The Wereling 3: Resurrection Read online

  Marcie chuckled softly. ‘Such an elegant idea of Takapa’s, don’t you think? He opens United Laboratories, offering generous grants to attract bright, cutting-edge doctors and scientists … steers their research, then utilises their discoveries …’

  ‘And once they get an idea of what he’s really up to, he imprisons them here and dopes them up.’ Tom gave her a disgusted look, which he hoped was more eloquent than his slurred speech. ‘Existing only for their next fix of serum.’

  Marcie snapped her jaws together. ‘You really shouldn’t fret about those poor, tortured souls back there. They’ll know some peace, soon enough.’ She smiled coldly. ‘You’d do better to worry about yourself.’

  ‘What’s Walker doing in there?’ asked Tom slowly. ‘Why did you steal the white wolves?’

  ‘Their genes hold information that may be valuable,’ Marcie told him.

  Just then, the door opened behind them, and Tom heard something heavy being wheeled inside. He frowned as a severe-looking woman, so thin she resembled a stick insect in a skirt, stalked into view.

  ‘Marcie, where do you want this to go?’ the woman asked in a petulant voice, gesturing distastefully behind her.

  ‘Ah, Araminta. Is this the new subject for Liebermann’s experiment?’

  Araminta nodded. ‘Drugged and sleeping like a fat baby.’

  Marcie tutted at Tom. ‘You rescued the Walker girl, so we simply had to find another subject.’

  Tom watched as a large man in a wheelchair was wheeled into the room by a sour-faced lackey. The man in the chair wore a security guard’s uniform, and his many chins quivered as he snored softly.

  ‘This was not one of the temp agency’s great successes,’ Araminta reported. ‘I don’t tolerate incompetents on my gallery staff. Nevertheless, he is fitting for our purpose. He has no family, and few friends who’ll mourn him … and in any case, he’d only create a bad impression on patrol at the gallery when our pureblood patrons come to visit.’

  ‘Well, Liebermann?’ asked Marcie. ‘Will he do?’

  Liebermann, the old blind man, tottered forwards and felt the unconscious guard’s face and body, like a butcher might probe a side of meat. Then he gave a throaty chuckle. ‘He certainly offers a good deal of material to work with.’ He turned to the lackey. ‘Leave him in the corner.’ The miserable-looking man obeyed, then left silently.

  ‘All we need now is a corpse,’ said Liebermann softly.

  ‘Come dawn, you shall have as many as you need,’ Marcie promised him.

  Hal tore his gaze away from the observation window for a moment, noticed Araminta apparently for the first time, and nodded his head in formal, almost wary, greeting.

  Araminta walked over to Tom, her spindly heels tapping harshly on the tiled floor, and regarded him coldly. ‘This must be the boy you mentioned. He doesn’t look like anything special.’

  ‘It’s what’s inside that counts,’ cooed Marcie, tracing a talon lightly down Tom’s cheek. ‘The secrets of his DNA have intrigued us for some time.’

  ‘Walker’s finished,’ Hal announced suddenly, wringing his hands like an expectant father in the labour ward. ‘They’re coming out!’

  The two figures in their surgical smocks entered the room from the operating theatre through a metal doorway. Tom could tell instantly that one of them was John Walker; Sunday had his startling blue eyes and the same high forehead. But when he pulled down his facemask, he looked far older than Tom had pictured, his face strained and almost grey with fatigue. And there was a mark on his neck. A puncture wound. He’d been bitten.

  Tom felt a fresh surge of hatred for his captors. Any man or woman was an acceptable target for these monsters. They took whoever they wished, wrenched them away from the lives they had known and the people who loved them – and placed their hateful, bloody curse upon them. Tom thought of Stacy Stein’s husband, who’d killed himself when his bloodlust grew uncontrollable; of his parents having to face up to Christmas without him; of all the powerless ’wolf-victims he’d met in New York – and felt his anger deepen and grow…

  Still his frozen body refused to budge an inch.

  ‘You were successful, I trust?’ enquired Marcie.

  ‘I think so,’ said Walker wearily. ‘Combining the wolf and human genes is a highly demanding procedure. But the König Man’s DNA samples don’t seem to be rejecting the genetic material from the white wolves.’

  Hal placed his hand on the scientist’s arm. ‘His body can be fully restored?’

