Pack of Strays (The Fangborn Series Book 2) (7 page)

There was a maintenance employees’ access on the side; the door was ajar—to let the construction workers in, I assumed. I edged my way into a darkened hallway, a pile of cigarette butts just inside the door.

I stopped cold.

There was no one there, no one to see me. It was the perfect situation for a Fangborn, no reason I couldn’t continue.

Except my nose was wrong.

No, not my nose. I was absolutely certain I was on the track of evil, but … the evil wasn’t right.

I shook my head, trying to clear the confusion away. I had to go, but …

No “but.” I had to go.
I was on guard, however. Something
eerie
was in the air, too much like the same brand of wrong I smelled near that child molester staked out at Princeville Township.

The SUVs outside … If Buell was here, I’d kill him.

I stashed my shoes in my backpack and Changed up, figuring I needed every sense I could get, on deck.

As I progressed into the building, smoke was everywhere. I tried to keep low, but even werewolf eyes burned and watered against the acrid fumes. My nose ran. Snotty, weepy werewolves are not pretty.

I got more agitated when I reached the third floor. Whatever was wrongly wrong was up here, and I was closing in.

Suddenly, whatever it was … simply went away.

It was still smoky, but no fire. Nothing was ablaze—no noise, no smell of plastic or wood burning.

Some kind of distraction, one designed to lure Fangborn, compel them to find it.

Too much coincidence: The Order had managed to replicate the scent of evil as we knew it.

I needed to find out what that was. I hated the idea of something that could trap Fangborn so easily, act on their natural inclinations to seek out evil.

I moved up another flight, the smoke continuing to clear. Something was telling me that the conference room at the other end of the hallway was where I needed to go. I reached for the doorknob to the hall, and a recognizable scent filled my nose.

Scarcely able to believe my unreliable nose, I stepped through and aside, waiting until the door opened and I could see for myself. I Changed back to human form.

Thirty seconds later, Will MacFarlane came through the door.

“Will?” I stepped forward from behind the door to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. “Will! Oh my God, it
is
you—”

He turned just as I reached him and threw my arms around him. He looked awful: a week’s worth of patchy beard, his jeans torn, and a stain on his shirt that I was sure was blood, though not sure whose.

He looked wonderful. He smelled wonderful. I cr
ushed him
close, wanting to hug him into me. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you—how did you know to look for me in
Princeville
?”

His fingers brushed mine, and he held my hands.

“Zoe. I … I wasn’t looking for you. I was tracking the Order. Same thing that brought me here.”

Something was wrong; there was blood on his hand. He was hurt from some fight—“Will, what is it?”

He pulled my hands carefully but firmly from around his neck.

His frown was nearly invisible, his mouth so tight. “You don’t get to do this anymore.”

“What?” I shook my head. “What do you—?”

“You don’t get to run away and come back as if nothing happened. You don’t get to make excuses because of your upbringing. You don’t get to do this to me again.”

“Do what? You took off on me, you left me in that—that place—for them to use like a guinea pig.” I stepped away, refusing to believe it was this bad. “Will, you left me. And I don’t know why, or what lies they’ve told you, but
you
left
me
.”

“Zoe, don’t.”

“Don’t what? You can’t see they told you a lie to keep us apart, to keep us from finding out what’s going on? We’re safer apart, for their purposes. Maybe Knight has a hand in the TRG, still, or maybe—”

“You ran off from the lab, right?”

“Well,
yeah
, but that was after they started drugging me and I hadn’t seen you or Danny or anyone for weeks—”

“I never left,” he said. “I was there—we were all there. They said you were being uncooperative and didn’t want to see us. And then you ran off. No drugs.” He shrugged. “I waited a month. And then I took another assignment.”

“Well, they told me you didn’t want to see me.
I
never believed
that
.” I thought of something. “Danny. Where’s Danny?”

“He’s taken an assignment in Europe. Translation work and research.”

“Okay, maybe you can believe I would run from you, though the last and only time I did that was to save you, I thought. But would I leave Danny without telling him anything before I left? How likely is that?”

