Worlds Apart (18 page)

“What I want to know,” Grimman
said in a conversational tone, “is what Portal Enforcement is doing
here? Aren't any portals around for a couple hundred
miles.”

Clive let his hands rest in his
lap and kept one eye on the stick. “You know someone I'm looking
for. There's one werewolf whose hide you aren't after. In fact, he
tells you what to do. You work for him.”

The goblin snorted, but didn't say
anything.

Clive leaned forward. “I want his
name. I want to know where he is, right now.”

Grimman tapped the stick against
the cage, his face alert with amusement.

“If I tell you that, I gotta kill
you.”

“If you kill me, you have less
than a day to live yourself. You think my boss doesn't check to
make sure I report to an enclave? She'll be here thirty minutes
after full moon. You won't have time to skin me.”

The goblin shrugged. “It's not a
crime to kill a werewolf outside an enclave.
Self-defense.”

“Keeping me in a cage until I
transform is
murder
, rat-face.”

“So? How will they know we did
that? Or does your boss know that you're stupid enough to get
trapped?” The stick jammed into Clive's stomach, but this time
Clive got it, pulling Grimman against the cage before he had time
to release it.

Grimman laughed again as he pulled
back.

“Damn. Now I'll have to get my
other stick.” He turned to the woodpile behind him and pulled a
polished stick up from the other side. He held it up, gazing at it
with affection. A door slammed, and the other goblins wandered over
to perch on stones. Magger gave Clive a friendly wave. The injured
goblin sported a fresh bandage. He crossed his arms, fixing Clive
with a steady, smug grin.

Clive clamped down on his nerves
and narrowed his eyes in sardonic nonchalance. “A wand? You play at
goblin tricks, rat-face?”

“Oh.” Grimman’s voice was dreamy,
and he continued to gaze at the wand. “I'm a bit past the playing
stage.”

“He sure is,” Magger said. He
licked his lips. “Grimman's better with a wand than some
witches.”

“Indeed.” Grimman turned his gaze
from the wand onto Clive, who shuddered at the dark fire glinting
within his green eyes. “You'll understand quite soon, Mr.
Winslow.”

He pointed the wand at
Clive.

Chapter 20

Tina sat behind her desk, while
Karen Beauchamp and Will occupied the visitor’s chairs across from
her. Both of them sported dark circles under their eyes, but they
sat with an air of exhausted relief that matched Tina's. There had
been no new cases in three days, and the sick ones were getting
better, thanks to Shandari's proposed treatment.

“Dr. Beauchamp credits you with
pointing her toward the solution.” Dr. Grayson’s voice echoed from
the speaker phone.

“It was just a wild thought I
had,” Tina lied. She couldn’t very well tell them where the idea
actually originated. “Karen's the one who saw the possibilities in
it, and she and her team brought it to life. I'm just glad it
worked.”
And I'm glad they didn't ask me too many questions
about how I thought of it.

“We all are,” Dr. Grayson said. “I
have to warn you that when we find a doctor who can get to the
heart of a case like that, we tend to snatch them up. Any plans to
move to Atlanta in your future?”

Tina joined in the laughter his
question provoked, but shook her head in Karen’s direction. “Sorry.
I'm hooked on Green Roads.”

“I don't give up easily,” Dr.
Grayson said. “But I'll give you a break for now. If you've got
things under control there, I'll call my team back.”

Karen nodded as she answered.
“They don't need us anymore, Doctor. We're starting to take hikes
in the forest.”

Dr. Grayson laughed. “Can't have
that. Y'all pack up and come home. I think I can find something for
you to do. Dr. Cassidy, Dr. Summerlin, I want to thank you both for
your cooperation and assistance. Dr. Beauchamp's reports have been
full of praise. Your work made it possible for us to do our job
efficiently. That means saving more lives.”

“Lives of people we know and
love,” Will said, and Tina knew it was more than his own son he was
thinking about. “We will always be grateful for your
help.”

