The Beast Within (19 page)

“Did Cerberus do this to everyone in Six Rivers?” Aaron asked. He was buying time, he didn’t know what for, but a feeling of anticipation in his chest told him to hang on a minute or two more, that help was coming—somehow, in some form. “Did he reward you for bringing him into this plane with this…upgrade?”

“Upgrade. I like that.” Brandon stretched back on his heels, but didn’t let up on the heavy pressure he exerted against Aaron’s shoulders. “I’m the first. I trusted him to raise us up, and so he gave me this as a reward. The others get their ‘upgrade’ when they prove themselves tonight.”

Aaron swept Brandon’s body. He was naked, the same as the wolves in the forest, but the claws extending from his fingers were real, and as sharp as honed obsidian. His body, rippling with enhanced muscles, cracked and shifted, showing veins of liquid fire beneath the crusty pitch skin. His jaws were thrust unnaturally forward, his widened, elongated nose a hybridization of human and wolf. No. Wolf and hellhound.

Is this how I will eventually look?
The thought shriveled his insides.

“Come on, bro,” Brandon said as he leered down. “Your friends are dying out there. They’ll be in the dirt soon and you’ll be all alone, again. You come with us, you’ll have family forever.”

“Why does Cerberus want me?” Aaron began to inch his arms toward his body, bringing them as close as possible to the knees straddling him. “He seemed to think my being turned was simply a random occurrence.”

Brandon’s forehead wrinkled, causing a fiery orange droplet to slide down his nose. Carlos was right. This was not the smartest shifter to ever walk the earth. He watched Brandon process the thought, could almost hear rusted gears turning. He waited, frustrated, but mindful of the patience Carlos had instilled in him. The reply that eventually came out was surprisingly insightful.

“He wants you for what you are now.”

“I see.” Around him more bodies thudded to the ground. The sound of whimpering became a constant susurration, like the wind through the leaves. “And Ellison? What does Cerberus want with him?”

“Tool,” Brandon snorted. “That dude was a drunk and a gambler. He lost money in our casinos and then tried to fake us out with a card counting scheme. He should have been meat.”

“But he was a mage.”

“Yeah, he had that going for him. Only thing saved his stupid ass.” Brandon let up some of his weight, either trusting Aaron more, or forgetting himself in his story. “Cerberus had been banished from earth a while back. Couldn’t come without an invitation.”

“So you had Ellison invite him. Smart.”

“Yeah, it was.” Brandon looked pleased. “Problem was a bunch of older wolves, including a couple of my dad’s sons didn’t see things my way. Cerberus is the new Internet, dude. He’s gonna change the game forever.”

“You’re a good alpha to your pack,” Aaron said. The fact Brandon refused to claim his blood brothers as relations showed the depth of his commitment to Cerberus, which seemed somewhere between batshit fanatic and Kool-Aid chugging.

“You can be one of us, too, bro. Hell, you already are. Look at you. You’re cut.”

“I am.” Aaron bucked. The surprise attack caught Brandon off guard. He slipped, just barely, but it was enough. Aaron twisted his hips, tossing Brandon all the way off him. He surged to his feet and planted a vicious kick in Brandon’s face, knocking the enhanced were back onto the ground as he tried to rise.

Aaron took a moment to assess his situation. Cerberus had disappeared. Wolves lay dead and dying all around the perimeter. Closer to the doors of Kapre, Matthew’s white and Carlos’ desert hues flashed among a mass of silver, a pair of leaping and snapping killing machines making quick work of the younger, weaker wolves. Several Trinity shifters, all with some sort of bleeding wound, aided them in their defense. They wouldn’t last long, however. The Six Rivers wolves were regrouping.

At least they would all die together, as a family. His thoughts flashed to Tony. Was he the source of his previous odd feeling of hope? If so, where was he?

Brandon struggled to his feet. Aaron looked past him, hoping to catch a glimpse of Carlos once more. When Brandon lunged at him, his first reaction was one of irritation. The idiot wasn’t worth his time. Not when his friends needed him. Still trying to contain him instead of kill, Brandon swept toward his midsection in a football tackle. Aaron quickly sidestepped. Brandon careened into the ground.

A howl of pain arose from the center of the now doubled mass of Six Rivers wolves. The hairs at the back of his neck rose. He knew that voice, in human and in wolf form.

Carlos.

