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Traxler suggested that he drive since he knew the city best. To his surprise, he got no objections. Geoff sat in the passenger seat, a low grunt escaping him as he pulled himself into the SUV. His gunshot wound was more serious than Traxler's, but he refused to consider anything beyond basic field medicine; they'd put several gauze pads over the wound and secured them with medical tape. Louisianna's experience as an EMT came in handy. It was why he suggested she stay behind, to further triage Tallulah's injuries. He would have preferred she had come instead of Elisabetta, but her skills were needed at the house.
According to the map, they were about twenty minutes from the Zoological Park. Traxler made it in just over ten, owing to the lack of traffic at almost two in the morning. Thankfully they avoided the Highway Patrol. He was certain that he could get out of a ticket by pulling the Agency card, but he didn't want to waste the time. No telling what an antsy werewolf might do during a traffic stop.
Geoff had been a ball of tension the entire ride, and he didn't think it was from his driving. Of course, the pack leader had been desperate to rescue Tallulah, but ever since learning that Laurell was gone, the man had fallen eerily silent. There was a kind of static in the enclosed compartment of the SUV that he hoped was something psychological rather than metaphysical. He glanced in the rearview mirror several times during the drive; if Elisabetta sensed or was bothered by it, she gave no sign.
The Manager hadn't given him much information on where precisely in the Park the wolf had been sighted; they were piggybacking on existing surveillance equipment, and thus didn't have full coverage. Traxler assumed that Geoff would be able to locate her, whether by something as banal as her scent or mystical werewolf shit, he didn't much care. He silently decided to drive to the center of the Park and work outward in concentric circles. If they hadn't located her by the time the other agents arrived, the additional manpower would only speed up the search. The Manager had cleared him to take one of the back entrances and get around on service roads, which gave them full run of the place.
When he got to what felt like the right spot, he edged the SUV to the side of the road, coming to a stop. He hadn't even had a chance to shift into park when Geoff opened his door and was striding away, Elisabetta following suit almost immediately. "Shit," Traxler exclaimed, hurriedly turning off the ignition and jumping out himself.
He half expected the wolves to have already taken off, racing away with that inhuman speed they had. If that were the case, he wouldn't stand a chance of catching them. Oddly, they'd both come to a halt, mere steps from the vehicle. They seemed frozen in place, quivering slightly.
"Something's not right," Elisabetta murmured.
"I feel it," Geoff replied in a low voice. "It's cold." There was something in his voice Traxler had never heard before.
Fear.
"What is it?" Traxler asked. He'd lowered his voice to almost a whisper to match the others.
There was no immediate answer from either of them. Traxler closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating. After a second he shook his head. "I don't feel anything," he announced. It certainly didn't seem cold to him; it was late June so even the nights were mild at best. He didn't know whether to be relieved or alarmed. For lack of anything else to do, he reached into his suit and retrieved his gun, clicking off the safety. The Manager's "random wolf on the loose" situation suddenly felt like something for which he should be armed.
"What is it, Geoff?" Elisabetta asked. She glanced briefly at the other werewolf, but the focus of her attention remained elsewhere. They were both facing roughly southeast, a large enclosure on their right. A chest-high railing divided the concrete walkway they were on from a lush forest. No cages in this place; the animals were housed in exhibits that simulated their natural habitats.
"I don't know," Geoff replied, "but it ain't friendly." After a moment, he proceeded forward, moving slowly. Traxler couldn't help but notice that his limp seemed suddenly gone. He marked that for later consideration and fell in line behind the two lycanthropes. He had no qualms about doing so; if something nasty was up ahead, the two of them could take first crack at it.
At first Traxler thought they had locked onto to some animal inside the exhibit itself, but as the two wolves crept forward, neither of them gave it a second look. They passed a building made of faux logs on the left (the sign over its door announced it as the "Small Mammal House"). Just past it, the walkway turned sharply to the right, almost due south.
Beyond their line of sight, hidden by the lush greenery of the enclosure the path encircled, something was happening. At first Traxler could only pick up low growling, punctuated by the occasional snort, but as they got closer, he heard other noises too: dull scraping, and noises like someone spreading gravel. They were curious sounds to be sure, but compared with where they'd just been, it hardly seemed like the sort of thing to unnerve a pair of werewolves.
"It's Laurell!" Geoff breathed suddenly, darting forward and disappearing around the bend. Elisabetta cursed and hastened her gait to follow. Traxler gritted his teeth and started to run – only to skid to a halt the moment he rounded the corner himself. The wolves had come to a full stop the moment the source of the disturbance came into view, and he had to draw up short to avoid bumping into them.
