The Wolf in His Arms (The Runes Trilogy) Page 11

  “No. She did pull a gun on us, though,” Lucy chided.

  “What?”

  “Yeah, thanks for checking.”

  “I was about to,” he argued.

  “It’s best that you didn’t,” Jared assured him as he pulled onto the street. “It may have freaked her out.”

  “What happen to your early warning system?” Lucy asked.

  Alec shook his head. “I don’t know. It blipped earlier, but...”

  “Everything thing’s okay now,” Jared said. “We got what we need and Chicago’s not that far.”

  * * * *

  Haley’s head ached with the questions buzzing within it. After the attack, the police questioned them for hours. She and Maxwell had described the man—and the first encounter in the diner—to the police. A full-on manhunt began, spreading out across the city. Earlier, Haley had seen neighbors talking to reporters. She wondered what they had to say. Now, standing outside the doorway to their apartment, she couldn’t believe that a man could do that kind of damage. The door was completely ripped off its hinges, lying splintered on the floor. She brushed past the yellow POLICE tape and walked over the door.

  The police waited outside to board up the doorway and secure the crime scene but allowed her and Maxwell to gather clothes. They planned to spend the night with Haley’s ex-girlfriend, Sue. A cab was on its way to take them.

  “Hey,” Haley said, poking her head into Maxwell’s bedroom, where he was stuffing clothes in a bag.

  “Hey,” he said softly. He didn’t look up.

  “You okay?”

  He turned his face toward her, tears brimming in his eyes. “I have to get away from here, from you.”

  “What?” Haley stepped into the room.

  “He’s after me. He’ll hurt you if you’re in the way,” Maxwell cautioned. He crammed clothes into his bag. He scanned the room for the things he needed most. His eyes moved frenetically.

  “What are you talking about? Is he an ex? A stalker?” Haley couldn’t fathom what Maxwell was trying to say. He spoke as if he knew the man.

  “I’ve always known they were coming, Haley. That’s why I ran away. To protect my mom, but they found me. Now you’re in danger.”

  Haley put her hands up. “Hold on. So you’re saying you know who he is? Who are they?” Haley thought, He’s always been a man on the run.

  Maxwell shook his head. “No. I don’t know why they want me. I think—” He stopped himself.

  “What?” Haley grabbed his arm. “You think what?” She locked her eyes on his.

  “I think they want me because I know things.”

  “Who are they?” She barked. Haley’s mind raced with mob boss witness protection program scenarios from books and TV shows. She shook her head. “Know what? You’re not making sense. Did you see something?”

  “I can see things before they happen, Haley.” Maxwell dropped to the bed. He folded over and began to cry. “I don’t want this. I don’t.”

  Haley sat on the bed next to him, trying to comprehend everything he was telling her. “You think someone’s after you because of your—visions?”

  Maxwell shook his head. “Not exactly.” He took a cleansing breath. “I don’t know why they’re after me. I think the visions are part of it.” He shook with fear. “Haley, he had eyes like min. No one has eyes like mine.” “

  Haley looked into the odd green of his eyes beautiful yet wondrous in their uncanny color. “Did you know he was coming last night?”

  “I just, it’s like I can get a feeling when something bad’s about to happen.” Maxwell shook his head. “It doesn’t always work.” Maxwell sat up. “I try to block it. It takes a lot of effort.”

  “Well, don’t,” Haley said. “It’s gonna help us stay a step ahead of that psychopath.”

  “I can’t keep putting you in danger.”

  “Even if we separate, he might still come after me, because I’ve seen him. No. I’m sticking with you. It’s my best bet.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t stay with Sue.”

  Haley considered. “Just tonight.” She stood. “I need to get some clothes. Then we need to get our bearings and make a plan.”

  Maxwell stood and hugged her. “Thank you.”

  She petted the side of his face. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  * * * *

  “It’s going to take about five more hours to Chicago,” Alec said, checking the GPS. Alec was taking a turn driving. “Want me to let you guys sleep?”

  “Lucy’s already asleep?” Jared said, his eyes closed in the passenger seat.

