Wolfen (41 page)

Arik raised his gun again, but didn’t have a clear shot with
Casey hovering over Aiden.

“Are you okay?” Casey asked.

Aiden winced and popped his neck. “Gimme a second, baby
girl.”

She threw her arms around him, almost knocking him back
down. “I thought you left me!”

“Dez…” Arik warned.

Desiree shook her head. To her utter shock, Aiden returned
the girl’s embrace ever so gently, huffed, and muttered a gruff, “Never.” Then
he lifted his gaze to her and Arik, and the chill of his hatred went straight
to her very soul.

“Give us the kid,” Arik said, “and I’ll let you live.”

Against her protests, Aiden set Casey aside and pushed to
his feet. “Awful lot of people trying to kill me today, and I just keep
bouncing back. Getting kind of tired of it, tell you the truth. So how about I
just rip your head off instead?”

“No, stop it!” Casey cried, hugging his legs.

He laid a hand on top of her head in a sort of hugging pat,
but never took his eyes off of Arik. “It’s okay, Casey. He won’t feel a thing.”

“You think I’m scared?” Arik taunted. “Bring it on. I can
take you, easy.” But he didn’t move, and he didn’t shoot.

Aiden noticed.

“I don’t want you to fight,” Casey said. “They said they
have a car. Aiden?”

“Yeah, baby girl?”

“I want a car.”

The look on his face was almost comical.

“Look,” Desiree chimed in, “how about we make a deal?”

Aiden snarled at her. “Already made one. Interestingly”—he
transferred his gaze to Arik—“it didn’t include getting shot in the back.”

“Me and mine, that was the deal.”

“Klaus and the bitch was the deal,” Aiden spat.

“You won’t kill us,” Desiree realized. “Not with the girl
watching.”

“Casey, close your eyes,” Aiden said.

“Okay, okay!” Arik pointed his gun at the sky. “Shit
happened, things got crazy, but you’re out, Klaus is dead, and we’re alive.
Seems both of us made out good. Now listen. There are several cars Klaus has
stashed away. Fully stocked, plenty of gas, good tires. One of those could get
you to Timbuktu if you wanted. And she’s the only one who knows how to find
them.” He motioned to Desiree.

“You assume I need all that shit.”

“I think you do,” Desiree said. “You still have your brother
and that girl out there somewhere. I’m betting you want to go find them. It’d
be a lot faster with a car.”

Aiden bared his teeth. “Using my own against me to get your
way. How very human.”

Arik broke Aiden’s stare. “You give us your word we can all
walk away from this, give us the girl, and we’ll take you to the convoy. We go our
way, you go yours, no hard feelings. We never have to see each other again.”

“Girl stays with me.”

“I didn’t know Wolfen knew how to raise a human,” Desiree
said. The words came out without passing any sort of mental filter, and she
regretted them instantly.

Aiden’s eyes paled several shades, glowing with murderous
fury. “I didn’t realize there was a difference in how to love a child.”

A convert screamed in the cavernous ruins of Haven, and
Desiree flinched. That couldn’t mean anything good. They couldn’t stand here
forever. Two dead bodies and a bleeding leg was a veritable invitation to
banquet. Someone had to take the leap of faith to break this stand-off, and it
didn’t look likely coming from Aiden.

Desiree gave a cautious nod. “All right. It’s eight miles to
the convoy. Two guns are always better than one.”

Though he’d proposed it, now that it was time to stand by
his decision, Arik balked. “No. Not when one of them is pointed at your back.
This is a bad idea.”

Aiden growled.

To show the Wolfen how much she didn’t fear him, Desiree
dragged her stare away to address Arik. “He needs a car, and we need him to
watch our backs. We can stay civil for eight miles. For the girl, if nothing
else.” She said the last for Aiden’s benefit, and it heartened her that he
didn’t argue.

Arik was a different story. “You can’t be serious!” he
snapped.

“We get to the cars first, and sort the rest out later.
How’s that sound?”

“Like a whole lot of bullshit,” Arik said.

They didn’t have another choice. “Survival of the fittest,”
she said, watching an ugly sneer spread across Aiden’s face. “And right now,
that’s him.”