“Always glad for happy endings.
We'll get out of your hair and let you have your town back. My
assistant will be in touch to coordinate follow-up reports for the
next year or so, but otherwise, this case is officially closed.
Good day, all.”

Karen Beauchamp glanced at her
watch as she stood. “We're heading out this afternoon. Just need to
finish packing.” She held out a hand to Tina. “Good luck with
everything. I'll be in touch.”

Tina shook her hand and walked her
to the front door. Will left a few minutes later, and Tina turned
to Sharon, who was sitting behind the counter. “Were you able to
clear my calendar?”

“You have the afternoon free,
Doc.” She clicked her mouse victoriously, shutting down her
computer. “I am going
shopping
. In Portland. Away from Green
Roads. I may stay overnight with my sister, unless you need me
early?” She slipped on her coat as she turned to Tina with raised
brows.

Tina noticed the shadows under
Sharon's eyes. Her skin was pallid, and the wrinkles on her cheeks
seemed deeper. She'd been working nonstop since the plague
started.

Tina placed Sharon's hat on her
head and patted her cheeks with gentle fingers. “Take tomorrow off.
Stay in Portland all weekend if you want. I wish I could give you a
week off. You need to rest.”

Sharon answered with a bright
smile. “You're sure? A three-day weekend will do
wonders.”

“Go.” Tina gave her a gentle push
toward the door. “Tomorrow's a light day. I can manage. Drive
carefully.”

Tina stood on the office porch and
waved as Sharon's car vanished around the corner. She dropped her
hand when she glimpsed the moon, visible in the afternoon sky. It
looked full already, and Kasia's words came back to her: “The moon
reaches full at a particular point in time. But werewolves all
react individually to it. They change over a range of a few hours
before full moon. The change is magical, and the Flatlands hinder
magic. So the werewolf in your forest may change later than usual.
But we have no idea when that will be.”

Tina glanced at the forest
surrounding her office and home, then answered the panic rising
within her and jumped for the door, pushing it shut with her body.
She leaned back against it, staring with unseeing eyes at Sharon's
immaculate counter. Her thumb trailed circles upon her stomach, and
she frowned as she concentrated on the tiny fetus within. “You stay
put,” she murmured. “No monkey business tonight, all
right?”

She might have felt an answering
flutter, but knew it was her imagination. It was still too soon for
that. With a final check of the closed door, she made her way to
the laboratory to set up for the afternoon's experiment.

~~

Damien scrambled up another hill,
stopping to retch into a batch of thimbleberry plants. Spitting a
final time, he sank to the ground against a pine tree. The change
had been painful last month. This time it was approaching agony. He
wasn't even changing yet, and he already felt like shit.

It wasn't his plan to be stuck in
the Flatlands, but that damn Keeper had sensed his presence before
he could get the ward in place. Then Portal Enforcement
over-reacted by slamming that indictment down.

Well, he'd just have to break the
indictment. Or figure out how to move his ward. It was large,
requiring an anchor, which is why he'd woven it around the cove
near the portal. But there might be a way to reduce it, make it
portable. If he could carry it on him, his true nature would be
invisible to everyone who saw him, wherever he went.

It would require a great deal of
power, and power required sacrifice. Perhaps he could obtain enough
power by torturing and killing a few cows. If that wasn't enough,
there were plenty of humans scattered around this wilderness.
Indirect killings, as he'd done with the three boys, couldn't
provide enough. But a hands-on kill, like he’d done with the
Keeper—that would work. His blood still sang from that
murder.

Tina Cassidy held great promise.
He didn't know what allowed her to grow a werewolf's spawn without
harm to either of them, but he'd find out.

Damien smiled. He'd make her power
his. It would be such pleasure to have her helpless, to use her
body. He'd have to find a place where he could keep her alive for a
long time. And when her spawn was born, he'd have to see what it
was, what kind of power it had. The spawn could be useful,
too.

