Silver Bullet Part 2

The others landed beside him, bodies and faces honing with vampiric bloodl.u.s.t, teeth bared.

Navarro pointed to his eyes then at Emmy and Dylan, indicating they should circle the house to search. Joe, he kept behind him, determined to rein in the young vampire's rage. Joe would be no help to his wife Lily, still inside The Compound, if he let his inner beast surface now.

Navarro was glad his woman, Sidney, was still with the limousine parked farther down the road along with the three geneticists they'd brought from Seattle. That he'd had to give the limo driver orders to sit on her if she tried to follow filled him with grim amus.e.m.e.nt. Sidney might try to beg, cajole, threaten or lie to get her way, but the driver wouldn't risk displeasing a Master, no matter how tempting the s.e.xy little baggage could be.

He could well imagine how Joe felt at the moment, wondering whether his woman still lived. Only last night, Sidney had been in Zachary Powell's grasp, with the winged vamp ready to make a meal of her. Navarro drew in a deep steadying breath and focused on the task before them, stretching out his mind to search the grounds for an animal's intellect... but finding nothing.

Along the outer walkway encircling the house, one door stood ajar. Navarro and Joe slipped through it, following the scent-trail of wolf through the room, the foyer, and up the long curved staircase.

At the top of the stairs, Navarro found the remains of two men sprawled on the landing, wolf-stink clinging to their naked skin, stab wounds leaking blood sluggishly into the carpet.

Joe shoved him from behind. "Lily!" His whisper was harsh.

Navarro pushed him back and entered the bedroom first, finding at last the tangy musk of human blood-a lot of it.

On the floor lay a woman, her stomach opened, gray entrails visible inside a gaping wound. Blood seeped steadily, darkening her blue dress. Her face was ashen, her features pale and lifeless. Quentin Albermarle crouched over her, draining what was left of her life, his harsh breaths punctuating each long draw.

So this was Quentin's new wife. Navarro shuddered. The agony etched on the other vampire's face and the destruction of a young, vital human, who minutes ago had been filled with the promise of new life, produced a heavy ache in the center of his chest.

Pushing back feelings that threatened to overwhelm him, Navarro's gaze fell on the woman's wounds, the ragged tears made by claws and the deeper gouges that could only indicate a wolf's bite. "Quentin, you must let her go."

The golden-haired vampire lifted his face, a look of pure hatred twisting his features. "Try to stop me and I'll kill you! Get out!" he snarled, lisping a bit around his elongated fangs. He raised his wrist to his mouth and slashed it open with his teeth. Then he held it above the dying woman's slackened mouth and let his blood drip onto her tongue.

"Sweet Jesus!" Joe jostled past Navarro and stared down at the couple, his body trembling. "Darcy," he said, his cry anguished.

Quentin's face hardened, and his shoulders bunched. His jaws opened wide around a roar as his gaze narrowed on Joe.

Navarro found the tension between the two vamps telling. So despite their seeming truce, not all issues were resolved between the two vampires regarding Quentin's wife. Understanding Joe's grief for the loss of his child and soon his former lover, nevertheless Navarro grasped Joe's shoulder to hold him back.

Joe tried to shrug off his hand and fisted his own at his sides. He closed his eyes and turned. "Lily," he whispered. "I have to go to Lily."

Navarro released him and took a step back.

Joe skirted Quentin and his woman and ran to the metal door beyond, pounding on it. "Lily, are you in there?" he shouted, his voice thickening with the need to fully transform.

With emotions running thick and thoughts whirling and clashing like h.e.l.l's demons, Navarro fought the urge to release his own inner beast. He could commiserate with their pain, but he couldn't permit it to suffocate him. Focus! He fought the bloodl.u.s.t and the red haze receded.

"Joe?" a woman's voice, broken and thick with emotion, sounded from the speaker next to the door.

Joe slumped against the metal. "Baby, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. What about Darcy? I can't see her on the monitor. Joe, what's happened to Darcy?"

Joe's gaze fell on the dying woman, and his eyes filled. "Stay inside until it's safe. Don't open the door until I tell you."

"Joe!" she cried out.

Navarro grabbed his arm. "Sweep the house. Make sure there aren't any more cur-dogs inside." Best to keep him busy venting his rage in a productive way-and keep him away from Quentin.

