Pocket Apocalypse: InCryptid, Book Four (35 page)

I blinked at him slowly before asking, “So next time, you think I should shoot?”

“The man flat out said he’d been infecting humans to get them on his side,” said Basil. “That means he’s taking things that
are
human and making them into things that
aren’t
human. You can be as nice a fellow as you want to be, but I don’t think you should sit idly by while your species gets replaced. That’s not being nice. That’s being stupid.”

“So noted,” I said. “Now will you please go get the girls?”

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Try not to get eaten by a bunyip because you think it needs a square meal, a’right?” He turned and lumbered back into the swamp.

I leaned back against the trunk of the tree I was seated in, resisting the urge to close my eyes and think. Basil was right: I’d been so interested in confirming whether or not the werewolves were still intelligent in their changed forms that I hadn’t considered that I’d been essentially baiting four large apex predators while holding nothing but a handgun. I had killed werewolves before. Knowing that they weren’t just dumb beasts shouldn’t have changed things—or if it did, it should have made me even more enthusiastic about killing them. Werewolves that could plan and execute complex maneuvers were terrifying, and they couldn’t be allowed to exist. So why had I hesitated?

It wasn’t like my family didn’t understand the need to kill things for the sake of the human race, however much we disliked doing it. Grandma and Sarah were the only “good” cuckoos we knew of. All others came with a permanent order to shoot on sight, unless they did something to indicate that they, too, might be capable of showing things like mercy and affection. We knew there were monsters in the world, real monsters, not things like gorgons or bunyip or yowie that inherited that title from urban legends and folklore about them killing people for fun. We knew that sometimes, monsters had to be stopped. So why had I hesitated?

Riley’s voice echoed in my head, calling me “Covenant boy,” talking about how much they didn’t need me or my family’s teachings. Just like that, I had my answer.

I had hesitated because I didn’t want to be what he thought I was. On some level, I had been willing to let myself be seriously hurt to prove that point. I wasn’t Covenant. My parents raised me better than that. I understood mercy. And mercy was the thing that was likely to get me killed.

“Oh, I can already tell I’m going to
love
having in-laws,” I muttered.

The sound of sloshing alerted me to something approaching through the swamp. I tensed, turning my head toward the sound, and was relieved to see the great green form of Basil come slogging through the trees, hauling the small boat belonging to the Tanner sisters behind him. All three of them were there. Jett pulled her head out of my crotch and barked, tail beginning to wag as she saw Raina. At least someone was having a good day, even if we still needed to check her for infection.

Raina was in the middle of the boat with her arms around Gabby, who was crumpled against her sister and sobbing, face buried in Raina’s shoulder. I fought the urge to wince at the sight of such casual contact between someone who was almost definitely infected and someone who wasn’t. Gabby hadn’t been infected long enough to have changed, and lycanthropy didn’t spread through tears. Most werewolves didn’t take a lot of time to cry.

Shelby was at the front of the boat, standing with one foot on the stubby prow to counterbalance the rest of her body. She had a gun in her hand, and was watching the swamp warily. I smiled at the sight of her. I couldn’t help myself. I might not be thrilled by the idea of in-laws, but they were a package deal with Shelby . . . and I was more than thrilled by the idea of
her
. No, that wasn’t right. The idea of her was pleasant enough. The reality of her, on the other hand, was worth moving mountains for.

“I see you managed to survive sitting alone for five minutes,” said Basil, once he was close enough that he didn’t have to shout. “Anything interesting happen?”

“Nothing tried to eat me. I’ll call that a win.” I leaned forward, waving my free hand. “Hello, the boat. Is everything all right down there?”

“Not in the slightest,” said Shelby. Her face was fixed in funereal mode. It made me want to put my arms around her and tell her everything was going to be all right now, that we had solved all our problems and were going to go live happily ever after. It was a pity that both of us would know I was lying. “Gabby’s been bit.”