There are moments in life that just scream soundtrack and
a bunch of killer tunes to set the mood. Since a radio won’t be forthcoming, I
supply the background music inside my head, and right now my song of choice is
the theme from
Jaws.

It’s not hard to figure out the equation here. Those two
yahoos think something’s going to change when we reach their precious convoy;
that they’ll magically gain the upper hand. They don’t get it. Humans never do.

When everything turns to shit, it doesn’t matter how
powerful you
used to
be or how good you
used to
have it. All that
matters is how fast you can run, how hard you can fight, and how much pain you
can take.

No one can beat Wolfen in the game of survival. It’s what
we were made for.

~

Eight miles as the cripple hopped turned into hours of
dragging across the dry wasteland through the worst heat of the day, with
little shade and even less water. Whatever Arik had in his pack—and Aiden knew
he did—he wasn’t pulling it out, even though he had to be suffering as much as
the rest of them.

Casey had started flagging, so Aiden picked her up to let
her sleep against his shoulder. Poor little tyke had had a hell of a day. He
was surprised she’d lasted this long.

After a while, they reached the end of the artificially
cleared no man’s land, and a handful of trees shaded them from the worst of the
sun. But just when the conditions had gotten better, allowing for more speed,
the witch decided she’d had enough.

“Stop,” she said. “I can’t go any farther.” She was pale,
lips dry and colorless. “Losing too much blood.” She’d left a steady drip in
her wake, but she was covered in blood, the same as him. He’d figured it was
runoff.

Arik set her down and removed his pack, proffering a canteen
to her. “What do you need?” he asked. Helpful lad.

After a quick drink—which she didn’t bother to pass on to others
who might also be thirsty—Desiree rolled up her soaked pant leg as far as it’d
go. Her stump was bruised black and blue, and there was a jagged tear across
the front of her thigh, oozing blood. A damaged vein. Lucky injury. Damn it.

“Cauterize it,” Aiden suggested, impatient to get going
again.

Desiree glared. “No.” Emphatic much?

Aiden shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He found a comfortable nook
between tree roots, and set Casey down so he could stretch.

“Can you get a fire going? I’ll need to sterilize some
stuff.” For a second, Aiden thought she spoke to him. But when he turned around
to tell her exactly what he could do, Arik the Hero had already launched into
action, clearing an area and gathering wood.

Aiden rolled his eyes. “Burning works faster,” he said.
“I’ll even help.”

“Mind your own damn business.”

Okay, so maybe that had come out a little too eager. Seeing
she wouldn’t budge, Aiden shook his head and sat down to keep an eye on them.
Don’t
pander to idiots. It makes them think they’re entitled to your time.
He
settled in, pretending to take a nap, but kept an eye on Desiree, curious about
what she’d do next.

While Arik got the fire going nice and hot, Desiree rummaged
through his pack and sighed with relief when she found a small black tin. “God
love you, Arik.” She pulled out a curved needle already threaded with
artificial sutures.

“I grabbed what I could, but it’s not much. Are you sure you
know what you’re doing?”

“You got a better idea?” she asked.

“No.”

Aiden opened his mouth, but Desiree cut him off. “Nobody
asked you, Wolfen.”

He shrugged. “As you wish, human. You may commence
entertaining me.”

Arik pulled out bandages, a bottle of alcohol Aiden could
smell from where he sat, and a container of honey. A walking pharmacy, that
one.

Desiree rinsed her hands with some of the alcohol and,
biting down on her lower lip, poured more over the open wound. She twitched,
bit back a moan of pain, and Aiden waited for her to pass out.

She didn’t. A few harsh breaths later, she nodded an “okay”
to Arik, then got down to work. Desiree sterilized the needle over the flame
and dipped it, and the length of suture, into alcohol to be doubly sure.

Now comes the fun part.

She brought the needle to her skin, and hesitated. No
anesthesia.

Already seeing this would take all damned day, Aiden drummed
his fingers on his stomach to give himself something to do.

Chill. Breathe. Let it go. Time is…

Nope. Not working. “You want me to knock you out?” he asked.
Anything to speed things up.

