Faerie Forged, page 27
I released her and she dropped, hard. She didn’t even try to arrest her fall. The key card was clipped to her pocket. Red smears streaked the lamination.
Tearing the key off, I hobbled after Sophie. Each limping step sent a wave of pain through my leg.
As I crossed the room, my eyes flicked toward movement off to one side. The last scientist, the brunette woman. She was crouched, half-buried in boxes, on the side of the room. Our gaze met for a moment. Her face blanched. Her eyes were wide and wet. I turned away. There were too many loose ends, too many dangers. My first concern was to get the door open and deal with whatever was on the other side.
O’Connell had a head start. That meant any other guards in the building were probably on their way to put us down. We’d have to get past them to get out. Even then, I couldn’t just leave. I had to find O’Connell and the camera holding all our secrets. Otherwise, the danger would follow us no matter where we went.
From the wild rage in Sophie’s eyes as she bounced off the now dented door yet again, I knew she’d probably charge head first into the fray despite already being injured, but I wasn’t about to stand between an angry werewolf and her revenge. I wasn’t suicidal.
I swiped the key card over the black panel on the door. There was a click, and the next time Sophie slammed into the metal, it buckled. Without the lock’s reinforcement, the latch snapped and the door swung outward, hanging askew in its warped frame by one set of battered hinges. As soon as the door popped, a storm of bullets filled the hall.
I tackled Sophie before she cleared the cover of the steel door. Okay, so maybe I was suicidal . . .
Luckily, the bullets were all flying in the same direction and most clinked into the door like angry wasps. Sophie squirmed under me, twisting to snap at my face as I clung to her bucking body.
“Come on out, Alex.” The shouted taunt was muffled by the gunfire, but it was O’Connell’s voice, no mistake. No other sound made my stomach twist like that.
A sharp whistle hissed to my left. A few feet away, past a second door, the hallway dead-ended in a collection of tall metal cylinders and a brick wall. A sign dangled around the neck of one of the cylinders bearing a picture of stylized fire. A second whistle joined the first as another hole was punched in the gas tanks.
Eyes widening, I planted my feet and hauled back with my full weight. My calf screamed at the abuse. Sophie’s clawed paws scrabbled against the floor as she tipped up on her hind legs. Then we both toppled backward through the doorway. My back hit the floor, and one hundred fifty pounds of werewolf landed on top of me, pressing the air from my lungs. I gasped, my grip loosened, and Sophie rolled to her feet.
She spared me a growl, then threw herself back toward the open doorway. Even if I’d been wrong about the ruptured tanks, she’d be mowed down by the soldiers’ bullets.
I reached for her, but I was still gasping for breath. My hand fell short.
Then a sound like tearing metal and rushing waves filled the basement. A cloud of red and orange fire bloomed in the hall. Most of the force and fire was funneled toward O’Connell’s men, but the door diverted some of the blast into our room before tearing free of its remaining hinge and bouncing out of sight on a billow of flame.
Sophie yelped and dropped to the ground beside me. I curled onto my side, scrunched my eyes shut against the bright heat, and wrapped my arms around my head. The rushing in my ears disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving me cowering in dark silence.
I wrinkled my nose at the acrid scent of singed hair. My skin felt tight, like canvas stretched thin over a too-large frame. Blinking, I uncurled and looked around.
The fire had devoured all the gas as it moved through the room, burning itself out as it traveled, but some of the cardboard boxes piled near the door had ignited, along with a few splinters in the exposed joists above. Smoke curled off these secondary fires, collecting against the ceiling.
Sophie lay on her side, panting. Patches of her fur were charred black. Maggie was still in her cage and seemed unharmed. The brunette scientist was using her lab coat to whack at the nearest burning boxes, but the flames quickly spread to the white fabric and she was forced to drop it beside the boxes she’d failed to extinguish. She looked over and met my gaze. Tears stained her cheeks. Her eyes were red and puffy.