  ‘I believe so. With this pure wolf DNA it should be possible, using very aggressive gene therapies, to reverse the damage to the body tissue.’

  ‘You’re certain?’ hissed Marcie. ‘You said the work would be complete long before now.’

  ‘How could I have foreseen the problems we’d have regenerating the body?’ snapped Walker. ‘I’ve never experimented on lupine tissue before.’ He grew more subdued under Marcie’s withering glare.

  ‘Do as we ask and you will get the serum you crave,’ said Marcie. ‘Refuse and you will get nothing.’

  Emotions flitted pathetically across Walker’s face: hatred, desire, self-disgust.

  They’ve got him totally hooked, Tom realised. He’ll do everything they ask and more.

  ‘Please, John,’ Hal said quietly. ‘We must know. Time is running out. If we – if Takapa is to fulfil his aims …’

  Walker nodded miserably. He pressed a phial into Hal’s hand then trudged back towards the operating room with his assistant.

  As they went through the open door Tom saw it was a white wolf on the operating table, its fur glowing almost silver under the harsh multiple lights.

  Hal held the phial up to the light. ‘Yes,’ he breathed. ‘Yes, the skin is rejuvenating already. Look!’ He passed the phial to Marcie. ‘Pink and fresh. Takapa will be most pleased.’

  ‘And not a moment too soon,’ Araminta murmured. ‘The purebloods will be arriving at Brook Mansion at noon tomorrow, ready for the preliminary briefing …’

  ‘There have been so many delays,’ worried Hal. ‘Walker’s exhausted – he may make mistakes. I still say Takapa should have delayed this gathering until we were certain of—’

  ‘Takapa knows what he is doing, my dear,’ insisted Marcie coldly. ‘He is fully confident of success.’

  Tom cleared his claggy throat. ‘Remind me, Hal … is she hitched to you, or Takapa? Only she seems pretty into that albino freak—’

  Hal’s face darkened. ‘Be silent!’ he shouted.

  Even Marcie seemed startled. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then faltered and closed it again.

  Raw nerve, Tom noted.

  Liebermann gave a thin chuckle, and moved closer to the unconscious security guard. ‘I am sure, Folan, you will feel happier come the dawn, when my colleagues join me to perform the ritual on this flabby creature.’ Then he glared at Tom. ‘The boy spoiled my experiment at an early stage this morning. But I remain confident of the ultimate outcome.’

  ‘Speaking of “this one” …’ said Marcie meaningfully.

  Liebermann nodded. ‘There are perhaps other duties we must attend to,’ he said quietly.

  Marcie looked down gloatingly at Tom. ‘You’ll remember why we turned you ’wolf in the first place, I’m sure … A mate for our only daughter; an injection of new blood to stabilise our pureblood genepool.’

  Tom twisted his head awkwardly away from her.

  ‘Nothing’s changed, my little wereling,’ she said more softly. ‘Only now I have lent my support to Takapa, I can draw on his resources, and simply remove what I need from you in a single, straightforward procedure.’ She leaned in close, and Tom could smell rank, raw meat on her breath. ‘Your nature is rare, Tom. You draw on the best of your humanity and the best of the ’wolf. A thinking, calculating beast not dependent on instinct alone.’

  ‘Flattery will get you nowhere,’ Tom said thickly. It was getting harder and harder to talk.

  She went on. �
��Once we have cracked your genetic code we shall use it to genetically enhance the offspring Kate shall bear Takapa … Their children will grow to be true champions of the lupine race.’ She sniggered. ‘Kate will be such a proud mother, don’t you think?’

  Tom’s throat was burning and words wouldn’t form in his mouth any longer. Summoning all his strength, he spat in her face.

  Marcie wiped her eye with a bony hand, her smile still frozen in place. ‘Walker,’ she called. ‘Get in here.’

  He shuffled out sulkily from the theatre. ‘More interruptions?’

  ‘A chance for you to earn your next fix ahead of schedule,’ she said calmly. ‘Your assistant can continue your other tasks in your absence. Prepare to operate on the boy. Hal will tell you what we need from him.’

  Araminta and Hal both looked uncomfortable as Walker crossed obediently to a sink and began to wash his hands.

