Wolfen (46 page)

Aiden sat back on his heels, and rubbed a hand over his
mouth. Jesus Christ.

She looked over her shoulder at him, dark bruises on her face
and neck silently screaming an accusation. “You think this is the worst of it?”
she snapped. “There are four broken ribs you can’t see, a two-time dislocated
jaw, not to mention the swastika brand burned into my ass cheek for trying to
sneak a little food to a starving Wolfen female. She got a matching one, and
died three days later. Oh, and my leg? I have him to thank for that, too. A
little cosmetic enhancement so people wouldn’t know I was born damaged.”

Words failed him.

“Try not to look so conflicted. I’m the enemy, remember? The
progeny of the great Klaus Koch. I’m the evil bitch who hurt you. Whatever I
got, it surely wasn’t more than I deserved.”

“Aiden?” Casey said from the doorway. “I heard yelling.”

Desiree snatched up a towel to cover herself. She didn’t
want the girl to see.

Aiden pushed to his feet, and swept Casey from the room.
“Everything’s fine. How ‘bout we go check out the casino and let Dez finish her
bath?”

Maybe if he spent some time with Casey, healthy and hale, he’d
stop picturing a mini version of Desiree, broken and battered in some hellhole
of her sick father’s making.

A guy could hope.

With my newly acquired pharmaceuticals, I feel like I
might just make it. I pop a bunch of pain killers, wash them down with whiskey,
and do what I wasn’t able to do before: properly clean and redress the cut on
my leg.

Then I go through the rest of the bucket’s contents and
trash what’s no longer usable. It still leaves me with hundreds of yards of
sterile bandages, gauze, proper sutures, and pills that might not be as
effective as they were a decade and a half ago, but they’ll do in a pinch.

I prescribe myself a steady regiment of NSAIDs and
antibiotics, a high dose treatment plan for the next few days.

But the hardest pill to swallow is the pity Aiden dishes
out every time he looks at me.

~

Though none of them liked it, they had to stay the night;
Aiden needed time to fix the tires and scavenge more gas for the car, which
left Casey running around the abandoned hotel, making ghost noises, and Desiree
sitting in bed, growing more restless as the hours dragged on.

At noon the next day, when the sun was at its highest,
turning the hotel room into an oven, Aiden announced it was time to hit the
road. He’d gotten the little car back down onto pavement and stuffed everything
they had left into the miniature trunk. Then he carried Desiree to the
passenger seat, which made her so mad, she couldn’t even form words. She
refused to look at him, talk to him, or in any other way acknowledge his
presence; he didn’t exist, as far as she was concerned, so answering his
questions with anything other than icy silence would make her a crazy person,
talking to herself.

After many miles, Aiden deemed them far enough to turn off
the road by the creek. She still hadn’t said a word, so he finally got the hint
and instead diverted his energies to fishing and teaching Casey to sing.

And that was her day. Aiden fished—by hand, since they had
no bait—Casey washed clothes downstream, and Desiree tended the small fire, and
purified water in batches. Aiden had brought along the five-gallon jug, which
was great. With the stronger plastic, it could handle more heat. She’d managed
to fill it half way by the time Aiden stuck three little fish onto a stick and
took over the fire.

He and Casey had become quite the best buds. Since Aiden was
old enough to have seen the world before it had imploded—though not really,
since he’d been locked up underground with all of the other Wolfen—Casey asked
him a million questions about everything from cars and planes, to pizzas and
TVs. And he answered as if it didn’t bother him at all that she was talking his
ear off. Desiree didn’t know how he did it.

“Are dragons real?” Casey asked.

“Absolutely,” Aiden said. “Back in the day, there used to be
lizards so big, even humans were afraid of them. One bite could kill you.”

Casey gasped. “Did they fly and breathe fire?”

He chuckled. “I wish.”

“Did they breathe under water?”

“Well, no. But there were these other lizards, crocs and
alligators, that could hold their breath for hours and sleep under water.”

“Whoa…”

“I know.”

“Can you do that?”

“Never tried.”

“Can you fly?”

“No, but I can jump really high…”

And on, and on, and on.

Desiree’s head pounded. The meds made her weak and drowsy,
and with her fever, she shivered occasionally, even in the desert heat. She
needed peace and quiet for a few hours to sleep this off and heal. But that
wouldn’t happen with these two chatterboxes.

Suddenly, Aiden dropped himself into the seat next to her,
startling the hell out of her. “Hey, I, uh, got you something.” He proffered a
tall wooden stick.

“You want to play fetch?”

