Blood Moon (31 page)

Chapter 19

5th January 2009. Nauchnnyy proyezd, Moscow. 17:25

Michael paced back and forth within the abandoned storeroom that was their prison. There were no windows in the room. The only entrance was a heavy steel door on rusted rails and the only illumination the light that seeped through the gaps around the door frame. Water dripped from the concrete ceiling with the regularity of a metronome, and the room stank of ancient rat piss. Marie had examined their accommodation as soon as they had been incarcerated, and had simply shrugged her shoulders before retreating to a relatively dry corner and closing her eyes. Michael envied his sister’s calm demeanour. He had no idea how she was able to relax, given the predicament they found themselves in. The waiting was the worst part. Krysztof intended to kill them both, of that Michael had no doubt. Killing them, however, was not enough. The Armenian’s position as alpha was precarious, especially after the slaughter in High Moor and the imprisonment of so many in Lindholme. The Moonborn factions sided with Krysztof, but from what he’d been able to gather from the guards, there was still support for him among the turned. Krysztof intended to make a public spectacle of his death. Stage a trial for them both, then perform the execution himself. It was the only way he could be certain of complete control. Especially after the destruction his actions had brought. They had been too late to stop the assault on High Moor, but even if they had gotten to Moscow in time, there would have been no guarantee of success. Certainly, he could not have reasoned with the man, and he was no match physically for him either. What other options would have been open to him? Assassination? Civil war between the pack factions when they were at their most vulnerable? He’d been a fool to return. To believe he could have made a difference. The latest, and most likely last, in a long line of mistakes that may very well have doomed his species to extinction. He deserved everything that was coming to him and more.

Marie opened one eye and glared at him. “Any chance of you packing that shit in? Or are you trying to tunnel out of here by wearing a hole in the floor?”

He sighed. “I’m sorry. I just keep playing things over in my head. I can’t believe that Steffan turned us over to Krysztof.”

Marie nodded. “We don’t know what happened. Chances are he was being followed, and no matter what precautions he took he would have had our scent on him. Or… the fucker stitched us up.” She shrugged again. “None of it makes any difference now. All we can do is wait. Save your strength for whatever comes next.”

Michael sagged. “What’s the fucking point? We both know what’s coming next. We’re going to get hauled out of here and executed.”

“If you don’t stop your whining, you won’t make it that far because I’ll put you out of your bloody misery right here. For fuck’s sake, Michael. You are the one that wanted to come back here. You were the one that wanted to try to put things right. Yeah, maybe we are screwed, but if you start off with an attitude like that then you might as well give up now. We watch. We wait. We save our strength, and if an opportunity to get ourselves out of this mess presents itself then we jump on it. Or you can give up. Your choice, big brother.”

Michael felt shame flush his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being a miserable bastard. But I really screwed things up. If I hadn’t…”

“What? Saved my life? We are where we are and there’s no point dwelling on the past. When life gives you lemons you take the lemons and shove them up its fucking arse sideways.” She got to her feet and put her arm on his shoulder. “We’ll get through this. We always do.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “Trust me.”

The bar on the other side of the door clanked, and the door slid open with a torturous squeal of metal against metal. Michael saw his sister’s posture change – becoming tense – then immediately relax again when she saw what was on the other side of the door.

Krysztof’s massive frame filled the doorway, flanked by two Moonborn cradling sub machine guns and another two in wolf form. If they tried anything, they’d be cut to pieces before they managed a step. Still, Michael imagined his hands around the big Armenian’s throat and couldn’t suppress a sardonic smile. Krysztof threw two pairs of silver manacles into the cell. “It is time that you both answered for your crimes. Put these on and follow me. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what will happen if you resist.”

Michael thought about this for a moment, and from the expression on Marie’s face, he knew that her thoughts were walking a similar path. Was it better to go out in a blaze of glory now and deny Krysztof his moment of victory? No. He would face this with as much dignity as he could muster. He had made mistakes, but no one could have imagined what Connie would do. No one could have foreseen this. The issue with Marie was a minor thing by comparison. It was Connie who had doomed them. He bent down and fastened the silver strap around his wrist. The manacles were for show, really. The silver would not affect him in the slightest, and he’d be able to tear the malleable metal into pieces if he brought his wolf up to the surface. Anyway, with his missing hand, all he would need to do to remove the chains was to point his stump down and they would simply fall off. This was all about ceremony. He held his head high and followed the new pack alpha, flanked on either side by the two huge werewolves, while the armed Moonborn brought up the rear. He watched Marie out of the corner of his eye, ready to react if she made a move. His sister seemed uncomfortable, however, and he noticed tiny wisps of smoke coming from her wrists where the silver touched her skin. He was confused for a moment, then realisation struck. Marie was not immune to silver anymore. Her resistance must have died with her old wolf. His mouth suddenly went dry. They were in more trouble than he thought.

He didn’t need enhanced senses to guess their destination. The low murmur of conversation and the myriad scents of the assembled pack members were like a beacon. Michael knew this building well. Perhaps too well. The pack had a number of properties they used around the city, but this abandoned industrial unit was easily the biggest and had been used many times recently, even before the current troubles. They were led along the corridor towards one of the warehouses, past walls with flaking paintwork and over sodden carpet tiles towards a set of heavy steel shutters. There was, of course, a faster route to the warehouse that would bring them to a rather ordinary wooden door, but again, Krysztof seemed determined to make an entrance. If the situation had not been so grave, Michael might have admired his flair for the theatrical. As it was, his stomach felt heavy with dread. This would all be over very soon, and try as he might, he could not see any way out of it.

