The Wolf in His Arms (The Runes Trilogy) (25 page)

“Yes.
Exactly.”

“Well,
then maybe you can tell me where the hell they are,” the man scolded.

“What?”

“The
show’s canceled because they vanished. You didn’t know?” The manager’s face softened.
“Somebody attacked them or at least broke into their place. No one’s seen
them.” The manager became suspicious again. “How did you not know that?”

“I was
trying to mend a family feud,” Maxwell said. “My mom and my aunt haven’t spoken
in years. I was trying to patch things up.” Maxwell’s eyes grew watery with tears.
“I don’t even know where they live.”

“I’ll
give you their address, but it won’t do you any good.” The man scribbled the
address down and handed it to Maxwell. “Sorry I told you the way I did, and
sorry about the family feud.”

Walking
back to the car, Haley needled, “The old she’s-my-aunt-trick works again. I
think you might be a sociopath.”

“What?
I’m just quick on my feet.”

“You
were able to fake tears.”

“Shut
up before I have to fake being your friend.”

“Whatever.
Next time you cry, I’m so not believing you.”

*
         
*
         
*
         
*

When
they arrived at the address, the street showed no sign of the attack. The
apartment number indicated the second floor, so they entered the building. At
the bottom of the stairwell, Haley pointed out claw marks in the plaster. At
the top of the stairs, the boarded up doorway to the apartment greeted them. “Looks
familiar,” Haley announced with a shudder as she recalled their apartment door.
“Well, Sherlock, any suggestions how we get in?” Haley asked.

“I
wonder if the apartment has a back door?” Maxwell led the way back out to the
street to look around. The building was part of a complex that encircled a pool
and patio area. Maxwell peered over a gated entrance into the central
courtyard, eyeing the crystal blue water, palms, cabana, and lounges. It wasn’t
warm enough to swim, so the area was deserted. “I think I can hop this gate.”

“And?”

He
pointed across the central courtyard. “Each apartment has a balcony and stairs
down to the pool. I’ll break in.”

“Now
you’re a pathological liar and a cat burglar.”

“Don’t
get all bourgeois nice-nice on me.”

Haley considered
throwing attitude, but simply replied, “I’ll keep watch here. Do you need a
boost?” But as she asked, he placed his hands on the fence and sprung over it
to the other side. “How’d you do that?”

He
shook his head. “I just knew that I could.”

Haley
watched him through the bars and then walked to the sidewalk, occasionally
looking at her watch, to pretend she was waiting for someone. The sidewalks
were clear, and she thought, well, this is Las Vegas after all. Who’s walking?

Maxwell
spied Nadia and Helena’s apartment across the courtyard and walked assertively
to its balcony. He had read once that the best way to go unnoticed is to act
like you belonged. He hoped it was true. On the balcony, he looked through the
sliding glass door into the apartment. The beige carpeting was shredded with
claw marks and splattered with blood. One large blood stain darkened the
carpeting near the entrance. Toppled, broken furniture and splintered wood lay
about the room.

He
tried the door, but it was locked. Maxwell eyed all of the many objects inside,
imagining all the powerful scents on them.
Just
get something with their scent.
He looked around for something to pry the
door open when he noticed the flip-flop sandals discarded by the door. “My
lucky day,” he cheered and snatched the sandals.

He hopped
over the fence and found Haley pacing, looking very guilty. “You’re not nearly
as bad ass as you act,” he called to her, making her jump.

“You do
that again, and I’ll have you neutered.”

“And
the wolf jokes begin.”

“Did
you get in?”

“Nope.”
He held up the sandals with a self-satisfied grin. “But these ought to do the
trick.”

Haley
smiled. “Can I train you to fetch my slippers, too?”

Marjorie
Ruhl scribbled another Latin phrase in a seemingly endless stream of Latin
phrases on the chalkboard. Collin looked up at the phrase and copied it onto
his notepad, waiting for the translation. The loneliness from his visit with
his mother piqued today under the gray, oppressive clouds outside the school
window. And, Proctor Ruth’s admission that they listen to and record all phone
calls left him ruminating on everything he said.
The only thing was the green eyes
, Collin thought. He felt a pit of
despair growing in his stomach. All he wanted to do was fly under the radar and
get out, but now it seemed that Proctor Roth had his eyes on him.

Collin
turned his attention to Mark. Mark no longer sat with him and Tony during
lunch; he now sat with some of the guys who had been at the school longer.
Collin didn’t even know their names. Mark’s shift had been so sudden—practically
overnight. Tony shrugged it off, but Collin could tell that Tony felt betrayed
too. The change made him wonder what the administration had done to Mark when
he was punished—what had scared him enough to fall in line.

Mark
turned his head and caught Collin staring. Collin nodded softly and added a
quick, friendly smile. Mark scowled at him. Collin looked down at his desk.
What did I do?
He looked at Mark again
out of the corner of his eyes.
Turn
toward me.
Collin waited, pretending to focus on the teacher at the front
of the room. Mark turned toward him again. Collin turned to take a hard look at
Mark.

Shock
rippled across Collin’s face. Though he ducked his head toward his desk, he saw
Mark’s features twist with menace. In his peripheral vision, Collin could see
Mark nudge the guys sitting next to him.

Collin
felt all their eyes turn toward him.

All
their
green
eyes.

And
that’s what Collin had noticed: Mark’s dark blue eyes had turned green to match
his new friends.

*
         
*
         
*
         
*

When Jason arrived home from work, the loft was empty and
only the street lights lit the apartment. He flipped on the hallway lights, hung
his coat on the rack, and found a note from Ilene that said: At library. Home
soon.