“What’s more likely—that you took off when things got rough, and you thought too many people were putting constraints on you?” There was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice. “Another little rebellion against authority after a life dedicated to running? Or that every one of the rest of us is lying or mistaken?”

“Well, yes, you are. You can’t see that this is some kind of
vampire
trick? How hard would it be to make you think I’d run off?”

“Exactly.”

“Why would I lie to you now? Maybe I had a habit of running, but not lying—not to you.”

“You lied when you thought you were a serial killer.”

“Once, to save your
life
.” I was desperate now. “They got to you, Will, and I hate that you’re not more willing to think better of me. It’s the government’s vampires, covering their asses.”

“Goddamn it! I can’t be under a vampire compulsion, Zoe. They gave me the drug that lets us resist when I signed on.”

He never would have revealed such a secret if he didn’t believe it. “There is no such thing. They lied about that, too.”

“I’ve seen it, I believe it. Stop with all this, Zoe. If you need help, I’ll give it to you. But don’t lie to me anymore.”

I folded my arms. “Okay, what’s going on here? What happened to
you
?”

“It’s nothing, a scuffle broke out upstairs. Some new
phenomenon
.
I got in the way.”

It dawned on me. “The thing … was it … kinda like a
werewolf
?”

“We found a … something very strange. Hang on a sec.” He pulled out his phone, swiped it a few times, typed briefly, then put it away. “Sorry; just letting everyone know I am okay. There was a disagreement on how to handle it best, how to keep it safe. Zoe, you’re not hurt are you?”

“No, I was—”

I looked up, understanding at last.

Will was stalling me.

He had that look about him that I remembered he had when he was trying to keep a secret—his eyes everywhere but meeting mine, too wide, unblinking.

He was calling in the others to capture me.

I nodded. “I was in the area, looking for
you
by the way, and Danny and the Steubens—and felt the Call to Change. Weird, huh? How it just … evaporated, just went away? Don’t you think this is a trap?”

“We’re working on isolating it. So, you’ve been okay? Tell me what happened to you.”

Again, the ever-rotten small talk. The sudden willingness to credit what I’d told him. My strain of vampire intuition told me the rest.

This was it, then. No talking my way out of what happened next, and no way I’d give up quietly to the TRG, not when I had a meeting with a crabby oracle and an intensely painful desire to go to Denmark.

“Sure, Will.” I turned and saw him relax, as if I’d bought it. He put his hand on my shoulder, not for comfort, I knew, but to slow me down. Good.

I let myself feel the warmth of his hand on my shoulder for a split second, closing my eyes. I reached up, putting my hand on his. He relaxed again. Holding his hand on my shoulder, I opened my eyes, pivoted, stooped under his outstretched arm, and suddenly, I was behind him, his arm pinned behind him.

I half-Changed, sniffed hard. Then I grazed his hurt hand with my fang, just enough to reopen the cut. Sampled his blood. It tasted strange, but what I could identify was mostly a whole lot of vampire fuckery and no miracle preventative. Which was a pity.

“You’re hurting me!” He struggled in my embrace, but there was no way he’d escape.

“Not like you’re hurting me,” I said. “Who did this to you?”

“I told you—ow! Zoe, just give up now. It will be easier—”

“Okay, you listen to me.” I reached into his front pocket, found the cell phone with the widget that he’d activated. I dropped it, stomped on it, for all the good that would do. “You hear me. Whatever’s going on here, in this building, is because of the Order. They’ve got a way to lure the Fangborn, mess with our senses, and they’re planning something big.”

I spoke with every bit of persuasion I might have. “Also. I
waited for you until it was clear the TRG were lying to me; I waited
for you to rescue me. Instead, you bought the lies you were told—”

I growled in his ear, backed us both over to an office doorway. “You remember what I said. You poke around, see if I’m maybe telling the truth. And later on, we meet up, we can talk about who betrayed who.”

Adam Nichols stood in the doorway, watching me embrace Will.

