Cry of the Wolf (23 page)

“It’s okay,” he told him.

Okay? We all said stupid things at the height of chaos, didn’t we?

He stopped in front of her and shouted her name again.

She turned towards the sound of his voice, electricity flaring off her, and he prayed that somewhere in there, she could actually
see
what she was doing.

She held her hands out, aiming all her anger at him. Lightning left her palms and Lawrence did what he hadn’t done in years and years: he shifted.

~*~

It was kind of like a drug and she could do anything with it, and right now, she wanted nothing more than to destroy.

The way Brendan had been destroyed.

And he
had
been destroyed, not just killed. He’d been mutilated. Someone had tortured him.

So much blood…

She wondered how long he’d been alive for before his body had given out on him.

And WHAT had they done to his LEGS?

They. She didn’t know who ‘they’ were but someone was calling her name and that would do for now.

She spun and saw a tall figure through the haze of silver tendrils dancing in front of her eyes.

Friend or foe? Friend or foe?

Brendan had been a friend.

Brendan was dead.

The anger erupted from her before she even had time to register it. It was present and intense, like the storm … and it was hers.

She was aware that she was throwing lightning around all over the place, but she didn’t
feel
like she was doing it – it was sort of just doing it by itself. She was a conductor for every emotion she’d ever owned, and the lightning followed the direction of whatever emotion was dominant. Right now, it was rage.

Heat centred all around her hands.

The tall figure shimmered, and then he was gone. Confused, she halted, but not before lightning had left her palms.

And then she saw him.

A few feet lower because he was no longer a man, but a wolf – the most majestic white wolf she’d ever seen. Her own wolf went wild inside her.

Lawrence!

He sat in front of her, as large as Ryan’s wolf, but … something wasn’t quite right…

It’s a trick – he doesn’t shift.

But she knew it was him because her wolf took full advantage of her disorientation, howled and howled and tried to break free from her to go to him.
His wolf called directly to hers and it broke through her destructive stupor.
Friend, not foe!

Oh, shit! The lightning!

In the longest moment of her life – even though, in reality, only a fraction of a second had passed – she pulled back the lightning, not knowing she could, and not a moment too soon. It missed him by what must have been merely millimetres. He may be able to take the lightning on his skin, but she doubted he’d be able to take a full on blow to his body.

Her head immediately cleared, all anger fading to horror and exhaustion. “No … Lawrence…” What had she just done?

The lightning she’d reeled in in panic, snapped back like an elastic band.

A cry of pain left her as she was thrown backwards by her own manifestation, the sky above her spinning, the storm clearing and giving way to blue … before everything faded.

Chapter Fifteen

“Flight BA0155 to Cairo is now boarding at Gate 47.”

He’d packed light after sorting out as much of his affairs as he could, which was pretty much everything because he didn’t have a hell of a lot of affairs. At the age of thirty, when he’d been turned, he had been more of the playboy and less of the committed workaholic. No relationship and no need to work – financial provisions being the one thing his mum was actually good at – meant not a lot of loose ends to tie up.

For the first time since he was a boy still in adoration of his mother, he had anointed and lit a candle for the Goddess Sekhmet as soon as he had arrived home. It had taken four hours to burn out and he had then left his few possessions without a backwards glance.

The Trident would want his head on a Datura-laden platter when they discovered he’d gone, but that was fine – he had no delusions of returning. Just a sad hope he was too realistic to nurture.

Making his way across the busy airport lounge, Amil spied a familiar sight on the level below.

Russell Maddox.

He slipped through the crowd and leaned over the banister, training his senses to focus on his target. The man was almost out of view, getting his ticket from the American Airlines check-in desk. He wasn’t alone. An old woman stood next to him.

Interesting…
That was the old woman he’d seen sitting outside Gabriel’s office. With all the noise buzzing around him, he couldn’t zone in well enough to hear what they were saying.

Curiosity killed the cat
,
whispered his mind.

He exhaled in frustration. Did it matter anyway?

It has nothing to do with you.

He supposed it didn’t; he was on another path. He had a one-way ticket to what was once an ancient city that now no longer existed; that had been mostly forgotten throughout the Dynasties.

“Flight BA0155 to Cairo is now boarding at Gate 47.”

He pushed himself away from the railing and headed out of the lounge towards the departure gates.

~*~

Russell struggled with his sunglasses and woolly hat in the heat of the early afternoon. Who knew this country, so famed for its wet weather, would be so freakin’ hot. The sooner he got into the first class lounge the better. He’d had curious glances, but nothing too scary so far. The Brits were nice like that – for the most part, they didn’t get all in your face with public displays of fandom.

He smiled at the lady who gave him back his passport and ticket.

“Your flight leaves in two hours. You’ll see directions to the first class lounge on the right, after you go through passport control.”

“Thank you.”

“Have a nice flight.”

He nodded and moved out of the way, and then grabbed his bottle of Cola out of the front pocket of his travel bag. He unscrewed the lid, pulled it off, and took a swig.

Ah, instantly cooling, thank god for that!