“Library?” Jason questioned aloud and strolled through the
apartment. At the liquor cabinet, he poured two fingers of scotch and sat in
the living room, looking at the city lights. He sat for a long while, wondering
why his family was suddenly shutting him out. He had not seen Alec or Lucy
since they had come home, and when he asked Ilene about a funeral for Jared,
she was evasive. He felt frustrated—locked out—and the feeling gnawed at him.
He slugged back the scotch and slammed the glass down on the table.

He noticed Ilene’s laptop closed on the coffee table, and
despite the guilt for being intrusive, he opened it. The screen flicked to
life, and he sighed, realizing she had never secured it with a password. He
looked toward the front door, feeling like he had his hand in the cookie jar
and opened her browser history.

“The Wolf of Detroit,” he spoke. Jason began to click
through the articles.

*
         
*
         
*
         
*

Dr.
Charles Michaelson clicked pause on the blog video from the night in the Fullerton
building. The post already had thousands of hits. “You’ve been watching Lucy
Rune for several months now.” He swiveled in his leather chair to face Mitch.
“So, was she bitten?”

Standing
at the window with his arms folded across his chest, Mitch remained silent for
a moment. “Yes. I was there the night this was filmed. I could hear her transform
in the basement.”

“So
they tried to conceal her condition?”

“That’s
my assessment.”

“Where
would you say they stand?”

Mitch
approached Dr. Michaelson and leaned on his large mahogany desk. “I would say
they were trying to keep her from hurting anyone,” he retorted.

“And
the other two?”

“They’ve
never changed.”

Dr.
Michaelson drummed his fingers. “We know the war’s coming. And we know it’s
soon,” he asserted.

“Yes.”

“We
cannot afford mistakes. If we think they are the enemy, we must eliminate
them.”

Mitch
tried to soften his tone, to sound like a friend. “Chaz, I know you’ve lost a
lot—”

“Are
you doubting my judgment?” Dr. Michaelson stood and peered across the desk at
Mitch. “Yes, I’ve lost a lot. Do I need to remind you what
you’ve
lost?”

Anger
flashed across Mitch’s face. “Don’t do that. Don’t suggest I’ve forgotten why I
joined this cause.”

“For
years, you and I have been part of a small group of people cursed with knowing about
the existence of werewolves,” Dr. Michaelson’s voice shook. “Because we’ve seen
them in action. We know what they can do. We know that they’re as heinous as
humans as they are as wolves.” He gestured toward the computer screen. “And now
more people will begin to believe. What do you think that means for the war?”

“That
the first offensive will be launched soon. Maybe even preponed.”

“We
must strike before they do. That means now.”

“And
what if they aren’t like the
others
?”
Mitch asked.

Dr.
Michaelson nodded. “You mean what if they’re not like my son. I watched my son,
Griffin, tear his mother to shreds. He felt nothing. No love. No humanity. The
only way to stop these monsters is to kill them.” Dr. Michaelson thumped his
hand on the desk for emphasis. “Are you willing to risk thousands of lives on
the chance—the very slim chance—that they aren’t pure evil?”

“Why
didn’t you kill Alec when you had the chance?”

“What I
learned from the samples I took from him have proven invaluable.”

“I think
it’s because you suspect Alec isn’t like your son,” Mitch ventured. “Maybe Lucy
and Jared aren’t either.”

“It
doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. We’re racing toward an apocalypse.” He tossed
his hand toward the computer screen again. “Look how bold they’ve become.”

“Exactly
why
not
killing them is the right
thing to do. They may be our only hope,” Mitch argued.

“Hope?”
Dr. Michaelson scoffed. “Our hope is defeating them. Killing them. We’re still
developing a virus to do just that. That’s why I let Alec live, because his
blood sample has furthered our research.”

“The
virus is still in the lab. Months away from something we can replicate into a
bioweapon. We don’t have months, Chaz. We have weeks. Maybe only days.”

Dr.
Michaelson slumped into his chair. “What do you suggest?”

“I’ll
follow Lucy and the others again this full moon. I’ll confront them.”

“You
realize you’re putting your life on the line.”

Mitch
snorted. “Werewolves killed me years ago when they killed my sister, Tara, in
front of my eyes.” He cracked his knuckles. “I’m just a ghost waiting for
revenge.”

“Then
you’ll be prepared to kill Alec and the others?”

Mitch
nodded. “Enough cellular damage and they can’t heal. We know that. Grenade.
Fire. Cut off the head. Acid bath.” He nodded for emphasis. “I’ll be ready.”

*
         
*
         
*
         
*

Alec was
taking a break from translating, sitting on the couch with his feet propped up,
as he trolled the internet on his phone. He came across a blog post that caught
his attention: Urban explorers in Detroit record monster. Stomach fluttering, he
clicked on the link to the blog. An image of the Fullerton Building filled his
screen along with a blog entry about the expedition. Alec sat up, preparing for
the worst. He clicked on the video at the bottom of the blog post.

His jaw
dropped as he watched jittery footage from inside the building. His throat
tightened as he recognized the pranks that he and Jared pulled to scare the urban
explorers away. Under their screams, he could hear Lucy’s roaring and growling.
He looked down to the bottom of the video. It had more than 10,000 views.

“Jared,”
he called, thankful Lucy was at the gym. Jared walked in, and his face fell
from bemused to concern as he registered the alarm on Alec’s face. “You have to
see this.” Jared sat next to him.

As the
video finished, Jared said, “People will be climbing all over The Fullerton
Building.”

“They’re
gonna find the claw marks in the vault.”

“Did we
leave anything?” Panic tinged Jared’s voice.

“No.
Never. I even took the scraps of blanket.”

Jared
stood. “We have to find Lucy a new place to change.”