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tonight how many did he have to eat in order to properly heal enough to be
strong again? You saw it in his eyes! There was no shame. The beast reveled in
the carnage that is the demon! They grow to love the killing and kill more
than they could possibly consume or would ever need!"
She shook her head and hot tears rose in her eyes. The unnamed man before her
had finally pushed the right buttons. "Who sent you?" she said, her voice a
shaky rasp of emotion.
"The elders."
"Fuck the brass!"
He shook his head no. "Tribal councils. Not your hierarchy."
"There has to be a cure, a containment strategy, first. I'll find Woods and
Fisher, my way I'll get them off the streets. Not you!" Her voice fractured
and she clenched her jaw, breathing hard. She knew this man was right, his
concern sound. She'd seen evidence of Rod's deteriorating condition with her
own eyes. But it still carved her up. Then it came to her in a jolt. Shogun
had said that her kind was trying to take demon-infected werewolf blood and
introduce it to a wider audience. Was it the military and could they have been
using Rod as a guinea pig? Testing the demon infection on him? Did it have
anything to do with why they had been sending him on one mission after the
other? It would definitely explain his growing edginess over the last four to
five months. Could Doc have known about it and allowed it to happen? Could he
have been the one who had given it to Rod? No, she couldn't believe he would
do such a thing. Doc was the only one who looked out for them. But she could
believe that he may have been forced to keep his silence about it. They might
have even hung her life over his head. From their all-too-brief conversation,
it was clear that Doc was still trying to protect her.
"Sasha," the stranger said, bringing her back to her current problem. "I will
respect your territory, so long as you hunt with purpose and keep the innocent
safe. But I will be your shadow& until you learn to be your own wolf. That is
as much of a compromise as I'm willing to offer. Purge the guilt, Sasha. Do it
now, before it consumes you. Grieve for the man, but do not grieve for having
to do what you had to do."
She let the wind howl between them for what seemed like a long, cold while.
"Would you take my coat?" he asked quietly, truly wanting peace between them.
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"Perhaps we can drive to a diner, so we can talk? You can see my goal is not
to harm you, and I believe you are capable of defending yourself, even if mat
was my intention."
"I'll follow you in my car." She backed up, still wary, her heart heavy.
"I thought we'd established that you were being tracked." He waited, his voice
calm, flat, matter-of-fact. "I am no liar."
She glanced over her shoulder at her Nitro, knowing that it could take her the
rest of the night until dawn broke to find a minuscule transistor embedded
within it. Doc Holland's words tumbled around in her brain. She had to get a
new vehicle, had to get new clothes, had to get an untraced cell phone. Had to
call Doc again. If she was going to find Woods and Fisher and protect them for
their own good, as well as protect the general public, she had to learn more.
But the fact that Doc now knew how far gone Rod had been made her worry less
about Woods's and Fisher's safety. If Doc knew, surely he wouldn't have
allowed the brass to ship them off together. He was possibly working on a cure
even as she thought about it. If anything, they might already have the guys
contained& if they were dead or about to be killed, Doc would have told her,
right?
Caution still made her back up to her Nitro. Her gaze unblinking on the
mystery man before her, she opened the passenger's side door, and traded her
pump shotgun for her nine, wedging it into her now loose waistband, and
gathered a fresh clip and a Bowie knife from her glove compartment For a
moment her hand slid over her medical case, and after fingering it, she
decided to leave it, no longer sure of what she'd been injecting herself with
for years.
Stripping her wallet, she jammed loose cash, her ID, and credit cards into her
back pants pocket and tossed the potential bug carrier onto the car floor, and
then slammed the door and locked it.
"Try anything funny, and I slaughter you," she said, her voice matter-of-fact
and her gaze steady. "I don't care if you're driving at a hundred miles per
hour yes, I'm just that crazy, will blow your head off just for grins, and
will take my chances with an airbag. We clear?"
"Very," he said with no strain in his tone.
For some odd reason, she felt a lump form in her throat as he cautiously slid [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]