Secret Worlds (499 page)

“Why don’t you give us a minute?” Holbrook asked, stepping between us to shield me from Johnson’s view as I turned green.

“Fine. I’ll be outside.” He strode from the room, his no-nonsense shoes thumping on the wooden floor. I distantly heard the snick of a lighter, and a moment later smelled the choking scent of cigarette smoke drifting in through the open door.

“Is he always such an asshat?” I asked, sniffing as I swiped at my eyes and took gulping breaths of air to hold the nausea at bay.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Holbrook replied with a wry grin that brought a weak smile to my lips.

“So, protective custody huh?” I asked.

“I’m afraid so. It really is the safest thing for you.”

“I get it,” I said, nodding.

***

Twenty minutes later I stood in the middle of my living room, adrift in a sea of emotions as I looked around at my cozy and familiar home. A lifetime of memories was embedded in the time-worn floors, the sagging couch cushions, and intricate lace curtains hanging in the window above the kitchen sink. Absently, my fingers trailed over the afghan on the back of the couch, the rough, knobby wool familiar under my fingertips.

Looking down at the bags at my feet my heart constricted in sadness. The meager contents of my life had been crammed into my dad’s old army duffel bag and a backpack. It was all too reminiscent of the trial, being cloistered away in a hotel room and living out of a suitcase.

“It’s not forever. I promise,” Holbrook said at my shoulder, his voice pitched low and soft.

Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Agent.

Swallowing against the tears that rose unbidden and hot at the edges of my eyes I nodded stiffly, not trusting myself to speak. I hated crying in front of others. My tears had been broadcast across the nation and around the globe during the trial that had sentenced Samson to eight consecutive life sentences. My pain was laid bare, flayed open for the world to see as ruthlessly as he had torn open my body. I never wanted anyone to see me hurting and weak, ever again.

“What the hell is that?” Johnson demanded, cutting through the silence.

Following the direction of his accusing finger I looked down to the cat carrier at my feet as it began to ominously rock from side to side, emitting a very loud and grating noise that could only be described as someone trying to the choke the life out of a rabid weasel. And losing.

“Loki. My cat.”

“This is not a vacation, Ms. Cray. You are not bringing that
thing
with you.”

“The hell I’m not!” I replied, glaring at the older agent. “I’ll sprout wings and fart fairy dust before I leave without him. So you can suck it up and let me bring him, or you can explain to your boss and the media that I got torn apart by Samson because you didn’t want me to bring my kitty-cat.”

From the corner of my eye I saw Holbrook’s face flush with the effort not to laugh, a small chuckle escaping his lips before he was able to smother it with an unconvincing cough. Johnson’s features soured, his lips pursing as if he were sucking on a particularly tart lemon, but he didn’t offer any further protests.

“Fine. But I’m not scooping its shit,” he growled before storming out the door to go stand in the cold.

“Argh! Why’s he such a humongous tool?” I asked, rounding on Holbrook with a snarl. The burning itch in my eyes and the look of alarm on his face let me know that they had begun to bleed over to wolf gold.

Embarrassed by my lack of control I turned my back to him, closing my eyes as I drew several slow breaths, urging my pulse to slow as I pushed the wolf down. My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides, my palms hot and sweaty, but thankfully still human. Tension sang in my hunched shoulders as they trembled with the need to shift, to run and get as far away as possible.

Not now, not now
, I chanted, fighting to push the wolf back into the dark as I clung to the fraying remnants of my humanity.

After what seemed like an eternity she obeyed, sliding back into the darkness, but not before letting me know that next time she wouldn’t go without a fight.

“Sorry,” I whispered. “I’m not normally so easily riled. It’s just…”

“It’s okay,” Holbrook said, his hand a tentative, but warm and welcome weight on my shoulder. “Johnson’s an annoying jerk at times, but he’s a good agent. You’re lucky to have him watching your back.”

“Couldn’t he do it without being such an asshole?” I asked, still too embarrassed to turn around and face him.

“I think that’s about as likely as you sprouting those wings,” he replied, his voice light with barely suppressed laughter. Scooping up my bags, Holbrook flashed me a dazzling smile. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Grasping the handle of Loki’s carrier, his rollicking motion stilled the moment I picked it up.

