Wolfen (36 page)

Sinna smiled, and held her hand out to him.

Bryce took it and pushed to his feet.

“Amy must love it here,” she said to Dave in wonder. “And
Matt! I’ll bet he’s doing so much better out in the open. Where are they? Can
we go see them?”

Dave’s expression darkened with sorrow. “Sinna…there’s
something you should know.”

Dread settled into the pit of her stomach. “Where are they,
Dave? And where’s Nate?” What was Dave doing up in the watchmens’ tower, when
they had perfectly good, trained soldiers to keep the perimeter safe?

Bryce squeezed Sinna’s hand, but instead of calming her, it
made everything worse. She had no memory of what had happened in San Francisco
after Connor shot her. Until this moment, she’d just assumed they were all okay
and hiding somewhere, struggling, but alive. Sinna had believed it so strongly,
it never occurred to her to wonder. “Answer me! What happened?”

Dave sighed, and shook his head. “Come with me,” he
relented.

Sinna met eyes with Bryce, suddenly wishing they’d never
come here, that she’d never run into Dave again. Bryce held steady, waiting for
her to make the call. This was her territory. His expression said she’d found
her “good people,” and he was leaving it up to her to decide what to do next.

Swallowing dryly, Sinna nodded and followed Dave.

Past a smelly brewery, the buildings became sparser. “This
is where we store grain,” Dave explained. “It has to be packed properly and
kept dry, otherwise it gets moldy and we lose the whole harvest.”

Two storage sheds, three, four, then a rickety old barn.
Dave reached for the barn door, and paused to look over his shoulder at Bryce.
“Maybe you should stay out here.”

Bryce clutched Sinna’s hand tighter.

“It’s okay,” Sinna said. “Four walls, one door. I won’t be
far.”

“Are you sure?” he pushed.

Sinna nodded.

“All right.” He pressed a small knife into her hand, just in
case. “I’ll be right here.” How had he managed to sneak it past the watchmen? She
took it, grateful for the small bit of security.

Dave opened the door. “Just go slow,” he advised.

Sinna blinked as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The barn
was empty, except for piles of hay and a godawful smell. A series of
pushed-together planks created the roof, enough for shade, but not much else.
Light filtered through huge gaps, creating dusty shafts like laser beams that
cut the darkness.

“This way,” Dave said, guiding her toward the back.

Sinna stared at her feet, tracing one step after another,
too scared to look up until the very last. When she did, when she saw what Dave
wanted to show her, she pressed a hand to her mouth.

All the way at the back and curled up in the corner, sat the
once-handsome soldier boy, Nate. He was filthy, covered in dirt and dried
blood. His hair was matted, his face mud-smeared, with a beard that almost
concealed his deathly sunken cheeks. But nothing could disguise the sallow
tinge to his skin, the dark circles under his glazed eyes.

Sinna lowered to her knees before him. She couldn’t believe
this to be the same man who’d led them all out of that shelter and into the
light of day. “Nate?” she whispered. She laid a hand on his up-drawn knee and
felt nothing but bone. He was starved, lips so dry, they flaked. Her touch went
unregistered.

“Nate,” she tried again, a little louder.

He blinked slowly, turned his head a little, but stared
right through her, and his lips moved, mouthing words she couldn’t hear. Sinna
leaned closer. Nate’s hand was bandaged from fingers to forearm in an
old-fashioned splint, wooden sticks tied in place with torn strips of cloth;
hardly enough to help him heal. His entire hand was swollen and bruised,
fingers puffed up like sausages. Sinna touched the skin where his thumb met his
wrist and felt it was burning hot.

“We think he might have an infection,” Dave said. “He should
be outside, walking around, eating properly, but we can’t even get him out of
the corner.”

“Just like Tam,” Sinna whispered.

Nate’s mouth moved again. “Tam,” he said softly.

“Nate? Can you hear me?”

“Tam. Isaac. Connor. Sinna—”

“Yes, Sinna,” she said. “It’s me, I’m here.”

