Heart Of The Wolf (23 page)

She grabbed
the syringe and darted around forms in white robes fighting other
Tridents, towards Taylor.
I'm coming, I'm coming…

She threw
herself on him; didn't even bother finding a precise point of entry
but drove the needle into the side of his butt cheek – easier
target; harder to get wrong.

She depressed
it, and watched the liquid empty into him, sagging in relief when
the last drop disappeared. A small sob of victory escaped her.
She'd done it. She'd fucking done it.

Five seconds
passed; ten … agony pierced her heart as another pang squeezed it
tight. Wasn't this part supposed to work straight away? She didn't
feel any different. He didn't smell any different. In fact, he
smelled … just like he had earlier.

Her blood ran
cold as she shook her head from side to side. “No,” she whispered.
“No…”

He stirred,
his eyes rippling under closed lids, trying to open. His throat
moved and sound emerged… “Lydia…”

The storm
above them, which had been steady but sedate, suddenly grew and
swirled. Lightning flashed across the sky.

She swivelled
and her gaze fell on Lydia, now stirring, herself, because she
finally could.

Oh, no…

She looked
down at the syringe, only now noticing its diameter was ever so
slightly slimmer than it should be. This wasn't her syringe – this
was…

The vague
memory of the Trident injecting something into Lydia's arm seeped
into her brain. She'd been too wrapped up in Taylor to take proper
notice.
Wait … he was about to inject something into himself
when Ryan had attacked him and
… and she'd looked away. Ryan
must have stopped him. He must have dropped the…

She let the
needle fall from her grasp in horror. This was
his
syringe.
He'd injected Lydia with half of the liquid and she'd just injected
Taylor with the other. She'd mated them again.

Lydia moaned
as she tried to move, and another crack split the sky, only beaten
by a loud cry of triumph – the kind that signalled a conquest
hard-won. It had come from the Trident, who had clearly escaped
Ryan. He was on all fours having just found something he was
looking for – something he'd lost.

Quick as a
flash, he jammed a needle straight into his upper arm.

But I have his
syringe.

So, he must
have…
“NOOOOO!”

The vial
emptied into him before her scream had ended.

~*~

The thunder was
right on top of them, and Pete was pacing his living room like a
caged animal.

Sarah huddled
further into Holly, who was just as jumpy as her now.

The storm had
come in suddenly, completely unpredicted. At least, she didn't
remember seeing anything about a storm on the way in the News this
morning.

Only Beth was
sitting calmly, for once, taking in everything with quiet
observation.

Their cups of
teas had been half drunk and were now going cold.

Pete had said
he needed to wait for further information before he could take them
to Taylor. He kept glancing at his phone which he'd placed on the
arm of his sofa, waiting for it to beep.

Finally, Beth
stood up and approached him on his next journey back down across
the living room. “Enough,” she said, surprisingly gently for
Beth.

Pete looked up
at her command and Sarah was pretty damn sure she'd just heard him
growl. What a fucking odd day this had been. Part of her still
wondered if they were going to make it to the end of it.

Beth didn't
flinch at Pete's reaction. “Go.”

Now, he looked
surprised, and also, unsure.

“I mean it.
Just go. It's obvious you want to be somewhere else, and we're not
going anywhere until this storm clears up. You're getting more
agitated by the minute, so please, just go and do whatever it is
you need to do. Unless the roof starts to cave in, we'll still be
here when you get back.”

We will?

But Sarah kept
quiet. The thought of being free of this Pete guy, even if only for
a few minutes, seemed mighty fine.

“We don't need
babysitting. We came here to speak to Taylor, but we came here
unannounced. If he's preoccupied, and you have stuff to do, I guess
we wait, and just head on home when the storm's cleared up … maybe
make an actual appointment for meeting up next time.”

That last bit
was said with an element of hope.

Holly nudged
Sarah. The meaning in her look was clear:
if Beth wants to come
back, she's coming back on her own.

Sarah rolled
her eyes. As much as she wanted to agree, there was no way she'd
let Beth come back here to this could-be-a-Tim-Burton-film-set on
her own.