Fire didn’t care about species. Her fate was now the same as ours.
Grabbing one of the guards’ guns, I found a release to detach the clip, then crossed the room and shoved the disarmed weapon into the woman’s hands. I pointed to the windows set high in the brick wall. My ears were ringing, hers probably were too, so I raised my voice. “See if you can get those open. Maybe we can climb out. At least we can clear some smoke.”
Setting her jaw, she gave a jerky nod and moved to the back of the room, where she began pounding against the blackened glass with the butt of the gun.
I coughed. Only seconds had passed, but my throat was already growing scratchy from the smoke collecting in the room.
Keeping low, where the air was cleaner, I ducked back through the missing bars and crouched in front of Maggie. “Are you hurt?”
Her eyes were scrunched closed, her arms wrapped tight around her stomach.
“Maggie!” I gripped her shoulders. “Are. You. Hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Then we need to go.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her through the insubstantial bars, but released her before approaching Sophie.
I covered my nose with my sweater sleeve to block the smell of burnt fur, but it didn’t help. She was breathing more regularly and her tongue no longer lolled on the floor. When I came close, her eyes snapped into focus.
“Can you change back?”
Sophie rolled onto her belly, pulled her four legs under her, then pushed unsteadily to her feet.
I waited, but nothing happened. Guess she wasn’t calm enough to change. Not that I could blame her. My heart was racing with adrenaline, and panic was clamoring at the edges of my control. My throat burned. It was hard to take a breath without coughing. The fire had been burning for less than a minute, but the temperature had skyrocketed, and the smoke was getting thicker as the flames spread.
“Help me . . .”
I twisted toward the voice. The red-haired woman was on her stomach, dragging herself toward us. A crimson streak trailed behind her.
When she saw me looking, she pointed to a white box attached to one of the not-brick walls. “First aid kit.”
A growl vibrated deep in Sophie’s chest.
I felt my own lip curl. “Why should we help you?”
“I’ll die if you don’t.”
“You kidnapped, tortured, and killed innocent people.” My voice hitched, and my eyes flicked to Oz’s lifeless body. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”
But even as I shouted my defiance, I knew I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave her there to die. I might not be human anymore, but I wasn’t a monster.
Then a thought popped into my head. A wonderful, terrible thought. I glanced at Sophie, then smiled at the maimed woman.
“I hope you like meat.” I shuffled to the first aid kit and tore it off the wall with a grunt that turned into a cough. “Sophie was a vegetarian when she was turned, so she had a lot of trouble.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about.”
“Sophie and Oz were never fae.” My smile widened. “They’re werewolves.”
Her face went slack as comprehension dawned.
I dropped the first aid kit beside her. “Welcome to the team.”
The brunette woman continued to bang against the window, each blow punctuated by a bout of coughing, but the glass just rattled. Coughs and clangs weren’t the only noises however. From beyond the charred exit came muffled voices.
I looked at Sophie, who was the only one of us not coughing. Her face was turned toward the sound, ears swiveling like radar dishes to pinpoint the source. Her lip pulled back, exposing teeth. If the soldiers were regrouping . . .
I gritted my teeth. “We have to go.”
“I’m trying,” The brunette woman panted as she brought the butt of the gun against the window again.
I shook my head. “If it hasn’t broken yet, it’s not going to.”
I glanced down at my wrist and pictured Galen’s silky, black ribbon on my dresser back home. A shadow walker could have taken us right through the walls. I gritted my teeth. “We’ll have to make our way through the building.”
“What about the guards?” Maggie piped up, her eyes wide. “They’ll shoot us if we go out there.”
“And we’ll suffocate or burn alive if we stay here,” I countered. The cardboard boxes were nearly gone, their contents reduced to a pile of flaming rubble, but the fire hadn’t ended with them. Flames danced in a gap where the twisted door frame exposed a wooden beam in the wall, and the fire kindled by the splinters in the joists above had spread, rolling like water along the ceiling. The bricks of the outer walls wouldn’t burn, but they were heating up. Already, my shirt was drenched in sweat and slick tendrils of hair stuck to my forehead.