A big black Suburban with government plates was parked in the driveway next to my green Jeep Wrangler. The black behemoth lurked in the snow like a great hulking beast, and felt about as welcoming.

Real inconspicuous, guys
, I snorted, barely refraining from rolling my eyes.

“You okay?” Holbrook asked, pausing beside me, his eyes squinting against the mid-morning sun reflecting off of the snow.

“Yup, just peachy,” I replied, forcing a smile that I was sure looked more like a grimace.

ALTHOUGH MY CABIN was nestled in the woods north of Leadville, a spot that was pretty damned remote and far removed from the prying eyes of the media, the FBI, in all their wisdom had decided that staying put was simply not an option. Instead they wanted me moved to an “undisclosed location” where I could be kept under the watchful eyes of Johnson and Holbrook.

Their idea of a safe house left a lot to be desired.

A collection of four buildings designed to look like quaint little alpine chalets, the Knotty Pine Motel sat just off of Highway 9 a few miles outside of Breckenridge, the dense forest looming over the cluster of buildings as if the surrounding wilderness was slowly reclaiming the land. The motel had probably seen its last significant facelift sometime in the eighties, and was gradually succumbing to the stresses of time and neglect. A flickering neon sign hanging crookedly over the door of the office proudly proclaimed “Free Cable Available!”

“Classy,” I muttered as I slid out of the back of the SUV, my boots crunching in the snow. Hunching my shoulders up around my ears, I buried my nose in the folds of my scarf as the icy wind blew across the pot-hole riddled parking lot, buffeting me where I stood. Inside the SUV Loki yowled as the cold air blew into the car, carrying the first few flakes of snow inside.

I thrust my chilled hands into the pockets of my coat and glanced up at the dark sky overhead. The bright morning sun had quickly given way to steely grey clouds that promised even more bad weather as evening fell. Squinting against the wind and swirling snow, I drew in a deep breath, scenting the air through my fluffy scarf.

The mouthwatering scent of grilled onions and charred beef drifted to me on the wind from a diner across the shared parking lot, its large windows glowing with warmth in the dreary mid-afternoon light. A few grizzled looking truck drivers sat at the counter drinking coffee and eating.

“We’re in rooms three and four,” Holbrook said, gesturing to one of the chalets with a tilt of his chin as he offered me a brass key hanging from a plastic key chain shaped like a pine tree.

“Great,” I said, forcing a weak smile though it was lost behind my scarf.

Collecting Loki’s carrier from the backseat of the SUV as Holbrook grabbed my bags again, I trudged along to our rooms. Stepping aside, he looked out over the parking lot as I fit the key into the lock, his stance relaxed while the sharpness of his gaze let me know that he was definitely on the clock. The door stuck for a moment before swinging open with an ominous creak straight out of a horror movie, revealing a small room cast in shadow. Flipping the light switch beside the door I peered inside, my eyes roving over fake wood paneling and dingy green carpet.

I felt the loss of my home even more acutely as I stepped into the room, setting Loki’s carrier on the bed closest to the door, the bedspread an eye-searing pattern of red, pink, and yellow abstract flowers.

“I’ll let you out in a minute, buddy,” I said in response to his plaintive meow and the frantic rocking of the crate.

“Where do you want your bags?” Holbrook asked from the doorway, his tall frame casting a long shadow over the room.

“On the bed is fine I guess,” I replied, gesturing to the second bed as I scoped out the rest of the room.

A mismatched pair of nightstands sat on either side of the bed I had claimed as mine, their lamps casting dim circles of light that didn’t even begin to chase away the gloom. A squat dresser with an ancient TV sat across from the beds, the screen coated in a thick layer of dust.

I guess the maid is on vacation
.

A small niche was cut into the wall opposite the door, housing a single sink set into a peeling laminate countertop, a door in the wall on the left open just enough to show the edge of a toilet bowl.

“Cozy,” I said, relieved that my voice didn’t reveal the bitterness that hung in the back of my throat.

“It won’t be for long.”

