The Wolf in His Arms (The Runes Trilogy) (10 page)

Tristan
refused to turn, to see. He had his eyes pressed closed and his face shook with
fear. Kevin could see in his friend’s face that he would not move. “Tristan, we
have to keep going. Now.”

Tristan
nodded.

Suddenly,
the hallway behind them erupted with the sound of shattering glass, followed
quickly by their frightened howls. They all turned, seeing that at the far end
of the hall, something had hurtled through a frosted window, spraying the glass
into the hall.

Then,
behind them, clacking sounds. They turned again.

From
the darkness, an empty chair crawled toward them, its wheels clacking. They
stumbled, almost tripping each other, as they shrieked down the hall from the
ghostly chair. Halfway down the hall, they found the grand staircase. Kevin
shot the beam of his flashlight into the lobby, begging,
please be empty, please be empty
, as he stumbled down the steps.

Behind
him, Molly slipped on the dusty stairs. Blubbering, she clutched the rail,
righted herself, and continuing to run.

Tristan
hesitated at the top of the stairs, just a moment, to gaze down the hallway
where the office door window had shattered. His flashlight caught the trail of
footprints in the dust.
We’re not alone,
he
thought. He shuffled down the stairs, stopping to look back at the second floor
as he reached the landing.

Kevin
shot through the grand lobby. He plowed into the large, old glass double doors,
boarded up from the outside. The door began to open and jerked to a stop as the
chain and lock on the outside held it in place. Kevin cried out in panic. He
began to kick the board fastened over the bottom half of the door. “Let us
out.” He chanted as he kicked. Molly and Tristan rushed up behind him. They
turned their backs to Kevin to shine their lights onto the stairs they had just
descended. Another roar tore through the lobby.

“Hurry,
dude.”

“Kevin,
please.”

Kevin
could feel the board weakening. Again, Kevin kicked the plywood until he heard
the definite sound of wood splintering. He struck with renewed vigor as the
wood broke in two pieces. He bent down and shoved the pieces of wood aside. He
squeezed through. “Hurry, Molly!”

Molly
fell to her hands and knees. She reached through the door, and Kevin half-dragged
her through the opening. As Molly slipped through, Tristan looked back at the
stairwell. He shone his light up the stairs, counting their footsteps in the
dust: One, two, three. He panned his light across the lobby to the second set
of stairs on the other side of the lobby.

One,
two sets of footprints.

The
realization that someone else had walked down the stairs and was now in the
lobby with him erupted from him in a high-pitched yelp. He dived through the
broken-out door, skidding on the marble steps. He clamored to his feet. “Run,”
he cried. “Run.”

He
trailed close behind Molly as they sprinted to the car. Tristan looked back
once at the front doors but never stopped.

Kevin
clicked the car doors unlocked as he ran and flopped into the driver’s seat. He
turned the ignition, thankful that the car simply started without hesitation.
He heard two doors slam shut. “All here?” He asked without looking as he
slammed the car into drive.

Two
voices cried yes. Two voices he knew and loved.

At
first, Kevin simply drove away from The Fullerton Building, not exactly home,
just away. Laughter eventually broke the silence. “What the fuck just
happened?” Kevin asked.

Molly
heaved, still breathless. “Ghosts. Tristan, I think we caught your ghosts.”

“Those
weren’t ghosts,” Tristan argued.

“What?”
Molly asked.

“They
left footprints. They were real, guys. Something real was after us.” Tristan
leaned back in the seat, fighting the urge to puke. “I’m never going exploring
again. Seriously.”

Molly
looked over at Kevin, who was still pale and looked clammy. “Maybe we should
take up white water rafting.”

*
         
*
         
*
         
*

Back in
the lobby of The Fullerton Building, Alec and Jared hugged each other in
delighted congratulations. “Alec, that was brilliant. And fun.”

“I
don’t think they’ll be back,” Alec agreed, his voice bright.