Pete stared at
Beth – he was good at doing that – then he turned and walked off to
get something from a cabinet. He returned with a gun.

Holy
shit!
Sarah froze.

But he grabbed
the muzzle of it and turned the handle for Beth for take. “It's a
dart gun. Keep the door locked. If anyone – and I mean
anyone
– comes in that isn't me, you shoot them.”

“Er … right.”
She took it from him. “Got it.”

More staring
ensued, before he finally strode out of the house, firmly shutting
the door behind him.

“Shoot them?”
piped up Sarah. “
Shoot them?
”

Beth waved the
gun around as she shrugged. “He's just really territorial.”

“We need to
leave
now
.”

“In this
weather?” And to prove her point, the thunder sounded above them
and reverberated off the walls, shaking little bits and pieces on
the mantelpiece and on shelves. “We'll get soaked if not struck by
lightning. You know where you shouldn't be when there's lightning?
In the bloody woods surrounded by trees. We're safer in here until
it's passed.”

“Sssshhhhhh!
Listen!”

“What?”

They all fell
silent, straining their ears.

Beth shook her
head. “All I hear in the rain.”

“And my heart
pounding in my ears,” added Holly.

“I heard a
scream, I swear I did.”

“Sarah, you're
letting your imagination get the better of you,” consoled Beth.
“Here…” She offered her the gun. “Do you want this?”

“No, I really
don't, thanks.”

Another clap
of almighty thunder shook the house, and Sarah eyed any shelving
she could see to make sure nothing was about to fall on top of
them.

“Can you
believe the storms we've been having this summer? Just last month
there was a—”

“Oh, my god,”
Sarah uttered, her tone dropped right down to a whisper. She rose
from her seat.

“Honey, what
is it?” asked Holly, reluctantly letting go of her arm.

She just shook
her head, unable to form words, and made her way to one of the
bookcases, not quite able to believe what she was seeing.

“Sarah?”

“Look,” she
squeaked, and picked up the small unicorn that stood proudly on the
middle shelf between
Lord Of The Rings
and Bram Stoker's
Dracula
.

“Hey!”
exclaimed Beth. “That's the same unicorn you got given at the
shop!”

Holly frowned.
“I'm lost here, guys.”

Sarah ignored
her, trying to put together pieces of a puzzle for which she had an
uncomfortable feeling she made up part of the picture. “The last
time I had this was at the theatre four nights ago. I stabbed the
wild dog with it.”

“You
stabbed
the dog?” said Beth, her tone holding some
accusation. “You didn't tell me that bit.”

“It was
attacking
us. I went into auto-drive, and what was I
supposed to do, anyway? Just let it rip Amil apart as I stood and
watched? Please don't feel sorry for the dog, Beth.”

Beth didn't
look convinced, devout animal lover that she was. She'd long held
the opinion they were more trustworthy and easier to read than
people.

“What I want
to know is what it's doing here?”

“Are you sure
it's the same one?”

“Positive.
Right down to this little kink in the left hoof. This is the
exact
same unicorn.”

“Wait, wait,
wait, wait…” butted in Holly. “So …
who
gave you this
unicorn at the shop?”

“Some mystery
man we don't know,” replied Beth. “He was possibly drunk.”

“Okay … let me
get this straight: a possibly drunk stranger gives you a unicorn,
which you take with you to the theatre—”

“On a whim,”
added Sarah.

“Fine … and
that same night, you're attacked by a dog, which
you
then
attack with the unicorn—”

“And then I
left it there at the theatre – I totally forgot about it—”

“And somehow,
it ends up here.”

The three of
them looked at each other, befuddled, until Beth spoke up stating
the only conclusion that any of them could come up with. “Pete's
connected to the theatre – maybe he was part of the clean-up crew
dealing with the remnants of the attack, and found the
unicorn.”

“And he kept
it?”

“Maybe he
likes unicorns.”

Holly
giggled.

Sarah threw
her a glare.

“I'm sorry,
it's just … that huge, scary man liking itty-bitty unicorns tickled
my funny bone.”

