Chapter Sixty-Three

Hope was but an illusion as we walked through the high-security door into what was for all respects a medical facility. The rows of glossy metal tables, the acrid stench of painkilling fluids and antiseptic wipes, the sheer, blinding white light that emitted from fluorescent bulbs all around—all spoke of hospice: a place where the sick came to die.

Despite the pain coursing through my body, I had enough strength to shiver.

This was no medical facility—at least, not the kind I was used to.

This was a laboratory.

Disoriented by the shock rocketing my system, my eyes trailed across the space, darting across areas where light was consumed by shadow and where figures could briefly be seen in human form.

Eventually, my eyes fell to a fixture at the far side of the room, one I’d not noticed upon our initial entrance—a glass wall, or at least a window, set into stonework behind which there was a self-contained room.

A flicker of movement appeared from the depths of it.

At first, I wasn’t sure if I was seeing things. Then I realized I wasn’t.

The eyes looked back at me, their rims solid and glowing blue.

I lost my breath as the only thing I could say was, “Guy.”

The Kaldr man—stripped naked but for his white briefs—stood opposite the glass window, hand pressed to the glass.

“Jason,” he said.

The sound of his voice through an intercom ripped fire through my head. Grimacing, and stumbling forward, I reached up to cradle one ear with my good arm while keeping my bad one against my chest.

Before the glass, I looked at Guy with tears in my eyes.

Frost framed his dispersed fingers.

“Jason,” he whispered, eyes falling to my arm.

The click of a gun sounded. Then the barrel was placed to my ear.

“Time’s up,” the Frenchman said.

“Let go of him you bastard,” Guy growled, spittle flying through his teeth. “He had nothing to do with this.”

“Quite the contrary, Mr. Winters. He has everything to do with it.” I felt the touch of the man’s hand along my collarbone and shivered at how hot his skin felt. “I see you haven’t marked him—at least, not in the way I would’ve expected. A human mate? Warm flesh? Are you Kaldr really that noble?”

“Let him go, Pierre. You can do whatever you want to me, but by God, let him go.”

“I could,” the Frenchman said, “but then there’s the matter of his infection.” I grimaced as he reached around and took hold of my right arm, his fingers prying through the tattered flesh to take a rough hold. “You see, Guy, there was an… accident. One of my wolves got too careless and let the boy shoot him after the first bite. He didn’t finish the job. He’s infected. He’s turning. Now. I let him go—and by God, out there, in the wild—he’s going to go on a rampage. The bloodlust will consume him. There’s a reason Howlers are made in confined quarters.”

I fought to contain my tears as Pierre tightened his hold on my arm. “Please,” I begged. “Don’t do this to me.”

“There’s a perfect alternative to the matter, Jason. I assure you of that. But your boyfriend here is the one who has to cooperate.”

“I told you,” Guy growled, “it’s not going to work. It’s just legend.”

“You Norsemen believe the Wendigo is legend?” Pierre laughed. “What the hell is wrong with you? Your history speaks for itself. You believe it the monster of man, the perfect chimera of bestial nature. There’s always been whispers of a bond between us, but you’ve been too afraid to seek them out.”

“You’re mad with power.”

“And your boyfriend’s turning faster than you can think.”

“If you’re so convinced this is going to work, why not test it on one of your men? Or yourself?”

“Because every number is important when we have so many others to deal with,” Pierre replied. He released hold of my arm and nudged the gun against the back of my head—directly where the robber had in weeks past. “It’s your choice, Guy. Either way, I’ll get what I want out of you.”

A flash of pain erupted between my eyes.

Crimson flooded my vision.

At first I thought I was bleeding, but when I felt nothing trailing down my face, I realized that wasn’t the case.

Could I be bleeding internally?

A second flash erupted along my conscience, followed by a third which sent a whimper from my throat.

My gut churned.

My arm throbbed.

“Do you see what you’re doing?” Pierre asked. “How you’re torturing him?”

I forced my eyes together to fight the images assailing me.

