Fang Chronicles: Zenya's Story (2 page)

   With a clouded but glinting gaze, he looked into the face of the man beneath his death grip. Zenya’s green eyes stared; panic evident and her small hands came up to grasp his. She was a female cat and one that he knew. The shock caused him to loosen his grip, but her terror remained, and low gasping words came from deep in her throat.

“Amy sent me.”

His fingers relaxed. His raspy words sounded in her ear. “Helping me won’t keep you from death.”

She was taking deep breaths but never looked away. “Fine, but kill me when you no longer need me.”

“That can be arranged.”

Her eyes didn’t blink, but her hand disengaged and trembling fingers opened to show a key in her palm. His heartbeat accelerated and his gaze traveled from her hand to her face.

“Are you able to walk?”

“I’ll die trying.”

She unlocked the leg chains before removing the ones on his wrists. The metal around his throat was last. “Fight the change. It will only make you weaker.”

She was right, but god he wanted to let his wolf out. Disregarding her disgusting cat smell was impossible and he itched to feel her throat in his hands again. “How long have I been here?”

“Four months.”

“What about the clans?”

“Marcus and Amy are okay, Cheri lost some wolves, but overall they survived. Yours is gone.”

Without thinking, his forearm connected with the side of her head and even in his weakened state her body landed a few feet away.

She wiped the blood from her mouth. “Feel better now?”

Through gritted teeth he managed, “Don’t ever fucking mention my clan again.”

She didn’t acknowledge the order. “Do you need help walking?”

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

She went straight to the door and opened it. Light shone in from an outside bulb and he could see the darkness in the distance.

“We need to get past the outer perimeter, but you need to move out of the way first.” She picked up a bulky tarp on the other side of the door and carried it over before unfurling it.

God, he smelled wolf for the first time in months, dead wolf. His hatred burned and he almost lost his mind.

“I know this is hard, but he’s dead and you’re alive. I need to get his clothes off and put the chains on him. I’m hoping they smell his body and think you’re dead. If so, they’re lazy and will let you lie in here for a while.”

Her hair was in his fist before he realized he grabbed her, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He needed to kill a cat. The sudden movement made him dizzy, and he went to his knees managing to savagely pull her head down with him. He stared directly into her green eyes. “Did. You. Kill. Him?”

 “No.” Her gaze remained steady. “He got too close to the boundary. He’s been dead over twenty-four hours. I carried him here before coming for you. If you’re going to kill me, do it. Chances are we’ll be caught. I’d rather die quickly.”

Letting go, he gathered the dead body into his shaking arms and rocked back and forth. There was no moisture left for tears, but he whispered the prayer of death’s safe journey. Taking a deep breath, he released his desperate hold on his brother wolf and then removed the clothes with unsteady hands. Not looking at the she-cat, he snapped the chains in place, and then turned.

“What do we do with the clothes?”

“Put them under the body.” She folded the tarp and handed it to him. After he looked up, she pulled thin pants, a shirt, and socks from beneath her loose-fitting top. “Put these on. I have shoes and supplies a mile from here.”

The clothes smelled like cat and he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Her gaze remained steady. “They can’t smell wolf leaving here. It’s bad enough they might smell the body I carried over.”

He put on the clothes. He was barely standing, but needed the supplies, especially if food and water were waiting. He would kill her then.

Chapter Three

Not using her to lean on was impossible, and ten minutes into their escape she wedged her body under his shoulder. Her cat odor overpowered his other senses and made him angrier, if that was possible. He stumbled, fell, and gasped for air. He could feel several broken ribs grinding, compliments of his last beating. His arm was broken too and needed resetting. Sweat dripped down his face and the hot humid air didn’t help. Her body was soft but made of iron when it came to taking his extra weight.

He managed to stay conscious, barely. There wasn’t any activity at the camp, and Zenya kept to the shadows until they hit the jungle. Brambles stuck to his socks, but he was past caring. Everything hurt, but at least if he died now, it would be someplace other than the hellhole he’d been kept in.

They trudged along. Her breathing wasn’t quite as loud as his, but taking his weight was finally having an impact. Suddenly, he felt a tree against his back and her arms slipped away. He was too tired to move. His socks came off and then soothing cool water spilled over them.

“Here.” She placed another water bottle at his lips. “Drink slowly. If you can keep it down, I’ve got some jerky. I can’t do anything more about your feet but put clean socks on them with the shoes. Sorry.”

His throat managed to work and absorb the liquid. His hand shook as he tried to take the water bottle. He gave up, exhaustion taking its toll.

“You need to sleep. I’ll give you an hour after you get some jerky down and then we’ll try some more food and water before taking off.”

“No… must go.” His words slurred.