Jared
peered at the kicked out board. “We should fix that.” He turned to face Alec.
“Let’s not tell Lucy... About someone being here.”

“Absolutely.”

“I feel
a little guilty,” Jared said, looking again at the door where the three had
escaped.

Alec
shrugged. “We gave them a free haunted house. They didn’t get hurt.”

“Luckily.”

“And,
luckily, it’s over.” As they headed back for the shelter of the basement, they
didn’t notice an extra set of footprints in the dust of the lobby floor.

Crossing the
Atlantic from London to Detroit in his private Learjet, Nigel Rathborne took a
video call with his six commanders-in-chief, each responsible for successful
campaigns on their assigned continent. “I expect a full report on my desk by
the end of the week,” he stated. “That includes progress at all schools.”

“If progress is
static from the last report?” Asked the commander for Europe.

“Then you’ll be
replaced,” Nigel warned. “Decades of research and planning have gone into this
campaign. We have one night. Just the one. There can be no mistakes. Every
operative must be in place. Every guard, every bridge engineer, every baggage
handler.”

“South America is
on schedule,” another commander asserted.

“And Asia.” Another
voice chimed in.

“And Australia.”
Echoed another.

“Africa is ready,
sir.” The final commander assured.

Nigel folded his
hands. “Let’s not let Europe be a disappointment, shall we? I just left London,
and everything is smashing there.”

“The European
campaign will not disappoint, sir.”

Nigel smiled, his
green eyes sparkling with power. “I’ve arranged for shipments of explosives to
arrive at port warehouses on every continent. Be sure to include progress with
their placement in your reports. Good day.”

Nigel clicked off
the video call and looked out the window, relishing his plans. “I’m making this
new world for you, my daughter, my most perfect creation.”

Alec stretched
in the sleeping bag, his back arching with the morning effort. Jared nuzzled
against him, groaning grumpily, and then tucked deeper into his own sleeping
bag. Sleeping in the basement was cold, damp, and musty, but as a once-a-month
penance to keep Lucy safe, the act seemed like little sacrifice. Alec nudged
Jared. “Wake up, Sleepyhead.” Alec turned the lantern on, filling the tent with
a soft white glow.

“No,”
Jared said and tucked his head like a turtle.

Alec smiled,
and unzipped his own sleeping bag. The cold air pressed at him from all angles,
a painful, almost tickling sensation that made him quickly pull on his shirt
and jeans. “If you get up, I’ll pour you coffee.”

“Whatimezit?”
Jared mumbled, his head still covered. He suddenly flipped the sleeping bag
from his face, resolved to waking. “I hate mornings.”

“Eight-thirty.
The sun’s been up for an hour.” Alec grabbed the thermos tucked into the corner
of the tent and unscrewed the lid.

“Great.
Good.” Jared pulled on his clothes with a frown. “I hate putting clothes on
dirty skin. Gross.”

Alec
smiled at him again as he handed him the cup of coffee. Even Jared’s complaints
were cute to him. His persnicketiness amused Alec, the way he hated clothes on
dirty skin, the way he couldn’t stand to have unwashed dishes on the counter,
the way the cap left off the toothpaste made him nuts. “I’ll get Lucy.”

Jared nodded
and, sipping his coffee, watched as Alec opened the flap of the tent and
pointed a flashlight down the dark hall. As Alec flipped the switch, the beam
of light suddenly split the long, windowless hall that was still dark as
midnight. Alec rapped on the heavy metal door and called, “Lucy?”

He
heard a muffled reply. Alec walked to her bag, pulled out a change of clothes,
and unlocked the vault door. “Lucy?” He asked again, with the door ajar.

“Knock.
Knock,” she replied.

“Who’s
there?”

“Lucy.”

“Lucy
who?”

“
Loose ye
head, if I were still a
werewolf.”

Alec
groaned. “Not funny,” he said, extending his arm into the darkness to hand her
the clothes. He left her to dress and rejoined Jared, who was fully awake and
less grumpy.

