Demon Driven (20 page)

“I’m just saying!” I finally finished, hands
placating.

They turned back to the photos, ignoring my
comment as unworthy of an answer.

I looked to the men, who wore matching
bemused expressions, until Brett gave me a sympathetic nod.

Of course, Alpha weres of either sex would be
formidable.

“Right, then, I’ll just grab a bite to eat
while you all continue on,” I said. The domination games that all
wolves play, especially Alphas, are not my cup of tea. On top of
that, every time they implied a challenge, it sent the beast under
my skin into a rage. Completely unnerved and as always, hungry, I
headed to the buffet line, loading a plate with shrimp, stuffed
mushrooms, pasta alfredo, and cheese cubes. Then I filled a second
plate at the carving station with rare beef, turkey and ham slices.
Apparently, Pack functions leaned heavily toward the carnivorous
side of the menu. I stood to one side, chowing down and talking
myself out of my annoyance. What the hell was I doing here anyway?
And what the hell was all the attitude from the females. Screw it!
I would finish my food and hit the road. Fucking wolves! My
self-pep talk wasn’t going well.

“Excuse me? Are you Chris?” a voice
asked.

I turned with my mouth stuffed full of food
to find a petite blonde woman, who was probably in her
late-thirties or early forties, and almost certainly Stacia’s
mother. Very pretty, even through the tired, world-weary demeanor
of a single mom. I gulped my food down and answered.

“Yes ma’am. Are you Stacia’s mom?”

She nodded briskly, and it struck me that
however hard this was for me, meeting the Pack like this had to be
extremely intimidating to her.

“Yes, I’m Lisa, Lisa Reynolds. Ah..Stacia has
told me all about how you saved her from that…..” she gulped and
looked around before lowering her voice, “
thing!
”

“It was a rogue, ma’am, and I never should
have let it get to your daughter. I’ll be sorry about that the rest
of my life!”

“But you saved her! You can’t blame yourself
for the bite!”

Actually, I could and did, but she wouldn’t
understand that part of it and I was still raw from thinking about
it.

“Anyway, I’m really happy to meet you. Stacia
talks about you a great deal. She’ll be glad to see you here. I’m
sure she wants to talk to you…” She glanced at her daughter and the
attendant swarm of males “… when she gets a moment.”

I didn’t think that was a great idea, but
before I could think of an answer, one of the security wolves moved
quickly into the conference room and spoke to Brock. Everyone in
the room came alert at whatever he said and they all turned to look
at the elevator, just as a commotion broke out. Five newcomers
shoved into the room, dressed in motorcycle leathers and grungy,
torn jeans. The Pack members around them spun toward them, outraged
and angry at the invasion.

My gut told me who they were even before I
caught sight of the Loki’s Spawn emblem on their jackets.

Brock and company headed for them, the crowd
parting like the Red Sea before the angry Alpha’s advance.

I found myself moving across the room, my
food plates dropped on the first handy table.

The newcomers were pointing at Stacia and
started to head her way. There were four males and a female. Three
of the men were likely wolves, the fourth big and burly in a
bearish way. The female had tawny brown hair, a cold, harsh face
and a lithe, lean figure that put me in mind of a cat.

Over the uproar of the Pack, I heard the
leader of the Spawn as he yelled at Brock.

“I claim Progenitor’s Right!”

The crowd went silent for a moment, then
roared in outrage.

“What’s going on?” Lisa asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” I replied.

The Pack was angry, but Brock, who looked
troubled, was frozen in thought for a moment.

“Come with me!” he commanded the Spawn
leader. All five followed, surrounded by hostile Pack members
itching for a fight.

Lisa and I had arrived just behind Stacia and
her admirers, and we ended up with front row positions for the
drama that unfolded.

Brock led the invaders to Stacia.

“Stacia, this ... were has claimed
Progenitor’s Right. Under Pack Law it means that as the originator
of your bite, he can claim you for his pack first.”

“But he didn’t bite me! The one that bit me
died. Christian killed him!” she said, swiveling to point
unerringly at me as she said the last.

