Torment (Primal Progeny Book 1) (13 page)

BOOK: Torment (Primal Progeny Book 1)
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‘Leave me’ he croaked, not turning to look away from the ruined form of his once beautiful friend. ‘Leave me please. Leave me with her for a moment.’

 

The two beta’s glanced at each other briefly, and then with a nudge to Eve’s side from Tobias’ nose they slunk away. Hunter listened to their paw steps fading into the distance without once taking his eyes off Lucy, and broke into heavy, shuddering sobs.

 

His shoulders heaved up and down as he looked her over, sorrow and rage building into a thundering vortex in his mind. She had looked so lovely all her life, but then there she lay reduced to that… Her slender body was covered in bruises. Her neck was ringed with marks and her belly, groin and thighs were black and blue. Through eyes half blinded by tears Hunter accidently glanced at her pubic area as he looked over her beaten form, and could not help the retch that followed. What had that monster done to her?

 

Tearing off his T-shirt he draped it over her, covering her modesty and carefully tucking the fabric around her. She felt so cold and some irrational part of him insisted that covering her up would somehow help. Wracked by silent sobs he lent forward to plant a shuddering kiss on her forehead. The skin beneath his lips was cold and clammy, which drew a loud sob of despair from him. She was gone.

 

She was really gone.

 

Clutching her tightly to his chest he rocked her back and forth, screwing shut his eyes against the sight of her wounds. ‘What have I done?’ He whimpered, her left arm splashing limply into the water beside him as he cradled her.

 

A stern voice echoed from behind him. ‘What have you done?’ The sound was backed up by the static crackle of a handheld radio.

Chapter 13

 

 

Hunter snapped his head around to look at whoever had spoken, and his heart sank at the sight of a police officer stood backlit by the beams of his patrol car.

 

He had been set up, and so distraught that he had failed to notice the squad car rolling up to the building. It looked bad… It looked really bad… He knew he had no hope of convincing the officer that he was not the guilty party.

 

‘No…’ He managed to croak past tears, which were rapidly drying up in panic.

 

The policeman lifted his radio to his lips and called for backup, never moving his gaze from Hunter clutching Lucy’s body. Moving forward he unhooked his handcuffs from his belt and flicked a nightstick to its full length. He advanced slowly and deliberately in a way that was supposed to reflect confidence but instead reeked of nervousness.

 

‘You’re under arrest’ He informed with authority, despite the slight quake in his voice.

 

Hunter’s addled mind swam with a thousand pleas and questions, but all that came from between his lips was. ‘But you can’t arrest me… There’s only one of you.’

 

A hand fell firmly on his shoulder as he spoke, and he turned in what seemed to be slow motion to look up at the second officer stood glowering down at him.

 

‘Luckily for us and the rest of mankind’ came the gruff reply ‘that’s not entirely true.’

 

Hunter gawped silently as the first policeman pulled his arms roughly behind him and cuffed them tightly together. The world seemed to fade out of focus as one man read him his rights and the other slid Lucy’s prone form from his lap. His head hung against his chest as he watched her be set to the ground, water rolling into her open mouth as her head spilled sideways. The cold liquid rinsing over one half submerged eye that had ceased to glisten with life, his shock numbed mind half expected to see her blink it away.  He barely heard the gruff voice of the second officer issuing him his rights, and didn’t hear himself respond… But he must have…

 

As he was hauled to his feet and led away he heard vague mutterings about wounds being stitched with straw. As his head was pushed low and he was barged into the back seat of the car, his repulsed and shell-shocked mind insisted that he would have noticed that… Unless… What if? What had that monster done to her?!

 

The car door slammed next to him, almost startling him back into coherence, before the officer locked the vehicle up and headed back towards his co-worker in the centre of the building.

 

Hunter stared blankly forward in stunned silence as the men searched about the barn and stood over Lucy; staring down at her and scribbling notes in a tiny flip pad. He jumped when the car rocked suddenly from side to side, and turned to see Eve’s nose misting up the windowpane beside him. He vaguely heard her whine through the glass before she turned tail and loped away, disappearing into a clump of trees.