Behind her, Gabby gave a convulsive sob and burrowed even deeper into her sister’s arms. Raina raised her head to look at me, but didn’t say anything. She just narrowed her eyes, clearly waiting for me to respond.

“I know,” I said. “But she wasn’t bitten long enough ago to have turned; the treatment I brought with me should still work for her.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” asked Raina. “Are you going to shoot our sister?”

“No.” I hadn’t been certain—not really—of what my answer would be until I heard it spoken aloud by my own voice. It was a relief. “We know from dealing with Cooper that werewolves are capable of controlling themselves when transformed. If Gabby is going to turn, we can find ways to manage it. It will mean a certain amount of compromise, and locking her up on full moon nights, to avoid her accidentally infecting anyone else, but it can work.”

Gabby pulled her face away from Raina’s shoulder, looking up at me with large, liquid eyes. “But . . . opera school,” she said weakly. “I was going to sing
Carmen
.”

I winced, doing my best to hide it. “We’ll find a way,” I said.

“I may have one,” said Basil. All four of us turned to look at him. He focused on Gabby. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Don’t quote
Doctor Who
at me,” said Gabby, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Of course I trust you, Basil. You’re our Basil.”

“All right.” Basil looked first to Shelby and Raina, and then to me. “There’s a wagyl near here. Its bite can cure just about anything. I’d wager lycanthropy is on that list. But you have to let me take her, and you have to promise you won’t try to follow.”

Given the situation we’d fled when we ran after Gabby, we were needed back at the Thirty-Six Society. We didn’t know how many werewolves Cooper had created, or how they were going to react to the fact that the Aeslin could quite literally sniff them out. Charlotte needed backup. And yet . . . “Is this wagyl something that could come back here? Gabby isn’t the only one who’s been exposed.”

“Asking a wagyl for a favor is a big deal,” said Basil. “Getting it to bite one person is going to be hard enough, but I’m willing to negotiate because it’s Gabby, and she’s as good as family to me. I’m not even going to ask about anyone else until she’s bitten and it can’t be taken back.”

“Is there any risk to her?” asked Shelby. “Wagyl may be awesome healers or whatever, but they’re still ripping big snakes. I don’t want my sister getting hurt.”

“Your sister’s already been hurt,” said Basil.

“I’ll do it,” said Gabby. She stood up, the boat rocking beneath her, and took a step toward Basil, raising her arms like a much smaller person, like she expected him to sweep her up and carry her, piggyback, into the trees. Maybe that was exactly what she
did
expect. She’d been smaller when they first met, after all. “I don’t care about risks, and I don’t care if it could hurt me. I want to finish opera school. I want to see the world. I want to have children someday. I can’t do any of those things if I’m stuck here, being a werewolf.”

“Gabby . . .” said Shelby.

“It’s my choice.” Gabby turned to her sister, sticking her chin out in what was apparently a hallmark of the Tanner sisters when they were deciding to be remarkably stubborn about something. “I don’t have any better options. Alex’s ‘cure’ isn’t guaranteed to work for me, and I refuse to be a pet monster for the Society. I’m not the new Tasmanian wolf.”

“Can I go with you?” asked Raina, before looking up to Basil. “Can I?”

He shook his head. “No, dear, you can’t. It’s not because I’m punishing you, either: I’d take you if I didn’t think it would make it even less likely the wagyl would help her. They don’t like humans much, as a rule. Too many dead, and their memories are long.”

Raina nodded, crestfallen. “That’s what I was afraid you’d say.”

Shelby opened her mouth, like she was going to object again. Then she stopped, mouth snapping closed, and nodded. “All right,” she said. “Go with Basil. He’ll keep you safe. He’ll make sure no harm comes to you, unless it’s unavoidable. And if harm
does
come to you, Raina and I will both make sure it’s understood that this was your choice: no one forced you, no one coerced you, and no one told you that you had to go.”