Joe's shoulders bunched, a refusal on his lips, and his gaze fell on Darcy one last time. Then he nodded and left the room.

Alone with Quentin and his dying wife, Navarro hesitated. Since he'd opened his heart's door to Sidney, sentiment flooded in, bringing overpowering surges of anger and grief. He felt awkward, even inadequate, but needed to offer comfort, while at the same time issuing a command that would devastate one of only two men on the planet he considered friends.

He knelt beside Quentin and placed his hand on the other vampire's shoulder.

"Quentin, you have to let her go. She was bitten by a wolf."

Quentin reared back his head and roared, his face crackling as his vampire mask presented fully. He snarled, but kept his hand poised above the woman's unmoving lips.

Navarro understood his pain, but he also understood the woman's soul was already gone-stolen by a wolf's bite. If she were turned to a vampire now, her bloodl.u.s.t would be uncontrollable. If she lived.

Blood pooled in her mouth and she had yet to swallow.

Navarro's jaw clenched at the gruesome evidence of her suffering. For so long he'd kept himself apart from others, building a wall around his heart. Their thoughts, their pain, even their joys had made him writhe inside. Over time, his heart had grown cold- and blissfully inured. Until Sidney. She had changed all that in just a few days. What would he do if he were faced with the same gut-wrenching decision?

Perhaps he had only to bide his time and let Quentin come to the realization his woman was lost to him. Her body was likely too damaged to withstand the transformation anyway.

He rose and backed away, then closed the door behind him to shut out the sounds of Quentin's anguished breaths as he sobbed, his lifeblood seeping away as surely as Darcy Albermarle's humanity.

The wolf rushed through the open door, into the darkened room beyond, its claws clattering on the tiled floor.

Woman! Mate! It had to find her.

Following wolf scent and the musty odor of blood, it sped through the room and up the curved staircase toward the light beckoning at the top.

Heedless of any danger, the wolf charged upward, stretching its limbs to leap several steps at a time in its desperation to find her-the slim, dark-haired one.

At the top of the stairs, the wolf came to a halt, hackles rising on shoulders and back at the smell of blood-wolf blood. Bodies stretched on the floor before it, blood soaking the carpet beneath its paws. But what gave the animal pause were the looming, growling figures that faced it, standing above the corpses.

Enemy! Danger breathed in their combined rage.

The wolf started forward, first left then right, retreat being impossible because the dark-haired woman was nearby and sobbing. The sounds of her harsh cries brought up a howl that echoed in the narrow hallway.

The wolf heard the sounds the men made, harsh and loud, echoing in the hallway, but didn't comprehend, only recognized the hatred tightening the voice of the nearest manlike creature.

Another sob drew its attention, just as the nearest foe leapt, wrapping powerful arms around the wolf's throat-so tight it couldn't breathe. It wriggled and jerked, gnashing teeth, but the man held fast to the wolf while another drew a shining rope over its muzzle.

Another spate of harsh sounds and a moment later, a jolt knocked the breath from its body and brought the wolf to its haunches, leaving it quivering in the aftermath. Still, it fought to stand.

Another jolt, this time searing in its ferocity left the wolf powerless, its tongue lolling from between its jaws. Blackness encroached, and in the moment before it surrendered, the wolf knew itself trapped.

Max Weir awoke slowly, every muscle in his body aching. He rolled from his back onto his knees, and rested his forehead on the floor for a moment to recover from the change of equilibrium, shocked his whole body trembled from the effort.

Something had kicked the s.h.i.t out of him.

When he lifted his head to see, he felt a sharp tug and the bite of metal around his neck.

Instinct kicked in and he roared, tucking in his head to lunge against the chain. When he failed to budge it, he reached deep inside for the strength to transform.

"Turn, and we'll kill you where you sit." The voice, soft and deadly with slight European inflections, was one he didn't recognize. But Max did recognize the steel beneath the words and resisted the primal urge to let loose his inner beast on his captors.

Still woozy and struggling to regain his full intellect, Max shook his head experimentally and realized it wasn't one leash, but two, pulling in opposite directions to keep him lowered to the floor.

Again, Max raised his head, slowly this time, and blinked against the bright light, bringing focus to his eyes. He was in the living room of The Compound, in the very center where they'd cleared away the furniture. He knelt on the beige carpet, still naked after his latest chase.