 

What was she doing? Gloating? They’d set him up and she was rubbing salt into a wound that was nowhere near to being healed.

 

Hunter’s lips curled into a snarl as a movement from the barn snatched back his attention. The officers were on their way back and just as another two cars screeched up behind their own, with lights flashing and sirens blaring. Both men passed by the car to brief their co-workers; one even absentmindedly rubbing off the condensation left by Eve’s breath as he went.

 

Hunter’s shock numbed mind barely registered the conversation that they held behind him before lowering themselves into the front seats and starting the engine. He sat slumped forwards with his head hanging and his hands crushed behind him, staring blankly at the floor between his feet.

 

The officers did not address him throughout the drive to the station, but the man in the passenger seat maintained an angle in his chair by which he could watch him from the corner of his eye. Not that it was necessary, Hunter had no desire to even move let alone actively resist or cause trouble. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him… To cease to exist… He did not deserve the life he had after allowing such a terrible thing to happen. It was too soon for his rational mind to offer him any form of comfort. He was simply numb. Numb and utterly alone. The ride could have taken hours for all he knew, so absorbed was he by his grief. But in reality it took barely half an hour before they pulled up into the mostly vacant car park.

 

Glancing up from between the wet tendrils of his scraggy hair, Hunter registered the building before them with an impending sense of doom. The public wanted someone punished for Varulv’s crimes, and he knew with a sinking certainty that man would be him.

 

The two men who had arrested him hauled him roughly out of the vehicle and shoved him shivering and stumbling towards the stations doorway. One man grabbed hold of his cuffs as the automatic doors swung inwards and steered him towards the desk, where a curt request to see the sergeant was made. The receptionist nodded and dialed the office, motioning with one perfectly manicured hand that they should take him out the back towards the cells. The eldest of his two captors punched numbers into a keypad on the wall, and the door to the cell area snapped open with a metallic knocking sound.

 

Hunter was pushed roughly through and left in a cell with the handcuffs still in place. Had he been more coherent he might have requested they be removed, but as it was he simply sat in silence and accepted his fate. He told himself that he deserved the discomfort, that it was nothing compared to what she had been through.

 

He did not bother to look up at his surroundings, instead sitting slumped and staring at the floor until a set of keys rattled in the door lock. Light flooded into the room as the door swung open, throwing the long shadow of a man over Hunter’s shivering form. He still did not look up; instead he shuffled himself into a tight ball with his knees drawn up to his chest. Rocking his head forward he rested it on his legs and silently stared at the dirty fabric of his jeans as tears spilled from his eyes. What did it matter who the man at the door was anyway? Nobody could bring her back. A part of his mind insisted he deserved to be punished for what he had failed to do. He was distraught, and in shock beyond the comprehension of any who had not lost a loved one to such tragedy.

 

The figure in the doorway took a step forward and swung the door shut behind them. Hunter would not even have noticed except for the loud clang of the metal frame.

 

The man began to speak, his voice authoritarian and tainted with disgust, like an army sergeant on the discovery that one of his company was plotting to desert.

 

‘We’ve got a lot of questions to ask you sir.’ The final word was spat out like a bitter pill.

 

Hunter did not move and would not have answered even had he been given the opportunity to. As it was the man ploughed on with his speech; the werewolf could both hear and smell the hatred in him.

 

‘Oh yes, we have a lot to discuss with you! There’s a lot of information we need from you and we’ll start with your name.’

 

Hunter’s eyes glazed over, was there much point in lying? Or indeed anything to be gained by telling the truth? Even though his pain numbed human mind told him the jig was up his wolf would not have it. It crowded forward in his mind, snarling like a monster. He could not reveal himself. He would reveal too much if he told an even remotely truthful version of events. Despite his hatred for Varulv he knew there were good weres out in the world, and he would not be the one to bring chaos upon them. There had been too much pain already.

 

‘Sir?’ The man barked at him, impassionate and full of rage.

 

He would have to lie, there was no other way.