Krysztof reached the shutters and dragged them open with considerably more force than was necessary, causing them to crash into the housing above. The warehouse erupted in shouts of outraged anger. The place was filled to bursting point. Every werewolf in the country – perhaps even every pack member in Europe – was present. Krysztof wanted his audience. He wanted them all to see what happened to those that broke pack law.

Lukas stood to the left of a raised platform, with Steffan by his side. His old friend cast his eyes down as they approached and wouldn’t meet his gaze. Clearly the old man felt at least some guilt for his part in this. Michael would have loved to know whether he’d given them up of his own free will or if he’d not been left with a choice. From the look on Steffan’s face, he suspected the latter, but it made very little difference now. The outcome would be the same.

He and Marie were pushed at gunpoint to stand in the centre of the platform. He looked across to his sister, hoping to see a reassuring look. Marie was nothing less than resourceful, and if anyone had a plan to get them out of this, it was her. He saw moisture glisten on her cheeks and the hollow, hopeless expression in her eyes, and realised that their time had indeed run out. There was nothing she could do here. Their fates were already sealed.

Krysztof strode to the centre of the platform and raised his arms. The place erupted in a solid wall of noise that, even with his wolf suppressed, made Michael’s ears hurt. The two Moonborn in wolf form must have been in considerable pain, a thought that didn’t cheer him up as much as he would have liked. Krysztof motioned for quiet, and the roar of discordant voices faded, although there was still a considerable amount of murmured conversation going on. “Brothers and Sisters. Please. I bring this court to order.” The last voices ebbed away until the vast room was silent. Then, Krysztof continued. “We are in one of the darkest times of our history. The humans not only know of our existence, but have declared open war upon us. There is one person, and one person alone, responsible for our plight. Our former alpha, Mikhail Williams. The accursed creature you see before you today.

“The charges against him are as follows. Firstly, that he willingly and openly ignored the decree of the council with regards to the death penalty issued against his sister, Marie Williams, putting her wellbeing over that of those he was supposed to protect.” The noise in the room returned with a vengeance. Krysztof did not wait for silence this time, however, and simply bellowed over the cacophony. “Secondly, that he acted against his fellow pack members and assisted in the murder of the field team assigned with tracking down his sister and the moonstruck, John Simpson. And finally, that his mishandling of the situation in England, in particular with regard to Connie Hamilton, resulted in our existence being proved to the humans.” He turned to Michael and his lips curled up into a snarl. “Do you deny any of these charges?”

Michael felt his stomach flip and a tidal wave of guilt crash over him. It was all true. When the facts were laid bare before him like that, there was no way that he could deny it. He had done all of those things and more. The reasons didn’t matter. The simple fact was he let his anger at the way Connie butchered the police woman cloud his judgement. Connie had known she was going to her death and had lashed out. He had gone against the judgement of the council to save Marie, and he had slain fellow pack members to protect her. He had been the one in charge. The one the others looked to for protection. And he had betrayed them all. He raised his head and looked Krysztof in the eye. “No, I don’t deny it. The responsibility is mine, but…”

Krysztof’s hand lashed out, so quickly that Michael was barely aware of the movement. His chest erupted in a white blaze of agony as the Armenian’s talons shattered his sternum and tore through his flesh. The wall of sound that erupted in the warehouse was muted, as if he was listening to it from underwater. He could hear Marie screaming, but it seemed far away. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Krysztof leaned closer to him, so that the pack leader’s fetid breath filled his nostrils. “As pack alpha, I sentence you to death.”

Then Krysztof ripped his clawed hand free, with Michael’s heart clutched in his talons. The hot coal of agony in his chest flared into a sunburst. He tried to speak. Tried to cry out, to tell Marie that he was sorry, but the darkness around the edges of his vision closed in around him and he couldn’t force the words past the bubbles of blood in his mouth. He was dead before his body hit the floor.

***

A solemn silence fell over the warehouse. Even the Moonborn seemed shocked at the sudden brutality of the execution. Michael’s corpse slumped forward and lay face down in a spreading pool of blood. He was gone. Her brother was dead and she was all alone in the world. For the next few minutes anyway. She knew she’d join David, Michael and John very soon. The loss consumed her – a savage pain in her chest like a fist of ice clamping around her heart, squeezing every last shred of her out. Her love, her compassion and her humanity. What was left was an arctic inferno of pure cold rage. She sensed her young wolf recoiling from the burning silver, but also feeding on her fury. Gaining strength. The loss of herself in the run across Europe had changed her. Made her more in tune with her animal nature than she had ever been before. And cornered animals did not lie down to die. They fought their way out of the hunter’s trap or died in the attempt. Krysztof turned his back to her and held her brother’s dripping heart aloft for all to see. Displaying his trophy. Then the hulking Armenian brought the organ to his lips and bit into it in a spray of blood.

That was as much as Marie could take. More. She surged forward, her arms held high, and wrapped the silver chain of her manacles around Krysztof’s throat. Krysztof yelped in surprise and pain as the metal burned his flesh. For all his size, he’d never been on a field team, and had never gone through the silver immunisation process. He was as vulnerable to the metal as she was. And Marie didn’t need her wolf to be deadly. Her muscles bunched as she tugged tighter, using her arms in a sawing motion, cutting into the hulking werewolf’s throat. Blood trickled through the links in the chain. She relished the coppery stink and the stickiness of it on her hands. The strangled cries from Krysztof as she tried to cut the bastard’s head off. Then a sharp pain erupted in the back of her skull, forcing her to relax her grip. Strong arms seized her, dragging her away from her victim. Marie cried out in fury, thrashing against her captors, while Krysztof sagged to one knee, gasping for breath.