Werewolf Academy Book 6: Vengeance (3 page)

Alex glanced back to see Drogan watching him with an unreadable expression. As soon as the door was locked, the woman walked away. At the guard’s motion, Alex was forced to follow her.

Chapter Two

Alex had survived brutality before. He willed his heart to be calm while they strapped him to a table.

“Just morph or whatever you call it and we won’t have to do this,” Dr. Kamala said as though they were discussing changing a tire instead of torture.

“I’m used to pain,” Alex replied.

A light of amusement gleamed in the doctor’s eyes. “Not like this.”

Steve cut Alex’s shirt off, then attached electrodes to his chest. Dr. Kamala studied Alex’s scars with an impassive expression.

“You should take better care of yourself,” she noted.

Alex rolled his eyes. “Like not getting myself strapped to a table and tortured?”

“That would be a good idea,” Dr. Kamala replied without a hint of humor.

Metal cuffs were fastened around Alex’s wrists and ankles. He forced his face to remain expressionless when a cart with a dial and several knobs was pushed over by two of the doctor’s assistants. One of them flipped a switch and the machine began to hum.

“I think I’m really going to enjoy this,” Dr. Kamala said.

Alex clenched his jaw, refusing to emit a sound when wires were attached to the electrodes.

“You might want a mouth guard,” the doctor told him. She lifted a white object. “It’ll keep you from breaking your teeth.” When Alex glared at her and refused to open his mouth, she shrugged. “Have it your way.” She tossed it back on the cart as though she couldn’t care less.

“Start with level two,” she told the assistant who stood ready near the machine.

The young woman nodded and turned the dial.

Electricity rushed from the electrodes and coursed through Alex’s entire body. His back arched and he gritted his teeth so hard in an effort to keep from crying out that he thought they would break. Every nerve, muscle fiber, and cell felt like it was ignited with electric fire until Alex felt like he was burning from the inside out. His hands clenched into fists and his arms shook with the strain. He had never felt such pain before.

Blue pulsed through his vision in time to the surges of electricity. Alex channeled all of his focus into keeping the Demon at bay. He wouldn’t let Dr. Kamala win.

“Kate, raise it to level three,” the doctor intoned in her high-pitched, monotone voice.

When the electricity increased, so did the pain. A hum sounded in Alex’s mind. The wolf instinct to survive fought to break free. It took everything he had to keep the Demon from forcing its way through. He wanted to phase to wolf form and tear them apart, but he knew if he let his body do anything, the Demon would take over and all would be lost.

“Level five.”

Alex’s head slammed back against the table. His body shook as he fought to keep from yelling out in pain. He shut his eyes and saw Siale’s face. She danced with the grace of a bird, floating across the floor of the prom at Greyton High School. Her dress accentuated her gray eyes, and they twinkled as she laughed at something he said. The pain became a cloud of brilliant red, unbearable, unbreakable, and all-consuming.

“That’s enough,” Alex heard Dr. Kamala say above the hum in his mind.

The electricity immediately shut off. Alex had no idea how long he had been strapped to the table. Small jolts raced through his body. He felt as though ever nerve was fried and overly sensitive; even the pressure of the table against his back hurt. The silence that filled his ears was too loud, and each breath made his heart skip a beat.

“Get him to the cage. We’ll continue tomorrow,” Dr. Kamala’s impassive voice intoned.

Alex couldn’t find the strength to move, let alone fight, when he was unstrapped and carried roughly by four men back to the glass cage. Their grips on his arms and legs felt like they burned through his skin, but he couldn’t force himself to break free. Alex was tossed inside the cell unceremoniously as though he was a piece of garbage. The door was shut and locked, then the guards walked away.

“Have a nice time?”

Adrenaline surged through Alex’s frayed nerves at the sound of the Extremist’s voice. He tipped his head to see Drogan sitting against the far wall, his legs crossed at the ankles and his hands resting casually in his lap.

Instincts made Alex hide his pain and warned him to face his enemy at all times. He gritted his teeth and pushed up to a sitting position. A grunt escaped his lips when he leaned against the glass near the door. The cool surface sent sharp tingles through his worn body.

He felt Drogan’s gaze and looked up. The Alpha’s attention was on the scars that lined his bare torso.

“Werewolves generally heal better than that,” Drogan said, his voice expressionless.