  Alec glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that Lucy was in fact asleep in the backseat. ‘How’d you know?”

  “Her breathing.”

  Alec nodded, concentrated of the soft rhythm of her breathing. “I see.” He looked at Jared out of the corner of his eyes. “You should sleep too.”

  “I can’t. Too geared up.” Jared opened his eyes and sat up. He shook out the wadded shirt and lifted it to his nose. He took a deep breath.

  “What do you see this time?”

  “They’re on the street again.”

  “See a street sign?”

  “No,” Jared said, his eyes closed, his voice tight. “Brick buildings. Wait. They just passed a sculpture of some sort.”

  From the back seat, Lucy groggily asked, “Are you getting something?”

  “Sorry to wake you,” Alec said, glancing at her in the mirror.

  “No worries.”

  Jared opened his eyes. “The sculpture. I don’t know how to describe it exactly,” he said, sounding perplexed.

  “Try,” Alec encouraged.

  “It was...phallic.”

  “It was a penis?”

  “Not exactly. It was covered in different colored circles,” Jared continued.

  “Like hula hoops?”

  Jared tired of being delicate. “It looked like a cock stacked with rainbow colored cock rings.”

  “They’re on Halsted Street,” Alec affirmed.

  “What?”

  “Boystown, Chicago. Those sculptures are in the gay neighborhood. They’re on Halsted.”

  “How do you know that?” Jared asked.

  “I did have a life before I met you. And there’s no place like Boystown,” Alec said with a devilish smirk.

  “You weren’t out all that long before we met.”

  “Long enough,” Alec teased.

  Lucy poked her head between the seats. “What’s a cock ring?”

  Alec cringed. “I’m not explaining cock rings to my sister.”

  Jared turned to face Lucy. “Look it up.”

  Lucy settled back into the backseat and quickly performed an Internet image search for “cock ring.” A flood of images filled the screen of her phone. “So that’s a cock ring.” She flipped her phone to change the size of the image. “What’s it for?”

  “For discussing with someone other than your brother,” Alec said.

  “Sor-ry,” Lucy teased. “You don’t have to be such a cock ring about it.” She and Jared both laughed.

  * * * *

  Maxwell had met Sue a handful of times while she and Haley dated. He had never been to her condominium, however. Ample windows and a spacious balcony afforded an amazing view of the street. As Maxwell entered, he tried not to show how incredibly impressed he was but cooed, “You have a wonderful place.”

  Sue simply nodded, and Maxwell remembered Haley’s “complaint” about Sue. The taciturn woman could not match Haley’s gift for gab. Haley tended to date older women with money. But never for very long. Her reputation as a heartbreaker was growing. Soon she will work her way through every middle-aged lesbian in Chicago, Maxwell thought wryly. Oh how he adored her!

  Maxwell stood at the glass doors leading to the balcony, watching the traffic and pedestrians. Haley was making nice with Sue and thanking her for her hospitality. “I saw it on the news,” Sue said. “I was like, ‘Shit, that’s Haley’s pla
ce.’” She lowered her voice into a gruff whisper, “So, what’s this about? Is your roomie into drugs or something?”

  “What? No,” Haley protested. “He doesn’t even smoke pot. He’s a total goody-goody. He’s from Iowa.”

  Maxwell cringed a little. He knew the last line was a dig. Haley was from Chicago and declared herself the true urbanite, knowing Maxwell’s rural roots. Usually, it didn’t bother him. But, occasionally, he reminded her she was from the suburbs. “The guy’s some kind of stalker,” Maxwell said over his shoulder. “I never dated him. I never saw him before he came into the diner.”

  “But the police have a sketch now,” Sue asserted. “But no name.”

  “Right,” Haley confirmed.

  “Well, you two just make yourselves comfy. I have church early in the morning so I need some shuteye.”

  “Thank you,” Maxwell said, nodding.

  “Whatever I can do to help,” Sue offered as she headed to her room. Maxwell noticed that Haley did not follow.

  Haley came up to him and laid her head on his shoulder. “What do we do next?”