 

Hugging close his knees Hunter looked up from between clinging tendrils of his still sopping wet hair. What he saw came as a surprise to him. The man was very old to be a police officer; he looked to be in his mid 60’s. His voice was deceptive, he sounded no older than 30, and even his scent was not tainted by the pungent undercurrent which normally accompanied old age. He was small in stature and slightly stooped, his thin frame clothed in a well-pressed brown suit with a crisp white shirt beneath.

 

Hunter lifted his gaze further to look at his face, and found himself certain that this man did not get out of the office much. His hair was white with age and very thin on top, his face wrinkled and weather-beaten but his grey eyes were still harsh and piercing amongst it all. Through anger he obviously did not feel his age.

‘Well?’ He snapped as Hunter huddled against the wall.

 

‘My name?’ Hunter replied weakly.

 

‘Yes, your name.’ The older man stepped forward sharply. ‘We need your name.’

 

Hunter winced and shrunk back further against the wall. ‘I… I’m sorry… I can’t. I can’t…’

 

‘We don’t have time for this.’ The old man roared ‘you think you can save yourself by withholding your name? We’ll find you lad you make no mistake. We’ll find out who you are and everything else you’re keeping hidden.’

 

Hunter opened his mouth but all that came out was a choked ‘ah –’

 

“Shut up and get up.’ The man ordered, stepping forward and grabbing his captive by the arm. He hauled him up with strength surprising for his age and shoved him towards the door.

 

‘We’ll get it out of you in the interrogation room.’ He hissed into Hunters ear as he guided him out of the door by his bound hands.

 

Weak and mentally defeated Hunter stumbled as he was pushed and knocked into the doorframe. Roughly he was dragged upright as he almost fell, and then marched down the long, barren hallway. On either side metal doors stood like foreboding guardsmen, and the artificial light was so bright he had to squint to see where he was going.

 

As they moved panic began to mix with his feelings of despair. What could he say to delay them? Was there any chance of help from Eve and the others or had they really set him up to be caught? It would be in their best interests to help him if they had not… But then they would know that he would lie; in which case they would have nothing to concern themselves with…

 

Hanging his head he resigned himself to the fact that he was on his own and shuffled onwards with a sense of impending doom laying heavy on his heart.

 

Suddenly he was halted by a sharp pull on his bound arms and the old man rattled a set of keys for a moment. Twisting one in the lock of the door to their left he scowled viciously at Hunter as he swung the door open.

 

‘In.’ He commanded bluntly, with a gesture of his head in the direction of the dimly lit room.

 

Hunter complied without resistance and shuffled through the doorway, wincing when the light switch was flicked on behind him. The dim light creeping in through the open doorway had been almost pleasant, the change was practically blinding.

 

The man frog marched him to a table in the centre of the room against the far wall, with two chairs tucked beneath either side. One of them he scraped back across the floor and pushed Hunter down into it.

 

‘Wait there in silence’ he commanded ‘you’re being watched so don’t try anything stupid.’ He pointed at the large mirror, which made up most of the rear wall of the room. ‘I’ll be back with another officer in a moment, then the fun starts.’ He smirked.

 

Hunter slumped forward silently in his seat. He knew he was in more trouble than he could deal with alone, and his grief stricken mind refused to conjure any solutions.  He heard the door close behind the man who had bought him out of his cell, but he did not watch him leave. Instead his tear-swollen eyes roamed along the mirror, trying to catch a glimpse of who was on the other side from under his eyebrows. He quickly came to realise that even with his heightened senses he could see nothing more than vague black blurs… He could however, smell them very clearly.

 

On the far side of the glass sat a man who smelled as though he had bathed in an ashtray; and a woman whose perfume was so strong he was beginning to feel the urge to sneeze.  He guessed that they must be detectives but could get no more real information without seeing them face-to-face. All he could gather was that he smelled anxious and she smelled excited. They were certain he was the killer, that much he knew. Why should they not be, it was logical to assume a man found clutching a victim at the scene of the crime would be involved somehow.

 

A juddering sigh escaped his lips as he averted his gaze to stare blankly at the scuffed plastic tabletop before him.

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