Aiden glared. “It’s to help you walk. It’s not as good as a
crutch, or two, but at least you’ll be able to move on your own. Don’t need to
have me touching you all the time. I know you don’t like that much.”

Desiree flushed and accepted the token. It wasn’t a stray
branch he’d picked up along the way, but a finely tooled and lacquered walking
stick, the kind hikers used to carry. It even had a hole drilled through the
top, threaded with a length of leather thong. Dangling on it was a little metal
charm—a disc with the shape of a howling wolf inside. “Where did you get this?”

He shrugged. “Found it in one of the hotel rooms. Figured it
might come in handy at some point.”

Desiree cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. So are you done not talking to me now?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well”—he reached for the fish on the stick—“have a chomp
while you’re thinking about it. There’s more where this came from.” He put her
portion on a plate, then ate his share straight from the stick, watching her
pick at her meal.

She took a bite but, though her stomach growled for
sustenance, Desiree had no appetite, and the smoky flesh tasted like charcoal.
She had to force herself to swallow.

“Water?” Aiden offered her a cup.

What the hell was he up to now? All of this solicitous
bullshit was so far out of character, it had to be a ruse. When she wouldn’t
take the cup, Aiden raised an eyebrow, but smiled all the same. The
pleasantries grated on her last nerve. She didn’t like it when people lied. It
frustrated her when she knew they were doing it, but couldn’t figure out the
truth, and when she was frustrated, she lashed out. This time was no different.
“Stop being nice,” she snapped. “You’re supposed to hate me.” In fact, she’d
prefer it.

“What, because you tortured me and wanted to let Casey die?”
He shrugged with a lopsided grin. “Nah, I don’t hold grudges.”

Desiree gaped. “Yes you do! A few scars don’t change
anything. Stop treating me like you don’t still hate me for what I did; I’m not
some beaten stray dog—”

“Really? Because you sure bite like one.” He took her plate
to painstakingly remove the fish’s skin and bones. “And ‘bitch’ is one of the
tamer words I’d use to describe you. You know, hard as it is for me to admit, I
may actually like that about you.” He shuddered. “God, I can’t believe I just
said that.” When he gave the plate back, the fish was pulled apart into
bite-sized pieces, but he’d left the head whole, and Desiree’s stomach turned
at the thought of eating it.

She shoved the lot of it back at him. “Bullshit. You hate
humans. That thing you’re feeling? It’s not
like
, it’s
pity
. And
you can keep that to yourself!”

“You don’t get to tell people how they feel,” Aiden
retorted, shoving the little plate back into her lap, spilling half of its
contents all over her. He huffed, picking everything back up.

Desiree tensed, ready to go feral on him if he tried to
grope her, but he didn’t touch her any more than was absolutely necessary to
pick up the food. “Look,” he said, “I’m trying to mend fences here, okay? It’s
not like I want us to hold hands and skip or anything, but I’m getting sick and
tired of sleeping with one eye open around you. I’m a predator, you’re
vicious—can you maybe just consider the possibility that we might have
something in common?”

She stared, trying to figure out the ploy.

He stared right back, gaze steady on her face, and there was
no pity in his blue-green eyes, no hate or resentment. Only a quiet acceptance
underlying a whole lot of frustration.

It scared her.

At least when he’d hated her, Desiree knew she had some
smidgen of power at her core. She was vicious, conniving, and dangerous in her
own right. After all, she’d gotten under the skin of a Wolfen and lived. How
many people could say that?

But he looked at her now as if she were his equal, and it
made her feel that much smaller. It took away her claws. He looked at her, and
she was her own self again—weak little one-legged Desiree, beaten and scarred.
He saw her as a victim, and she had no one left to tell him otherwise, didn’t
have enough conviction to tell him herself.

After everything she’d been through to get out from under
Klaus’ thumb, Desiree was right back where she’d started—depending on someone
else to survive.

Tired of fighting against her lot in life, she slouched and
dropped her gaze, grudgingly accepting the plate of fish.

“You’re gonna hate me even more now, aren’t you?”

Desiree shook her head without looking up.

Aiden sighed. “Yeah, I so don’t believe you.” He got up,
dusted himself off, and swooped Casey up from the water’s edge. “Come on, Case.
Let’s get out of the line of fire for a bit.” He spun the girl around, singing
Sway
at the top of his lungs.

Casey laughed. “What are you doing?”

“It’s called dancing,” he said. “Work with me here.” And he
sang louder. Desiree would have been embarrassed for him, except he was
actually good.

