Wolf Pact: A Wolf Pact Novel (9 page)

“Show me my
mate,” he ordered. “Tala of the Wolves, Born of the Underworld, Slave to None.”

The whirring images stopped and a vision of a girl appeared.

Was it Tala? Lawson couldn’t tell. He squinted into the light. If only the oculus would show him more—but the image remained vague and fuzzy. He was beginning to feel frustrated when it suddenly snapped into focus. He took a sharp breath. There was a girl in front of him. But she was definitely not Tala.

She was beautiful, though, with curly red hair and green eyes. She had a forthright, arresting grace about her, but her eyes looked a bit sad, as if she had been through some hardship.

She stared at him.

“Who are you?” he whispered. Then he noticed the amulet around her neck. The Heart of Stone. She carried the Black Fire of Hell. He jerked away from her, his mind racing. She was not a hound, he knew that much—her eyes were green, not crimson—but the charm she wore marked her as one of the underworld. A spy! Romulus’s spy! She had to be a human tracker—he’d heard the masters sometimes used Red Bloods as eyes and ears aboveground.

Lawson cursed under his breath. She had seen him—looked directly at him. He couldn’t panic. He had to do something—what? If she was a spy, then let her come to them—
Let her find us
, he thought. She was close by—he could sense her presence—perhaps only a few miles away.

He sent
her a vision of the butcher shop, let her see him as a wolf. He felt her satisfaction. He was right, then. She was looking for them. That much was clear. She answered to Romulus. He released her from his vision.

The darkness returned and the oculus went black. Why had it shown her to him? To warn him? It had to be. But where was Tala? The oculus hadn’t given him the answer he sought.

Lawson didn’t know what to do. He was wasting time; the longer he stayed in the light of the oculus, the greater the risk that Romulus would see him there. He hesitated, and while he was vacillating, the oculus came back to life and a low, powerful voice rumbled from hidden depths.

“Speak your name, hound.” It was a command. Romulus.

Lawson backed away from the light, trying not to panic. The voice filled him with fear and loathing, and it took all his strength not to run. So far, it seemed that Romulus had not recognized him. But he had to get out of there.

“Speak your name.”

Think …
He had to say something … or it would become suspicious … he could not stall for longer … he had to do something … say something … he waited too long …

The oculus
went dark and as the earth opened up beneath him, he was thrown into the void.

L
awson was
falling, tumbling through a dark cavern filled with sharp rock, and when he landed, he crashed hard on the stone ground.

“Ugh,” he groaned. He heard the shuffling of feet and looked up to see his brothers standing at the edge of the pit, looking down at him.

“Oh great, just great,” Edon said when he saw Lawson lying there. “Did you have to get caught? Did you do this on purpose?”

“Not funny,” Lawson said, trying to stand up. Thank goodness his body healed quickly.

“Ah, you’ll survive,” Rafe said.

“I don’t think I’ve survived this yet, genius,” Lawson snapped. “Come on, guys, a hand?” He knew his brothers were enjoying this a little too much. At least he was upright. Now he just needed to get out of this hole. “Where’s Mac?”

“You dead
yet?” Malcolm asked, peering over the edge.

“I keep trying, but the universe won’t seem to oblige. Any ideas on how I can get out of this one?”

Malcolm was quiet for a moment. He disappeared from the edge of the pit only to return a moment later with a broken branch. “Rafe, can you take this? I’m not sure I can support his weight.”

Rafe took the branch and held it over the side. “Lawson, can you climb up some of those rocks and then grab hold of this?”

Lawson flexed his arms and legs. Nothing seemed broken, and his bruises would fade quickly. He scaled the walls of the cavern and then grabbed the branch, letting Rafe pull him to freedom.

“We have to get out of here,” he said. “Mac, how you feeling?”

“Bad,” Malcolm said, and Lawson could see his face was pale, greenish. “They’re heading back to the oculus now. A small unit, two or three.” Malcolm shook his head and clutched his stomach. “I think I need to puke.”

Edon hustled them to the car. “No time. Let’s go, let’s go. I’m driving.”

Lawson didn’t argue
and took the backseat next to Malcolm. Edon drove the car quietly and carefully back down the dirt road, then gunned the engine once they were out on the highway.

“So what did you see in there?” Malcolm asked when they had put some miles between them and the oculus. The youngest boy had color back in his cheeks, a good sign.

“I heard Romulus,” he finally admitted.

“Are you sure?” Malcolm asked, paling at the name of their fearsome general.

Edon whipped around. He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. “Did he see you? Did he know you were in the oculus?”

“I don’t think so. He kept asking my name. I don’t think he recognized me,” Lawson said. He hung his head. “You were right, it was a mistake to come.”

“Whether or not he knew who you were, we’ve got to move.” Edon glowered.

“Not yet,” Lawson said. “There’s something else.” He told them about the girl he’d seen, the one with the brilliant red hair and sad green eyes, the tracker, Romulus’s spy. “I sent her an image of the butcher shop. She’s going there now. Take me there.”

“You want her to find us?” Malcolm gaped.

“I want her to find me,” Lawson said smoothly.

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Rafe asked, looking solemn.

“Leave her to me,” Lawson said, his jaw set, his heart burning with hatred. “I’ll take care of her.”

“What about Tala?” Malcolm wanted to know.

“I don’t know. The
oculus didn’t show me Tala.” He gazed out the window, his heartbeat finally slowing to a regular rhythm although his back still ached. He had wanted to see her so badly, but the oculus had shown him someone else. The red-haired spy. He clenched and unclenched his fist. He had lured the spy to the butcher shop, where she would meet her death.

