Hair, Greg - Werewolf 01 (20 page)

“And? We’ve come this far.”

Nicholas smiled. He and Jamie jumped in the car and took off. Speeding down the drive, Jamie took one last look at the castle, wondering if he was doing the right thing. He saw Bianca standing on a balcony, watching him drive away.

“He took everything from you that you ever loved or would have loved,” said Nicholas.

Jamie turned, looked at him, and said, “Just keep driving.”

“I can’t find him anywhere,” said LillyAnna. “I’ve checked his room, the Blood Room, the courtyards. He could be hiding anywhere in this complex—or the town, for that matter.”

“He’s gone,” said Ryker, walking into Landon’s room. “So is Nicholas. One of the guards saw them speed out of here not long ago.”

“Did anyone question him?” asked Landon.

“Of course not,” said the Dane. “Why would they? He’s Nicholas. He works for the Consuls. As long as he has that position, he has unlimited resources.”

“Where are they going?” Landon wondered.

“Wherever they’re going, it’s out of Germany,” Ryker said. “A plane has been ordered to be fueled—ordered by Nicholas. I can’t override him, and they’ve got a pretty good head start.”

“The Consuls or the Senate can,” said LillyAnna. “What about them?”

“They won’t get involved,” said Ryker. “They know it was Jamie who was involved in the old villager’s death and who didn’t come forward. They want to see how this plays out. They want to know what Nicholas is up to. They’re going to keep his account open, watching any transactions he makes, but he’s much smarter than that. He’ll likely use cash and travel under the radar. He may be using one of our planes, but he’ll get rid of it as soon as he can. I’ll have another plane standing by when you get to the airport, Landon. LillyAnna is going with you. You need to bring both of them back.”

“What about the serial killer?” asked LillyAnna.

“That, of course, is your first priority. Lives are at stake. We don’t know at this time what Nicholas’s plans are, so we can’t assume that lives will be lost in regard to him and Jamie. We do know, on the other hand, that more women will be killed and more children left orphaned if we don’t intervene with the killer.”

Landon shook his friend’s hand. Ryker pulled him in and embraced him. LillyAnna hugged the Dane, thanking him and his wife for their kindness. LillyAnna and Landon then ran outside to one of the parked cars and raced down the road.

22

Nicholas returned from the private jet’s restroom and sat across from Jamie. A flat screen TV hanging on the forward wall was tuned to a cable news station. Nicholas and Jamie had heard an hour earlier the news that had given them the information they needed to make their plan work. Two people in a Boston home attacked; suspect at large. The police were looking into a possible connection to the random killings that were taking place across the US.

Then the news that changed everything—a survivor. The sister of the suspect had been taken to a local hospital in critical but stable condition with multiple stab wounds to the back. The plane headed for Boston.

The younger passenger was looking out the window at the Atlantic below. He kept thinking about his mother and Sam, the man she loved. He thought about Landon, his father, his
real
father, and how that man made him what he was in more ways than one. He thought about LillyAnna and Serinda. Jamie noticed Nicholas staring at him.

“What?” asked Jamie.

“Nothing,” replied Nicholas. “Whatever you’re thinking, and I know what you’re thinking, I’m not going to stop it. I knew you were the one when I met you.”

“The only thing I care about is making him hurt.”

“Yes. And I’m not going to stop it. Now we will begin our own Reformation. A Restoration, if you will. You will lead our kind to a new dawn. Do you have the book?”

“No, I forgot it.”

“You what?” screamed Nicholas, his eyes blazing.

“I forgot it. So what? I don’t care about anything else. I don’t care about your cause; I only care about what I can do to him.”

“No matter,” said the elder werewolf, assuming a calming breathing technique. “In truth, we do not need the tangible word. We can make do without it. It is troublesome, however, that you’re not seeing the bigger picture. Which, most likely, is as it should be at this point. You see, what you don’t understand is that there is a consequence, be it positive or negative, for every action that takes place. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. You’ve heard that before. Well, you may think you’re only going to hurt him, but what you do to Landon will have other repercussions. There will be ripples in the pond. It will not end with him. Soon you will appreciate the vision that I have.”

Jamie began to reach for Nicholas’s glass of whiskey on the rocks.

“No,” said Nicholas, grabbing Jamie’s hand, holding it. “You cannot drink. You must be clear thinking—at all times. Besides, you don’t want to be like your father, do you? He drinks too much.”

“Don’t call him that. He’s not my father. He only made me what I am.” He looked back out the window.

The underground river of anger began bubbling to the surface. Nicholas needed only to tap into it. The master knew his puppet.

“So what’s your story?” Jamie asked.

“I’ve been around awhile,” said Nicholas, sipping his whiskey. “I was part of a group of werewolves who were hunted in the mid-eighteenth century. We lived in a town called Gevaudan, in south-central France. We lived in peace as farmers, hunting only animals at night. Then one unfortunate day, a teenage girl turned up dead. The wounds appeared to be similar to the bite of a wolf so, naturally, the citizens turned their anger toward the forest outside town in their search for the beast. In fact, that’s what they named it—the Beast of Gevaudan.

“So my fellow shape shifters and I agreed to not change until the animal was caught and things calmed down. Unfortunately, one of our members, Luc, was unable to contain his hunger for the hunt, subsequently entering the forest on a moonlit night. He was seen by a different kind of hunting party, and the villagers figured out what he was. We can survive a lot of things, but multiple transformations does not extinguish fire. They cornered Luc in a small cave, deep in the woods, and burned him to death. The murderers knew who his kinsmen were and correctly deduced that the rest of us were creatures just as he was.