“Connor. Sinna,” he repeated, as if she hadn’t spoken at
all. He kept repeating their names, faster each time, a horrible fear opening
his eyes more and more. Tears welled. “Connor. Sinna… Oh, God,” he sobbed.

“Nate, I’m here,” she tried again. “Please, look at me.”

His eyes darted left and right. “Amy,” he gasped. “Take
Matt. Run.” He wailed, thumping his head back against the wall. “Get uuup! Run!
Please run.”

Sinna’s heart broke for him. She reached out to touch his
cheek. Nate’s chanting eulogy trailed off into silence. He rolled his head back
and forth until he looked at her again, and his eyes briefly focused on her
face. “Sinna,” he breathed.

Sinna tried to smile.

He blinked slowly, with resigned reverence. Then he gasped a
sigh. “Forgive me,” he whispered, and his eyes went blank. What little
comprehension he’d managed to build up, was gone.

Sinna sat back on her heel, saddened by what had become of
him. “What happened?”

Dave guided her to her feet. “Come on, let’s get you guys
some tea, and I’ll tell you the whole thing.”

He took them to a little cottage nearby. It stood apart from
the other houses, almost like a segregation between the newcomers and everyone
else. Dave ushered them in. “We were supposed to share it, Nate and I,” he
explained, “but the moment he was strong enough to get up, he just went out
there and stayed there.”

The house wasn’t much, with a central fire pit underneath a
hole in the roof so the smoke could escape, a small table with two chairs, and
two thin pallets on either end. The window was tiny, but it let in light, and
someone had attached an outside window box planted with cheerful little
flowers.

Dave opened a wooden chest behind the table, and took out
two plates and a loaf of bread carefully wrapped in cloth. He set it before
them while he put on a pot of water to heat. A hunk of smoked meat hung on a
hook from the rafters, and Dave cut off a generous portion to add to the bread.
Looking over the selection, he held up a finger. “Wait here.” He went out, and
came back with a basket full of eggs, three tomatoes, and a bigger cooking pot.
He set the eggs to boil while he poured the tea. “I hear it’s been a good year for
vegetables so far. Look at this. When was the last time you’ve seen a fresh
tomato?”

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Sinna said. She was
hungry, sure, but she was used to being hungry.

Dave shrugged. “It’s not like Nate’s been eating his share.
And besides, it’s nice to have company. The folks around here are friendly
enough, if you can do your fair share of chores. But I’m still an outsider. I
don’t think they trust me yet.”

They each took two ovals of bread and a tomato. Bryce
sniffed at the bread and made an approving sound. Sinna almost laughed. “Good?”

“It’s from the best baker in town,” Dave said.

Bryce took a healthy bite. “I believe it.”

They ate a good meal and shared a cup of tea in companionable
peace, while listening to people outside going about their lives. A little boy
was teaching his dog how to bark on command. Somewhere in the other direction,
a deep-voiced man shouted orders to his men-in-training. Horses galloped hard
around a nearby arena, and Sinna could almost feel the earth tremble.

They were good sounds, comforting. No sirens, or cries of
fear or pain. Even the fighting was good to hear, and she smiled as a couple of
old men passed by Dave’s window, arguing about who would have won the World
Series.

“Thank you for the meal,” Bryce said when they were
finished.

Dave raised an eyebrow. “Not bad for a wimpy geek you left
behind to die, eh?”

Bryce inclined his head. Not an apology, but there was a
world of respect in the simple motion, and Dave nodded his answer in return.

“This is a good place for you,” Sinna said.

“Yeah, it really is,” he agreed. “It’s like the last shred
of goodness and humanity left in the world. A miracle we managed to get here.”

“How
did
you get here?” Bryce asked.

Dave sighed. “I still ask myself that same question every
day. We did what you told us—soaked up as much of Sinna’s blood as we could.”

Sinna winced. She’d almost bled out on that garage floor.

