Secret of the Wolf (55 page)

down to hers, and kissed him
.

The kiss was given, not taken. And it was devastating. Fenris froze in shock. Johanna

pressed against him, and he felt the heat of his rage drawn from his body through the

gentle parting of her lips
.

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Without the rage, he didn't know who he was. Johanna had summoned him forth

against his will, against every instinct of self-preservation he had learned in childhood
.

Something was happening inside him, an unfamiliar transformation he couldn't

comprehend. It frightened him. He didn't let Johanna see his fear, but lifted her high and

kissed her in return, hard enough to remind her who was master
.

Even in that he lied to himself
.

He put her down and looked around the room. Boroskov was coming, he could sense it.

But he had Johanna. He could still win
.

"I'll save you," he told her. He threw his weight against the door, and the rotten wood

cracked. Another blow tore it from its hinges. He seized Johanna's upper arm and pulled

her out into the hallway. "Boroskov won't find us again.”

Her weight dragged against his arm. "We can't leave, Fenris. You know we can't, for

May's sake.”

He spun about and snarled at her defiance. He could force her. He was so much

stronger than she was. But she was strong in a different way, and he'd never seen it

until now
.

"You know everything Quentin knows," she said, making no attempt to free herself from

his grasp. "He has been running all his life, and you've helped him by hiding his own

darkness away where he's never been forced to face it. Now he must recognize you,

Fenris, and you must help him make a stand against Boroskov. For the sake of you

both.”

"Not for me—”

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"Yes, Fenris. For you." She turned her hand to cup his arm in a tender touch. "Quentin

needs you, but not in the way he once did. He needs you to be whole, as you need him.

Your division was never meant to be. It's time for the rejoining. Time to begin living

again.”

He didn't want to hear her. "You love me," he insisted
.

'"Yes. As I love Quentin. But I can't choose, Fenris. Not if you are both dead. Neither

one of you is strong enough to defeat Boroskov alone. You and Quentin must confront

him as one, or he will win.”

"Quentin will win.”

"Trust me, Fenris. Look into my eyes, and know that you can trust me.”

"No." He yanked away from her, but she caught him and held him fast
.

"Let Quentin out, Fenris," she said, her cheek pressed to his chest. "Let him share your

body, just for a moment, and I'll show you that there's nothing to fear.”

He closed his eyes, feeling Quentin within him. Quentin was aware, already sharing

Fenris's consciousness. But he could not come out unless Fenris let him
.

Fenris knew how to take control from Quentin, but not how to release the Other without

losing himself
.

"Let me help you," Johanna said. She took his hand and began to speak low, like a

mother to her child. He hardly heard the words. But in his mind a door swung open, and

his rival, the weakling, the one he'd always despised, walked through
.

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They stared at each other, reflections in a distorted mirror. Quentin was smooth and

handsome and refined, everything Fenris was not. He flinched and crouched as if he

might flee at a whisper
.

"You're afraid," Fenris said contemptuously. "You're always afraid.”

"Yes," Quentin said. He held up his hand. It was trembling. "But you're afraid, too.”

"I'm stronger than you are! I'll win. I'll take Johanna.”

"Maybe you could. But you won't win her heart, Fenris.”

"She loves me!”

"She has a great heart. And she loves what we can become. Together." He smiled

raggedly. "I could have met you long ago, Fenris, but I was a coward. Johanna taught

me to be brave. She has shown me that you are a necessary part of me, as I am

necessary to you.”

"I don't need you.”

"You can go on living half a life, Fenris. You might even take my half away from me. But

Grandfather will have won. Grandfather and Boroskov. They created you as much as I.

More than I. They made you into a killer. You were helpless, just as I was. But you

aren't helpless any longer.”

Helpless. Fenris choked on a howl
.

"Make your own choice, Fenris," Quentin said. "Let us defy Grandfather and all his

schemes. Let us do battle

together." He held out his hand. "You are my strength, the

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part of me that survives and goes on fighting. Without you, I can't defend the woman we

both love.”

"I don't

need you!”

"You don't know how to love, Fenris, or how to stop hurting people. I'm the side of you

that can live in the world and search for a little happiness." He breathed in and out, his

face very pale. "You are me.”

A sound like thunder crashed between them. The air in the no-place where they stood

filled with the scent of the Enemy
.

Boroskov
.

Reality rushed in like a great ocean wave, slapping Quentin back to consciousness.

Fenris disappeared from his inner sight, and he found himself standing in the center of

the main room, his hand extended
.

Empty
.

Johanna wore a look of dazed startlement, her gaze moving quickly from him to the

door. Boroskov was coming. Quentin could smell him, as Fenris had done, but there

was no time to prepare. Shoes drummed hollowly on the outer porch, accompanied by

the clanking of metal
.

"Fenris?" Johanna whispered
.

He shook his head, and then Boroskov stepped inside. He bore in his hands a pair of

manacles and a length of chain
.

"I trust you have come to the right decision," he said, closing the door behind him
.

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"Where is May?" Quentin demanded
.

"Are you ready to submit to me?”

Quentin stared straight ahead. "Yes. Let them go.”