Making an effort not to be bitter, Desiree set the uneaten
fish aside, braced herself on the walking stick, and got up, with Aiden’s eyes
on her every step as she hopped back to the car. It was too hot out in the sun.
She was tired, weak, and just plain miserable. A nap sounded pretty damned
good. So she curled up on the back seat, closed her eyes, and pretended not to
hear Casey’s delighted squeals as she danced her little heart out.

At some point, Aiden’s voice woke her. He sounded so far
away, echoing, repeating something. His cool hand pressed to her burning
forehead, and he swore. Then the world tilted and her eyes rolled back in her
head as Aiden sat her up and pressed a bottle to her lips. She choked on the bitter
liquid, but he wouldn’t let her lie back down until she’d finished all of it.
Her shaking had become worse. She was so cold, but burning at the same time. A
heavy layer of blankets settled over her. Voices whispered left and right. They
made no sense.

Searing knives cut into her leg, tearing at her flesh.
Desiree would have screamed, only she didn’t have much strength left to do it.
Instead she jerked, reflexes taking over where coherent thought failed to make
her react. But a thick band of…something tied her down, held her immobile.

More pain.

Then darkness.

Heat and ice.

Bitter dregs forced down her throat. She threw them back up,
and sighed with relief to taste cool, clean water on her tongue.

Darkness buoyed her, soft and quiet like sleep, but much
deeper, much more frightening.

Desiree tried to claw her way back to the surface, but her
eyes felt swollen shut. Her mouth was too tired to move, to form words, to call
for help. Her limbs were leaden weights attached to her body.

Then she sank deeper still, into a place where she didn’t
exist.

The darkness began to lift, leaving a dull ache in his head
and an all-over skin crawl as a reminder of what had happened. Nothing hurt, so
his body had recovered, but his senses were still misfiring. Bryce felt
cushioned on something like a bed, but that couldn’t be right. He heard noises
outside—lots of people, dogs, and horses, too. He smelled Wolfen, but not
Sinna.

Bryce frowned. Had someone lobotomized him while he’d been
out?

Then he registered a weight on top of him. The foreign scent
clicked into place, and he remembered: Gilroy. Colony. Buddy-buddy Wolfen
expert Dave. Helena.

Suddenly, he was wide awake, with a face hovering right
above his. Cold blue-green eyes pinched in a meaningless smile. “Hello,
handsome.”

Bryce lurched up. The female flinched, but didn’t run.
Instead, she shoved him back down. “Whoa there, big guy. Take it easy. No need
to rush.”

He snarled, shoved her off so he could sit up. His head
spun, and his stomach heaved. Had they drugged him?

Helena picked herself up, dusted herself off. “I’m going to
overlook that cheap shot. This once. But do that again and I will rip out your
throat, got it?”

Bryce clutched at his temples to stop the spinning. Her
words barely registered. “Where is she?”

“Who? Oh, the other one. She’s fine. Probably still in bed.
Where you should be.” Hands on his shoulders pushed him down again, more gently
this time. Disoriented, Bryce lay back, blinking rapidly in a futile effort to
focus on something—anything.

Shake it off, damn it! This is nothing.

“There now, isn’t this better?” Her hands skimmed over his
shoulders and chest, while her weight settled across his lap. “Just relax,
baby. Let me take care of you.”

Skin against skin.

His clothes were gone.

Ire lit his blood. He roared, throwing her off so hard, her
back struck the wall and sent a small dust explosion into the air.

Bryce lurched to his feet, staggered like a drunk around a
room empty of everything but a bed.

“Hot damn,” Helena breathed. “Look at you.” She was panting,
circling him and leaving a scent trail of arousal in her wake like a territory
marker.

Bryce shook his head and almost toppled over. “Clothes,” he
growled.

Helena chuckled. “This usually works better without them.”

He spun to face her, but she was faster, keeping at his
back. Her breath huffed against his spine, then her tongue lapped at him, hands
snaking around his waist to his stomach.

Bryce grabbed her arms to pry her off, but she struck the
backs of his knees and sent him to the ground. With a quick twist worthy of a
pro wrestler, Helena brought his arm behind his back, then came around to
straddle his lap and press herself against his chest.

He reached for her throat.

She grabbed his cock.

Bryce flashed his fangs, and she laughed. “Oh yeah, let’s
play rough. Been a long time since I had someone match me…”

Bryce squeezed.

So did she, smiling recklessly.

He wasn’t getting out of this without inflicting damage. Out
of options, Bryce released her throat to circle her waist, squeezing her
closer. Triumph and lust transformed her face as she let go of his arm to
clutch his neck. She licked at his lower lip when he pushed to his feet.

Then he unceremoniously dropped her ass to the ground.