I looked at the red-haired woman and frowned. She hadn’t touched the first aid kit. She just sat, staring at nothing. I pointed to Maggie and the brunette. “You two help her.”
Maggie opened the first aid kit and grabbed a roll of gauze, which she tossed to me. “You first.” She pointed to my injured leg.
Nodding, I tore off the bottom half of my blood-soaked legging and began wrapping the wound. My skin was green and purple around the puncture holes created by Sophie’s teeth, but the damage wasn’t as severe as it could have been. Maybe Sophie held back. Or maybe that warmth I felt swirling through me when I called my magic had done more than just soothe the pain. Whatever the case, my leg was usable—so long as I didn’t mind the sensation of needles jabbing into my nerves every time I took a step.
“Sophie.” Lifting another of the fallen guns, I hobbled to the exit and turned to the wolf.
She was vibrating with a steady growl.
I searched her eyes. Could she understand me? Was the human part of her even present in this form? There wasn’t time to test it, not with seconds eating away at our chances for survival. I’d just have to hope for the best. “Don’t get caught in the crossfire.”
I caught Maggie’s eye as she started to bandage the injured woman’s leg. “We’ll clear a path. Follow as fast as you can. We need to stay ahead of the fire.”
Chapter 27
I TOOK A SHALLOW, wheezing breath, then jumped past the flames licking up one side of the bent door frame. Ruptured cylinders littered the floor, mixed with chunks of brick and wallboard. A hole had been punched in the wood paneling that lined the lower half of the hallway, probably by one of the tanks. The pale, paisley wallpaper that ran along the top was scorched brown at this end of the hall. Wisps of smoke curled off it. Once that wallpaper ignited, the fire would spread fast.
Most of the overhead lights had blown out, making the landscape a collection of shifting shadows and highlights cast by the flickering orange glow that filtered in from the other room. At the far end of the hall, a single bulb still burned.
Soldiers lay scattered along the hall. The ones nearest me weren’t moving, their exposed skin black and peeling. They’d taken the full impact of the explosion. The scorched and dented door of our cell covered one of the bodies. Three other men were extricating themselves from the corpses. Blood gushed from one man’s forehead, bathing his face in a curtain of red. Another clutched what looked like a piece of shrapnel sticking out of his chest. The black fabric of his shirt hid any stain. The last man struggling up wore a brown jacket.
O’Connell. Of course the cockroach had survived.
Smoke leaked from the room where we’d been held, but the dead end by the now ruptured cylinders remained blessedly flame-free. The fire must have moved too fast in that first rush to ignite the walls.
O’Connell struggled to his knees, turned, and saw me. He raised a shaking hand, pointing. “Shoot her!”
I lifted the stolen gun to my shoulder. I’d only ever shot my pistol, but the men were packed tight in the hallway, groggy and disoriented from the explosion. I couldn’t miss.
My finger rested on the trigger. The soldiers looked at me with dazed expressions. None were holding their weapons.
O’Connell grabbed something off the ground, the battered camera, then turned and ran.
I sighted down the barrel of the gun. My vision narrowed to O’Connell’s back, bobbing away. I squeezed the trigger.
As I did, Sophie lurched through the doorway. She hit my leg, knocking me sideways. The gun fired, and a chunk of plaster dropped from the ceiling, showering O’Connell’s shoulder.
“Damn it!” I straightened the gun, but O’Connell was already climbing the stairs at the end of the hall.
The soldiers were moving now, groping for weapons as Sophie charged them, snarling. If I shot again, I’d hit her as likely as them.
Behind me, something clanged. I jerked to inspect the gas tanks. Surely they’d all gone up in the first explosion?
The clang sounded again, not from directly behind me, but from behind the still closed door on the other side of the hall.