Desiree gritted her teeth, sucked in a deep breath and stuck
the needle in with a shaking hand. Once it was through the other side, she
breathed out and paused before pulling the suture taut.

Still not passing out.

Aiden was impressed. And amused by the idiocy. Wasted
effort, if you asked him. No way she could keep that clean for any length of
time. She should have cauterized it.

Needle in, sniffle of pain, needle out.

“Two down, at least fifteen more to go.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she bit out.

Aiden grinned. “Hell yeah. This is better than Sunday
morning cartoons.”

“Then killing Klaus must have been ever-so-fun for you.”
Stitch.

He raised an eyebrow, dropping the nap act. “You going to
pretend you’re not glad he’s dead?”

“I’m just surprised you didn’t take more time to savor it.”
Stitch.

“Maybe I’m saving that pleasure for you,” he returned, fangs
aching. “Next best thing.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Desiree winced as she pulled
another stitch tight. “I am his legacy. Decades of Wolfen research notes
preserved in my eidetic memory. I could easily recreate it if I wanted to. All
those
tests
and
treatments
, every success and failure.”

Aiden’s hackles rose, but he breathed the anger down. “I’m
sure the day he
named
us was a triumphant highlight in his memoirs.”

Another stitch, and she paused, breathing hard. “He didn’t
name you. He factored you.”

Aiden huffed and closed his eyes, done with this
conversation. “Whatever.”

“What do you mean ‘factored’?” By the sound of Arik’s voice,
he’d only asked to keep her talking. Seriously, what was with this dude? Was he
sweet on her or something? There must have been better choices in Haven than
this evil hag.

Desiree slurred her answer, pain loosening her tongue, so
Aiden let her talk. Maybe she’d say something honest for once. “Wolfen were
engineered in litters. There was a specific timetable for each hatch, and Klaus
developed a way to catalog the specimens based on their litter and their level
of aggression in early trials. Greek letters for the litter, number for the
aggression factor. One through nine. Highest to lowest. Males usually ranked a
three or four, females closer to eights and nines. Ones and twos were the most
aggressive and had the highest conversion rate, almost ninety-seven percent.”

Aiden opened his eyes. “All right, I call bullshit.”

Desiree shook her head, eyes heavy-lidded. She was almost
done with the sutures; just a few left, but her sewing hand was quickly going
limp. “No bullshit. All up here.” She tapped her temple.

“Then explain Beta Twelve to me.”

She smiled drunkenly. “Knew you’d ask. He’s not a twelve,
that’s just easier to say. He’s a one-two. Factor one, version two. Clone. The
original converted.”

“Bullshit,” Aiden snapped. “If he’d converted, why the fuck
would they have made another copy?”

Desiree sighed and shook her head again, this time to rouse
herself a little. “Why do you think? They were testing different hatching
environments and their effects on the fetus. Turns out, you’re all like little
alligator eggs.”

“Okay, I’m confused,” Arik declared, guiding Desiree’s hand
in the final stitch.

Aiden wasn’t. He was pissed.

“Nest temperature determines the sex of hatchling
alligators. A few degrees difference is all it takes. These guys, same thing.
Thirty-four Celsius, and when the time comes, you get Wolfen. Thirty-two and
below,
voila
, a convert freaks out at two months and bites off an
orderly’s fingers for an evening snack. In between is the gray area. Babies
hatch, don’t know what they are for years until they transition, and the later
it happens, the more likely they are to be bad to the bone.”

The last stitch was tied off. Arik cut the excess suture and
smeared the wound with honey. By the time he’d wrapped it in a bandage, Desiree
was barely conscious of the world around her.

Storytime was over. Aiden seethed. Every time he learned
something new about the project, it made him sick with hate. He could easily
believe everything Desiree had just said. It was too logical and heartless to
be a lie.

Bryce was a factor one—the most aggressive and volatile of
them all. A copy. Jesus. His brother was already a hair trigger as Wolfen.
Aiden didn’t even want to think about the convert version of him walking around
somewhere out in the world.

And Aiden, a factor seven? That put him on the least
aggressive side of the spectrum. Explained why he rarely lost his temper, and
why he seemed to have rebounded a hell of a lot faster than Bryce after wolfing
out—he hadn’t gone as far under.