  But Liebermann was smiling. He shuffled over to Tom. ‘I shall administer the anaesthetic at once,’ he said.

  ‘And when you wake, Tom, you’ll be mine to kill at last,’ said Marcie softly. ‘It will be slow … and it will hurt you so very much. And with every cut, with every chunk we tear from your body, Hal and I will remember the son you took from us …’

  Tom felt a single tear escape and roll down his left cheek, as the old man started reciting his dark script. Then all he knew was the chill of his fear, before blackness.

  g

  g

  CHAPTER TEN

  Kate huddled down further into her coat, feeling the cold dawn seep into every bone. It was Christmas Eve. Peace and goodwill to all men.

  She watched Chung’s friends tool up with baseball bats and knuckledusters from the back of his white van. It was creepy, somehow; these respectable-looking men and women all looked like they belonged down at the playground with their kids, or in a swish office somewhere, clinching deals – not getting ready to start what was promising to be a very messy fight.

  Soon, a sea of black leather began to encroach on Takapa’s yard. Mike sliced through the chain on the yard gates with some lethal-looking cutters.

  Blood watched the scene dispassionately, his floppy dark hair bouncing around in the cold wind like it was caught up in some private crisis. ‘Sunday, when the ’wolves captured you here … did they take you in through the yard?’

  ‘No. There’s an alley around the side that leads to a fire door,’ answered Sunday through chattering teeth. ‘More private, I guess. I got out that way too, when Tom …’ She trailed off. ‘Why d’you ask?’

  Kate cast her a sideways glance. ‘Even if Chung does manage to get us all inside, that yard will be the first place the ’wolves secure once we’re in – to keep us from getting back out the same way.’

  ‘By George, I think she’s got it,’ said Blood approvingly.

  ‘We’re ready,’ announced Chung to the gathered crowd, quite calm and confident. ‘Remember, this is a show of strength. We’re not here to start a war, but to prevent one. These people are our brothers.’ Fayn offered him a pick handle, and Chung accepted it, weighing it in both hands. ‘Only use force if you have to.’

  The crowd nodded and muttered, but Kate noticed that they never relaxed their grip on their weapons for a moment. Chung led them into the yard, his followers fanning out into a semi-circle behind him as they approached the main doors. Kate felt her stomach twist with nerves as she, Sunday and Blood lingered at the back of the ugly mob.

  Chung was conferring with Fayn and Zac, pointing at the main doors – when they abruptly burst open. Three men darted out. Two grabbed Chung and lifted him clear off the ground before he could even react. The other man grabbed Fayn and snatched him inside. Chung kicked and yelled to be released as he was hauled bodily into the building.

  At the same moment, three ’wolves bolted out of the dark maw of the building, jaws slavering, yellow eyes gleaming. Without hesitation they tore into the startled crowd. Bodies went down, claws swiped and teeth scissored through flesh. Blood started to spurt and splatter. Then two more ’wolves, dark, hulking scabrous creatures, lurched out, drool stringing down from their jaws.

  Sunday grabbed hold of Kate’s arm, backed away into Blood. ‘It’s an ambush! Like they knew Chung was coming!’

  ‘Someone’s sold him out,’ Kate said. She saw Mike’s prone body trampled by one of the ’wolves, heard Zac yelling as he brought an iron bar down on the back of a black, shambling lupine creature, only to be dragged down by the raking claws of another of the beasts.

  ‘Come on,’ said Blood, ushering them both towards the gates. ‘That side door Sunday mentioned, quick.’

  Kate stared at him. ‘What?’

  ‘The ’wolves were obviously told to expect an assault on the yard, and they’re dealing with it. If they’re acting on information, they won’t be expecting anyone to enter through the fire door.’

  ‘You hope,’ said Sunday.

  She led Kate and Blood around to the chain-link fence at the end of the alleyway that led to the fire door. Kate started to scale it, climbing clumsily but swiftly, the links biting into her numb fingers. Blood was close behind her, but Sunday was struggling.

  ‘I hate heights,’ she moaned. ‘I pushed underneath last time but they’ve closed up the gap.’

  ‘Just climb like there’s a werewolf right behind you,’ Blood snapped, ‘because as soon as they’ve dealt with Chung’s friends in the yard, there could be.’

  Without another word, Sunday started climbing. Kate followed Blood down to the end of the alley. The fire door was sealed shut.