Johanna made a wordless sound of distress. Her scheme hadn't succeeded. Fenris had

refused the joining Quentin proposed, and Quentin knew why
.

He hadn't wanted it enough. His words might have been steady, even sincere, but his

heart and his mind were screaming denial: Don't let the monster in. How could Fenris

not recognize his imposture?

"You must realize that I can't simply accept your word," Boroskov said. He lifted the

manacles. "You will wear these until we are securely on the next ship bound for Russia.

The girl is in the hands of my associates, and will be released in twenty-four hours.

Doctor Schell may leave now, with the understanding that May pays with her life if she

visits the authorities.”

Quentin stared at the chains, his tongue thick in his mouth. "Why should I trust you?”

"Because the alternative is immediate death for those you profess to love. Oh, I know

you can break these chains as easily as I, but you won't do so. And when we are back

in Russia, it will be my pleasure to complete the instruction your grandfather

abandoned.”

"No," Johanna said
.

"Hold out your hands," Boroskov commanded
.

"Let Johanna go first," Quentin said
.

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Boroskov jerked his head toward the door. "Go.”

Johanna didn't move
.

"Go!" Quentin shouted. His head seemed to split apart. "Get out!”

"You have five seconds," Boroskov said
.

Johanna grabbed Quentin's rigid arm. "Fenris! Will you let yourself be put in chains all

over again? Will you submit to Boroskov's torture? Who will save you, Fenris, when the

pain begins?”

Quentin tried to shake her off, but the agony in his head redoubled. The smell of

Johanna's skin intoxicated him like a drug
.

"I love you," she said
.

Boroskov pushed her aside. Chains rattled. The absurdly smooth kid of Boroskov's

glove touched his wrist, followed by the rough chill of metal
.

Senses dimmed. All he could see was red, within and without, and he knew he wasn't

alone inside his skin
.

Fenris had arrived. Like a hot wind, he swept everything before him. He controlled, but

he allowed Quentin to share what he knew and saw. The two of them no longer faced

each other in some zone of truce created in his mind, but looked out from the same

eyes
.

They met Boroskov's gaze and smiled
.

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Boroskov stepped back, as if he sensed the change. His nostrils flared. He snatched at

Johanna, but she scrambled out of his way
.

The temporary confusion was enough for Quentin and Fenris. They struck fast and

hard, snapping Boroskov's head back with the force of their blow. Before he could

recover, they leaped onto him, pinning him to the stained floor
.

Boroskov gaped. "Quentin?”

"I'll win this time, Boroskov," Fenris said, holding Quentin mute. "Do you submit?”

"Who are you?”

Fenris prepared to roar out his name. Quentin, feeling his identity slipping away,

resisted with all the desperation of his most ancient terrors. His revolt froze the body he

and Fenris shared. Boroskov kicked up with his legs like a bucking horse and threw

them off. They stumbled and fell
.

Who are you ?

Quentin—Fenris—Quentin. The time of decision had come at last. Two wills locked in

implacable combat, forsaking their brief and tenuous alliance. Only one would survive
.

Distantly, through the din of their clashing thoughts, they heard Johanna's exclamation

of alarm and warning. They smelled the new intruders just before they burst into the

room: Harper in the lead, bearing a wooden beam like a club; Oscar right behind him,

fists raised; and then Irene and Lewis Andersen. The Haven's residents crowded

through the door, and Boroskov lunged out of their path
.

"Harper!" Johanna cried
.

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The former soldier advanced on Boroskov, beam at the ready. "You all right, Doc?”

Irene forced her way past the wall of Oscar's bulk and stood before Boroskov, her face

bare of paint and her body drawn up high
.

"You," she hissed. "You betrayed me. You deserted me—”

"Get back!" Johanna shouted
.

Boroskov sent Irene flying across the room with one blow. Lewis Andersen ran to tend

her crumpled form
.

Harper lifted the beam, and Oscar came to stand beside him
.

"You bastard," Harper said. "You aren't going to hurt anyone else.”

Boroskov laughed. "Rescued just in the nick of time," he said. "Your mad humans, dear

Johanna, have more fortitude and resourcefulness than I would have suspected." He

snatched the beam from Harper's hands as if it were a twig. "A few more deaths on your

conscience will make little difference, will they, Quentin?”

Unable to act, to move, even to breathe, Quentin saw the end of everything he had

come to love. He was incapable of speech, but it didn't matter. Fenris would hear him
.

If only one of them could have this body for the years to come, it must be the one who

could save the others. If Quentin—if all he knew as himself—must die, so be it
.

His fear vanished
.

"My life is yours, Fenris," he said. "Take it. Stop Boroskov.”

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His heart—Fenris's heart—jarred to a stop and then started up again at double the

pace
.

Free
.

Quentin felt what Fenris felt as he charged at Boroskov, ripped the beam from his

grasp, carried him with the weight of his body up against the wall
.

"You

won't

win," Fenris panted, his hand grinding into the Russian's throat. But he

did not strike to kill
.

Give me your strength, he asked Quentin. And Quentin gave it, all he had, even to the

last shred of his identity
.

Fenris took it. And this time, miracle of miracles, the sharing was complete. Together