Alex tipped his head against the glass. “Silver tends to interfere with the healing process.”

“I recall a few instances of you being injured with silver weapons.”

Alex glared at his half-brother. “You should try it sometime.”

The barest hint of a smile touched Drogan’s lips. His mismatched eyes narrowed. “Maybe you’ll be the one to serve up such a dish.”

“I will,” Alex said with as much conviction as he could muster.

All he wanted to do was sleep, but with Drogan in the same cage, his instincts wouldn’t allow him to let down his guard. He closed his eyes, keeping the rest of his senses tuned onto the werewolf’s position.

“Why not just give them the Demon?”

Alex snorted without looking at Drogan. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? If I give in, they can drain the life out of me, get my blood with the adrenaline and whatever it is she called it, and they can make their own Demon or infuse someone with my blood or whatever they plan to do. I’d be dead and you can continue with your screwed up plans if you ever get out of here.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

When Alex refused to be baited by his brother’s impassive tone, Drogan sighed. Alex heard him shift against the glass, but the Alpha made no move to draw closer.

“If you become the Demon, you can break free. I’ve seen your strength.” There was a hint of longing in Drogan’s voice he couldn’t hide. “You can tear these walls down the way you destroyed my curs that attacked your precious Academy’s forest. With power like that, nobody could stop you.”

“Nothing is unstoppable,” Alex told him. He opened his eyes and looked at the Extremist. “They have enough guards and silver in that room to destroy an army of werewolves. The machines are already set up. Your doctor plans to inject me the moment I morph. I wouldn’t have a chance.”

“What about now?” Drogan asked. “Break the glass. Get us out of here.”

Alex closed his eyes and tried to find the blue-tinged strength that came from the Demon. He finally shook his head. “I can’t. The electricity took too much out of me. It won’t listen.”

Drogan’s eyebrows rose as though the information was new. “You mean you don’t control it?”

Alex gave himself a mental kick for giving Drogan any sort of information. He had to admit, “Not all the time. I’m working on it.”

“I’ll be you are,” Drogan said, crossing his hands behind his head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alex demanded.

Drogan shrugged. “That you’re the protector of your beloved Academy, the students, your sister,” he grimaced, “Meredith. You don’t care about much more than that.”

“They’re my pack.”

Drogan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Werewolves protect their packs and all that. It’s pretty lame, don’t you think?”

Alex couldn’t tell if the Alpha was baiting him or truly curious. He was careful to watch his words. “It’s family. That’s what this is all about, protecting my family and making the world a safer place for them to live.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Drogan asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. “‘A safer place for
them
to live.’ You already don’t expect to survive to see your new world where everyone lives in peace and happiness with pink fluffy clouds and rainbows.” His tone was dry when he said, “What kind of family instincts could you have if you’re ready to throw your life away at any given moment? How is that living for your pack?”

“I’m protecting them,” Alex said, his voice almost a growl. “If I have to die to do it, then so be it.”

“I’ve seen you fight, Alex. It’s like you want to die. I think you’re looking for an excuse to get away from your precious pack. You already did that in Greyton, didn’t you? You abandoned them. Perhaps I can help you by destroying them all. I don’t know how you showed up in time to stop my last attack on the Academy, but it was a close thing. You won’t be so lucky next time, Little Brother.”

Alex’s hands clenched into fists and he spoke through gritted teeth. “There won’t be a next time. You’re not getting out of here alive, Drogan. Brother or no brother, you’re a threat to my pack and I won’t let you hurt the people I care about.”

“People,” Drogan replied with a scoff. “You mean beasts.”

Alex ignored the barb. The Extremist’s comment made him think of something else. “What are the mutants?”

Drogan gave a little huff of dry laughter. “You mean the curs? They’re ironic, really, considering that they were made in our attempt to create something like your Demon. Now I’m in the same boat as the werewolves we experimented on.”

Anger filled Alex at Drogan’s words. “You kill people with them.”

Drogan nodded. “They’re happy to do anything I ask them. I was the first werewolf to command them, so I have their loyalty. I’m the only one Lucian will listen to.”

“Lucian?”

“The biggest cur, with the scar down his face. He’s a brute, that one. I gave him that scar pulling him off one of our other doctors, but the man had already been mauled to death.”

“You’re their Alpha.” The thought of the mutated, hulking beasts following Drogan as the leader of their pack sent a shudder down Alex’s spine. “They’re your pack.”