“Nate’s hand was smashed, and he had a concussion or
something; he could barely walk a straight line, let alone shoot. We came out
of that garage scared shitless, and we were supposed to walk out of the city?”
He shuddered. “Not fun. There were so many of them, just…staring at us. You
guys said not to run, no matter what. So we walked. I had to support Nate, so
Amy and Matt came after us. The Grays actually moved out of our way, can you
believe that? Like they didn’t even know what we were.”

Just like the ones that had cornered Sinna; they hadn’t recognized
the scent of Wolfen. It had saved Sinna’s life, and apparently, Dave’s as well.
She remembered looking up at him after she’d gotten shot. He’d held her, trying
so hard to help her while she’d lain there, bleeding all over him.

“We walked, and then they started trailing after us. So we
walked faster. Amy got paranoid that the Grays were coming closer. She kept
telling me to hurry up. I tried to talk her down, but she wasn’t completely
wrong. Just like you said, the blood only lasted so long, and then we were on
our own.”

“How far did it last you?” Sinna asked.

Dave shrugged. “Hard to say. Volume and concentration, I
think, played a bit part. I got the most of it; Nate, hardly any. By the time
Amy and Matt went down there, I think a lot of Connor’s blood had mixed in with
yours. Who knows? We were almost out of the city when they charged, like
someone flipped a switch or something. We made a run for it, but it was just
about the most pathetic escape ever attempted. Nate, at least, could hold his
own by then. Sort of. As long as I kept him going straight, he was fine. But
Amy…” Dave shook his head sadly, gaze growing unfocused as he stared at the
table.

“Amy, what?” Sinna prompted, voice raw.

“She was just so scared. Terrified that she would lose Matt.
She couldn’t let go of him for even a second—and Matt held onto her just as
tight. They were tripping all over each other, until they fell. Amy kept
screaming for Matt to get up, but they were tangled together, and the Grays
caught up to them, pulled them apart.

“Nate and I were too far to do anything, so Nate pulled his
gun to…” Dave stopped suddenly, rubbed his face hard, dislodging his glasses.
He huffed to get ahold of himself, but his eyes glistened, and his voice
quavered when he continued. “But he couldn’t hold it, so he gave it to me. ‘One
bullet left,’ he told me. Only one, and I was supposed to choose who died
quicker. I mean, how do you do that?”

Sinna took his hand, trying to imagine what she would have
done in his place, but couldn’t.

“I aimed for Matt. I figured the poor kid didn’t choose any
of this, probably didn’t even understand any of it… But, uh…” He swallowed
compulsively. “My aim was off. I hit a Gray. Not even a kill shot; I barely
scraped its arm. One bullet, and I wasted even that.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Sinna said. “You can’t blame
yourself.”

“She’s right,” Bryce agreed, but he was looking at her. It
was the same thing he and Aiden had told her before:
It wasn’t your fault.
It wasn’t anyone’s fault. There were no right or wrong choices anymore. You did
the best you could, and hoped you got to see another sunrise.

“The Grays were distracted enough that Nate and I managed to
get away. We walked almost nonstop for five days, always heading south like we
were supposed to. No food, barely enough water. No idea where we were going, or
even why. Everything we passed was just dead, empty land. Makes you feel like
it was all for nothing. Die out here, or die in some dark burrow in the
city—what difference does it make?

“Then one day, we just collapsed on the ground. Couldn’t go
another step. I was so thirsty, I could feel myself drying out like a husk.
Started seeing things, too; coyotes and gophers. Didn’t have a clue where Nate
was. Somewhere on my other side, I thought, but I couldn’t even turn my head to
look. I thought, ‘This is it. This is where I die.’ But at least I had the sun
above me. Almost felt like falling asleep.

“Next thing I know, it’s dark, and I’ve got the worst case
of shivers known to man. Turns out, we were only a few miles away from
Hopetown. A guard out on patrol found us and brought us back. We’ve been here
ever since.”