Sophie reached the soldiers. The first man’s scream was cut short. The second got two shots off before his throat opened in a shower of blood and bubbles. Sophie staggered, leaned against the wall for a moment, then stumbled towards the stairs. She wasn’t moving werewolf fast. She wasn’t even moving human fast. She left a bright red streak on the wall. At least some of that blood was hers.
The metallic clang repeated, jerking my attention back to the sealed door. I took two steps and reached for the handle. Hot metal seared my palm. I yelped, cradling my hand.
Maggie and the two scientists stumbled into the hall behind me. Maggie and the brunette were struggling to support the redhead between them. The woman’s leg was bandaged, but blood had already soaked through the gauze. Maybe she wouldn’t survive to turn into a werewolf after all.
“What’s through here?” I indicated the closed door. “Can we get out?”
The brunette tore her attention away from the carnage in the hall to see where I was pointing. Her face was drained of color. She shook her head. “No.”
“I heard something.”
“There’s no way out through there.”
The clang repeated, and I pointed at the door. “That, there.”
She shook her head again. “We can’t.” Her voice cracked. Her lip began to quiver. She was barely holding herself together.
A dry lump formed in my throat. “Are there people in there? More prisoners? Like us?”
“I’m just a tech,” she sobbed. “Not even that. Just an assistant.”
Dropping my borrowed gun, I grabbed the woman by the shoulders, pulling her away from Maggie and the injured woman, and gave her a shake. “What’s in there?”
“Fae,” she whispered. “Prisoners we were . . . experimenting on.”
I inhaled, only to choke on smoke. The fire had made it into the walls, thanks to the exposed beam near our broken door. It wouldn’t take long for it to spread through the whole basement, including the room where those people were trapped. “We need to get them out.”
She shook her head. “There’s no time.”
I pushed past her, past Maggie and the redhead, and jumped back through the burning doorway. The heat in the room had grown more intense. My eyes streamed, blurring my vision as I searched the area around the door.
“Alex,” Maggie shouted. She lowered her charge to the floor and stood beside the brunette. Their faces were equally ashen, their eyes wide. “What are you doing?”
There, on the floor, was the plastic rectangle I’d used to unlock our door, slightly melted along one edge. Please, let it still work.
Pulling down the sleeve of my sweater to protect my hand, I grabbed the key card.
A gunshot rang out, breaking through the crackle of the flames and our punctuating coughs.
Maggie spun and screamed.
I raced back into the hall, looking for the threat I’d missed.
The red-haired woman was motionless on the floor. Her hair now bore darker streaks, slick and shining. Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. The gun I’d dropped lay beside her limp hand.
Some people would rather die with as much of their humanity intact as they can. It felt like a long time ago that Marc told me about the choice every werewolf was forced to make.
Maggie was standing in the middle of the hall, both hands over her mouth. The brunette was slumped against the far wall, just to the side of the locked door, a stunned expression on her face.
Gritting my teeth, I stepped over the dead woman. Had she been too weak to face her fate? Or too strong in her faith to let it happen? Was it bravery or cowardice that led her to take her own life? I was betting on cowardice.
I swiped the card, sighing with relief when the lock clicked.
Using my sweater-wrapped hand, I grabbed the doorknob and twisted. The split second of contact was like pulling a tray of brownies out of the oven with a towel.
Smoke poured into the room with me. Behind me, the flames around the burning doorway surged their glee at finding a new pocket of oxygen. The paisley patterns of the wallpaper lining the hall had all turned black.
The new room was at least as large as the one I’d been locked in, but far more crowded. Cages lined the side walls. Not cages like the one I’d been in, or even Oz’s smaller prison. These cages were barely four feet square, stacked two high, and there was a fae crammed into every one.
I glanced toward the doorway. I couldn’t see the redhead in the hall, but I remembered the look on her face when I told her she’d become a werewolf. Cowardice. Definitely cowardice. She knew exactly how paranaturals were treated, because she’d done it herself. She couldn’t face a life on the other side of those bars, couldn’t accept what she’d become.