“I guess a pack
is
good for something,” Drogan said with a hint of amusement.

The conversation had exhausted Alex enough that against his will, he felt himself falling into a sort of restless slumber. Unable to fight it, Alex kept his back to the door so that he would feel it open if anyone tried to come in.

“Move one inch and I’ll show you what the Demon can do,” he growled.

The last thing he saw was Drogan raising his hands with an entertained expression. “I wouldn’t want that, even if I believed you could try. Save the Demon for Kamala. I want to see her expression when she realizes what she’s up against.”

***

“Come on, Alex. Stop fighting.”

Dr. Kamala’s high voice sounded like a buzzing mosquito above the hum that filled Alex’s mind. She had started him straight at five. The pain felt even more intense than he remembered. The Demon fought to get free. It wanted to tear the doctor and the entire room apart, to kill everyone who tortured and caged him. The Demon fought to bring revenge to his captors.

But she wanted that. Dr. Kamala wanted him to lose control and let the Demon free. She was ready for it. She would paralyze him with her silver and drain him dry. She would use his blood to make more beasts like Drogan’s curs, but with the Demon’s power. They would kill anyone she told them to. Alex’s loved ones would be in danger. Nobody would be safe if the Demon broke free.

“No.”

The single word spoken through Alex’s clenched teeth changed something. He heard the doctor arguing with him, telling him that the pain would stop, but he didn’t let the words sink in. Instead, he was concentrating inwardly to where the Demon resided in every beat of his ragged heart and each breath he took. It was a part of him as much as his wolf side.

He could feel it there, but it had changed. It was almost as if in refusing to give in to Dr. Kamala’s coaxing, he had taken control. It no longer fought to break free, but waited as though biding the time he called for it. He was stronger than the Demon. She would never get him to give in.

A smile crossed Alex’s face, chasing away the rictus of pain. He opened his eyes to see rage fill Dr. Kamala’s features as she realized what she was looking at.

“You’ll give me the Demon if it kills you!” she screamed. She reached over him and spun the dial.

“Ten will kill him!” Kate, her assistant, protested.

Dr. Kamala ignored her. The pain that surged through Alex’s body was so intense his back arched to the point that he felt it would snap in two. A yell ripped from Alex’s lips. His limbs pulled of their own accord against the bonds that held him to the table. His body shook. He couldn’t take the fire that raced beneath his skin as though cooking him from the inside out. He closed his eyes, hoping to see Siale’s face, but all he could see was red and white, pulsing and burning. His heart skipped a beat, then another. The pain was too intense. He couldn’t breathe.

Something snapped. There was an explosion of white in Alex’s mind, and everything went dark.

Chapter Three

Alex was dancing. He felt himself swaying from side to side as he and Siale made their way across the floor, but something was wrong, his feet didn’t touch the ground. Siale spoke to someone behind him. When he turned to see who it was, there was nobody there. Panic filled him. He looked back and Siale was gone. He stood alone on the dance floor. The lights went out one at a time until he stood in a single pool of light amid darkness so deep his werewolf vision couldn’t pierce it.

Something hit him hard, throwing him across the room. Pain exploded in his ribcage. He struggled to breathe. The last light faded. The pain flooded through him again. He couldn’t see his attacker. He couldn’t fight. He wanted to find Siale. She shouldn’t be alone in the darkness. She needed him.

The next burst of pain was so sharp Alex opened his eyes. Light flooded against his retinas. He saw Drogan’s form leaning over him. The werewolf had both hands gripped together in a club, ready to slam down on Alex’s chest again.

Alex put up his hands, catching Drogan’s arms before he could complete the attack. In his current state, he shouldn’t have been able to best the Alpha, but Drogan rocked back on his heels, watching Alex with an unreadable expression.

Every breath hurt. Alex had experienced enough broken ribs to know that he was dealing with several. He put a hand to his chest as he pushed up, unwilling to stay in such a defenseless position any longer. He moved back to sit against the glass with a considerable amount of effort.

“Pretty good for someone who just died.”

Alex studied Drogan. “What are you talking about?” He was amazed how painful it was to talk.

“You were dead,” Drogan said. “They threw you in here like a pile of junk. Your heart wasn’t beating.”

Alex tried to understand what the werewolf was saying. “So you hit me?”

