Werewolf Nights (The Pack Trilogy Book 2) (11 page)

Finally the cab was several car lengths away from where a crowd of children waited, Shelley was right up front. Petra stuck her head out and yelled, “Hey Shelley! Over here!”

The child’s small face sagged in relief as she picked up her book bag and raced to the cab. Petra held the door open for her.

“Where’s Mom?” Shelley asked as she slid onto the seat.

“She asked me to pick you up,” Petra said. “We’ll wait back at the hotel for her.”

But what if Elinor didn’t show up? What in hell was Petra going to do then? She couldn’t simply trot back to New Orleans with the child in tow – not if Elinor was in some sort of trouble.

But she’d promised to do exactly that.

She was torn. But an hour later her phone rang, and to Petra’s relief the caller ID indicated it was Elinor. Petra answered the call immediately.

“El! You scared us to death. I got Shelley from school, she’s right here.”

“Get her out,” Elinor whispered so softly, Petra wasn’t sure what she’d heard.

“Do what?”

“Get her the hell out of New Jersey! Take her home. Don’t ever listen to anything I have to say again if I call you.”

Suddenly there was a scuffle, the phone sounded as if it had been dropped.

“Get her the hell out!” Elinor screamed. “Go, Petra!”

It sounded as if someone covered the speaker of the phone; it went silent for a moment. Then Petra heard a low, whispery voice say, “Petra Lupeinescu, is it not?”

“This is Petra. What have you done with Elinor?” she demanded.

There was a soft chuckle.

“Now that’s an interesting question. You’d do better to ask how others are, starting with your beloved Alpha maybe. Tell me. Has he got a runny nose, hmmmmm?”

“What the hell you talking about?”

“Oh, you know. A bad cough, upset stomach, bleeding sores here and there and of course a runny nose. Brings new meaning to ‘totally buggered,’ does it not?” His laugh was distinctly mocking before he added, “Listen, bitch. Stay away from my Rats. All of my Rats, or I’ll have to present you with another personalized gift. Now fuck off, there’s a good werewolf.”

Click.

“I’d be glad to, and thanks for calling,” Petra said into the dead phone before she finally put it down.

“That was Mom at first, wasn’t it?” Shelley said, tears pouring down her face.

“Yes. And now we know she’s OK.”

“No, we don’t. Someone did something to her and yanked the phone away and spoke to you. Who? And what’d they do with Mom?”

Petra sighed inwardly. Not a stupid kid, this.

“I assume that was the infamous Mickey. He didn’t say what he wanted, but I know what your Mom wants, and that’s for us to be as far from him as we can get.”

“Not when Mom’s in trouble here.”

Shelley’s eyes were huge, dripping with tears. She kept running her hands over her frizzy bush of hair, smoothing it down. It gave Petra an idea on how to take the child’s mind off this current horror. “We won’t leave just yet. I have people working on Elinor’s whereabouts. In the meantime, though, I really need something done to my hair. What about you? Shall we both go get our hair done? Cut, dye, whatever else?”

For an instant the fear dropped from Shelley’s face, and she was all eagerness. One hand reached up and grabbed at her bushy hair, yanking at it.

“Be so cool to get rid of this. I get teased all the time. But I don’t want to be having fun while Mom might be in trouble somewhere, you know?

“She’d want nothing more than for you to enjoy yourself while waiting for her to come back. You have to know that’s true,” Petra said, praying the kid would buy it.

“That’s true, that’s just how she thinks. I have to take a quick shower, though; that OK?”

“Go,” Petra said.

Chapter Fifteen

Raya was on the phone with Dr. Dennis ‘Doc’ Wagner. Doc had been a friend of the pack for nearly twenty-four years. Short by pack standards, but long by human ones. Very long.

The Pack had run across Doc during an episode that had happened when a new Pack member had arrived in the States. The matter had arrived on the CDC’s doorstep, and a certain Dr. Wagner had been in charge of the case. Dr. Wagner was new to the CDC and at the time, the case had been considered ridiculous, so naturally, it had been assigned to the lowest man on the totem pole.

Doc himself had been aware of that, yet still treated the Pack with courtesy and kindness right up to the moment he’d learned that the matter hadn’t been created by an active imagination or a nut; werewolves did exist, and he was sitting in a room full of them.

He’d shown remarkable courage then, and the Pack had admitted him into the very small number of humans who knew of their existence. Since then, they saw each other sporadically depending on the needs of each. This time, Raya had called Doc and insisted on talking to him as soon as possible claiming that he had information about the new ‘flu.’ Doc, sounding harried, had said he had no time whatsoever, considering the magnitude of the outbreak in New Orleans and the complete chaos that the city quarantine had caused.

“We’re wrapped up putting out fires here, Raya. I can’t deal with speculations right now,” he had replied matter-of-factly. He’d added that he would be happy to discuss it fully when the entire matter of an outbreak was resolved.

Raya had lost his patience for once and yelled into the telephone. “This matter might not be resolved until every human is already dead, you hear me? And I have information about the cure! Now, when can you see me?”

“Excuse me if I don’t leap up with excitement, but I don’t see how that’s possible. With respect to our long friendship, though, I’ll give you twenty minutes to throw me what you’ve got at around 3 p.m.”

“That’s in half an hour,” Raya said, anger in his voice. The CDC was centered in Atlanta, for God’s sake.

“I’m aware of that,” Doc said. “See you in twenty then?”

The old bastard knew he was already on his way to the city, Raya realized with a grin. He’d been had.

***

Raya began by describing what little he already knew of the disease, a bit about the DNA targeting, and as much as he could divulge about the Rats who’d begun the whole catastrophe.

“Is there a way to target someone via their DNA?” he inquired.