A sideways glance revealed Dylan and Joe held the ends of his chains wrapped around their fists, their expressions set and lethal. His gut twisted, betrayal tasting bitter after all he'd done to keep his spot on the Special Unit following the revelation of his true, were nature.

Max's lips curled, baring his teeth. Show the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds the feral beast.

"I've no patience for posturing."

Again that d.a.m.nable voice. Max slowly lifted his head to stare at the vamp who could only be Navarro, the Master from the Northwest Council.

He sat in a chair facing Max. His dark sloe eyes narrowed as he stared.

"Why am I chained?" Max asked, not surprised to find his voice hoa.r.s.e, his throat raw. He recalled a struggle and choking.

"The more appropriate question would be why are you still living?" Navarro asked, no hint of his thoughts in his even tone.

Unable to glance around, Max sniffed to determine if others watched, but found no more nearby scents. Only the odor of death, overlaid with the musk of several wolves.

Somewhere distant in the house. "They got inside The Compound?"

"Don't give me a ration of s.h.i.t, were," Joe shouted, jerking on his chain.

"You knew they were close?" Dylan asked from the end of his chain, his voice soft, but menacing.

Max gritted his teeth, fighting for breath as the metal constricted around his throat. "I caught their scent and followed them-outside the gate."

"Why didn't you radio to the others and sound the alert?" Joe jerked the chain again.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Max spat. "Commo was out."

"What did you do with the guards?" Joe asked, with another tug.

Max gasped. If he ever got free, he'd tear his buddy a new a.s.shole. "Not a f.u.c.king thing... Didn't encounter any."

"How convenient," Joe sneered. "And you didn't question that fact?"

"I sent Pia...to round up the guards. Slipped out the gate...wanted to keep their trail."

Joe wound the chain rope over and over his fist, coming closer. He leaned down, close enough so Max could see the golden discs of his eyes and his vampire fangs. "And did you find them, ole buddy?"

"I think so."

The chain held by Dylan tightened.

Max cursed. "I transformed. I remember impressions... of wolves. Several surrounding me...after I'd chased them a while."

"You were surrounded by wolves?" Joe asked, his voice low and deadly. "Must have been a family reunion. You don't have a scratch on you!"

"I... don't... know why... they wouldn't fight me," Max panted, trying to draw in air past the constricting metal. "I smell blood."

Joe slammed his side. "Nice try, f.u.c.king wolf. Tell me you don't know Darcy's dead!"

Max felt lightheaded, ready to pa.s.s out, but turned to stare. "What the f.u.c.k?" His throat closed so tight, the words were forced.

"She's dead, were!" Joe shouted, his face red, tears filling his eyes. "And I'm gonna f.u.c.king kill you myself!"

"You think I-" The look in Joe's face said he didn't care if Max had been the one to hurt Darcy or not. He wanted blood.

"Pia?" Max whispered. "Pia's...all right?" He struggled to get to his feet.

"Stay on your knees and clasp your hands behind your back." This came from Navarro, who'd watched the whole inquiry in silence. "Loosen the chain a little, Joe. I don't want him dead... yet."

Max glared at his rescuer, but complied with his orders, and when the chain relented, he dragged air into his burning lungs.

A radio squawked. "Dylan!" Emmy's voice broke over the air.

Dylan unclipped a radio from his belt with his free hand. "What's up, Em? Did you reach the limo?" "Yeah." Emmy paused to clear her throat. "But tell Navarro the driver and Sidney are both out cold. And Dylan, Dr. Deats and his colleagues are gone."

"Mother-f.u.c.kin' b.a.s.t.a.r.ds," Joe swore.

Dylan aimed a deadly glare at Max and spoke into the radio. "Hotfoot it back here- ".

"Already pulling through the gates, baby."

Navarro's eyes closed momentarily, and then he stood. "Bring everyone here," he said, enunciating so precisely the Spanish inflections in his voice sliced the air. "Lock down this place. And then I want everyone in this room. Get this dog some clothes." He left in the direction of the front of the house as tires squealed in the distance.

Max slumped to his knees. "Darcy was killed by a wolf?"

Joe didn't answer, but his breaths grew choppy.

"I swear, I didn't know. I wasn't part of this."

"Save it for someone who gives a d.a.m.n. Far as I'm concerned, you're a walking dead man."

Chapter Three.