None of this had been in the research they’d combed through
in Montana. Klaus must have taken the most important notes when the groups
split up, and for a moment, Aiden was actually thankful for the man’s sick
obsession. He didn’t want to think what Aleissi and his mercenaries would have
done had they known for a fact which Wolfen were guaranteed to give them a good
show.

He looked over at Casey curled into a tight ball, sleeping
on the hard ground. If her mom hadn’t died, if Haven hadn’t fallen, she might
have grown up just as hateful as the rest of them.

Arik sighed. “She’s passed out.” He didn’t look much better
than Desiree.

“Douse that.” Aiden jerked his chin at the fire. “They’ll
smell it.”

“How long can we stay here?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say about a half-hour less than we’ve
been here already. Might as well relax for a bit.”

“You’re not worried they’ll hunt us?”

“If they do, I’ll take care of
me and mine
. The rest
is not my problem.”

Arik stared. “Really. You don’t feel any obligation to pay
me back for letting you out?”

Aiden sighed and closed his eyes. “Despite what Klaus might
have told you, Wolfen are fairly intelligent life forms. We know many things.
For example, I can say ‘Go fuck yourself’ in fifteen languages, including ASL.
I also know you let me out of that cell for one reason, and one reason only: to
create a diversion and cover your escape. You’re alive now because of me. I
don’t owe you jack.”

Arik scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

“Hey, don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m beautiful. Hate me ‘cuz I’m
packing some serious brass and know how to use it.”

Arik wanted to wait for the girls to wake up, which Aiden
figured was guy code for: “I’m beat, but I need to preserve my manly dignity,
so I’ll blame the weak females instead.” In the end, though, his nerves got the
better of him, and he decided it was time to get going again. He woke up
Desiree because, unlike Aiden with Casey, he wasn’t strong enough to carry her
dead weight over four more miles. After days of being cooped up, Aiden relished
the exercise, tame as it was. When Arik dragged his feet up a mild incline,
Aiden jogged ahead for a better view. From there, he saw movement; an
artificial camo tarp that blended almost seamlessly with the surrounding
nature. Until the wind blew.

“Wake up, baby girl. We’re almost there.”

Casey grumbled, but raised her head, and knuckled sleep from
of her eyes. “Where are we?”

“You see that over there?” He pointed to the tarp.

“No,” she said.

“Look closer. Look at how the grass moves in the wind.” The
breeze flipped up one corner of the tarp, creating a shadow underneath. “There.
See that?”

Casey’s eyes went wide. “Is that the car?” she asked
excitedly.

“That’s what they said. Let’s go see how full of shit they
are.”

Arik and Desiree finally caught up, winded, but still on
their feet. Arik spied the tarp, and seemed to gauge Aiden’s reaction.

Aiden grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Race you there.”

Arik glared. “Funny.”

Casey wriggled to be let down. “It’s the car! It’s the car!”
She ran down that hill like there was a river of chocolate waiting for her at
the bottom. She tripped, she fell—repeatedly—but she got up every time and kept
going without a moan or a tear in complaint. By the time she’d reached the
tarp, she was squealing in delight for having won the foot race and, without
waiting for the others, started tugging on the tarp to unwrap the cars. In
Aiden’s book, that meant she got first dibs.

He followed her down, two steps ahead of Arik and
Desiree—just enough to keep his lead without letting Arik pull his gun again.
When the tarp came down, however, Aiden stopped in his tracks. He couldn’t help
it. Staring at what Casey had uncovered, he felt a bubble of laughter tickle
his insides.

“This is your genius master plan of escape?” Aiden chuckled,
then laughed, and soon he was doubled over with the hilarity of it, as Arik
rushed ahead to check the loot he’d staked all of his hopes on.

The two old jeeps looked prehistoric—no doors, no windows,
cracked windshields, and rust covering half of all visible metal surfaces. The
interiors had obviously been used as nesting grounds for critters, large and
small; seats were piled with debris, steering wheels sported gnaw marks. In
short, a pathetic sight to behold.