The effects of whatever they’d dosed him with were fading.
Bryce was now steady, though his head pounded like a drum. But at least he
could walk without stumbling, and he moved away from Helena before she could
latch onto him again.

He retrieved his clothes from the foot of the bed and
dressed quickly, shoving his boots on without bothering to lace them.

Helena gaped. “You’re serious? You’re just going to walk
away from
this
?” She turned full circle in front of him, displaying her
physique without a trace of shame.

Bryce shouldered past her to the door.

She danced around him, flattened herself against it before
he could get it open. “I could make it so good for you,” she said. “Ask anyone,
they’ll tell you.”

Exactly why he wanted nothing to do with her—he
knew
everyone around here knew; he could smell them all over her.

“Move,” he said, staring her down.

Helena’s posture straightened in challenge, and she stared
right back, used to humans bowing before her. But Bryce wasn’t human. The
longer she stood in his way, the more it pissed him off, and his scalp itched
as his hackles rose. Helena noticed, glancing up warily, but she still didn’t
back down.

Voices outside split his attention, made his ear twitch.
People arguing, on the verge of a brawl. Men, women, armed guards…and Sinna
among them. Her voice carried the loudest to his ears; he’d recognize her
anywhere.

She was alive.

“Move,” he repeated. This time, his voice was barely human.

Helena swallowed hard, gaze wavering just a little, but she
raised her chin before she tucked tail and stepped aside.

Bryce snatched open the door and stalked out into the bright
light of day.

And there was Sinna with David. Alive and well, trying to
get past a row of armed guards who stood in her way, no doubt under Helena’s orders.
She spotted him, and relief made her shoulders sag. How long had she been out
there, trying to get to him?

Then her gaze shifted to his right, and she frowned.

Bryce sighed as Helena sauntered out of the shack, utterly
unabashed by her nakedness, rubbing it in Sinna’s face. “Let her through,
boys,” she purred, and the guards stepped away.

All four met halfway, Helena keeping pace by Bryce’s side as
if she had every right to be there, and Sinna blushing scarlet next to David,
refusing to meet Bryce’s gaze.

“Hellraiser,” David greeted.

“Professor,” Helena returned.

“Chilly day today.”

“Good for the constitution.”

Bryce ignored them both. “Are you okay?” he asked Sinna.

When he reached for her, she shied away from his touch.
“Fine,” she said. “You?”

“Irritated beyond reason.”

“Told you we should have gone one more round.” Helena winked
at Sinna. “Men. They never know what’s good for them.”

Sinna glared, but quickly looked away.

“You know,” David said, “people might like you more if you
weren’t so…”

“So what?” Helena said.

Bryce took Sinna’s hand and pulled her aside. “Talk to me,”
he said. “What happened?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. You passed out, and they took you
away in case you flipped out again. I’ve been looking for you for two days.”
She glanced sideways at Helena. “Didn’t realize you were busy.”

Two days…?
“I was drugged.”

“I’m sure.” She blinked at him and widened her eyes. “Oh,
don’t worry. I’m not upset. It’s a good plan. I mean, if we can get her to come
with us of her own free will, then all the better, right? Yeah. So, you know.
Good job. Taking one for the team.”

She was jealous.

The realization left Bryce gaping like an idiot. Sinna was
jealous. His nostrils flared to take in more of her scent—that sweet, delicate
fragrance of heat and strength—and savored the purity of it. He wanted to roll
around in that scent, wear it on his skin. It did something to his brain, made
him think of a million things to say, but short circuited his ability to put
them into words, and the longer she stood there, watching him, waiting for some
sort of response, the worse it got.

Sarge’s entrance on horseback broke the strained silence.
“Matron wants to see you both,” he said, and turned his mount around. “You too,
Helena. Put some clothes on first.”

The girl flipped him off.

Sinna sighed with disappointment. “I guess we should go,”
she said, and followed after Sarge.

Could he have misread her?

She glanced back with an unhappy scowl. Not at him, but at
Helena.

Dumbstruck, Bryce almost tripped over his own feet.

Sinna was jealous.

Over him.

He never thought he’d be one of those guys, but damn, it
felt good. And, predator that he was, he wanted to chase her down and make her
say it out loud, just to hear her say the words. Because he was certain nothing
would ever sound as sweet as that female’s voice in his ear, saying she wanted
him all for herself.

Like that would ever happen. Sinna wasn’t the kind who had
to settle for a guy like him; she only had to smile, and men would fall all
over themselves to fulfill her every wish. Her wanting anything to do with
Bryce was as likely as the sky raining down chocolate chip cookies.

Bryce shook himself off, got back to the real world, and
trailed after Sinna.