  “Hope the police catch him.” Lowering his voice, Maxwell added, “Before he catches us.”

  * * * *

  A sketch of Griffin Michaelson’s face flashed across the computer screen along with the subtitle Suspect Wanted for Questioning in Brutal Attack. The video, from a local Chicago news station website, paused as Proctor David Roth dragged the mouse across the screen. “I thought you’d want to see this,” he said. He turned to face Nigel Rathborne. Nigel leaned back in the high back leather chair. His green eyes narrowed as he digested the information.

  “We knew Griffin could be—volatile,” Nigel explained.

  “Yes—and Vincent?”

  “Even more so. But, he’s kept a low profile so far.”

  David leaned against the mahogany desk. “So what does this mean for our plans?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  Nigel rubbed his palms together. “Are you questioning my leadership?”

  “Not at all, sir,” David acquiesced. “I simply want to know if you need me to take any steps—to expedite things here at the school.”

  Nigel shook his head. “Not at all. Vincent is on his way to fetch Nadia in Las Vegas; then he can help Griffin.” Nigel leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk. He glanced again at the computer screen and the sketch bearing the likeness of Griffin. “We want word to get out. A scared public is an easily molded public.”

  “Yes. I know, but...”

  Nigel narrowed his eyes. “You think it’s too soon?”

  “The most recent report shows that only 35 percent of Project Conflagration targets are locked in,” David explained.

  “I’m fully aware of our progress, David.” Nigel stood and glided across the room to a glowing world map on a monitor. “This is updated in real time.” He flicked his eyes from the map to Proctor Roth. “The most important targets are already set. Those operatives are already in place. ”

  “But what about the young men here? Our work—”

  “Inconsequential. In the grand scheme. You’ve known that all along.”

  “Yes, I realize it’s the pack that matters, and these boys here are—”

  “Expendable,” Nigel finished. “Soldiers are made to die.” He stood and walked to the window, looking out across the garden to the river behind Cornerstone. “Keep the current experimentation schedule. No need to rush. If things change, I’ll let you know. Project Conflagration is set.” He looked at David’s reflection in the window glass. “We have schools just like this one all across the country. Every school—including this one—is right on schedule. We have nothing to worry about.”

  “Homo homini lupus est,” David recited.

  “Yes. Man is a wolf to his fellow man,” Nigel affirmed. “And it is that fact that will allow us to rule the human race for once and for all.”

  Voice s

  Night wind whipped through Vincent Blackwell’s shaggy brown hair and tore at the scruff on his rugged face. Such exhilaration—the feel of the open road on his motorcycle. He loved the roar of the bike, weaving in and out of cars that were puttering along. Across the dark desert, the lights of Las Vegas beamed in cartoonish glory. A wicked grin split his full lips, revealing his perfect set of teeth. Ah, this city would offer so many delights! He thought of what he wanted to do. Hunting was at the top of his list—as always—ever since Griffin had come to him, helped him see who he really was. Griffin had made such sense of the madness that had danced in Vincent’s head like drunkards at a masquerade ball.

  Vincent squeezed the throttle and, roaring, the bike lunged forward. The revelation—that he was a werewolf—filled him with power! To hunt in the city or the desert? He wondered. Both offered such joys and both were practical skills for the coming war in which he would be a general. A leader. Vincent had always suspected he was born to be a leader, no matter what the losers back in Oregon had to say. Fuck them all.

  Nigel had just ordered him to drive to Las Vegas to collect Nadia. Nigel was slick, and it worried Vincent. Nigel’s power and authority intimidated him, but more to the point, Vincent did quite trust him. And then I head to Chicago to help Griffin collect the runt of the litter, Maxwell. Nigel was convinced that the four of them could easily reign in Alec and Jared, help them see the err of their ways. And if not... the pack could just be four instead of six. Nigel had already said as much. Alec and Jared would never stop their plans.

  Soon! Soon the world is going to be different. Vincent raised off the motorcycle seat and whooped into the night. Nadia was so close he could practically smell her.

