Secret of the Wolf (51 page)

Johanna looked to Quentin. He nodded, and she led May to the couch. She did not sit
.

"Your brother, Braden, inherited the Cause without understanding its true purpose,"

Boroskov said. "We shall never know how much your grandfather, the previous earl, told

him. Perhaps he died before he could reveal all his plans." He shook his head. "The

arranged marriages between our scattered families, to restore our blood to its former

strength and numbers, was only a small part of his Cause. In time, your grandfather and

my father intended that our people should take their rightful places as rulers of the

world.”

Quentin laughed until his belly knotted in pain, and laughed harder still at Boroskov's

expression. "World conquest? When most of us can't even meet every five years

without squabbling like infants?”

"Because Braden cannot rule as a leader must. But the former earl and my father made

a pact, to develop a means of ensuring that the true Cause would not be subverted. And

that is where you come in, Quentin.”

"Of course," Quentin said, catching his breath. "You want to use me to take revenge on

Braden, or force him to step down. Surely you can't believe I would cooperate.”

"I am disappointed in you, my boy," Boroskov said. "Nothing nearly so obvious." He met

Quentin's eyes in a direct stare, werewolf to werewolf. "You were to play a very special

role in our future plans. And from my observations, you may be what we had hoped for.”

"Me?" Quentin's throat was too raw for laughing, but he managed a rasping chuckle. "I

was never good for much of anything—certainly not for your Cause. I got away before

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Braden could pin me to some female of his choosing." He wiped at his eyes. "Did you

want me to take Braden's place?”

"Hardly. That role is mine. But you will be at my right hand.”

"You have a very strange sense of humor, Boroskov.”

"I am not laughing." He adjusted the fit of his glove, dangling his gun from one finger. "I

told you that your grandfather and my father made a separate, secret pact. They knew

that our goal of conquest would not be an easy one, or swift. It would take many

generations to achieve. And over those generations, we would require soldiers who

would be trained and willing to commit whatever acts we might deem necessary in

pursuit of our goals.”

"Soldiers," Quentin repeated
.

"Soldiers stronger and faster than any human. And ruthless, disciplined from childhood

to obey their leaders without question.”

"Murderers, you mean," Quentin said, struck with a sudden chill. "Assassins.”

"Quite. When the time came, such specially trained detachments would be sent into the

field to remove select human leaders, businessmen whose assets would become our

own—any who might conceivably stand in our way. But first we had to learn how to

create such a special 'army.' Your grandfather, and my father, chose one each of their

offspring upon whom to experiment.”

Quentin couldn't respond. He saw the cellar, smelled the sweat of his own fear and

blood. Grandfather

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"They chose their subjects as young children, to allow for the greatest tractability of

character. There was a risk that the subjects might be damaged in the attempt, so your

grandfather chose you as the most expendable.”

Quentin's teeth ground together with an audible crack
.

"Your instruction was begun when you were a boy," Boroskov said. "You were to be

broken to your grandfather's will by any means necessary, become indifferent to murder

and absolutely obedient
.

"You see, my brother—you were meant to be a killer.”

Johanna felt for the seat behind her and fell into it. May gave a soft whimper. Quentin

was a statue, staring at Boroskov as if the Russian had bespelled him with his evil
.

"You do remember something of those days, don't you?" Boroskov asked, almost

gently. "I see it in your eyes. Your grandfather's methods were harsh, no doubt, but

necessary. I have none of his notes on his procedures, but I can guess what he did.”

"The cellar," Quentin whispered, as if he didn't realize he spoke. Johanna rose to go to

him, but Boroskov pointed his gun in her direction
.

"No. Your usefulness is past, my dear doctor. No more coddling. He is mine, now.”

"You are wrong," she said. "He belongs to himself.”

"Cling to your illusions if you must," he said. "You, too, know of his sufferings, do you

not? You have discovered many of his secrets. But you cannot imagine what it is like to

be one of us. I will be—I am—closer to Quentin than any other living being. For I was

my father's selection as one of the new army.”

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Johanna met his gaze and understood. If Quentin's form of madness had been born in

the tortures he'd endured in his grandfather's cellar, then Boroskov's came from the

same source
.

"Yes, my father trained me," he said. "I did not break. I grew stronger. I saw what had to

be done. But somewhere, somehow, Quentin's instruction faltered. He broke free of his

grandfather's influence in his adolescence, and for a time we believed he was a loss to

us.”

Johanna took another step toward Quentin, disregarding Boroskov's threat. "You are

not a failure, Quentin.”

"No, he is not. When he ran from England, from the skirmish his brother won over me, I

knew he had begun to recall those things he'd tried to forget. The training he'd rejected.

His deep and binding brotherhood to me.”

"No," Quentin croaked
.

"Why deny it? You feel the truth already. Yes, you escaped your grandfather. When you

came of age, you joined the Army and went to India. Even then I was watching you, and

waiting. I was not disappointed. It was there that your grandfather's careful work began

to bear fruit." He smiled sympathetically. "Do you remember the time when you single-

handedly rescued your men from ambush by the tribesmen? You killed eight of the

enemy, they said. They called you a hero, but they were afraid. You were something

they had never seen before—a berserker, who did not leave the field until every foe was

dead.”