Damien stood, groaning as his legs
struggled to support him. He had sensed the presence of Portal
Enforcement agents around Green Roads. His ward kept his true
nature hidden from them, and as long as he was in human form, they
wouldn't notice him. If they saw him as a wolf, they’d know. He had
to get farther away.

~~

Clive clung to the cage floor as
he tried to inch away from the wand. There was nowhere to go, but
instinct made him try. He'd learned not to touch the bars, for as
soon as he did, Grimman would pour heat into them, sending them
soaring to scorching temperatures. Clive had long since burst the
blisters on his hands as he scrambled on the floor. His nails
ripped as he scratched the metal, smearing the floor with
blood.

The goblins stood around the cage,
shrieking with glee at every blast from the wand. Grimman no longer
laughed with them, and Clive hoped that meant he was getting tired.
It took a lot of energy to power a wand, and Grimman had been at it
for—
oh, fuck-a-pixie
. Clive had no idea how long, but it was
long enough for the change to be near. Grimman's torture superseded
the pain of changing, but Clive could tell his bones were
loosening, his insides rearranging. How much longer before he was a
wolf? Would they continue the torture?

He didn’t think so. They wouldn't
want the pelt damaged. The kill would be clean.

Grimman pointed the wand again and
pain stabbed Clive's liver. He was too weak to scream, but a long
moan escaped him as he doubled over, clutching his gut. Spasms
jerked his body, throwing him against the hot bars, and for an
agonizing moment, he couldn't move away. He smelled his flesh
cooking. With a superhuman lunge, he tore himself from the bars,
falling forward a blessed few inches. The laughter of the goblins
washed over him.

He rested on the floor, his breath
coming in ragged sobs as he waited for the next stab of pain. A
hazy distance away, the voices of the goblins offered suggestions
for further torture. Something stabbed his palm and Clive realized
an object had appeared there. He didn't have the strength to look,
but his hazy mind found a name for it: his strap. Grimman had
stolen it earlier, but it had returned to its owner.

In quiet relief, Clive curled his
burned hand around it, searching with his thumb for the pattern
that would unlock a weapon. He had to hurry before another attack
distracted him. He didn't dare drop the strap.

A slight vibration told him it was
ready. He heard the chatter of the goblins, heard Grimman's voice
replying, and sensed the wand pointing at him once again. His thumb
danced a two-step pattern on the strap, slipping in the blood.
No. Be careful,
he told himself.
Do it
right.

He moved his thumb again,
repeating the pattern, concentrating on tapping the correct spots.
There.

Clive was close enough to the
change that his ears picked up a faint echo of the high-pitched
whine the strap emitted. Closer and more immediate were the screams
of the goblins. Clive allowed himself a smile that vanished in a
haze of pain as he forced himself to sit up. His tormenters writhed
on the ground outside the cage, hands held as futile shields over
their ears. In a few moments, they'd be unconscious.

He jumped at the cage, relieved
that the bars on this side were still cool. Pressing against them,
he stretched an arm through, managing to snag a handful of
Grimman's jacket. He pulled, moaning with the effort. He forced his
other shaky arm through the bars, using both hands to drag the
goblin's body against the cage.

His bones were shifting, and the
strap's whine was getting louder. Desperate, he pulled the keys
from Grimman's pocket. Dropping the body, he scrambled for the cage
door, fumbling against the metal and his own shifting bones and
dripping blood, to get the key into the lock.

At last, he stumbled from the
cage, dropping the strap and turning a circle of desperation. The
goblins would remain unconscious for a while. But they were
hunters. He'd never make it to an enclave now, and they'd be after
him in no time.

Clive ran for the forest, his gait
clumsy and slow. A trail of blood followed him. He tripped, and the
yell that escaped him sounded more like a yelp. He ran again,
farther.
Not far enough. I'll never get far
enough.