his big nose wrinkling every time he comes near me. I still catch the reek of the revenants on me and am just as disgusted by my scent as he must be.

But he doesn’t comment on the smell I’ve brought with me, instead huffing to a halt when I’m done speaking.

“We must locate those responsible immediately,” he growls. “Why would Femke wait this long to inform us of the issue?”

I shrug. “At first, she didn’t know what they were,” I say, repeating what she told me just before I returned home to report to my grandfather. “And when she finally realized what she was dealing with, she didn’t want to come to us for fear we’d think she thought we were responsible.” Treading lightly around each other serves no one. I prefer her policy of talking openly among races, though I have no idea if Oleksander agrees with me or not.

He shakes his big head, a soft grunt of frustration emerging from his wide chest. “Let us gather a force,” he says. “You will lead them. And discover the truth of this matter.”

I salute him with a fist over my heart. This I will take on eagerly. Action befits my temperament much more than waiting to see what will happen. And though being given orders might not suit the new werewoman I’ve become, I, of all, know how important it is to find and eliminate this threat to my people.

If revenants are free to roam the world and infect normals, my people will come to the awareness of those who will hunt and kill us without mercy. As much as Syd and her fellow witches need to remain hidden from normals, so do we weres. Their fear of us, their old prejudices, could mean the end of the werenation should normals uncover our existence.

I follow my grandfather out into the throne room, the fresh air washing over me, reminding me I very much need a shower. Oleksander pauses before I can stop, running into him while he shivers with what can only be anger. My nose might be clogged with the stench of the dead revenants, but I am close enough to him to scent his temper.

I step around him, find Caine and some of his pack waiting for us at the bottom of the dais. Oleksander finally moves, sitting slowly on his throne as though to reinforce his position to the smirking Californian pack leader. As I stare my dislike at Caine, the teasing thought I’d been trying to unravel since Femke showed me the revenant bodies clicking into place.

But it can’t be. My brain churns over as my grandfather speaks.

“I didn’t summon you,” he says. “What do you want?” Blunt and to the point. Caine has irritated Oleksander, hopefully to the breaking point. And what I have just discovered might push him over the edge.