Beth looked
dumbfounded. “I don't get how you both find him so scary.”

“Oh!” said
Holly, suddenly. “Sarah, that night at the theatre was the same
night you called Taylor.”

“Yeah …
and?”

“Don't you
see? Pete knows Taylor and he
has
the unicorn. Taylor and
the unicorn are connected – it was probably him who gave it to you,
and … don't you collect unicorns or something? Or is that
stamps?”

“Yes, I used
to, but—”

“And Taylor
would have known that about you. God damn it, Sarah, Taylor's the
mystery man who gave you the unicorn, and now it's here, with Pete,
who's his friend.”

“Er … and the
wild dog?”

“Well,
I
don't know, but you're Taylor's wife and you're
here
, Pete is Taylor's friend and he's
here
, the
unicorn that a 'stranger' gave you – insert Taylor's name – is
here
… the lowest common denominator,
is Taylor
.”

Holly's logic
seemed less like logic and more like a string of coincidences
melded together, but she had to admit, it made more sense than
anything she'd come up with.

Beth sighed.
“Let's just ask Pete about it when he gets back, okay? Also, I need
to pee – I'm gonna find the loo.”

No time for
that.

The three
women screamed as the front door crashed to the floor.

Chapter Sixteen

Nothing
moved.

Nothing
sounded.

Except the
rain.

Time seemed to
have stopped on Selena's scream, both werewolves and Tridents
sensing something crucial had just taken place … irrevocably.

Lydia quietly
sat up, relieved that she could; beyond thankful that the pain
tearing her apart had dissipated.

And she could
smell Taylor … on her again – bonded with her.

That clarity
almost had her weeping with gratitude. She glanced over at him to
find him awake and staring at her, still lying on his back, water
beading off his nudity. He looked equally consoled that they were
once more joined.

Taylor…

I thought I'd
lost you.

She wanted to
run to him, but other things were happening – disturbing
things.

Mating
pheromones spiced the air, but the scent of it was alarming, for it
was unnatural.

Behind one of
the white-robed wolves, Richard emerged, wide-eyed and pale-faced.
“Selena…” he voiced; choked.

Selena glanced
up at him as if noticing him for the very first time. Maybe that
was the case, because she looked stunned, dazed … bereft.
“Daddy?”

“What have you
done?”

Her answer was
not an answer, but the same question repeated in a trembling
whisper, as some horrendous realisation swept over her countenance.
It stole her fight from her; stole all hope. “
What have I
done?
”

Lydia spied
the empty syringe by her feet, then looked over at the Trident and
the syringe that he held, also empty. It would be easy, at this
point, to put two and two together and come up with fourteen, but
scent didn't lie, and the wrong – very wrong – signature of this
particular one, left no room for doubt: Selena and the leader of
the Trident were mated.

She stared at
her father, a single tear falling down her shell-shocked
expression. “Dad … I'm s-sorry,” she stuttered out, barely audible.
“I j-just wanted to l-live.”

A slow, cruel
grin spread over the Trident's face. “I had other plans tonight,
but this will do. Welcome to your new life, my darling.”

Richard
attacked. Shifted mid-air and landed on him, all fur and claws and
razor-sharp teeth – they sank into his neck.

Selena let out
another scream, this one of pain.

“STOP!” That
was Lawrence, and Ryan lunged forward to pull Richard off the
enemy. Richard wouldn't budge despite his efforts, and that was a
testament to the old wolf's strength.

It was finally
Pete, sprinting into view on all fours – black and white and
huge
, with half his face lacking fur – that stopped him. He
threw himself right into Richard, taking Ryan with him as well.
Richard left a gaping hole in the Trident's neck, but the Trident
had now shifted into the beast he was, towered over them all with
eyes, previously grey, now yellow, slitted and glowing; drool
dripped from his snarl onto his bleeding wound.

This was the
point at which the two species differed wildly; when you could see
their diversity so clearly, you would never have thought them
connected. When shifted, werewolves looked like large wolves;
Tridents looked like monsters – an experiment gone wrong – which
was pretty much accurate.