It was late at night when Christopher returned. He had been out all day for work, as he had informed Michael that morning before leaving shortly after Eleanor had gone. Michael was in the library when his brother joined him.
"How did your business meeting go?" he asked.
"Good," Christopher replied, his dark eyes meeting Michael's. "I need to talk to you."
"What happened?" Michael asked, alarmed.
"It's about your human friend."
"Alex?" Michael's heart skipped a beat, and a vise gripped his stomach. "What happened to her?"
Christopher sat down in one of the armchairs and motioned for Michael to do the same. "Actually, I don't know. Since Rider was silent, I sent Gerard to check. He found the door ripped open and the flat completely ransacked. But she wasn't there."
"Any signs of blood? A struggle?" Michael stood up.
Christopher shook his head. "No, but the scents and traces left behind were definitely those of at least two werewolves. Gerard stayed on guard in case the human returned or someone else showed up."
"I have to leave," Michael said.
"I figured as much. Here," Christopher said, standing and handing him the keys to a car. "It's parked right outside. Gerard's waiting for you."
"Thanks, Chris."
---
The silver Porsche roared past, lighting up the deserted motorway. Michael had only one thought: Alex. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to her.
---
The bar finally closed at one o'clock. Alex sat down on a stool, exhausted.
"Good job," Jim said, approaching her. "Here." He handed her a cheque. She checked the amount and slipped it into her pocket. "Are you staying the night?" he asked.
"No, I'd rather go home."
"OK. See you soon then." And he left.
Alex made herself a cup of coffee, took it to her room, and sipped it as she packed her bag and changed. She removed the foundation from her face and briefly examined her cheek, now tinged greenish-yellow. Then she grabbed her jacket and stepped into the elevator.
---
The road was deserted and silent, and after all the evening's chatter, the quiet filled her with a pleasant calm, easing her tiredness. Occasionally, the headlights illuminated a sleeping sheep by the roadside. Alex loved the silence of the night and enjoyed the sense of solitude she felt riding alone.
When she arrived at the house, the city was still asleep. She parked her motorbike in the garage and pressed the call button for the elevator. She waited, but no sound signaled its arrival. No! Alex cursed, pressing the button again. Still nothing. Tired and annoyed, she trudged up the stairs. On those eight long flights, she mentally repeated every curse word she knew—and invented some more for the occasion. After what seemed like an endless climb, she finally reached the last few steps.
Her leg throbbed painfully, and she couldn't wait to lie down on her bed, but she froze halfway up the last step: the iron door of the flat was hanging crooked on its hinges. Cautiously, she climbed the remaining three steps and set her bag down. She looked around; the small landing was empty. She crept closer, ears pricked for any sound. Standing still in silence, she waited. Hearing nothing, she moved even closer and entered.
The living room was turned upside down. The armchair was overturned, the sofa cushions scattered on the floor. Her gaze swept every corner, but apart from the mess, no one was there. She slowly approached the wall where swords and daggers hung—but found only the katana, which she took from its holder.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sensed movement by the kitchen door. With a snap, she unsheathed the blade. A large wolf leapt from the shadows toward her. She struck its front paw with the katana, cutting it clean off. The wolf landed, rolling and yelping. Simultaneously, two more wolves appeared from the bathroom and kitchen, snarling and lunging at her.
The larger one threw her to the ground, pinning her beneath its weight. Under Alex's astonished gaze, the wolf's snout shortened, its fur thinned, and the pressure shifted—its shape transforming. From the deformed snout came guttural, unintelligible words, and hot breath brushed her face.
"Where is the wolf?"
She looked at him, confused. She struggled to wriggle free, but a paw pressed her against the floor. His strength was remarkable.
"Tell me where the wolf is!"
Alex saw the ferocity in the golden eyes. Without looking away, she twisted the katana's grip and plunged it into the animal's side. The wolf howled, and Alex slipped aside before its jaws snapped shut. She sprang to her feet—but another wolf lunged at her, hurling her against the wall. Bones cracked, and the air rushed from her lungs. For a moment, everything blurred. She shook her head to refocus—then felt a paw strike her side.
A burst of pain exploded through her flesh, and bright lights flashed behind her eyes. A cry escaped her lips as her strength fled. She landed on her outstretched arms, senses reeling. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a dagger on the ground and grabbed it. Leaning on the katana, she rose and held the blade's length between her and the wolf. But the smallest of the three beasts lunged again. She ducked and drove the dagger into its belly. The wolf collapsed, slamming against the wall.
A ferocious growl erupted behind her. Alex turned to face the newcomer, but instead of attacking her, the wolf lunged at the wounded one and bit its scruff. Effortlessly, it lifted the wolf and threw it through the window, which shattered as the body tumbled outside.