He then turned to the woman who had changed his life in such a short space of time. “I’m loathed to leave so soon. I know that plans fell through last night, but—”

“All good things, boy.” And she tapped him on the side of his leg with her cane, which he hated. “Patience. We didn’t expect a wild dog to show up causing all manner of issues, but there’ll be another chance.”

“I want what’s mine.”

“And you shall have it. He’s the last of his line. Once he’s gone, the Gunvald name shall be yours.”

He peeked at her through his shades. The old crone was a mystery. She had contacted him a year ago – at a time when he was just starting to rise to fame – with information about his family. Sure, he’d always been curious, but he’d looked and found nothing, so he’d put it behind him as his work took over. But then she’d dropped the bombshell and it had turned out to be true. Now, he could have a bigger name for himself in Great Britain and Europe, and he could have it legitimately, without any effort, because the Gunvald name was his by rights. “You’ve never told me what’s in this for you; why you’re helping me.”

“An eye for an eye, Russell. A great injustice was done a long time ago that needs putting right.”

“So, this is payback for you?”

She tutted harshly. “Payback is such a strong term. I am rebalancing the scales.”

“By bumping Lawrence off?”

She whacked him with her cane hard across his shin.

“Ouch! Jesus!”

“Will you be quiet! I do not ‘bump people off’ as you so carelessly put it. I set things in motion and events take care of themselves. Tell the right people the right things, and you can move mountains without lifting a finger. You’ll know all about that Russell – don’t tell me that chance alone got you to where you are.”

“All right, all right…”

“I’ll be in touch. Talk to your lawyer as you said you would. The human world has much to offer in ways of assistance.”

The woman was barking mad. It wasn’t the first time she’d talked in terms of ‘humans’. Like, what was she, anyway?

A walking corpse. She must be a hundred and she absolutely reeks. What is that smell? Is that supposed to be perfume?
“What about—”

“He won’t last much longer. Lawrence Gunvald has a past that should have eaten him whole along with his sister … it was always a matter of time before it caught up with him. And now that he has a storm-wielder in his midst—”

“A
what?
”

“Nevermind. My point is, he’s done for. I’ll let you know when he’s out of the way – you just get that lawyer ready.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Who was he to argue with a crazy, hundred year old bitch. What did he have to question anyway? He was simply asking for his birthright – anything else was on a need-to-know basis. In the meantime, he had deadlines to meet, producers to win over and scripts to learn. “And that girl, Lydia … we were going to talk to her last night and warn her away from Lawrence.” He took another gulp of his drink wishing it had been kept more chilled.

“No need now. I believe she’s received some bad news. Breeding will be the last thing on her mind.”

He choked on his Cola, fizz coming out of his nose. “Yuurgh … er … breeding?”

She gave him a scolding look. “If she becomes pregnant with his child, you can say goodbye to your little inheritance.”

Yeah, but ‘breeding’? Maybe it’s her age and the fact that she’s British. Maybe that’s just how old people talk over here – a ‘before the war’ kinda thing…

“Right then,” she swung her cane the way anyone else would wave their hand, “I’m off. Call me when you land.”

And after a nap.
“Sure thing.”

She teetered off, and Russell wondered exactly what she was capable of. She looked formidable and she clearly hated the Gunvald family. He wondered if Lawrence would still be alive the next time he spoke to her or if she’d find a way to slip arsenic into his tea.

~*~

The workbench dug into her, but it was nothing compared to how the silver chains seared her. She would have screamed if she could, but a ball gag filled her mouth, and it was tightly secured around her head.

“
No!” screamed a girl to her left. “Don’t hurt him!”

Him?

Her head was restricted from sideways movement, but she turned as far as she could to find the ‘him’ she was talking about. There was no one in this room except them and The Trident.

“
Let him go!” she screamed again.

One of the Tridents backhanded the girl across the face and she slumped to the ground, quietened but not defeated. Her pale blue eyes glowed bright, but she couldn’t shift because of the silver shackles around her swollen ankles and wrists.

She must be only a teenager. She was naked and bruised, bloodied around her inner thighs and bitten in places … my god, what had they
done
to her?

A deep anger consumed her. She had to protect her. She had to protect
—

“
You get to watch his destruction, the way he got to watch your violation,” sneered the Trident to the girl.

She struggled and whimpered, but to no avail.

Three Tridents filled the room, all of them males. One of them approached her, ignoring the girl on the floor, and loomed over the bench she was chained to. He yanked her hair back painfully and contemplated her with cold, soulless eyes. “I hope you enjoyed your last performance because you’ll never dance again.”

He pushed her head forward so she could see down her body.

For a second, she was bewildered. This wasn’t her body. She stared down the form of a naked man. This wasn’t her.

I’m dreaming!

A chainsaw revved up and came into view, wielded by one of the other Tridents.

She screamed through her ball gag.

The girl to her left yelled and thrashed.

Two Tridents held her down despite her silver chains, as the third approached her – him – whoever the hell she was in this god-awful nightmare.

“
I wonder how many times your body will try to heal itself before it gives up.”