T
he
shadows made everything look larger and smell worse. Styrofoam platters and massive rolls of wax paper were stacked on the counters. Hooks from empty meat racks hung from the ceiling, their crooked silhouettes looking even more ominous in the moonlight. Tacked on the brick walls were charts mapping animal bodies, depicting the various primal cuts. Shoulder. Chuck. Loin. Near the entrance were two large glass counters full of steaks and chops wrapped in cellophane.

Bliss took a deep breath and held it for as long as she could, willing her tense muscles calm. She had found the right butcher shop, had driven right up to it, and had seen from the corner of her eye the silver wolf in the shadows, had watched its arched, furry body slink through the back door, and had followed it inside.

She crept as
quietly as she could across the wet stone floor. It was lurking somewhere within the darkness, waiting. Her eyes caught a flicker of light in the distance. In the back she noticed the door to the meat locker was open, revealing a carcass swaying like an inverted pendulum. So that was why the room smelled of blood.

She closed her eyes so she could hear. Concentrate. She pinched her nose. The smell was distracting. When Lucifer had taken over her body and had been her only contact to the outside, she’d found she could listen better if she closed her eyes and withdrew from her other senses. So even if she was only human, she was used to the dark. Lucifer had taught her that. She heard a clock tick, the sound of a hook grinding against a chain, the soft click of claws against the concrete—the beast, stirring … and then there, barely perceptible, was the sound of someone else breathing. There was someone else in the room. Someone other than the creature. But where? And who?

The horrible clicking grew louder, and Bliss heard a snarl, deep and primeval and vicious, and then the sound of breathing became louder, more desperate—then, suddenly, a scream from beyond the doorway. Bliss leapt from her hiding place and ran toward it.

Clang!

A knife made
a loud noise as it hit the concrete to her right. She swiveled in its direction, then stopped. The knife was a ruse, a distraction. The hound was behind her now; it was trying to steer her away from the door. She could see it watching her from the shadows, its yellow eyes burning. Did it think she was that stupid? She might not have her vampire abilities anymore—but it didn’t mean she was completely useless. She was still fast. She was still coordinated. She still had the speed and skill of a trained killer.

The beast snorted and raked its claws across the concrete. It was angry and getting ready to jump. Bliss figured it was now or never. She pushed her way toward the open door, clambering onto a table and spraying a dozen knives across the room. The wolf leapt but she was faster, and when she reached the oversized steel door, she grabbed the handle and, using its weight as a pivot, swung around so that she pulled it closed behind her. The freezer slammed shut with a thick, wet sucking sound that made her wonder if this was a good idea. How much air was in here? No time to worry about that now. She picked up a couple of knives that had fallen to the floor, and jammed one into the lock to keep it closed while slipping the other into her back pocket.

She could hear the creature throwing its weight against the bolted door, making the archway shake. It was larger and more dangerous than she had thought. Tame the hounds? She would be lucky if she got out of there alive.

She looked
around. There were a dozen or so carcasses hanging from the ceiling. The air was rancid, metallic. She pushed her way through the animal corpses to the back of the room, toward the sound of ragged breathing.

On the floor of the meat locker lay a boy, no older than she was, chained to the back wall of the freezer. Next to him were a cutting board and a band saw. A meat hook, crusted with blood and rust, swung above his head. The tiled walls were splattered a deep shade of scarlet. The boy’s skin was blue, his hair caked with filth … there were ugly red marks around his wrists and neck, where he was bound with heavy iron shackles. Dear god, what was going on here? Bliss wondered, her stomach churning … If this was what they did to their victims… she didn’t want to think about what Jane was going through and hoped that Jane was still alive …

Bliss shivered, goose bumps appearing on her skin. Now that she wasn’t a vampire, her body did not control its temperature as well as it used to. But was it the fright or the cold that had caused the rows of tiny bumps?

She bent down to touch the boy’s face. It was still warm, at least. She placed a tender hand on his bony shoulder. “You’re going to be okay,” she told him, and wondered if she was also telling herself the same thing.

“Yes, but
you’re not.” His eyes came alive then, and before Bliss could blink, the boy had wrapped his fist around her neck and pinned her to the floor, his knees locking against her waist and keeping her arms away from her body. His shackles, Bliss could see now, had not been locked.

“Who are you?” she asked, spitting out the words with difficulty, recoiling from the boy’s viselike grip. Bliss turned to her assailant, surprised to find she had seen his face before. He was the boy she’d seen in the glom. The boy with the same flat yellow eyes as those of the hound she had been tracking.

“I think the correct question is, who are you?” His voice was low and tinged with malice. “You are from the underworld, do not deny it, why else would you carry this?” he said, tugging the thin leather rope that held the Heart of Stone. “You are one of Romulus’s spies!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but if you think I’m going down like Jane, you’re wrong,” she said, stretching her arm and reaching into her back pocket for her hidden blade. Her fingers shaking as she struggled to get a handle on it, she wriggled it out without him seeing, her heart beating too fast.

Quick as a flash,
she stabbed him in the thigh with the knife.

He yelled in pain and she was able to push him off her and scramble away, but her freedom was short-lived, as she felt his hand wrap around her ankle and pull her back to him.

She screamed and kicked, thrashing wildly to get away, but he was too strong. Before she knew what was happening, he had his hands wrapped around her throat again.

He began to squeeze the breath out of her and she panicked, struggling and fighting to breathe; it was useless—he was so much stronger—but as she looked into the boy’s curiously yellow eyes, an image flashed in her mind.

She saw Lucifer—her father—standing inside an elaborate palace, surrounded by magnificent columns of gold. A cast of thousands was gathered, and Lucifer stood at the top of a marble staircase, looking down at a creature of exquisite beauty. It was a man, but it was taller than a human male, with a certain otherworldly magnificence, wild-eyed and ferocious, with the same dazzling golden eyes.