Drogan’s eyes narrowed; whether in humor or disgust, Alex couldn’t decide.

“I guess you could call it that. I slammed your chest with my fists until your heart started again.”

Alex didn’t know what to say. His enemy, the one who was responsible for his parents’ death and his constant fear of losing his loved ones, had just brought him back to life.

Drogan must have read his confused expression because he lifted a hand. “Don’t go reading too much into it. If you die without giving them the Demon or breaking us out of here, I’m screwed. I’m just protecting my hide.”

“Noble,” Alex muttered.

“Yeah,” Drogan replied. “And breaking as many of your ribs as I could in the process was just a bonus.”

Alex fought back a reply. No matter how he felt, the werewolf had just saved his life. His chest ached. He set a hand on it. Even touching the skin hurt, whether from the electricity or Drogan’s animalistic version of CPR he didn’t know. Bruises were already spreading dark and angry across his chest. He longed for the healing touch of moonlight. As it was, he could feel himself healing, his body grudgingly settling into the restorative cadence that kept him alive.

A strange silence settled between them. There wasn’t tension, really, or camaraderie. That was impossible after all they had gone through. Instead, it was as if going through the things they were experiencing beneath Dr. Kamala’s hand put them on a level playing field. Alex wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

After a few minutes of silence, he asked a question that had been bothering him. “How did your mom die?”

The question hung in the air, thick and tangible as though the words were made of smoke that refused to dissipate.

“I told you werewolves killed her,” Drogan said finally.

“But why?” Alex replied. He opened his eyes to look at the Alpha. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Drogan’s eyes narrowed. “It’s pretty easy to understand,” he said with a tone that reminded Alex that the hatred was still very much there. “I was four years old. Dad’s brothers were trying to help rehabilitate some werewolves, they got out and tore my mother apart in front of me. What doesn’t make sense about that?” he spat, glaring at the wall across from him.

Alex was quiet for a few minutes before he said, “You’re a werewolf.”

“Brilliant deduction, Sherlock,” Drogan said, throwing his words back at him.

Alex thought as he spoke aloud. “Hear me out. If you’re a werewolf, you got the genes from someone, and we both know it wasn’t your father.” He ignored Drogan’s glare that threatened death and continued, “So your mother must have been the werewolf. If that’s the case, why did the other werewolves attack her? It doesn’t make any sense. Unless...”

“If you make me ask ‘Unless what’, I’m going to kill you,” Drogan growled.

Alex spoke the thought he knew would anger the Alpha even further. “Unless our father was setting you up for a lifetime of hatred of werewolves.”

Drogan pushed up to his knees, anger twisting his face.

Alex held up a hand in an attempt to buy himself more time. “Hear me out. We both know the General wouldn’t hesitate to stoop to such levels if he was afraid his son would turn out to be a werewolf. What better way to keep the beast at bay than to instill such a hatred of werewolves that the instincts would die completely?”

Drogan rose and crossed the cage, towering over Alex. “Are you suggesting that my father had my mother killed as a setup?”

“He left mine to die in a gutter,” Alex pointed out.

Drogan’s mismatched eyes narrowed in rage. “He loved my mom. He loved her!” the werewolf shouted.

“Mine, too,” Alex replied quietly.

Drogan grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the side of the cage. Alex grabbed his hand, trying to pry his fingers away.

“You know I’m right,” he spoke through his tight throat. “It makes sense. You phased after your dad died. Your sorrow at losing him was stronger than your hatred of our race.”

“You’re the one that killed him,” Drogan shouted. “He would be here if it wasn’t for you.”

Footsteps thundered down the hallway.

Alex kneed Drogan in the stomach. “The same goes for my parents,” he said when the werewolf dropped him.

“They weren’t your parents,” Drogan pointed out, circling.

The doors flew open behind them.

“They were my parents,” Alex shouted. He dove at Drogan, grabbing him by the knees and tackling him to the ground. He grabbed the Alpha by the throat. “They raised us with love, something you know nothing about. The General used my mother and threw her away, just like he did to your mom.”

Drogan chopped his arms and rolled, throwing Alex onto his back. He punched at Alex’s face. Alex blocked the blows with his forearms.

“You know I’m right,” Alex realized with a start. He grunted when a punch hit home. “You knew when you phased for the first time.”

“You’re wrong,” Drogan replied, but his tone carried panic as though Alex’s guess hit too close to home.

