“What now?” breathed Jack Williams, asking the question that all five members of the Blacklight team were thinking. “What the hell do we do now?”
The wolf was standing in the aisle before them, less than three metres away, licking Lord Dante’s blood from the soaked, steaming carpet. It appeared to have no interest in them, but it had growled, without looking up, when Jack had stepped alongside Jamie. The inference seemed to be clear; that it had not yet decided what to do with them, and would prefer it if they stayed still while it did.
“Dominique,” said Jamie, softly. “You have tranquilliser darts, right?”
“Not darts,” replied Dominique Saint-Jacques. “I have tranquillisers, but they’re hypodermics. You can’t fire them.”
“Then what the hell use are they?” hissed Jamie.
“They’re for human witnesses,” said Dominique, sharply. “Not for werewolves.”
Jamie sighed. “Give them to me,” he said.
“How many?”
“All of them.”
Dominique lifted three hypodermic needles from a metal container on his belt, and passed them down the line to Jamie. He flipped the plastic caps off, and looked at the tiny needles.
“Will these put him down?” he asked.
“I don’t have the slightest idea,” said Dominique. “I hope so, for all our sakes, but I don’t know. That’s the truth.”
“Great,” said Jamie. “Well, I guess we’re going to find out.”
Jamie lifted his visor, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. The fires were burning themselves out, the chairs and small patches of carpet that had been aflame now merely smouldering. There was blood everywhere, and Jamie took a moment to appreciate the work his team had done.
Sixty vampires, give or take. No injuries, no casualties. Not bad at all.
He smiled again.
No injuries yet anyway. That might be about to change.
He took a slow, deliberate step into the aisle. The wolf growled again, a little louder than the last time, and then Angela’s voice rang in his ears.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked.
“What does it look like?” he replied.
“It looks like you’re trying to commit suicide by werewolf.”
“I assure you I’m not,” he said. He was staring at the enormous animal as it lapped blood from the floor, and was, frankly, terrified. But he knew what he had to do. “I’m not leaving without him. He’s why we came.”
“He?” demanded Angela. “It’s not he any more, can’t you see that? Are you going to take a werewolf back to the Loop with us?”
“That’s the plan,” Jamie replied, taking a second step forward.
The wolf growled again, more urgently, and Jamie felt his legs begin to shake.
“What are you going to tell Admiral Seward?” demanded Angela. “Don’t worry, he’s still my friend for twenty-nine days of the month? What do you think he’s going to say to that?”
“I’m hoping he’s going to say congratulations on a successful mission,” said Jamie. “Now shut the hell up and let me do this.”
He took a third step, bringing him within two metres of the animal, and then suddenly the wolf’s head was up, quicker than Jamie’s eyes could follow, its mouth wide and coated red, its nostrils flared, a sawing growl of warning emanating from its throat as its misshapen yellow eyes locked on Jamie’s own.
Jamie stopped dead. He didn’t know how he knew, but he was absolutely sure that if he dropped his gaze, the animal would tear his throat out. So he stared back at the wolf, and saw something remarkable happen.
The huge eyes, sunflower yellow with pupils as black as night, suddenly narrowed, in an unmistakably human gesture of recognition.
“That’s right,” said Jamie, softly. “You know me. Don’t you?”
He took another step forward. The wolf reared up, but it didn’t step back, or leap forward and kill him.
“Don’t you?” he repeated. “What’s my name? You know it. What’s my name?”
He was within a metre of the animal now. The wolf looked confused, and suddenly miserable, as though the elation of victory had been replaced by deep anguish. It moved its head quickly from side to side, its growl lowering in volume and rising in pitch, until it sounded almost questioning.
“What’s my name?” Jamie asked, stepping forward again.
He was directly under the enormous snout; he could have reached out and touched the slick-red grey fur.
“Tell me,” he whispered. “What’s my name?”
The wolf’s mouth opened, and it looked down at him with an expression of abject suffering. Jamie braced himself for the sensation of teeth closing round his head, but he did not shut his eyes.
“Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaamieeeeeeeeeeeee,” howled the wolf.
Jamie threw himself against the enormous snout and wrapped his arms round the animal’s head, his mind empty of everything but the knowledge that he had found his friend, and saved him, as Frankenstein had once saved him.
The wolf’s enormous tongue flicked out of its mouth and licked Jamie’s face. The huge animal was still growling, but the tone of the rumbling noise had changed. It no longer sounded like a warning; now it sounded oddly like the purring of a cat. Jamie felt the rough texture of the tongue on the side of his face, and fought back tears. The wolf lowered its head, and nuzzled against him, its yellow eyes closed. Jamie saw his chance and, with guilt stabbing at his heart, plunged the three hypodermic needles into the thick fur at the animal’s neck.
The yellow eyes flew open, but the wolf didn’t pull away from him. It regarded him with a look in its eyes that Jamie initially took for sadness, for disappointment, but realised almost instantly was trust, was faith, in him. The eyes closed again, as the huge animal slumped to the floor, its grey flank settling on the blood-soaked carpet. Its chest rose and fell steadily, as its tongue rolled out between its teeth and hung limply towards the ground.
Jamie sighed, a deep, rattling release of everything that had built up inside him over the past three months. He felt elation, and pride, and fear, and guilt, all mingled together in a cloud of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. He pulled the needles out of the wolf’s neck, and took a faltering step back.
“Holy shit,” whispered Jack Williams. “You did it, Jamie. You did it.”
Jamie was turning to his friend, a smile spreading on his face, when the radio on his belt suddenly buzzed into life. He lifted it from his belt, keyed the RECEIVE button and held it to his ear.
“Jamie, it’s me,” said the voice on the other end of the line.
“Larissa!” exclaimed Jamie. “Larissa, we got him! We were almost too late, but we found this—”
“Jamie, listen to me,” interrupted Larissa. “I called to tell you that I love you. OK? I don’t want to never have said it.”
“What are you talking about?” Jamie asked. “We’ll be home in forty-five minutes.”
“I’m sorry,” said Larissa. “You’re going to be too late.”