The Spawn looked at me, sniffed and sneered.
“This…hairless one killed my get?”

“Yours? If he was yours how come you weren’t
there to guide him? He died because he turned without guidance by
the one who bit him!” I said.

It didn’t seem possible for the atmosphere to
get more hostile but it did. The Spawn ignored them, instead
growling at me and letting his inner wolf peek through. It was
meant to intimidate, but instead it brought my own beast straight
to the surface.

“What does this Right, or whatever, mean?”
Stacia asked Brock.

“If we determine that he originated the LV
virus that infects you, then he has first right to claim you for
his pack,” he said, his tone bleak.

“Don’t I have a say?” Stacia asked.

“Only if you’re willing to fight him for the
right to make your own choice!” he said.

“Can she substitute a fighter? Say her
Sponsor?” I asked, not looking away from the leader.

Brock was thoughtful and he glanced at Afina,
who looked apprehensive, before he answered.

“I suppose she can, because of the
circumstances of the rogue and all.”

“ ’kay, let’s get to it!” I said, the beast
inside raging to get loose.

“You’re not even were!” the Loki leader spat.
He sneered and turned back to his people.

“You hear that? This ape wants to climb in
the cage with me! Me!”

They laughed, and then right on cue, he
whipped back with a hard right punch aimed at my face. Backed by
werewolf strength it would have killed me seven months ago. But not
today.

I had expected something of the sort, and
while he moved much faster than a human, he was still molasses slow
to me. I Hardened my face and stepped into the punch, meeting his
fist well short of full extension. The snap of his arm bone was
loud enough for the entire room to hear.

“Oooh! You’re gonna want to put some ice on
that!” I said with a chuckle, the blackness seeping through me.

He howled in pain and his group shoved
forward to get me, but were held back by the threat of the
surrounding Pack guards.

“Where’s this cage? Let’s get Billy Bad Ass
here accommodated!” I snarled.

The weres around me had pulled back, their
expressions indicating they had just discovered something dangerous
in their midst. Afina looked worried.

“Chris, this isn’t like a newborn rogue. The
cage is basically a death match, and he’s an experienced fighter!”
she hissed, her voice pitched to reach only me and those around
me.

“Afina, I thank you for your concern, but
frankly you know very little about me. I swore an oath to see this
girl safe in her new life and I’ll keep it over his dead body!” My
voice was pitched deeper than normal, the beast affecting my vocal
cords. She pulled back, her own inner animal sensing something
about me that she hadn’t before. I had had it. Suspension,
disbanding of the Squad, my own failings as a person, and all of
Briana Duclairs machinations. Not to mention the superior air of
the weres around me.

Chapter 21

So that’s how I found myself, stripped to my
boxer-briefs and standing in the center of a huge steel fight cage.
Glad I listened to grandma and wear clean undies every day! The
were would fight naked of course, but I’m never excited about
fighting with my privates flapping in the breeze. Way too
vulnerable. The only other thing on my body was the Tear of God,
which frankly I kept forgetting I even had on.

The Pack’s ceremonial fight cage was located
underneath the corporate building in the old sub-cellar. The
ceilings were twenty feet high and the arch of steel mesh over my
head reached within four feet of it. Poorly lit by six ancient
double tube florescent lights fixtures, the cavernous room was dark
and dank. The concrete walls had balconies and theatre boxes of
chain link fencing and rusty iron rods along the sides, providing
seating for the hundreds of weres in attendance. Like an Ultimate
Fighter octagon on steroids, the cage itself was set into the
concrete of the floor and made of zoo quality cage steel. Basically
a forty-foot-diameter circle with one entrance of heavy duty steel.
The concrete floor was stained in ways best ignored and the
industrial drain in the center didn’t escape my notice. Brett was
standing with me while Brock arranged the final details with his
staff and the Loki leader.

“He’s gonna be fast and merciless! I know you
killed the rogue without firearms and I saw you take that punch,
but don’t underestimate him!” he said, a frown of worry creasing
his forehead.

“What about his arm?” I asked.

“It’ll heal as soon as he Changes,” Brett
replied.

“Brett, will there be betting going on?”