“Thank you,” said Gabby, smiling through her tears. She flung her arms quickly and wildly around her sisters, managing to catch all of Raina and half of Shelby’s torso. Then she let them go and stepped up onto the side of the boat, holding her arms out for Basil once more. He picked her up like she was a toy and set her on his shoulder, where she fit, not well, but compactly, putting one arm around his head to keep her balance.

“Down you go,” he said, reaching for me once his hands were free. I barely had time to stuff my gun back into my waistband before he was grasping me around the waist and lifting me down to the boat, which settled and rocked under my weight. Then Shelby was there to steady me, and Jett, tail still wagging, was cramming her nose into my crotch, examining all the new smells I had accumulated since she last checked me over.

“When will we know?” asked Shelby, her eyes remaining on Basil and Gabby.

He mustered a small smile. It looked like it hurt him, and I realized then that whatever a wagyl was, it wasn’t a magic bulplet: there were no guarantees, and Raina and Shelby were allowing their sister to be carried away, without backup, to what might be her certain death. “It should take a few hours to get to the right spot, and a few hours more to negotiate a bite. It’ll take about eight hours for the venom to clear her system. One way or the other.”

“You don’t have to do this,” said Raina. Her eyes were fixed on her sister, and the look of bleak despair on her face made me revise every thought I’d ever had about Shelby’s occasional expression of funereal gloom: this was what it really looked like when a Tanner girl’s heart was breaking. “We can find another way. A less dangerous one.”

“I won’t live in a cage,” said Gabby. She sat up straighter on Basil’s shoulder, and the moonlight slanting through the trees made a halo of her pale hair, making her look like some sort of fairy-tale heroine getting ready to embark on her big quest.
Gabby and the Werewolves
wasn’t likely to be coming from Disney any time soon, but maybe it should have been. “I love you, and I wish I didn’t have to risk this, but I won’t live in a cage. Not for you, not for anybody. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“Take care of our girl, Basil,” said Shelby.

“I will,” pledged the great green man, as solemnly as if he was promising her the moon and the stars. Then he turned, Gabby still riding easy on his shoulder, and slogged away into the swamp. The three of us stood silently in the boat, watching them go until we couldn’t see them anymore. Raina sobbed, a short, cruel sound that cut off abruptly at the end as she swallowed the rest of her sorrow, forcing it to stay penned inside. We were alone.

Shelby was the first to move. Raina was in a state of something resembling shock, and I knew it wasn’t my place to try to force the matter: she wasn’t my sister. Shelby had no such compunctions. She picked up both oars, thrusting one of them at me, and said, “We need to get back to the house before Mum loses control completely. Alex, you’re going to help me row. Raina, you’re going to sit down, and hug your dog, and stop looking like someone’s just died. Gabby will be
fine
.”

“You don’t know that,” snapped Raina.

“You’re right; I don’t,” said Shelby, which stopped Raina in her tracks. The younger Tanner looked from her sister to me, clearly confused as to how she was meant to proceed. Shelby didn’t give her time to figure things out. “She could die from the wagyl’s bite. We know next to nothing about them. We don’t know whether their venom is hemolytic or neurotoxic, we don’t know whether they can control how much they deliver—it’s a gamble. But Basil wouldn’t have taken her if he didn’t truly believe that he could help, and our mother needs us. Dad’s in quarantine. We’re all she’s got.”

“This would never have happened if you hadn’t brought him here,” muttered Raina, directing a sharp glance at me as she fell back on what I was starting to think of as the Tanner family’s favorite song.

“Oh, because Alex is a mad virologist who traveled backward through time to invent lycanthropy and spread it through the therianthrope population, thus leading to a situation where Gabby would get bit? Don’t be daft, Raina. It’s not becoming. Alex isn’t at fault here. Cooper is, for having her bitten. We’re going to shoot that man until he’s more holes than skin, and then we’re going to shoot him again a few times, just to be sure.” Shelby sat down on the boat’s center board, dipping her oar into the water, and motioned for me to do the same. “Now let’s get the hell out of here before something else decides to have a go at eating us.”