Matron’s house was indistinguishable from the others in
Hopetown. A well cared for little cottage with painted shutters and a sturdy
door that stood open in welcome. Inside, she had a separate room for sleeping,
but the doorway didn’t close.

Matron herself was seated at the table with Bryce’s
collection of knives neatly laid out in front of her. A pit bull slept over her
feet, guarding their three supply packs.

When they entered, she waved for them to sit. “You must be
starving.” She nudged the dog off of her and retrieved a cauldron from the
hearth. She did it so easily, turning her back without any fear. She ladled
hearty portions of stew into three bowls and set them onto the table. “I ain’t
much of a cook, but I can’t imagine you’re any pickier about what you eat than
my daughter is.”

Neither Sinna nor Bryce made any move to taste it.

Matron smiled and ate a spoonful from each bowl to prove it
was safe. “I thought we should talk. My southern sensibilities dictate that
such things are best done over a good meal. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Helena barged in, dressed, and looking very unhappy.
“Mother,” she greeted.

Matron motioned to the cauldron. “Help yourself. We were
just getting started.”

“Ooh! Food.”

While Helena served herself, Matron regarded Bryce with a
curious eye. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Bryce,” he answered.

Matron raised an eyebrow. “That’s not the name you were
given.”

“It’s the one I chose for myself.”

After a moment, she nodded. “It’s a good name. And it tells
me nothing about you that I don’t already know.”

Helena dropped into a seat next to her mother and started
shoveling food into her mouth as if she hadn’t eaten in a month.

“Forgive my daughter. She’s very much a free spirit, and
curbing her is something I’ve given up on long ago. Manners ain’t her strongest
suit, I’m afraid.”

Sinna tentatively picked up her spoon.

Bryce took up his own and tasted the concoction first, just
in case. Not great, but not bad, either. He gave a nod to let Sinna know it was
safe. “You wanted to talk,” he said to Matron.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m sure you can imagine we don’t get many
visitors these days. Your cache of supplies is quite impressive, I must say.
But what I want more than any of that, is information.”

“What do you want to know?” Bryce asked.

“Where did y’all come from?”

“North,” he replied shortly.

“Are there more of you up there?”

“Some.”

“Why did you travel all this way south?”

“Seemed like the thing to do at the time.”

“Did it now?”

Bryce nodded.

“I see. It wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with my
daughter, would it?”

Bryce silently held her gaze.

She chuckled. “Darlin’, there ain’t much that gets past me.
Like I said, we don’t get many visitors, but we do get some. Those coming from
the north, especially, seem to have one thing in common: my ex-husband.”

Helena snapped her heels together. “
Heil, Vater!
”

“Now, you’re the first Wolfen he’s sent my way, and I’m
quite curious to know exactly how he managed that.” She glanced from Bryce to
Sinna and back. “But I see you ain’t keen on telling me, so let’s try something
else. What did he tell you?”

Neither of them spoke.

Matron sighed. “Fair enough. Let me tell you what he told
the others, because it was a very fine tale, I must say. He told them our
family had gotten separated during an evacuation. That my daughter was the key
to eradicating the converts once and for all, and our ultimate survival hinged
on her returning to the bosom of his good graces. Now, we all know that’s a
load of convert scat, don’t we?”

Her lilting voice was calm and relaxed, as if she’d had this
conversation a dozen times before and it had ceased to make an impression on
her.

She could afford to bide her time.

She didn’t have a brother locked away with her crazy ex.

“Now, let me tell you the real story,” Matron said. “Once
upon a time, there was a young girl from Georgia who fell in love with the
smartest man she’d ever met. They got married and moved across the big blue
ocean to a beautiful little town in Ukraine so he could be close to his work.
Now things weren’t always rosy between them, but they were young and in love,
and nothin’ else mattered. And when the girl became pregnant, everything seemed
to be falling into place.

“The child was born with a disfigurement that broke both of
their hearts. They swore to do everything they could to fix it, but then the
world imploded and they no longer could. They moved back to the States, all set
and ready to play like the old homesteaders of the past, staking out their
claim and building it up from nothing.”

A sad, dreamy expression clouded her gaze for a moment. “It
was a brave, harsh new world,” she said, “full of dangers and treachery. They
had quite a time of setting up their little nest, let me tell you, between
building a settlement, raising walls, fighting off monsters… And then the young
wife conceived again, and the smartest man in the world became obsessed with
his wife’s pregnancy. He checked her temperature three times a day, prescribed
what she could and couldn’t eat, dosed her with all sorts of vitamin
supplements, and monitored every move she made.