Aaron started forward. Brandon tackled him from behind. He crashed to the ground with Brandon on top of him once again. He gave the shifter no time to gain the upper hand, but rolled over, tucking his knees into his chest as he did. Brandon reached for his throat, but Aaron batted his hand out of the way and pushed off with his knees. Brandon, growing frustrated, gnashed his teeth. Aaron punched him in his deformed nose, a jab followed by a right hook. Water sprang to Brandon’s eyes as blood spurted from his nose. He howled.

This whelp was no fighter. No alpha. But he had put his entire pack in danger, was now threatening the way of life of all shifters in the country. More so, he was in the way of Aaron’s getting to Carlos, Matthew and Tony. He kicked out with his foot, connecting with Brandon’s jaw. The shifter fell. Aaron followed and drove Brandon onto his back.

“Cerberus,” Brandon yelled. “I summon you, my father hound.” He waited a moment. No one came. His expectant triumph faded to dismay. “Cerberus!”

“You stupid kid,” was all Aaron said before he transformed into his wolf form.

Whatever Aaron’s expression, it terrified the young shifter. It was a pitiful sight, a large, werewolf, hellhound hybrid with magma skin crying in terror and babbling the name of a savior that would never come. Aaron clamped his jaws around Brandon’s throat and squeezed. Magma flowed into his mouth, burning throughout, but he held on. Brandon gripped at his fur and pounded his ribs. Aaron channeled the strength Cerberus had given him, the same strength that toughened the hide of—
his brother
? He shuttered off the thought—the demonic shifter who writhed beneath him. He bit down around Brandon’s windpipe until the shifter ceased struggling and his heartbeat slowed, then disappeared from Aaron’s sensitive ears altogether.

Aaron pulled back and looked at the dead boy. Magma poured from the crevices in his charred skin, blackening the ground. All around Aaron lay the rest of the result of Cerberus’ actions, of Ellison’s idiocy, of Brandon’s hubris. Shifters, a few he recognized as former sitters from his time under Carlos’ care, lay bloodied and broken in the dirt. The remaining upright wolves struggled in Kapre’s courtyard. He let a long howl flow from his throat. Another howl, weaker, answered it.

Carlos was in trouble.

Aaron sprinted for the battle. The front door of Kapre banged open. Agents in full tactical gear streamed out, weapons pointed. In their center stood Tony, his face barely visible beneath his ballistic face shield. He held his arm extended, showing a glowing red disc resting in his palm.

“Trinity, retreat.” Tony shouted. “To the doors.”

He tossed the circlet. It spun out into the courtyard, nearly touching the striving throng. It hovered in the air and expanded outward. Like a ring on a toss game it looped over the Kapre building and settled onto the ground, a crimson halo of protection surrounding the entire structure and its immediate grounds.

Despite Tony’s shout the wolves did not break ranks. Only one wolf could command that. It was odd to thank the initiator of the horrors around him, but that was what Aaron did as he once again shifted rapidly into human form. Cerberus would die at his hands—or fangs—tonight, but at the moment he was grateful the demon had given him the power to fight this war with such fluidity of shape.

“Carlos,” Aaron yelled as he pushed his hands off the ground and propelled upright. He ran toward the center of the battle. A wolf leaped for him. He snatched it out of the air and tossed it against a tree without breaking stride. “We have to retreat. Give the signal. Trinity, when Carlos howls, get to the red light.” When there was no response he shouted louder, “Now, Carlos, now.”

The acqxterm agents trained their guns. Tiny red dots danced indiscriminately across pelted hides. They were holding fire for now, waiting for the fight to cross an invisible line Braven had no doubt drawn in the sand. Not even the most well trained agent could discern the difference between a Trinity and Six Rivers wolf. So once the allotted retreat time had expired any wolf remaining in the open with the enemy would automatically be considered a foe. Once the time was up, the agents would riddle them with bullets, allies or not. From the midst of the pack a soft, familiar howl began. It picked up volume, however, as the first wolves responded and broke off combat. It was when the first weres turned toward the halo that Aaron saw Carlos on the ground, bleeding from a gaping neck wound. Matthew ran in circles, nipping at the other wolves, snapping at their heels to urge them into the circle. All of Trinity retreated, except Matthew. He hovered over Carlos and fought off the advancing enemy. Aaron was close, but not close enough to stop the tangle of Six Rivers wolves from taking out both of Trinity’s leaders.