I shoved Will hard into the office, shut the door, and secured it by twisting the doorknob until it jammed. “We gotta go!”

I grabbed Adam’s hand, and we took off out the back door. Adam didn’t need werewolf ears to hear the clatter of boots down the hall.

The government was hot on my trail again.

Chapter Six

We went down to the next floor, then into an office and out a
window
. Down the fire escape, and then to the back of the building. We were running before Will even had time to start yelling or use the office phones to call for backup.

We ran south, the blocks a blur.

Adam said, “Wait! In here.”

We were outside Penn Station.

Perfect. Nothing human could have followed us in the rush of
commuters leaving for the day, the sun lowering in the darkening sky.

I’d no sooner made it down the dingy escalators than a sharp scent caught my nose. A sharp, familiar scent. Nothing human
had
followed me.

Fangborn were on my trail. I had to assume they were with the TRG, with Will so near. I had to assume that the Order might also be nearby.

If I’d caught the scent running into the station, the best thing to do was to go out the way we came and hope I avoided whoever was looking for us ahead.

“What’s wrong?” Adam shouted.

“TRG. Gonna backtrack out of here.”

No problem; there were plenty of crowds to lose ourselves in outside. But it was becoming abundantly clear that New York was too hot for me, right now, and it was time to leave.

Another familiar scent hit me, faint but still quite recognizable. Recent.

Not Will, not one of the guys from the TRG, not a stranger. It was Gerry Steuben. My friend who’d introduced me to what it was to be Fangborn, who convinced me, as nearly as I could be convinced, that I was not insane, that I was a werewolf, but that, within certain circles, was normal.

My heart leapt. Everything was going to be okay—

“Zoe. Seriously?”

Even as Sean piped up, I realized it myself.

Stupid, fucking optimism. Of
course
, Gerry was out here. He was looking for me. Will had clued him in as to my whereabouts.

My heart broke a little more. It was an awful lot, for one day.

Whatever it was, he hadn’t seen me yet, and I knew that my trail through the station would have been seriously diluted by the thousands of commuters on the subway and other lines. Still, maybe it was better to hole up a bit and let the trail fade.

“We gotta split up,” I said. “Gerry Steuben’s out there.”

“Zoe, no!”

Too late. I ran, dodging pedestrians and cars. Adam did his best to follow me but soon fell behind.

The shops were getting funkier and more expensive, and I despaired of finding some place that wouldn’t make me feel out of place in my discount-store clothes. Even they had been a huge leap from yard-sale and Goodwill finds, and although I wasn’t ashamed of my poverty, I didn’t like sticking out.

Social inequality was the least of my worries now. A busy restaurant would be my best refuge while I figured out what to do next.

Shira’s Joint was filling up quickly with well-dressed young things. I could make do.

I tried to look less sweaty than I was, glad that I had a chunky necklace to dress me up a little. It even looked like the bracelet, a little. A very little, but enough. Almost a style.

Telling the hostess I wouldn’t be eating, I headed to an empty stool at the bar.

The bartender had a phone balanced on her shoulder, came over, nodded, and put a napkin down in front of me, holding up one finger; she’d be a second. She was like something out of legend: strikingly tall, with pure white hair, long but knotted up in a loose ponytail to keep it out of her way. She wore cowboy boots and jeans with her very crisp black shirt; a hint of swagger as she juggled the phone, made change, and mouthed goodbye to the other customer at the bar.

She looked like she was in charge of her life. I admired that. And I have always wanted to be tall.

“Vodka?” I said, when she raised her eyebrows to me. I should have ordered a fancier cocktail or some kind of craft beer or wine, but the way I was feeling took me right back to my dodgy childhood and my go-to response to stress then.

“Any particular brand?” she mouthed.

I usually went with “cheapest that won’t make me blind,” but figured that wouldn’t do here. “You pick.”

But she nodded, making a show of professionally sizing me up and deciding what would work for me. She spoke into the phone. “Yeah, you can say that now, but when you see him again … Yeah, right, okay. Anyway, take your time; I’ll cover your shift until you get in. Bye.” She pulled down a bottle from a long line of vodkas and held it up. It looked expensive, but not gimmicky.