“She
okay?” Jared asked.

“Typical
of the morning after.”

“She
tell a bad joke?”

“Yep.”

“A new
one or a repeat.”

“New.
Especially bad.” Alec rested his head on Jared’s shoulder. “So what’s the
psychology of that?”

Jared
sat pensively, then offered, “A way to break the tension. It’s gotta be
awkward, sitting naked in the dark waiting for us to open the door.”

“I
think she’s just being difficult.”

Jared
tapped Alec’s nose. “That’s my diagnosis of you.”

“Is
that right? Any cure?”

Jared
smiled. “I’m willing to try an injection.”

“Coffee
first,” Lucy said, as she approached them. “Sexual innuendo later.” Lucy plopped
on the floor next to them and accepted the cup Alec offered. “Everything go
okay last night?”

“Quiet,”
Alec said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Super
quiet,” Jared confirmed.

“I need
a hot bath,” Lucy said, standing. She looked around. “I hate this place.”

*
         
*
         
*
         
*

Collin
Stalinski completed the first class of his first full day with no greater
trouble than boredom. The class was not a general high school requirement, but
a stipulation of the Cornerstone Boys Reformatory. The class, entitled Civility
and Civilization, focused on helping students understand the importance of
rules. Collin found the class odd. He doubted any of the students failed to
understand the importance of rules; he, in fact, was certain that was why they
broke the rules, himself included.
But,
if it means getting out of here with a clean record, I’ll pretend to listen
,
he thought.

The
bell rang, and the students stood to leave.

Collin stood
with a resigned sigh; he feared changing classes. He knew even a school like
this one, which seemed to work with a precision so perfect that it was
frightening, could break into chaos between classes. Collin knew that his
offense was by far one of the least severe in the school. For many of the
students this school was their last hope before hard time. Some had been
involved in gangs; others burglary, shoplifting, bringing guns to school, and
battery. His vandalism (art) and resisting arrest (running) paled in comparison
to the rough characters in the school.

Collin
cast his eyes from side to side as he entered the hall. He walked with his head
up but avoided eye contact, hoping that his bluff would keep him safe for the
three minutes between classes. Teachers, arms folded across chests, stood
outside each classroom, eyes on the students. Collin, however, knew how easy it
was to slip a cruel act even past watchful eyes.

With
his books resting on his hip, Collin navigated the hall, avoiding bumping into
any other students. As he passed two students, they erupted into a fight. He
jumped back out of the way, as they slammed each other into lockers with loud,
angry grunts and streams of profanity.

Two
teachers, aided by four students, pulled the students apart before Collin had
time to evade the area. His back against the lockers, Collin watched as the
students were subdued and forced to the ground. Proctor Roth emerged from his
office. His cold green eyes fell on the students. “I’ve told you we have a zero
tolerance policy for disruption.” He turned his gaze to the students pinning
them. “Take them to the pen.”

“What
the fuck!” One of the students yelled as he struggled to his feet. Collin
watched as the young man twisted uselessly in the grip of the other students. He
could see a glimmer of fear in the student’s stern, angry face.

Proctor
Roth turned to Collin. His green eyes bore into him. “Aren’t you going to be
late to your next class?”

Collin
cast his eyes down. “Sorry.” He scurried away, hoping to reach his class before
the bell.
The pen?
He wondered.
Where the hell am I?

*
         
*
         
*
         
*

A long
soak in the tub left Lucy feeling refreshed, almost human. The warmth lingered
on her skin as she dressed in her bedroom. Entering the hallway, she heard the
shower begin behind the closed bathroom door. “I’m putting my earphones in,”
Lucy teased not-too-subtlety to Alec and Jared as she padded past the bathroom
door. The edges of her mouth curved in self-amusement as she popped the
earphones in. Soothing chords floating in her ears, she sat down with the
translations Jared had begun. She examined his translations of the runes,
verified a few quickly, and then picked the page titled TheGen5Pack.