“Tony, help,” he yelled.

“On it,” his partner replied. Tony had a capsule shaped gadget in his hand. “This is a good one, inspired by our washing machine friends.”

“Matthew, get back,” Aaron yelled as he gestured to the device Tony held.

There was nowhere for Matthew to go. Six Rivers wolves were all around him. Aaron leaped. His enhanced leg muscles propelled him into the skirmish. Canine fangs tore at his exposed human skin, but he ignored the pain. He flung aside furred bodies, threw punches and kicks as he worked his way toward the center where Matthew snarled and growled over Carlos’ prone form.

Don’t shift, Carlos
, was all that went through his mind as he slammed into first one wolf then another, knocking them aside like empty trash cans. If Carlos changed back into human form while down, it was because he was dead.
Please, don’t shift.

“Hold them off, Matthew.” He grabbed Carlos and hefted the massive werewolf over his shoulder. The blood dampened fur stuck to his back. “Hang on, Carlos,” he pleaded quietly.

Matthew watched his back as he made his way to the circle where the rest of the Trinity wolves waited in a nervous bunch, caught inside the barrier with all of Kapre’s fully armed agents. Several Six Rivers wolves tried to infiltrate the circle, but were thrown back by a mystical force. Aaron reached forward to place Carlos on the ground. An electric jolt shot up his arms. He staggered back. Matthew jumped up and placed steadying paws between his shoulders.

“This magic will only let allies inside Kapre bounds. I’m currently not on that guest list,” he said to Matthew. The wolf flashed him a regretful glance. “It’s okay. Just make sure he’s safe.”

He laid Carlos on the ground as close to the perimeter as possible. Matthew took his alpha’s scruff in his mouth and pulled him into the circle. He looked up at Tony, who stared helplessly at him, his rifle trained on a point just beyond him. His expression said it all.

Aaron whirled around. Six Rivers, three rows deep, had him cornered against the glowing red ring.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Retreat

Aaron let his body shift just a little. Razor sharp claws extended from his fingers. His mouth elongated, his fangs distended. He scanned the opposing group of wolves. He could sense their confusion. Their alpha was dead and the leader of the werewolf uprising was conspicuously absent. It made sense that Cerberus would have wanted just one leader in the clan, just one impressionable, weak shifter to keep under his control. But now that Brandon was gone and with circumstances so dire it would not take more than a few minutes for another wolf—an ambitious wolf ready to prove its worth to the hound of hell—to step up and take charge. Aaron had to make his move before then.

“Little help, Tony?” he asked.

“You’re in the way of my toy,” Tony yelled. “Any way out?”

“Only through.”

He spared a glance at his partner. The usual grin was plastered across his face. If the past two days with him were any precedent, Tony’s smile tended to grow wider as events escalated.
Terrific
. His partner already looked like a Cheshire cat.

“Marksmen,” Director Braven’s voice rang out across the courtyard. “Let’s make a path. Do not injure Agent Marvell. He is wanted for questioning.”

The aging director, features hidden in the standard riot garb, took first position and aimed. Six Rivers pinpointed on the new threat. Aaron threw himself to the side and flattened out on the ground as the agents’ expert aim hit home. Wolves fell to the ground, many dead from a single bullet wound through the neck. The rest turned and retreated to the nearby treeline for cover. Tony passed his gun to Braven, leaped from the steps of Kapre and ran into the courtyard. He tracked the wolves’ movement. Aaron watched him advance, transfixed.

The first shifters disappeared into cover. With no time to aim properly Tony heaved the silver object he had brandished earlier. The device sailed through the air and landed at the heels of the last withdrawing pack member. A thick wave of sludge burst from the capsule. It arced into the air and crested over the remaining quarter of Six Rivers who had not yet found shelter among the foliage. Dark ooze splashed over their shoulders and heads, covered the shifters with tar-like fingers. The rest of the glutinous matter splattered onto the ground and spread. Where the viscosity crept the ground lost solidity. The wolves howled in terror as they were drawn down into the pit. One wolf tried to shift, undoubtedly hoping to swim to safety, but only succeeded in being pulled down quicker as he writhed in the agony of transformation. One by one the yelping, panicked wolves sank out of sight. Its work done, the sludge snapped back into the capsule, leaving behind unmarked earth, and no bodies.