Nodding, I turned my back on him, unwinding my scarf and stuffing it into my duffel bag before pulling out my battered sketchbook.

“I’ve got some work to do. Deadlines to meet and all that,” I said, wishing this man I barely knew would leave me alone to sort through the thoughts and emotions that had been swirling in my mind all day. The success of the hunt that morning seemed like a petty triumph in light of everything else that had happened. In the blink of an eye, the scab over my long-ignored emotions had been torn off, and now I was slowly bleeding out.

“No problem. I’m just next door if you need me.”

Holbrook lingered for a moment as if he wanted to say something more, the cold wind blowing into the room sending snowflakes skittering across the carpet. Just as I began to turn, the door closed with a soft click, and I was left alone in the cold room with a rather disgruntled cat.

***

Excitement sang in my veins, fiery and golden as I rode the waves of ecstasy. It was like being high, riding the wave of pleasure that came along with the change. The pain of bones shifting and reforming was lost beneath the orgasmic rush of letting the wolf burst free from the shackles of humanity.

It had been too long since I’d shifted, the burn of stretching muscles as welcome a sensation as the anticipation that blossomed in my gut. Every inch of my skin tingled as if being pricked by hundreds of tiny needles, goose bumps rising along my spine as thick, dark fur began to sprout all over my body.

My back arched at an inhuman angle, my vertebrae moving and changing shape as my spine reknit into ridges not present on the average human. My fingers flexed against the grubby linoleum, shortening and growing together to form thick-padded paws while my stubby nails lengthened into claws that gleamed black and wickedly sharp. From the cramping in my feet I knew that my toes were undergoing the same change, shifting into the paws of a massive wolf.

Shaking myself, I threw off the last few tremors of the change, settling into my familiar other self. Stretching languorously, I flexed newly formed muscles, feeling the need to run and jump growing in them as a dull ache.

Not yet
, I thought, fighting against the wolf to hold onto my human thoughts.
There are things to do first.

I’d been cooped up for too long in the dark, the four close walls of my cell and the stink of piss my only company. My senses were overloaded with a thousand different scents and sights, the cacophony of them dizzying. It was like being a clumsy pup all over again as I struggled to find balance in the tangle of sensations.

Closing my eyes I hung my head low, focusing on sorting the scents one by one. The stink of humanity was all around me, but gradually I was able to untangle them, picking the scents apart until I could identify each one.

Closest was the cloying, chemical smell of disinfectant that burned my sensitive nose, coating my tongue with its sour perfumed stink and making my eyes water. I couldn’t understand how humans thought it was anything even closely resembling the fresh, crisp scent of pine. Next was the over processed smell of junk food that smelled more of chemicals and additives than real food.

What idiots these pathetic humans are, stuffing their flabby faces with this crap when there is delicious, wet wiggling meat to be had.

The recorded chime of the door sliding open drew my attention up from the floor beneath my large black paws, my ears turning in the direction of the sound. I caught the exchange of voices but I didn’t care about them; all I cared about was the tantalizing scent of hot blood pumping strong and full of vigor just beneath the surface of wind chapped skin. My mouth watered at the thought of it pulsing hard against my tongue, washing down my suddenly dry throat, sating the hunger that clawed ferociously at my gut.

Drawn like a puppet on a string, I inched towards that mouth-watering scent, the sound of my claws on the linoleum beating a dull tattoo at the back of my consciousness. Rounding the edge of a display case smelling of hot electrical wires and processed animal byproducts, I spied the source of that most delicious smell.

A pimple-faced kid, stinking of grease and floured dough was paying the clerk for a gallon sized soda. Lingering at the cash register, the pizza boy struck up a conversation but I cared little for what they were saying.

They didn’t notice me at first, engrossed in some asinine argument, but I knew the instant their hindbrains kicked in, that last vestige of the days when man had the sense to be wary of the things that lived in the darkness, when they weren’t at the top of the food chain. The store clerk’s eyes grew wide and his words trailed off into nothingness when he spotted me.

It only took a moment for his human arrogance to take over, smothering the voice in the back of his mind that rightly told him he should be afraid.