  * * * *

  The last show of the evening had closed, and Nadia and Helena sat in their dressing room, changing and removing stage make-up. Helena stifled a yawn as she pulled on her jacket. She eyed Nadia who sat at a lighted vanity applying fresh make-up in a fine layer, unlike the caked-on stage make-up she had just removed. “Are you heading out?”

  “I was thinking of getting a drink before going home,” Nadia acknowledged.

  “How do you have such energy? Ah, yes, I was 21 once upon a time.”

  Standing from the lighted vanity in a tight black dress, Nadia planted a kiss on her mother’s head. “You’re not so old, you know.”

  “I feel old, and that’s what counts. I want to retire and move somewhere cold. Like Iceland.”

  “Iceland’s actually kind of mild.”

  “Always so smart!” Helena said, grabbing Nadia’s face. She kissed her daughter on the cheek. “Alaska. Greenland. I don’t care. I was making a joke.”

  “The best jokes contain the truth.”

  “And who taught you that?”

  Nadia paused at the door, and leaned against it, smiling. “You did.” She blew her mother a kiss and closed the door as she left. The night air cooled her skin, and she pulled her jacket tight around her neck as she walked to her car. The night flashed green and red and yellow with the reflections of neon above her. The street rang out with drunken joy and car rumblings. Nadia smiled to herself. The clamor was distant and the voices she heard all evening were silent. Her almost constant headache was easing. She navigated the streets, the music low, as she drove to the bar she frequented.

  She entered a bar, and the clamor assaulted her. She stepped back just a moment, allowing her mind to adjust to the sudden burst of noise. The din of voices garbled together, and no voice rose above the others. Loud places like this crowded bar were as much a refuge as the middle of the desert. Nadia could most clearly hear voices murmured in an otherwise quiet landscape. If she tried (and she wouldn’t), she could probably pick voices out from the room. But this audible chaos was bliss.

  Nadia sauntered to the bar, and leaning against it, ordered a vodka tonic. The bartender—a blond young man about her own age with a winsome smile and dimples—asked for her ID. She complied with a coquettish giggle. He returned with her drink, and Nadia
put it on her tab. She turned from the bar to examine the crowd. A refuge for locals, few tourists ever found the bar. She recognized a number of faces, who acknowledged her with admiring eyes. Nadia spotted a table by the window and sauntered over to it.

  With her straw, Nadia punched the lemon wedge down into her glass under the ice. She was content to sip the one drink, maybe two, and while away her time, watching people move through the dark street.

  “Nadia?”

  She turned to see the face of an unfamiliar man looming over her. She appraised his shaggy, wind-blown hair and his unshaven face. He watched her eyes, and he ran his hand over his hair, helping it fall effortlessly into place. “Yes?” She asked.

  “I’m Vincent,” he sat down at the table with her.

  “I didn’t invite you to sit,” she guffawed.

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “Who are you?” She held his gaze for just a moment, just long enough to see two pieces of cold jade blinking back at her. She had always felt her eyes, like his, were not the color of a human’s eyes, nor were they the color of a cat’s eyes. She could not place them in the animal kingdom, but she had always known they were an aberration, one of Darwin’s jokes.

  “I told you, I’m Vincent. I’ve been sent to fetch you, little pup.”

  Nadia’s breath caught in her chest. She swallowed, trying to match his mocking tone. “At least I know you’re not smart. Smart men know not to fuck with me.” She smiled over her drink.

  “I’m not gonna mess with you,” Vincent waved his hand through the air dismissively. “I’m here to help you. I’m here to make you a part of something.” He leaned back in the chair. “I shoulda got a beer before this chat. I’m getting thirsty. Anyway, you’re already a part of it. You were born a part of it. I was born a part of it. The others were born—you get the picture, right?”

  Nadia pulled back a little and scooted her chair an inch, so if she needed to run, she could. His words frightened her, mostly because she could tell they were true. She felt tension tighten every muscle in her body. She wanted to sip her drink but was afraid to draw attention to her shaking hands. “And so?” She asked, trying to sound confident.