It took him a few seconds to even piece together what he was seeing. In the middle of the walkway, the metal torso of a man lay on its side. One arm had been broken off from the force of the fall. The other disappeared at the elbow, its lower half nowhere in sight. Perhaps it was scattered among the chunks of concrete around what remained of the dais upon which the statue had been standing. The platform was split down the middle, one half leaning noticeably. From within the crack, the tail end of a large wolf was protruding, a large fan of soil and rock spreading behind it.
Traxler's first thought was: A werewolf did that?
His second was: Why is it digging?
"Laurell!" Geoff called out, his voice a whipcrack.
With a low yelp, the wolf backed up enough to turn around and face them. The moment it did, Elisa gasped. The wolf's front paws were raw and bloody, its fur matted and filthy with dust. A slender object was protruding from its side, and after a moment Traxler realized what it was: the other arm of the statue. The figure must have been holding a sword aloft, and the wolf leapt directly onto it, spearing herself completely through and ripping the statue from its mooring in the process. What on Earth had possessed it to do such a thing, he had no idea. The entire area around the base of the statue had been darkened with blood.
"Laurell! Jesus!" Elisabetta exclaimed. "What are you–"
Traxler would never get a chance to hear the end of the question, nor see how exactly they intended Taggart to answer it in shifted form. At that exact moment, the leaning portion of the statue's base shuddered, then fell over with a dull clap.
No, he realized a moment later.
It had been pushed over.
A dark figure emerged from the gap where Taggart had been busily working. Its flesh was pale, almost bone-white, and at first Traxler thought it was some kind of animated skeleton. But no, it was just incredibly, unbelievably gaunt. It moved slowly, as if underwater, its spindly fingers spreading against the still-upright portion of the dais, impossibly thin, as it levered itself into a standing position. Rags of cloth, drained of color, hung loosely off its form. For a fleeting moment, Traxler caught a glimpse of an epaulet before his attention was pulled to the creature's face. It was as though invisible fingers had seized his eyes, dragging them upward. It was a queer, queasy feeling and made him cry out in disgust.
Stringy, desiccated hair sprung from the top of its scalp in patchy clumps. Its eyes were so deeply sunken as to be lost in the shadows of its eye sockets. Somehow, despite the dust and dehydration, something glimmered wetly where its eyes were, mere pricks of light in the darkness. Meeting that gaze quite unwillingly, Traxler felt light-headed, enough that he tried to tear his eyes away to see if his feet were still in contact with the ground.
All of this transpired within the first three seconds. Then, as though a physical weight was lifted, Traxler felt the creature's attention shift away from him. It peered down at the wolf standing nearly at its feet. For her part, Taggart had started to turn around again, albeit much more slowly than before. Traxler didn't know if that was the result of blood loss or the effects of... whatever this was.
The wolf was starting to compress her weight as if to strike, but the tall creature beat her to the punch. Its previously languid motion gave the lie to the sudden, adder-like speed with which it pounced, falling on Taggart, coiling its body around her, its mouth snapping, seeking her throat.
"LAURELL! NO!" Geoff roared. Suddenly he was in motion too, closing the distance between him and the pale creature with incredible speed. It lashed out with a thin arm, and just as suddenly Cooper was thrown backwards.
Did that thing even connect with him? Traxler thought. Then: Oh shit, he's flying this–
Then: darkness.
––––––––
ELISABETTA ROMANOV considered herself a "non-practicing spiritualist wiccan." She didn't spit on the ground or fork the evil eye at people, she (almost) never threw salt over her left shoulder if some got spilled, and she didn't nail a horseshoe over her door for good luck. But she held some basic, foundational beliefs about the nature of the Universe and her place in it. She would claim it didn't extend to such basic concepts of good or bad, angels or demons, though in some nebulous form, she felt in her heart of hearts there was some higher power beyond the perception of mankind.
When that... thing... emerged from the ground, she started to reconsider her belief in demons.
Geoff had described the feeling as "cold", and while that felt true enough, there was more to it than that. It wasn't a physical perception exactly, but close. It was like the peripheral vision of the sense of touch. There was an energy to it too. The creature radiated this power much like an Ungr wolf, unable to control itself or shield its lupine energy.
But this was much, much more powerful than any wolf energy she'd felt. Even Geoff's.
Her first impression was that it was something wholly different, this energy, but as it washed over her, there was a pang of familiarity to it too. This thing, whatever it was, certainly was not a werewolf.
But its energy had a faint echo, almost a rhyme of Aesir.
That was as far as her rumination got when the thing attacked Laurell and Geoff sprang into action. She was not far behind, a roar of outrage tearing from her throat. Laurell was one of the weakest of them, and the pack had sworn its protection to her. The thing barely even looked up as it flung its arm outward, connecting with Geoff (or did it?) and sending him flying past her. He slammed into Agent Traxler and the two bodies crumpled in a heap.