“You’re dead on your feet and I can’t keep carrying you. Sooner or later we’ll need to move fast. Right now we’re safe, but that won’t last. I’m hoping we get a day’s head start. Here, eat.” She forced a strip of jerky between his lips.

He was too tired to argue or kill her. Another piece of meat would have been welcome, but his eyes closed before he could ask.

“Nicolas, wake up.”

He rolled, pulling the cat beneath his body before he realized it was Zenya.

“We don’t have time for this, wolf.” Her muffled voice sounded beneath his chest.

He rolled back over, trying not to show the pain in his chest caused by his broken ribs. “How long did I sleep?”

“Two hours. Here’s some more water and jerky. Be quick.”

He attacked the water bottle first, finishing it off. Zenya picked up a backpack and secured the straps over her shoulders. Using the tree and his uninjured arm, he managed to stand while chewing the tough carcass. There was no way he’d complain, meat was meat, and he needed every bit of protein he could sink his teeth into. He gave Zenya an assessing look.

“Put the empty bottle in my pack. We’re more than an hour from water and we’ll refill at the river. Are you going to kill me now or can we get started?” Her impatience rumbled with a low growl.

“No, I’ll kill you later.”

Her stride carried her quickly into the thick foliage and he followed. They walked for an hour before he heard rushing water.

“We’re still in cat territory and we need to be quiet. Even with the cat-scented clothes I smell your wolf. Patrols are thin right now, but it’s possible we’ll run into one. The vamps, thank god, are otherwise occupied, but you and I can’t defend against a group of four or five cats.”

His eyes glinted in the moonlight, but he kept his mouth shut and tried to quiet his dragging feet.

The river was at least twenty-five yards across, and he wondered if he could make it.

“Sit down and rest for a moment. I have a boat.”

He didn’t question her order, just let his body sink into the dead forest undergrowth and closed his eyes.

“Here, I’ll help you up.”

“Don’t fucking touch me.” He knew he sounded ridiculous.

She stood back and watched him gain his unsteady footing, then walked toward the water. The boat was a small canoe with one set of paddles. She didn’t ask him for help, just cast off, efficiently stroking toward the other shore. The fast water carried them downstream before they finally reached land again. He stubbornly managed to climb out with no assistance.

Her hands went to her shirt and she pulled it over her head. “Take off your clothes, we’re getting wet.”

“Why?”

“Because they’ll find the boat and think we’re heading to the border. Backtracking takes us to a safe place I have waiting.”

“I’m not heading farther back into cat territory.”

“Then you won’t make it out of cat territory alive. At your pace you’re a week or more from safety. We need you healthy.”

“Fuck.” He began taking off his clothes, refusing to look at her. She stuck everything in the backpack when they were naked.

“We need to walk in the water for at least thirty minutes before we cross back over.”

They trudged against the current. The water was harder on him than the jungle, but he refused to ask her to slow down. If the bitch could do it, so could he.

“We’re crossing here, but don’t step on dry land. We’ll head back through the water halfway from where we came.” She didn’t ask if he could make it, just began heading into the deep current.

Once he was submerged up to his shoulders, the cold water actually felt good on his ribs, but his arm was useless for swimming. He finally sank under, then tried to get away when she dragged him up by his hair, pulling him into a lifeguard rescue carry and continued swimming. It was too much trouble to fight her, and he knew drowning them both wasn’t a good option. Eventually his feet found purchase and he managed to make it the rest of the way on his own. The rushing water carried them farther downstream, but when they got to the shore, she turned back, struggling against the current.

He was dead on his feet, but stayed within sight of her.

“Here’s a good place to get out. Can you walk another hour through the jungle?”

His entire body shook, and his hands trembled too hard to put on the clothes she offered. He didn’t object when she helped him dress. He would kill her for that alone. The only cats he wanted to feel were those in his grasp right before he broke their necks.

“I’ll make it.”

He drank the water she offered and then ate more jerky and some dried fruit she stuck in his hand.

He was beyond caring about the terrain beneath his feet and just placed one foot in front of the other until his knees hit the ground. Struggling to get up was useless.

“Drink and then sleep.” He didn’t remember swallowing, just faded into a dreamless darkness.

It was hot and he needed to take a piss. He opened his bleary eyes and looked around. Zenya lay a foot away, sleeping with her head propped on her arm. The sun barely made it through the trees but it was daylight, the sweltering heat attested to it. Having bodily urges felt good even if it was only to pee.

He made a small noise trying to get to his feet, and she moved slightly in her sleep but didn’t awaken. He walked farther into the dense trees and relieved himself. A rustle in the foliage caused him to look over his shoulder. Zenya stood blushing.

“I thought you left.”

Zipping up his pants, he refused to acknowledge her comment. He couldn’t care less if she watched him. He was tired and in pain but feeling better than he had in months, though that wasn’t saying much.