“Yes. Who are these people, these Rats?” Doc asked casually, the whiteness of his knuckles as he clutched a pen in his hand gave away his nervousness. “Is this religious bullshit or what?”

“The Rats are terrorists… mercenaries, if you will, from Europe. They’ve been in existence for a couple of centuries now. They really were just a couple of communal packs to begin with, but when they learned about money and what it could do for an individual or an organization, that’s what they did, they organized. Listen; is the CDC anywhere near a cure?”

Doc sat for a moment, his bushy white eyebrows lowered, bright blue eyes staring at Raya as though he were sizing up the Alpha wolf. Finally, he gave a tiny shrug and got to his feet. He walked to a clean whiteboard opposite Raya and began writing.

“Here’s the disease,” he said and drew a blotch. “So far, we’ve hit it with many different types of antibiotics, like this.” He drew circles all around the blotch, named a few. “Problem is, this disease is resistant to penicillin, and a lot of these others too.” He drew x’s through half of the circles. “Additionally, the thing seems to thrive on a few, such as Keflex and Zithromax.” He stood for a moment, then his whole body seemed to sag as he walked back to his desk. “It began as a two-week illness, your basic flu. First eight days coughing, runny nose, aching. Then strange sores and death. But then it changed. Five days of normal symptoms, then the sores. As of today? Three days normal. You follow? It’s mutating, gaining strength. Soon people will catch it and die within hours.”

Raya was glued to his seat in horror.

“Didn’t see this on the news.”

“Not surprised. They’re not talking about the fact that outbreaks are country-wide now either. New York, LA, Miami. Just heard of cases in Europe and Tokyo, too.”

Raya frowned.

“Wait. What did you mean about ‘strange sores’?”

Doc’s mouth thinned.

“You might not believe this, but these sores don’t gradually appear and they’re not sores at all. More like knife wounds, slices. They appear suddenly like the patient has been sliced by an invisible knife.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Raya admitted.

“You and your group are… unusual,” Doc said. “This illness is damn unusual also. We need your help, I believe, to figure out a cure.”

“I’ll do anything I can,” Raya said. “Anything I can.”

***

Joseph had him back at Heureuse at 5 p.m. He was just about to see if he could get him to Romania when there was a knock at the door. To his amazement, the two Illuminati, Aman and Nesto, stood there, looking very serious.

“I was just about to visit you,” Raya said as he ushered the pair in.

“We’re saving you the trip. Considering what you’re dealing with, it’s the least we could do.”

“I suppose you know what I’m going to ask?”

“Has to be how to stop this smart disease.” At his nod, Aman said, “Joseph saves. Blood needs blood.”

“What? Could you be any more obtuse?”

“Joseph! BLOOD needs blood!” he said, looking Raya directly in the eyes.

“‘Joseph saves, blood needs blood.’ Joseph’s blood, has to be,” Raya muttered. He looked up as both Illuminati nodded with respect, turned and departed. He had to have it right for them to have left like that, he thought.

How could Joseph’s blood be of use, though?

Chapter Sixteen

At Heureuse, Petra got Shelley settled in her room and went downstairs to talk to Cilla. She’d found the young vampire to be extremely intelligent, always having bright new ideas. And Petra needed ideas; how to get Shelley’s mom back, for starters.

Cilla had other things on her mind. What if Heureuse was the next target after Kentucky? And what if that attack came at a moment when Petra was alone there, as was happening so often at the moment? Petra wasn’t worried.

“We have the caves beneath, and that incredible security system Itchiko set up. If anything moves on the ground we’ll know about it!”

They were sitting at the round table in the kitchen where everyone usually hung out. Petra had her back to the enormous windows and was facing the fridge and stove. Opposite her, Cilla had a clear view through the windows over Petra’s shoulders and suddenly she shot up in her chair, back absolutely rigid with shock. Beyond speech, she frantically pointed over Petra’s shoulders.

Petra turned to see the very last thing she or Raya could have ever expected: a flock of hang-gliders coming in for a landing.

“Hit the cellar, Cilla!” Petra shouted, and she was up and running.

At the second flight of stairs, someone had dropped a sock from a laundry basket. Petra tripped and tumbled down the stairs all the way to the bottom, where she instantly knew something was wrong with her leg. She couldn’t place enough weight on it to even stand up.

“Cilla! Get Shelley out of here and bring help,” Petra yelled. The young vampire had used up most of her strength transporting the three of them from New Jersey back home.

Cilla nodded and vanished just as the back door smashed open, and footsteps came trotting across the kitchen to the open cellar door. Sitting at the bottom of the steps with her injured leg straight out in front of her, Petra looked up to see a man in a dark hat and a black suit standing at the top of the stairs. Behind him was a small army all dressed in camouflage gear.

“Petra. I haven’t had the pleasure,” the man said in an almost-purring whisper.

“Mickey, I presume?” she asked, rubbing her leg.

He laughed.

“That will do, for now. You’re injured. Allow us to help you.”

He motioned over his shoulder, and the others trotted down the stairs, picked her up gently and carried back up. At the top of the stairs, Mickey pointed at the door. Petra’s ‘rescuers’ carried her out the door without even stopping. Several vans were waiting with the engines running. Her carriers sat her in the lead van, with Mickey himself driving. The other vehicles were there to carry the contingent who’d flown in, she was sure.

She was also sure that the entire exercise from hang-gliders to driving out the gate had taken less than ten minutes. Well-planned: the police took exactly thirteen minutes to respond. She looked back and wondered if she’d ever see Heureuse again.

***

The vans drove around a wide lake to a beautiful waterfront villa, surrounded by wild greenery. Nothing manicured about this property, Petra thought as she walked into an imposing, two-story foyer with a glass roof.

“Why don’t you change for dinner?” Mickey asked, the epitome of the generous host.