She felt a momentary flash of concern for her Fadirulf but didn't let it slow her attack. He was a tough old man; he could survive a little tumble. Elisa lowered her torso as she neared, spreading her arms to tackle both of them and wrest Laurell from its grip. For as thin as it was, she expected to bowl it over easily. Instead it was like slamming into a brick wall. The air was knocked out of her, and she had to adjust on the fly, grasping desperately for Laurell's furred form to wrench it free, but the creature's grip was too strong, and she didn't want to hurt her friend trying to free her.
That cold feeling intensified and she felt her skin tingle as though her whole body had fallen asleep. She is mine, she thought. Except, that wasn't her thought at all. She looked up and found herself almost face to face with the man. His mouth and chin were slick with blood – Laurell's blood! – and he bared his teeth at her, showing a pair of fangs.
Wait – fangs?
She barely had time to register that fact when she felt a surge of warm, familiar power rush over her. It preceded Geoff by the barest of margins as her pack leader closed the distance from where he'd fallen with a leap that even Elisa thought was impressive. Geoff's leg flashed out, catching the side of the creature's head, the force of the blow sending it spinning into the concrete dais behind it. Laurell dropped lifelessly from its grip as it reoriented on Geoff, merely fazed by what would have been a killing blow to a human.
Elisa fell to her knees, reaching for her packmate's lifeless form. "No! Oh oh no, Laurell!" Her throat had been ravaged, as if by – well, as if by a wolf. She pulled Laurell close, heedless of the fight going on almost directly above her. She laid her head against Laurell's slick, bloody fur, trying to hear breath sounds or a feel pulse. Maybe there was too much going on, but she could detect neither.
A strange sensation overtook her. At first she thought it was shock, but then her body twisted as if jolted by electricity. All at once, she found herself struggling to contain her wolf, fighting back the sudden, strong urge to shift. It was nearly overpowering, forcing her to devote more concentration than she was used to. "What–?" She instinctively looked toward Geoff, thinking he was doing something. He was strong enough to affect the metaphysical wolves of others in his pack, usually to hold them back from shifting. Elisa didn't think it worked the other way; otherwise he'd have used it on Tally. But maybe he was trying to tell her to join the fight with tooth and claw?
The creature was holding one of Geoff's wrists in each of its hands. Its arms trembled slightly, but it was able to keep him at bay. Geoff's fingers had lengthened, becoming claws, flexing and flailing as he tried to muscle onward. Knowing how incredibly strong Geoff was, Elisa was shocked that this creature was able to hold its own. Its arms looked frail enough to snap under strain. It wasn't even looking at Geoff.
It was looking at her.
All at once Elisa realized it was the creature doing this to her, forcing her to focus on not shifting rather than helping Geoff with the fight. She didn't have time to consider how that was even possible.
"A little... help... here... would... be... nice..." Geoff said through gritted teeth.
Elisa closed her eyes for a second, trying to clear her thoughts. All at once, an idea hit her. Why fight the change when she could use it to her advantage? She opened her eyes then, smirking. "Bad idea, dumbass," she said, before letting the cage inside her swing wide open, encouraging, helping the wolf emerge. When she didn't struggle against it, shifting was a rapid, fluid thing, even as bones cracked and reformed and skin rent itself apart to reveal the fur beneath. Her face pushed forward, becoming a snout, and the last pain she felt was the deep, resonant snap of her skull cracking as it took on its new shape. She was a Fullr, a wolf in absolute control of herself in either form, and this bony fucker just attacked her packmate. He would pay for that.
She stepped over Laurell's unmoving form, her front legs stiff. A low, almost subsonic growl rumbled in her throat, and she bared her teeth, ready to pounce. She lowered the front of her body, coiling like a spring, and then–
She stopped.
In another context, the low grunt of confusion that she made would have been humorous. She had no idea what was happening. She had to attack this thing! It hurt Laurell! Maybe rather than jumping at him she could rake him with her claws. Natural wolves relied primarily on their teeth, but that didn't stop a werewolf from using all the weapons at its disposal. Elisa started forward again, and–
She stopped.
It was as though she were at the end of some invisible leash, preventing her from making any forward progress. She let out a low snarl, her teeth snapping impotently.
You cannot touch me, she thought.
Or at least, someone thought. But why was it in her head?
This was not right. Something was very, terribly wrong. She half turned to Geoff, whining, while he struggled against the creature's immense strength. It looked to her like he had made some headway by planting his feet and pushing forward, his face twisted in concentration. Finally, in one single, savage motion, he brought his head down, slamming it into the creature's face. This, finally, caught it off guard and it released his hands, hissing like a snake. Geoff shoved one of his clawed hands under its jaw, and Elisa could see them in the thing's mouth as it snapped its fangs at Geoff. The hissing had been replaced by a choking, gargling noise that was somehow even less pleasant.