Sinna took a long, measured breath and let it out slowly. So
this was it. Two out of nine, and Nate—and she would have been among the body
count if it hadn’t been for Bryce and Aiden. Shitty odds. None of them had
deserved to die. She mourned her friends and the lives they could have had if
they’d made it a little farther. Maybe Matt would have learned to talk. Maybe
Amy wouldn’t have lived in so much fear anymore. But who’s to say they wouldn’t
have died right outside the city, or a day later? There was never a guarantee.

Just look at Nate.

“Funny, huh?” Dave said. “In the end, the meek survived the best.”
He smiled, barely a twitch of his lips that held more sorrow than a thousand
tears. “And now we’re here, and you’re Wolfen.”

The words slip out so casually, I almost don’t catch
them. When I do, I meet eyes with Sinna and see the same surprise on her face.
Aiden and I never told the humans in San Francisco anything about Wolfen. Yet
here one sits, talking about us as if we’re a sports team.

How the hell does he know?

~

“Now that whole silver bracelet thing makes sense. How does
it work?”

Bryce slowly turned to look at Dave’s smiling face, settling
a hand on the bowie knife at his back.

Sinna covered it with her own to stop him. “I’m still
learning about it, myself,” she said casually enough, but her smile was forced.
“I had no idea what I was, until Aiden and Bryce told me.”

“Oh.” Dave frowned and smiled at the same time. “But I
thought you had to be born that way.”

Interesting choice of words.

Dave had the look of a scholar mentally taking notes on a
new discovery. He might not be physically strong, but it was clear the man had
an agile mind, and a cunning one. He kept the conversation casual, made the
subject feel comfortable enough to open up on their own; made them want to
share. And he was counting on his history with Sinna to fill in the blanks.

“Uh, I guess so. But my mother never told me.”

When she didn’t say more, Dave glanced at Bryce, but quickly
turned his attention back to Sinna. Some of his enthusiasm faded as he realized
neither of them was going to share. “So what happened in the city was
just…blind luck?”

Sinna hiked her shoulders in a shrug. “All I know is, these
guys saved my life. I don’t know how, or why, but they patched me up, kept me
safe, and I’ve been traveling with them ever since.”

“I see,” Dave said. Had this been a cartoon, he’d be rubbing
his chin and there’d be a thought balloon floating over his head with lots of
gear wheels turning really fast. “So where’s the other one, the blond Mr. T?”

“Actually, that’s kind of why we’re here.” Sinna looked to
Bryce for guidance. He gave her a slight nod. Hopetown didn’t seem hostile,
which meant a diplomatic approach would get them a lot farther than force.
Bryce was no good with diplomacy. Better if Sinna did most of the talking. He
had no problem being the muscle when diplomacy failed. “We’re looking for
someone.”

Dave grinned. “It wouldn’t by any chance be me, would it?”

Bryce’s fingers curled around the knife’s handle, and Sinna
dug her nails into the skin between his knuckles.

“Heh, no. Sorry.”

Bryce grinded his teeth together, and twitched his hand to
get her off. “We’re looking for a girl by the name of Helena,” he said.

Dave’s eyebrows shot up. “General Hellraiser? What for?”

That didn’t bode well.

Sinna winced. “That’s a little tougher to explain. We…”

Bryce straightened in his seat.

A group of people were heading their way, stomping like a
herd of metal-clad elephants. He counted five sets of footfalls before they
came into sight. All of them had swords.

Sarge again. With reinforcements this time.

The man banged on Dave’s door, then let himself in before
Dave could answer. “The general wants to see you,” he announced.

Bryce didn’t like his face. He subtly drew his blade under
the table.

“Right now?” Dave asked. “It’s almost night!”

Sarge beckoned them outside with an impatient, “Let’s go,”
and walked out.

Dave sighed. “Well, you wanted to see the Hellraiser, I
guess now’s your chance.” He got up and followed the soldier, without a care in
the world.

Bryce and Sinna followed more slowly. “I’ve got a bad
feeling about this,” Sinna said.