“In the end, I was the only one to escape. Pierre and Francois suffered the same fate as our brother. The real beast was never found. Eventually, I made my way into Germany, where I was found and taken in by the Senate. They gave me a home and a purpose. Later, I was appointed the personal assistant to the Consuls. It was during my early years at Burghausen that I learned about the old way, the time of the Transfiguration. So I waited for the right person to appear, and here he sits, in front of me. That is my story.”

“How did you become a werewolf?”

“It happened so long ago, I do not remember. I do know that, like you, I was not given a choice. It was forced upon me. It was forced upon you, in a way, through Landon’s DNA. Fathers are like that.”

Jamie’s eyes squinted hearing his father’s name.

“How much farther?” he asked.

“We’re about halfway to the US coast. We’re making a stop elsewhere, though, before going on to Boston.”

Jamie continued staring out the window, but he wasn’t looking at the ocean anymore. Something else was brewing behind his eyes.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Louisville.”

“Louisville? Why? Landon’s probably on a plane somewhere over Spain by now.”

“We need to pick up something, then we’ll get back on track. Don’t worry, we’ve got time.”

“What’s so important in Louisville?” Jamie asked.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Approaching the Portuguese coast, Landon paced in the plane’s cabin. The ice in his rocks glass clinked with every step, but he never spilled a drop of his Irish whiskey.

“That’s not helping anything,” LillyAnna said.

“What isn’t?”

“Your constant pacing,” she said, looking down at the floor.

“Is that all?”

“No. Your constant drinking, too,” she said with dedicated eye contact.

“I haven’t had that many.”

“You’re on your fifth. Do you think now is a good time for that?”

“Lately, any time is a good time,” he said, taking a drink.

“It’s not helping. That’s all I’m saying.”

“No, but you heard the news. There’s a possible link in Boston, with a survivor, which is where I have to go. Meanwhile, my son is out there somewhere with Nicholas for God knows what reason.” Landon paused, collecting his thoughts. “My son. Now you add all that up, and I say it’s drinking time.”

“Look, we don’t know what Nicholas’s plan is,” she said in a reassuring tone.

“They take off together, heading for the United States, and don’t tell anyone. No, he’s up to something, and now my son is involved. We’ll go to Boston, we’ll find this killer, then we’re gonna find my son.” He refocused. “So what do we know about the situation in Boston?”

“The survivor’s name is Jenny McClursky,” said LillyAnna, reading from a notebook. “She was admitted in critical care, but has since been upgraded to serious condition. She’s expected to survive, though there will be many months of physical and psychological therapy. The poor girl. Her brother, Jerry Wayne McClursky, is the alleged attacker and murderer, since he also stabbed his mother, dead at the scene. They’ve released a sketch of Jerry, but no photo. Apparently he doesn’t like to have his picture taken. That’s all the details they’re making public at this time due to the ongoing investigation. They’ve not yet said why they think there may be a connection.”

Landon walked over and picked up the police sketch of the suspect. He tried to focus on the mission at hand, hoping it would take his mind off his son. He surveyed the drawing, taking in all of the intricacies such as the dark curly hair, the eyeglasses, and the round, fatty face. Mostly he looked into Jerry McClursky’s eyes. He always tried to see the little boy inside the eyes, the child the adult perpetrator used to be. Landon wanted to find some semblance of humanity. Typically, there was none to be found. Such was the case with Jerry.

Jamie closed the door to the sleeping quarters at the rear of the plane behind him, making his way back to his seat. He looked out the window at the Louisville skyline trailing off in the distance. Next stop, Boston.

“Well?” asked Nicholas.

“Sleeping,” answered Jamie. “If Landon gets to Boston first—”

“He won’t,” Nicholas interrupted. “We’ll get there first, question the girl, then move on to the next phase of the plan.”

“Which is?”

“More collecting,” Nicholas said, coldly. “This, my dear boy, is why information is power. Thanks to you and what you knew about certain people, we will have more tricks up our sleeves than they will be able to deal with. You see, the devil truly is in the details. With everything you’ve told me about Landon and LillyAnna, this is going to be so much bigger than I could have imagined. After Boston, we’re going to New York. We must get far away from the Senate to destroy our enemy. The trap is being set. Tonight is for you, as you exact your revenge, kill Landon, and become the true, powerful werewolf you were meant to be. He will experience suffering as he never has before. Tomorrow is for our species.”

Touching down in Boston, the plane taxied to a private hangar where a black sedan was waiting. Following the GPS, they pulled into the hospital parking garage in fifteen minutes.

Most normal people would have to stop by the information desk for directions, but with their heightened sense of hearing, it wasn’t difficult for Nicholas and Jamie to find the floor with the most commotion. They stopped on the seventh floor when they heard what sounded like the incessant chatter of a high-society cocktail party.

The elevator door opened, and there stood a crowd of cameramen, reporters, police, FBI agents, hospital personnel, friends, and extended family members of the victim. There were so many people that no one noticed the two men get off the elevator and head toward Jenny’s room. No officer was posted at the door.

“You take this,” said Nicholas. Jamie smiled, quietly slipping inside while Nicholas waited in the hall.

Jenny had the usual tubes and machines plugged into her worn body. She looked like she’d been dragged through hell. Though the major wounds were covered by bandages and blankets, the bruising that colored her face and arms told the story all the same. The heart monitor’s beeping indicated a weak but steady rhythm. Flowers, get-well cards, and stuffed animals filled the room. Many of the cards were handmade by children. Jamie guessed they were probably young elementary kids, based on much of the spelling. Jenny was a teacher, he figured.

The biggest bouquet of flowers, red and yellow roses, sat on her nightstand. By the window was a chair with a man’s jacket wrapped around the back; a Bible sat on the floor. A boyfriend who had momentarily stepped out of the room, no doubt.

Walking to the side of the bed, Jamie whispered in her ear.

“Jenny.”

No response.