The moment Geoff's claws punctured its skin, Elisa felt the invisible force holding her back waver. With a snarl she leapt forward, her jaws closing on one of its arms. She bit down with enough force to break bone but didn't feel the satisfying snap that she'd been expecting. Instead her form was lifted through the air as it shook the arm viciously. Its strength was like nothing she'd ever experienced before, and she'd sparred with Geoffrey. Despite all her efforts, she couldn't maintain her bite, peeling a long strip of skin from the creature's bony arm as she was flung with incredible force. She collided with a small kiosk that sold refreshments when the zoo was open. Glass and plaster rained around her as she struggled to regain her footing. She needed to help Geoff!
By the time she'd emerged from the rubble, Geoff was on his knees, the creature's hands around his throat. She started to race toward them when a gunshot rang out. It barely missed the creature, a chunk of concrete exploding behind it. It snapped its head in the direction from which the shot came, the act pulling Geoff's claws free.
Another shot rang out, this one catching it in the shoulder. Elisa whirled too, expecting to see Traxler, but no. The agent was still down, unmoving. Instead it was the other one, Pale Eyes, the Partner with No Name. He had a rifle in his hands and a grim expression on his face. If he was afraid, it didn't show.
As Pale Eyes was lining up for a third shot, the creature released Geoff to orient on the new threat. It took the thing just a moment to disengage, and at that moment another gunshot split the night air and hit the creature in the side, a spray of crumbling flesh and oozing black liquid exploding from the exit wound. This one had come from a different direction entirely.
The cavalry had arrived. With the battle haze momentarily lifted, Elisa suddenly became aware of the approach of several men: seven – no, make that eight or nine. They were converging on the area from several different directions at once, and from the sounds of it, all would soon be within view of the fight.
The creature hissed again, surveying the gathered threats. Then, in a backwash of power that had a nearly physical force, it vanished into the night.
Geoff crawled over the rubble to Laurell, choking and gasping for air. "Laurell, come back to me, come back to me, please! Please!" Elisa crept forward, keeping a wary eye on the arriving agents, ready to leap into action if any of them turned their weapons on her, or Geoff, or Laurell. For the moment they seemed to be preoccupied with whatever-it-was that they'd just witnessed. A few of them knelt beside Traxler, one of them speaking urgently into a walkie-talkie.
Pale Eyes hadn't moved from his spot, though his eyes followed Elisa as she approached him. His grip tightened on the weapon, but he didn't raise it. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, and from the expression on his face, they weren't good ones. "We're in the shit now," was all he said to her as she loped past him, going to Geoff's side.
Geoff had pulled Laurell's limp form into his lap, shaking his head in silent negation. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he seemed to be unaware of anything else going on around him. If that creature chose this moment to come back, he'd stand no chance. Elisa headbutted him gently on the shoulder and then sat on her haunches forlornly.
"She's gone." Geoff spoke the words so softly that even with her preternatural hearing, Elisa could barely make them out. It made her heart sick. She could only imagine how Geoff must have felt. Everyone knew he had a love for the young wolf that ran deeper than most pack leaders had for their own. And on top of what happened to Tally, Geoff's sorrow was almost unfathomable.
Elisa threw her head back and let out a long, keening howl. She was joined by Geoff, who let out an animalistic cry of anguish that was all the more unnerving coming from a human. The humans (save for the rifleman) all jumped at the sound, and a few of them pointed their guns at the wolves. Traxler's partner waved them down, moving cautiously toward them.
"Mr. Cooper?" he said. His voice was gentle, the kind one would use to coax a strange animal that might bite. "Mr. Cooper, my name is Charles Mitchum. I'm terribly sorry for your loss, but we have to talk. Urgently."
Geoff stopped vocalizing but gave no other sign that he'd heard the other man. He continued rocking Laurell's body back and forth.
Mitchum frowned slightly. "Mr. Cooper–" It was all he could get out before Geoff was suddenly on his feet. Despite his injuries, he still moved faster than a human could perceive. Elisa rose to her feet as well, stepping quickly between her Fadirulf and the agent – not out of any real care for the human's life, but because she didn't want her pack leader to die in a hail of gunfire if he struck this Mitchum person down in his rage and grief.
Geoff's legs connected with Elisa's form, and it arrested his forward momentum. He gave the wolf barely a glance before turning his attention back to Mitchum. "What the fuck did you do?" The words were barely intelligible as Geoff quivered under the weight of emotion.
Mitchum didn't respond right away, his eyes following Geoff's still-clawed hands. But for Elisa's quick thinking, he would have been within striking distance of those things. He tilted the barrel of his rifle skyward, holding it in a one-handed grip. He raised his other hand, palm forward. "I will swear any oath you'd believe that neither I – nor The Agency – had anything to do with what happened. In fact, we've been trying our damnedest to prevent this very thing."
"I don't understand," Geoff said. Elisa was glad he was able to admit it because she didn't understand either but lacked the ability to say so.
The agent sighed. "Let me explain..."