  Blood hammered on the door with his fist. ‘It worked, lads,’ he shouted. ‘They fell for it! It’s all over out there, come and see!’

  The door opened and a man’s eager face came into view. Blood planted his fist in the middle of it.

  As the guard fell back inside and collapsed to the concrete, Kate flung open the door to reveal another man lunging towards them. She kicked the man’s ankle from under him and he fell to the ground. Before he could rise, Sunday came sprinting down the alleyway and jumped on his head with both feet. The man stayed down.

  ‘The advantages of not dieting,’ quipped Sunday shakily.

  ‘Come on,’ said Blood, pushing his hair from his eyes. ‘You’re the one with local knowledge, Sunday. Where might Tom and your dad be?’

  ‘I was being held on the first floor,’ she said. ‘Until they took me to that room up at the top for the ceremony stuff.’

  Kate shuddered, and pulled the fire door back closed. ‘We’d better get looking,’ she said, heading up the cold and echoing stairway. ‘From the way the fight was going out front, we won’t have a distraction for long.’

  The place seemed deserted, the corridors silent save for the hum of the fluorescents above. Kate’s stomach was a tight knot as she and Sunday trailed behind Blood, checking doors as they went. But there were so many rooms to look into, mostly nondescript storerooms or shabby offices, and the minutes were ticking by …

  Kate saw a bright blush of light on the floor beneath a set of white double doors. She pushed them open and saw Tom’s body on a hospital trolley, his head protruding from a white shroud. For a second her heart seemed to spin in her chest, elated that she’d found him. Then her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, Tom …’ she breathed.

  ‘Shit,’ said Sunday.

  Kate felt Blood’s hands comfortingly on her shoulders, but she brushed them off and flew over to where Tom lay, white-faced, eyes tightly shut. She took his wrist, felt for a pulse; it was like handling ice.

  She pressed her cheek against his dry lips, and caught the faint brush of his breath. ‘He’s alive,’ she croaked, looking up at Sunday and Blood with hope in her eyes. She rocked him gently. ‘Tom? Wake up, Tom, it’s Kate.’

  He didn’t stir.

  ‘Tom!’ she hissed in his ear. ‘Please, wake up … for God’s sake!’

  Blood was indicating gravely across the room. Kate looked up and saw two wind
ows that looked on to an operating room.

  ‘They’ve gone to work on him,’ said Blood.

  ‘Can we move him?’ whispered Sunday.

  ‘We’re going to have to,’ said Blood, coming across to join Kate by Tom’s body. He gripped her by the shoulders. ‘We must get him outside.’

  Sunday made a dry squeaking noise at the back of her throat. ‘My dad …’

  Blood turned to her awkwardly. ‘Look, I’m sorry, Sunday. I know you’re worried sick about your dad but if we don’t get Tom—’

  ‘He’s here,’ she said, dully. ‘Dad’s here.’ She was walking through into the operating room.

  Kate quickly followed her.

  A man who looked to be about sixty was slumped back in a chair, looking up at the ceiling, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides. The spit trail from his sagging mouth sparkled in the harsh surgical lights. Kate recalled the comforting smell of cherry tobacco in Walker’s car, tried to reconcile the homely image it had conjured in her mind with this harsh, haggard apparition before her now.

  ‘Dad?’ Sunday took his uncomprehending fist in her hand. ‘Dad, it’s me!’

  His eyes came down from the ceiling to regard her glassily. ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

  Sunday recoiled as if he’d struck her. ‘It … it’s me, Dad.’

  ‘Don’t play games with me!’ His hand twisted out of hers and grabbed hold of her wrist. ‘Marcie sent you. Have you got it? The serum?’

  ‘Dad, you’re hurting me!’ Sunday tried to pull free, but Kate saw his fingers were digging down vice-like into her flesh. ‘Dad, please!’

  ‘Useless girl!’ he spat at her. ‘I’m doing nothing more for you people until I get my fix. Understand?’ His eyes were wild, his breath harsh and ragged. Finally he let go of Sunday’s arm, shoved her away from him. ‘Nothing! I’m not digging out samples from anyone else until—’

  ‘Digging out samples?’ Kate’s breath caught in the back of her throat. ‘Then it was you. What did you do to Tom?’