I put my hands over my heart and nodded gratefully. “Double.”

“Up or rocks? Twist?”

I didn’t want to seem like a total waste product. “Rocks and twist, please.”
Fancy, fancy today, Miss Zoe.

She set the glass down in front of me, precisely measured, then looked at me. Her hand shook a little, and more of the vodka splashed into the glass.

“Oops. Oh,
well
,” she said, all exaggeration and a wink. “Tough day? I’ve never seen you in here before.”

“Well …”

“C’mon. I’ve got ten minutes before the after-work crowd gets here, and then I’ll be too rushed for any pretense at compassion. This is my good karma for the day.”

She wasn’t wrong. And I could use an ally.

“There’s …” I sighed, and figured the truth would serve. “There’s this guy. I’m hoping I don’t run into him. I saw him a few blocks back, and …”

“Dangerous?” She was suddenly wary. “I mean, he’s not going to come in here and, you know, cause trouble?”

I shook my head. “He’s nothing I can’t handle, and he’s usually not a troublemaker. It’s strictly personal. But I’d prefer to avoid him.”

She nodded, as she took an order from a waiter and deftly built a tray of white wine, two martinis, a PBR, and a Manhattan. “Okay. I’ll keep an eye out, let you know if I see anything I don’t like.”

I didn’t tell her I’d smell trouble long before she saw it.

“The guy shows, you give me the nod, I’ll stall him. Call the cops, if I have to. There’s a doorway out the back, past the
restrooms
. You can go straight out there.”

“Thank you—I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.” It was the kind of place too chic for name tags.

“Sandy Sechrest.” She reached under the counter and handed me a card. Her title was “Senior Mixologist.”

“I’m Marie,” I said, remembering the name on the new
passport
I had. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t want trouble any more than you do.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” I said. I swallowed a sip of my vodka and let myself relax for the first time in an hour.

I put the glass down. My proximity sense was alerting me. At first, I thought it was the rush of alcohol, but then I saw him. It was not the easy-going, oh-so-confident Gerry I remembered. He was angry and he was confused.

Gerry had covered an awful lot of distance through some real obstacles to find me. That first glance, when he recognized me, wasn’t surprise, and it wasn’t pleasure, and it wasn’t happiness. It was a scowl.

What in God’s name had they told him about me to make him look like that? The disgust and anger was like a slap. I’m tough enough, but where friends are concerned, I’m as vulnerable as the next person.

He growled.

Didn’t need a werewolf’s hearing to pick it out over early
Happy
Hour racket, either.

What the fuck?
One of the first things Gerry had taught me was to keep Normal reactions for Normal audiences. And now he was breaking cover?

Something was beyond wrong. I couldn’t imagine a
vampire
messing with him, but something was definitely wrong. Faked
evidence
maybe—but of what? I’d seen Gerry show more
compassion
for—

Another growl, and I finally smartened up.

I threw a twenty down on the bar, which I hoped would cover the drink. “Hey, Sandy, thanks for everything.”

She nodded, following my glance, and called over to Gerry. “Hi, there—”

I turned on my heel and made for the back door of the
restaurant
.

Shouts and a crash of glass: Gerry was following me, none too subtly. He was tall and broad shouldered and easily made a path where there was none. I gave up trying to blend and ran.

Down the hall I went and through the kitchen, too fast to hear the protests of the cooks. One was standing by the open door, sneaking a cigarette; I shoved past him and out into the alley. Dumpsters and broken-down boxes offered no solution, so I kept running.

I followed the alley out. The trains … a subway. I’d never be able to sort it out, but there would be plenty of noise, smells, confusion, and bodies to get in the way.

I pulled up fast, whipped my head around. No subway sign. I grabbed a man in a suit by the arm. “Excuse me!”

He kept talking on his phone and waved his hand to shoo me away.

The woman behind him—“Excuse me, the subway?”

She frowned. “Which one?”

“The closest one!”

“That way.” She pointed.

