~ Heather ~
2.13 a.m.
Scott took two steps forward, and the boat swayed at the shift in weight. “There.”
Owen and I stood as Solomon slowed the craft down. All our gazes fixated on the dark mass which suddenly loomed before us. A hole of blackness in the beautiful blanket of the night sky—a wide hole that grew in size the nearer we drew to the strange island.
The boat tilted slightly as Sol manoeuvred to the right, turning us down what appeared to be a sort of canal, which cut through a segment of the island. Darkness stretched above us, all around us, the purr of the engine the only sound echoing in the deadly silence.
“She’s definitely here.” Scott’s focus was glued to the building on our right, which I could only presume must be the old asylum.
The patch of land to our left was small compared to that on the other side, but the entire place felt eerie. No light shone from the structure that Solomon was pulling up alongside. The whole island appeared lifeless and desolate.
The perfect setting for a Vampire facility.
“And she’s not the only one.” Owen’s nostrils flared. His gaze shifted along the front of the building, evaluating.
Hope pulsated in every inch of my body. “You can sense Brendan and the others?”
I looked up at the structure becoming clearer with each second my sight had to adjust. Scaffolding lined every inch of it. The windows were boarded up with sheets of wood. A single path led up to a wide, green front door, which I doubted would be conveniently unlocked.
“Aye, and a dozen or more Loups.”
Hope was suddenly lost as dread worked its way into my gut. “Are you sure?”
Owen glanced at me. “Trust us.”
Shit. Eve wasn’t the only one. They had other Loup-Garous in there... My head grew light. My calves hit the seat, followed by my butt. The bastards hadn’t waited. They had already kidnapped Loups, and I was pretty damn sure that I would go in there and see that they had already started experimenting on those poor women even though they apparently needed the results of my DNA to truly be able to create their precious monsters.
Did you know about this, Gran? Did you help make all of this possible?
The engine died. Scott was the first one out of the boat.
“There is also a shit load of Leeches in there.” Solomon climbed up onto the bank, holding out his hand and helping his wife onto land.
I took a steadying breath. “Mini Vamp was telling the truth, then.”
“But why?”
I looked up at the redhead. “Does it really matter? The others are in there, right? So let’s go save—”
A gasp escaped Scott at exactly the same moment the others’ heads swung to the building in unison. A growl erupted from Owen who leapt onto the bank and began pulling his jacket off.
Scott ran along the front of the building, disappearing past the shrubbery and down the make-shift alley wedged between the building before us and the separate one beside it.
Standing, I looked between the trio. “What is it? What do you sense? What’s wrong?”
Owen pulled off his T-shirt. “What were the terms of your agreement with Maximo again?”
“If we find Loups in there and they are being experimented on, then you’re all free to—”
A grunt met my ears. I looked to my right to see Solomon tearing the clothes from his back.
“Are you a hundred and fifty percent sure?” I looked back at Owen, who was kicking off his trainers and pushing his jeans down his legs at the same time.
“You can’t seriously be asking me that?” A growl laced his tone.
“Pack Politics.” I hopped up onto the bank. “I don’t give a shite if you change, but the last thing I want for any of you if you’re wrong—”
Every inch of his skin rippled, the bones beneath growing. “I’m. Not.”
“Good enough for me.” I pulled my sword from its sheath.
“What about the flare gun?” Dabria asked, though my focus briefly landed on a naked, snarling Solomon who was curled up on the ground as a mass of crunching skin and sprouting red fur.
Oh, that’s nasty.
“You said earlier that we had to shoot a flare so the Italian Pack would know where we are.”
My gaze finally found the female Werewolf who was tying the boat tether to a nearby post.
“That they wouldn’t hear us call from outside this territory?”
Fuck, I had almost forgotten about that. More to the point, how would the Italian Pack get here without a boat? I highly doubted they would have one on standby since they were so adamant that we wouldn’t find a facility here...
“Heather?” Dabria pressed.
Double fuck... “Brendan had it.”
So much for Rocco’s S.O.S. plan
“What do we do?” Our attention swung to a butt-naked Owen who had fallen to his knees.
“You remember the plan?” His words were rough, panted.
“Sol and I stay out here,” Dabria replied. “No Leeches leave.”
“We stick to it.”
“When I find the flare gun, then I can alert the others—”
“Heather. Go.” He looked over his shoulder and I had to fight the urge to shudder at the bones protruding beneath his face. “I’m right behind you.”
With one last nod at the trio, I took off in the direction that Scott had taken, moving swiftly and easily along the front of the building and down the side. The neighbouring structure was only single storey, but the shape was different—the bricks darker and the whole thing somehow more foreboding. The space between the two wasn’t wide, but nature had fought its way into the strip. Overgrown weeds and plants consumed everything in their path.
Moving as quickly as I could, my focus didn’t leave the exterior of the main building as I tried to find the door or window that Scott had obviously gone through to get inside. Reaching the end of the walls, I turned into an archway. A windowless corridor stretched out before me, and as I looked up, I could see the stars through a broken canopy of branches.
Sword in hand, I stepped through the archway, pausing as something crunched beneath my feet. I glanced down. The ground was dark and uneven, littered with debris, twigs, even bricks. I turned right—my gaze swept down the corridor before me. Also roofless; branches and leaves dipped and hung low into the room.
Footsteps sounded in the distance—the scuff of boots as a group ascended. Deftly, I jogged lightly along the rubble, flinching at every stone I sent flying and twig that broke beneath my sole, not stopping until I stood before a broken doorway.
Ducking through the splintered wood, I stepped into a larger room and it hit me—the place reeked of fear, hate, and above all else, death. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and a chill swept through me. It wasn’t right that such emotions could seep from bricks and dirt, but they did, and I wasn’t entirely sure if they were feelings, energies that had been absorbed over the many decades that the island had been in use, or if it was the overpowering emotions of the Loups trapped here for however long they had been.
My ears pricked as the snap and crunch of twigs sounded behind me. Twisting away from the window, sword poised, I was about to strike when two silver eyes came into focus as a dark brown Werewolf climbed through the frame. Owen’s nostrils flared.
A crash sounded somewhere above us, metal hitting metal, the racket accompanied by shouting, cursing. A flash of fur swept passed me as Owen ran out the open doorway on the other side of the room. Hot on his tail—literally—I followed him out into what appeared to be a small courtyard. Graffiti marked the walls, and dead leaves were scattered across the floor. To my right stood a door that had been almost ripped off its hinges. I could only presume it was Scott’s handiwork since I doubted any of the Leeches had afternoon tea out here.
Moving through into what appeared to be the foyer, the stench of blood, stale earth, and God, so many scents, teased the air. Following the ruckus, I sprinted up the long flight of stone stairs.
Dim lights radiated in the hallway above us. A long one; the wall across the way had built-in windows and shutters without glass, and each window had a doorway beside it, most with the doors hanging of the hinges.
My gaze tripped down either side of the stretch of landing, noting that there was a turn at each end, but before I could ask Owen if he could sense the others and where they might be, the bulk of fur was already sprinting to the left, towards the racket.