Alex tensed, waiting for another attack. But the wolf trembled—and before her eyes, transformed into Michael. She stared as he approached.
"It's me," he said, hands raised. "We have to get out of here." He stepped aside to let her pass.
She remained frozen, weapons clenched in her hands.
"Let's go!" he urged. "I won't hurt you, but there may be more!" Turning his back, he headed for the freight elevator and unlocked the shutter. He picked up the clothes he'd taken off and quickly put them back on.
Alex stood, staring at the wolves' bodies scattered on her floor. She dropped the katana and dagger and pressed a hand to her side. Pulling it back, she saw it was wet with her own blood.
"Quick!" Michael's voice pulled her back, and she finally caught up.
As the elevator descended, she stood opposite him, eyes fixed on him. She didn't know whether to believe what she'd seen—but when in doubt, she preferred to keep her distance. Her thoughts blurred and slipped away, and her strength waned.
When the elevator reached the ground floor, Michael opened the door and looked quickly around. No one was there. He ran to the exit and flung the door open.
"Quick!" he said, turning to Alex. But she remained rooted. He came back, grabbed her arm.
"No time!" he said, pushing her outside.
Her legs moved sluggishly as she tried to reach the car, tripping over herself. Michael caught her before she fell, opened the door for her, then went around to the driver's seat, starting the engine with a skid as soon as she was inside. He dodged the wolf's body lying in the street and headed out of town.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, glancing at her once the city lights faded behind them.
"Oh, fuck!" he swore, braking and pulling onto a country lane. "Let me see!" He slid his hand from her hip.
Alex watched as he took off his shirt and tore strips from it, trying to bandage her wound. She felt as if inside a glass bubble: sounds muffled, movements jerky, vision blurred. Her limbs felt heavy and disconnected from her body.
"Fangs or claws?" a voice boomed inside his confused mind. His eyes searched for the source of the distorted sounds.
"Fangs or claws?" Michael repeated.
"Claws," came the reply.
Michael sighed with relief. After dabbing the blood, he looked at her.
"Stay with me, Alex," he said, cupping her face and bringing it close. "It'll be OK."
She nodded, though the fire in her side was spreading. She clenched her teeth against the pain.
Michael sped up again, one hand fiddling with his phone until the speakerphone rang.
"Hello?"
"Call Fredrik."
"What happened?" Christopher's voice sounded worried. "Are you OK?"
"I'm fine, but Alex is hurt." Michael glanced at the seat beside him, where Alex lay unconscious.
"You'll find him waiting when you get there."
Michael reached out and touched Alex's hot face. The poison was already in her system. Angrily, he pressed the accelerator and focused on the road.
Alex tried to think, but her mind slowed down. Michael was talking—maybe on the phone, maybe to her. She looked out the window as dawn approached. She fought to keep her eyes open, catching Michael's worried glance before blackness took her.
---
Dark plywood panels obscured the glazing, preventing any light from leaking into the shed. Nestled in the countryside on the outskirts of Oldgrove, among many other now-abandoned and dilapidated buildings, this one had been chosen because the roof was still intact, as were the internal floors — which allowed for a rough division of the rooms.
Nereus stopped the black SUV in the large dirt clearing stretching out in front of the former wool mill. A man in military fatigues approached him. In silence, they passed through the hand-to-hand combat training room, the shooting range, and the refectory — all occupied by werewolves engaged in various activities — until they reached an iron staircase leading to the mezzanine, to an office with a glass wall overlooking the entrance.
Night limped up beside him. His bare chest was marked by a large, bloodstained bandage on his back. He followed Nereus silently up the stairs. Once inside the office, the leader of the strays watched through the glass window as the werewolves trained on the tatami mats. Behind him, Nereus waited silently, his head bowed.
"You let me down."
"Barclay came to the rescue of the human."
"And you let him slip through your fingers." Nereus turned and looked at Night with cold, impassive eyes.
"If you give me another chance, I won't fail."
"How did one wolf manage to knock out — even kill — three of them?" Anger now seeped into his words.
"The human. She turned out not to be the easy target we thought, but a warrior."
"What do you mean by warrior?"
"She's skilled with daggers and swords. We didn't expect that."
"Beaten by a human! It's even worse!" Disgust and disapproval were now obvious. "You won't get another chance. By now Barclay will have joined his brother. The war has been declared. I want you to train the new recruits. They must be ready as soon as possible."
"It will be done."
"I hope at least this task isn't too much for you."
"I won't fail you, sir." Night's eyes remained fixed on the floor, but anger at the humiliation he had suffered made his blood boil. He watched his pack leader walk out the door, then he too descended the stairs and joined the werewolves training in the shooting room. He would turn those former humans into real soldiers.