“Thank you!”

And I was off.

I saw the iconic colored circles and letters of the subway sign and let myself exhale for the first time.

A blur to my right.

I heard the thud almost before I felt it, and was only aware of someone smashing into my right shoulder as my left shoulder hit a brick wall. Sharp pain up my shoulder, then stars and comets—my head following my shoulder into the wall.

It was only as my face grazed the brick that I understood what was happening: Gerry Steuben had rocketed out of the street, knocking me into the alley and almost into next week. He was a big, big guy, and I was convinced he’d been a jock all his life. If I’d been a Normal, almost anyone could have tossed me around like a rag doll. If I’d been a Normal, Gerry might have killed me.

Stunned, I tried to plant my feet, and then when he yanked harder against me, I rushed toward him. That threw him off balance, loosened his grip, and gave me a moment to back away.

“Ow—Jesus, Gerry! What the fuck was that about?”

“Don’t make this worse than it already is, Zoe.” He grabbed my arm again. “This is going against every instinct I have.”

I tried to yank my arm away, mostly succeeded, then shoved him away. “Then maybe you should listen to your instincts!”

“They’re saying you’re not right, that I should do the world a favor and get rid of you.”

I stared at him. Lies, I could believe, but why on earth was Gerry having this reaction to me? I could see his fangs starting to show, could feel the electricity in the air. He was one step from Changing—not good for me, not good for either of us, trying to keep a low profile in a big city.

He was shaking with the effort of resisting that instinct. I knew how wrenching that could be, and had no idea the Fangborn could resist it, until my experience envisioning the asylum. He wouldn’t look at me. “I have orders to bring you in. Zoe, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but we have to get you back to the lab and get it fixed.”

He was lying. He did know what was wrong with me.

“What did they tell you? What are the boys in the white coats saying now?”

“The bracelet. It’s … bad for you, it’s turning you … into … we don’t know what.”

Gerry was a bundle of nerves. Whatever the Order had done back down the street was messing with him. And now, if my scent was changing, it occurred to me that not only was this a struggle for him physically—resisting the Call to Change—and emotionally, it was messing with his whole idea of the Fangborn.

The Fangborn are close to angels, I remembered him saying once upon a time. We’re always on the side of right, and we’re never, ever wrong about the bad guys.

And here I was, screwing with all his ideals.

I had to be even more careful now. Not only was Gerry my teacher, when it came to most all of what I knew about the
Fangborn
, he was much more experienced at tracking—and
fighting
—than most Fangborn I knew.

And when strong people are under strain, it doesn’t do to challenge their beliefs.

Great. Ms. Subtle meets Twitchy the Hair-Trigger Werewolf.

I nodded slowly, trying to buy myself some time. “Gerry, I agree, I think the bracelet is changing me. I’m not sure into what, but yes, it
is
affecting me. However, I can’t trust the TRG—”

“Zoe, this is gonna get hairy,” Sean whispered in my brain.

“I know, I know,” I said, pretending to forestall Gerry’s protests as I answered Sean. “We need to look into this, but for now—”

Gerry’s hands were on my shoulders, my back to the wall. His fingers dug into me, and I felt a hint of claws to come. “Zoe, can’t you smell it? Can’t you tell?”

I was scared; he looked kinda crazy now, his face too close to mine. “Gerry?”

“You’re wrong. You smell … like evil. And since it’s taking
everything
I have not to pummel—”

Sean piped up. “No, I mean, it’s going to get hairy
now
.”

I half-Changed. There was nothing else I could do. I needed surprise; I needed speed and strength.

Gerry half-Changed, too, but a split instant after me, just long enough for me to shove his arms away from me and get to the other side of him.

He moved, so quickly, and I saw him ready to take a swing at me, claws extended …

His Change did something else. It set something off in me.

Maybe it was that early memory of Gerry Changing in Berlin, trying to teach me to get control over my powers that did it, but it tweaked something in the bracelet, in
me
, amped me up.

And I let it loose on Gerry.

The bracelet flared, silver light.