The blood, the teeth, the excruciating pain—

The overhead moon, the hunt that followed—

The pale-skinned man, so naked in his youth, as he was ripped limb from limb by the savagery of supernatural jaws.

The shiver became violent—to the point where I felt was I in the frigid arctic—and when I opened my eyes I saw hopelessness in Guy’s eyes. There was no all-knowing look that gave answer all my questions. There was merely turmoil that could not be solved.

“Time’s running out,” Pierre said.

The scuffle of footsteps from the far wall entered my ears and passed through my head as if they were no more than a foot away. Within moments I could sense so many were in the room—to the side, in the shadows, along the wall, even beyond the lab. Their stench of sweat and cigarettes and even fresh blood was tangible to the point where I could taste it on my tongue, and my eyes were taking on a subtle shift that I couldn’t discern at first.

I was changing, right there in front of him.

“Jason,” Guy said, his voice a whisper through the intercom. “Your eyes.”

A brief impression of gold-rimmed eyes entered my awareness before leaving completely.

“Time’s up,” Pierre said.

Even though he was behind me, I heard his finger shift to the trigger.

Without thought, driven by primal instinct, I spun and knocked the gun out of his hand with my right arm.

The weapon discharged and spun across the floor just as Pierre stumbled back, blood coating his face from a gash inflicted upon his cheek.

I lifted my arm.

All five digits on my right hand had lengthened and developed black claws.

“Get him!” Pierre screamed. “Shoot that motherfucker!”

I flung myself over one of the metal autopsy tables and brought my foot down on the end of it just in time to deflect a hail of bullets.

The world was lost in the sound of chaos. Animal instinct helped me detect every life form within the room. The gunpowder was no deterrent. There were several on the wall—three, at least four—not counting the two pressed alongside the door, and Pierre, whose presence I could no longer detect. The bullets were another matter. Each discharge could be heard like the drop of a pin, followed by an explosion similar to a car crash in the middle of a quiet street. The number of shots gave me cause to believe that they weren’t firing in succession—it was blind tactics, meant to kill me regardless of loss.

The world was moving so slow.

My head was spinning.

My vision, brightening—

The wink of metal along the floor caught my eye.

I lunged without question.

My speed, far beyond that of any human, delivered the gun into my hand, then me to my feet in an instant.

“GET DOWN!” a voice screamed.

I fired toward the glass entrapping Guy.

Webs splintered across its surface.

The entire magazine was emptied.

The glass shattered and the temperature plummeted.

I threw myself to the ground as the beads of sweat along my body turned to ice.

Faintly, I could just make out the fluctuating temperature clashing between the testing and examination rooms.

Guy stepped from its depths.

His eyes blue, his ancestral marks emblazoned upon his skin—he lifted his hand and guided shards of glass about the air in front of him as if they were a revolving spectrum before firing them throughout the room.

Screams shattered the night.

Blood splashed the air.

A single convulsion forced my back into the air and then to the ground.

My head slammed against the tiled floor.

My teeth sunk into my tongue and drew blood.

I was barely aware of the ongoing events as the seizure took my body. Forcing tremors throughout every limb, occasionally causing my back to spasm, spilling froth from my mouth that I thought would choke me—what little breath I managed to take did little to seep into my brain, for the stars before my vision were falling, exploding, reforming, then falling again.

A single second felt like an hour’s worth of pain.

One moment, everything was chaos. The next, everything was silent.

The fine hairs springing along my arms and the exposed portion of my collarbone stood on end as from the side came a presence.

I tried to turn my head, but failed to do so.

A foot came into view.

Swathed in light, his figure illuminated only by the glowing crystals that circled about his body, Guy leaned over my trembling form and took me into his arms.

“It’s ok,” he said, his voice nirvana within my head. “Everything’s going to be fine, Jason. I’ll get you out of here.”

I tried to speak, tried to breathe, tried to cry. Nothing worked.

The flash of pain that had come earlier returned.

This time, it hit me like a truck.

All I heard was my final scream before I blacked out.