He looked at me for a second, then answered,
“Yeah there will be.”

“Do me a favor? There’s about nine grand in
the pocket of my pants. Bet it on me, please. Thanks!”

He nodded, his eyes raised at the amount. I
hadn’t figured out where to hide my emergency stash yet, so I was
carrying it around with me.

Part of me was a little nervous, as I had
never faced a full-grown, experienced werewolf before. Hell, I’d
never seen a full-grown werewolf before. The black beast inside was
humming with excitement, completely confident.

The Spawn leader stepped into the cage,
naked, flanked by his other two pack members, who were clothed.

“Ready to die, asswipe?” he sneered.

I shuddered.

“Scared?”

“No, I’m hoping you’re better looking as a
wolf, ‘cause you are one ugly motherfucker!”

The weres crowded around the cage laughed at
that, although it was a nervous laugh. I understood; they didn’t
expect me to survive. I could see Stacia and her mother, both
looking terrified and worried standing next to an anxious Afina.
Kelly, Brett’s mate, stood arms crossed, frowning next to the Alpha
female. Brett left the cage, heading to a couple of wolves who
appeared to be taking bets. Brock nodded to me and stepped away
from the entrance to talk to Afina. Suddenly things began to happen
at high speed.

The Spawn werebear shoved the door attendant
out of the way, slammed the steel door shut, shot the bolt and bent
the rod, all in one move, effectively locking me in with all three
Spawn wolves. The other two wolves began to strip, the leader
sneered and the Pack wolves went crazy with anger. Brock and his
staff moved the bear away and tried to unbend the locking bar. The
three naked men in front of me began to change, and I watched in
fascinated horror as limbs and spines buckled and twisted into new
positions. It only took about thirty or forty seconds. The three
enormous wolves in front of me were each the size of a big black
bear, running close to four hundred pounds apiece. The leader was
coal black, the wolves on either side running to brown. I had done
a lot of research into the Pleistocene Era, the better to
understand my giant spirit bear, and I remember seeing skeletons of
Dire wolves, along with artists’ renditions of how they would have
looked. These things looked like hulked out Dire wolves, with legs
that were shorter and thicker than those of a timber wolf. Their
teeth were also bigger, in fact, it looked like they might have
trouble closing their jaws completely.

I put my head down, eyes closed and reached
deep inside. The monster demanded release and I opened the door,
letting the berserker loose. My head raised, my eyes opened and
everyone went stock still. The blood rage slammed through my body
and I felt unholy power course through my veins. I felt
indestructible.

The wolf pack paused at the sight of me,
catching the first glimpse of what they were really facing. I could
feel the monomolecular edge form itself around both hands, and when
the wolves growled, I growled back. A glance at my hands showed a
glittering line running around the outside edge and across each set
of knuckles.

Shaking himself into motion, the leader
sprang, blurring forward. Time slowed, the wolf’s motion like a
football replay, my own perceptions normal. I jumped over him,
flipping in the air, my feet impacting the steel mesh overhead and
driving me off it like a spring board. A mental image filled my
fight brain, a three dimensional outline of the cage, my opponents,
their movements and myself. I leapt at the two remaining wolves,
who were just starting to move. They split in opposite directions,
but I caught the hind quarters of one, slicing his back legs off at
the thigh with a side swipe of my right hand. He howled in pain as
his legless hips hit the ground. The fight schematic in my head
showed the other wolf changing direction and coming back at me from
behind, the leader coming from my right side. The rear wolf darted
at the back of my neck, but I accelerated, ducking, turning and
slamming both hands deep into its chest. Pulling in opposite
directions, I thrilled at the feeling of the giant wolf ripping
down the middle. My left hand executed a reverse knife hand strike,
slicing its skull from below the ear to the opposite temple. The
leader slammed into my side, knocking me away from his mortally
wounded partner. Instinctively, I Lightened and Repelled,
sling-shotting to the cage wall. Still moving at speed, I bounded
to the legless one, landing on its back. My fist rose and fell.
Shards of skull bone drove deep into the old pitted concrete floor.
Were bones are dense!