Bryce grunted his agreement. “Stay close.” He couldn’t keep
his knife in hand without inciting a fight, so he sheathed it, but kept alert.

Dave was kind enough to introduce the rest of the guards,
who moved with the coordinated patience of a skilled unit, obviously trained to
fight together.

As innocent and fantastic as it looked, Hopetown could be a
hundred times more dangerous than Haven. Its people had built a community based
on mutual trust and loyalty. They had plenty to lose, and they’d die to defend
it.

The guards led Bryce and Sinna to a walled-off training
arena, where a mob of soldiers had gathered around some spectacle. The smell of
horseflesh and human sweat was too strong for Bryce to get his bearings. With
his nose useless and his ears getting barraged by noise, it was all too much,
too familiar. He remembered crowds like this in Montana, the fights, the
torture. It put him on edge. Not a good place for him to be.

Sinna raised a questioning eyebrow at him, but he couldn’t
say anything. She drew closer, so her arm brushed his when she walked. It was
enough. For the moment.

Halfway around the perimeter, near the horse pens, they were
met by the apparent leader of this town.

Sarge bowed his head. “Matron.”

Age had wrinkled her skin and grayed her long hair, but the
woman stood tall, head held high, and she moved with the lithe grace of a
trained fighter. She was dressed in simple leather pants and a vest, the
sleeves of her linen shirt rolled up to reveal a plethora of scars. She smiled
with fierce pride, wholly unconcerned with the long thin scar framing her left
cheek.

“Is this them?” she asked with the soft lilt of a born
Southerner.

Sarge nodded.

Dave rushed forward. “This is Sinna,” he said. “She was with
me and Nate back in the—”

“I don’t care, boy,” Matron said, cutting him off with
strained patience, faded brown eyes focused on her guests. She looked Bryce
right in the eye, as if she could see into his soul. “Wolfen,” she declared. “I
recognize Klaus’ work when I see it. And you…” She moved on to Sinna, and her
smile softened. “Beautiful girl. You are far away from the safety of your den.”

“They say they want to trade,” Sarge informed her, then
turned her sideways to speak into her ear, words too low for Bryce to hear over
the noise.

A group of young boys and girls with torches ran into the
arena and spread out around the perimeter, lighting metal grates filled with
kindling. As the sun descended behind the tree line, those fires illuminated
the arena, and the people gathered inside.

Matron chuckled. “I’m sure they do.” She turned back to
Bryce and Sinna, and became all business. “Do they have anything we need?”

No chains? No cells? The woman had them surrounded, true,
and the arena itself was filled with armed soldiers, but even so, Bryce would
have expected more caution on her part. After all, she knew what Bryce was; she
had to know what he was capable of.

But Matron showed no fear whatsoever.

“Medicine,” Bryce answered.

She raised an eyebrow. “Placebos more like.”

“Bandages,” he returned.

“We can make our own.”

“Can you make sutures, casts, and braces, too?”

Matron grinned. “I like you. You don’t mince words. So why
don’t you stop wasting my time and tell me what it is you really want?”

A loud cheer rose up. The circular mob expanded and thinned,
showing Bryce a glimpse into the middle. Three fighters were picking themselves
up from the ground, while a tall, lean-muscled woman walked around them, fists
in the air, riling the mob to roar her victory. Bryce couldn’t see her face,
only a flash of pale blonde hair, but there was something about her…

“You won’t see much of her father in her,” Matron said,
suddenly right by his side.

“What are you talking about?”

“My daughter.” Matron nodded at the ring of soldiers patting
the girl on the back and exchanging handshakes. “Helena.”

The girl acknowledged everyone with some remark that made
the men laugh and the women shake their heads. She helped her opponents up,
exchanged words, more serious this time, and sent them on their way. Once she
had the circle to herself, Helena Koch raised her arms high and howled at the
evening sky.

Son of a bitch!

“Not what you expected, is she?” Matron asked.

You could say that.

Klaus’ daughter was Wolfen.