"God," Quentin said, his face stark with horror
.

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"The necessary instincts were coming to the fore—to kill your enemies without mercy.

But you were undirected. You did not yet have a cause that bound you. You returned to

England, and led a meaningless life of pleasure and forgetfulness. But that came to an

end when I arrived at Greyburn to challenge Braden.”

"I was a coward.”

"No. You felt drawn to me, to what we shared. You had begun to sense what you were,

felt the stirring of your blood at the sight of violence. So you ran. But you could not run

from your destiny. It followed you here, to America. My men reported the many times

your training rose unbidden, to put the humans in their place.”

"I killed," Quentin said hollowly, making it a question
.

"No. But you created enough havoc to prove that you had what we required. Each time

you moved on, losing yourself in drink, as if you could escape what you knew you were

destined to be. Each time, the warrior within you could not be restrained. All it needed

was discipline, and a master to temper your violence. I will be the one to complete what

your grandfather began.”

Slowly Quentin's expression relaxed, and he looked at Johanna with full

comprehension. It was as if everything he had wrestled with became clear in an instant.

Just as it had for Johanna. Her heart ached for him
.

"Why did you involve Johanna and May?" he asked
.

"When I first followed you to San Francisco, I was prepared to seek you out. But you

proved surprisingly elusive, until I was able to track you to the Napa Valley. There, I

learned of Doctor Schell's new patient, and obtained informants who could give me the

information I needed—most notably Irene DuBois. From her, I learned of Johanna's

other patients, including May
.

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"It soon became clear to me that you had indeed located a haven, a place where you

might find the help you sought, the support that would make it easier for you to resist. I

had to pry you loose. Miss Ingram's situation presented the ideal opportunity to disrupt

your life at the Haven, and pull Johanna's attention from you. I had Irene look through

Dr. Schell's notes, and she told me that May was essentially in hiding from her father, a

wealthy businessman in San Francisco.”

"You forced Irene to obey you?" Johanna demanded
.

"He could do it, Johanna," Quentin said, his voice betraying no trace of emotion. "Our

kind have mental abilities humans do not. He could make her do as he chose, and

erase her memory of the events.”

"Indeed, but force was hardly necessary," Boroskov said. "I merely turned her thoughts

from certain subjects, and encouraged her in others.”

Johanna filed that astonishing fact aside for further examination, one more among a

hundred others. "So you used May to get at Quentin," she addressed Boroskov
.

"I approached May's father in San Francisco and told him that I knew of his daughter's

whereabouts, if he wished her back. He did. He trusted me as a learned doctor, who

could restore his daughter to him without inconvenient fuss or awkwardness.”

"It didn't quite work out that way," Quentin said
.

"No, but it doesn't matter. I achieved what I intended. I diverted Johanna from her work

with you, kept both of you off balance and worried about May while I perfected my

plans. Irene DuBois was most useful in reporting on your actions, with very little

persuasion from me—she was quick enough to believe me smitten. She also had scant

love for either of you." He sighed. "But you, apparently, had become quite enamored of

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each other—an annoyance at first, but it proved to be a factor in my favor." He cocked a

brow. "Did you really believe, Quentin, that Johanna could save you?”

"I always believed in her.”

"But that wasn't enough, was it?" He turned to Johanna. "When it was obvious that you

would not let May go, and Quentin was no further along in being detached from you and

the Haven, I arranged for the death of the mine owner, and saw it blamed on Quentin. A

simple thing to manipulate the ignorant humans in Silverado Springs.”

"I didn't kill

" Quentin began
.

"No. You may take credit for Ingram's beating, but not Ketchum's death. While the mob

came to the Haven, I had one of my men abduct May. I knew, from Irene's reports, that

you would inevitably follow to rescue her, and once you were out of Johanna's sphere of

influence it would be easy enough to trap you. Though my man failed, you are here.

You took May, and I followed." He addressed Johanna. "A pity you had to involve

yourself further. I rather liked you, dear doctor.”

"You won't hurt her," Quentin said. "Not her, or May, or anyone else." The change in

him was subtle, but Johanna recognized it. He seemed to grow, gathering his strength,

preparing for bedlam
.

He was being threatened. Those he cared for were in peril. Inside him, Fenris was

awakening. Fenris, who was the very thing his own grandfather had tried to create.

Fenris, who might be a match for Stefan Boroskov
.

"If you cooperate, I'll have no need," Boroskov said. "I do not worry that the doctor will

expose us. No one will believe her—they will merely think her infected with her patients'

madness. And May is merely a child.”

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"If I do as you tell me, you'll let them go," Quentin said
.

Boroskov shrugged
.

"And if I don't cooperate, you'll kill them.”

"Johanna, perhaps. The girl I may simply return to her father.”

Quentin lunged at the Russian. "You scum—”

"Yes." Boroskov's eyes lit. "Yes. Let it go, Quentin. Remember who you were meant to

be." He held out his hand
.

"Come, my brother. Take what I offer. You have no place in the human world, or in that

of your brother. You are not the weakling you've believed yourself to be. You are one of

the true, new blood of the werewolf race, the hope of our people. Your future is in my

hands. Our future.”