Alex let the next punch connect and grabbed the werewolf’s arm when Drogan pulled back. Alex swung a leg up and hooked it around Drogan’s neck. He used his momentum to swing up to Drogan’s back and locked an arm around the werewolf’s neck. “Your father could never love a werewolf,” Alex said. “He used them and threw them away like garbage.”

Drogan rose to his feet and slammed Alex’s back against the glass.

“Stop it!” Dr. Kamala shouted from outside of the cage.

Both werewolves ignored her. Alex continued, “But what if one of the werewolves gave him a son, a successor for the Extremist battle he was so passionate about? He could love the son as long as he stayed human, and what better way than—”

“Don’t say it,” Drogan barked. He grabbed Alex’s arm and ducked, throwing Alex to the ground.

The blow knocked the wind out of Alex’s bruised lungs. He tried to rise, but Drogan grabbed his throat. Alex met the werewolf’s gaze, reading the pain in them when he said, “Than to get werewolves to kill his mother in front of him and scar him for life against his own kind.”

“I’ll kill you,” Drogan roared. His hands tightened around Alex’s neck.

Alex’s survival instincts forced their way to the forefront. He kicked out so hard the Alpha flew across the cage. Drogan slammed into the door with such force that a crack spider webbed out from the locking mechanism.

“I’ll kill everyone you love,” Drogan growled. He ran at Alex.

“He’s the one who killed her,” Alex said, dodging to the side so that the Alpha in his mad rush slammed against the glass.

Drogan turned with the speed of an Alpha and rushed again. He grabbed Alex around the waist and rammed him against the door. The glass shattered around them.

“Shoot the werewolves!” Dr. Kamala called.

Alex rose. A dart hit his back, propelling him to the floor again. Drogan grabbed a large shard of glass and drove it down toward Alex’s eye. Alex moved his head at the last moment and the glass shattered against the cement floor.

“You’re one of us,” Alex said. “Stop fighting it.”

Drogan’s hand was streaming blood as he grappled for another piece of glass. A dart hit him in the shoulder, slowing him.

“I’ll never be one of you,” the Alpha snarled. He reached for Alex. With the effects of the liquid silver streaming through his veins, Alex couldn’t move away. Drogan would kill him.

Another dart slammed into Drogan’s shoulder, spinning him to the right. He collapsed to the floor.

“Finally,” Dr. Kamala said. She stared at them both with her hands on her hips. Instead of living, breathing creatures, she watched them as if they were merely experiments that had gotten out of hand. She smoothed her hair and picked up her clipboard from the ground. “If we let them kill each other, we’ll never get the results we need. Strap them to the compound tables.”

Alex was hoisted into the air and carried back into the experimentation room. He could see Drogan being transported the same way. Alex was brought past the electricity table to another one against the far wall. It was upright and had indents formed to fit a body. Thick cuffs were fastened around his arms and legs, waist, and neck, pinning him effectively to the cold metal. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Drogan being locked onto a similar table.

Dr. Kamala didn’t bother to hide her frustration when she said, “It’ll take hours for the silver to get out of their systems. That’s too much precious time wasted.”

“I’m sure the chemical trials will be successful,” Kate replied. “You’ll get the Demon for sure.”

“We’ll experiment on both of them at the same time,” Dr. Kamala said, her tone firm with the conclusion. “I’ll not wait any longer than it takes for the silver to leave their systems.”

The door shut and the sound of locks being fastened echoed through the big room.

“Ridiculous,” Dr. Kamala exclaimed. “Absolutely ridiculous.”

Their voices died away with their footsteps.

Alex couldn’t move. Claustrophobia-tinged panic rushed through him. He had to escape. He couldn’t imagine what the doctor had planned next. Chemical experimentation sounded even worse than the electricity. He had already died once.

As hard as he fought, Alex couldn’t force himself to move with the effects of the silver dart in his veins. He didn’t know how long he struggled before he was able to calm down enough to think. Last time, he had focused on one part at a time. He closed his eyes and concentrated on a finger. It took a considerable amount of effect, but a few minutes later, the pinky finger on his left hand twitched.

Alex breathed through his teeth. It wasn’t enough progress. He had to get out before the doctor came back, but if he panicked, he lost the ability to move altogether. He sucked in a breath and let it out, focusing his attention on his finger once more.