Now I had a plan. Good thing, too, or my ego would have been more than just bruised. This was my hunt, and I'd done almost nothing, made no plans, taken no risks. It was my turn. While Clay ensured Winsloe was out of firepower, I crept farther into the forest, found a likely spot, and started my Change.
Less than ten minutes later, I walked to the edge of the clearing and whistled. Winsloe's head shot up and he scanned the forest.
"Hear that?" he called to Clay. "Someone's coming. Guess you didn't kill every guard after all."
He leaned over the tree branch and peered down, but Clay was gone. Seconds later, Clay burst through the forest perimeter and looked up at me. His eyes flashed a question. Did I want him to Change too? I shook my head, knelt, and whispered my plan. As I talked, he moved closer, fur rubbing against my bare skin. Without thinking, I ran my fingers through his thick fur. As I finished, I realized what I was doing and stopped. My face heated. On rare occasions when the situation was reversed, and I was a wolf while Clay was human, I freaked out if he touched me. It was ... well, it was too weird. This time, when I pulled back, Clay nudged my hand and licked between my fingers, telling me it was okay. And it was. Clay was Clay no matter what form he took. Yet another baby step toward accepting my own duality.
"Sound good?" I whispered when I'd finished outlining my plan.
He tilted his head, considering it, then snorted his agreement.
I grinned. "Can't argue anyway, can you?"
He gave a mock growl and nipped my hand, then prodded me to my feet. I stood and we headed for the oak tree.
By the time I emerged from the forest, Winsloe had climbed partway down, staying a dozen feet from the ground, obviously thinking Clay had run away but not willing to descend completely until help arrived. When he heard me coming, he called, "Over here!"--then saw who it was. Disappointment flitted across his face. Not fear, just disappointment. Seeing Clay at my side, he climbed to the next branch.
"How long you planning to stay up there?" I called.
"As long as it takes." His eyes flickered over my naked body, and he managed a humorless smile. "Hoping to entice me down?"
"If I could stomach the thought of seducing you, I'd have done it while I was trapped in that cell."
His mouth tightened. Amazing. Even treed by two werewolves, Winsloe was more concerned about his pride than his life. I walked to the base of the tree and grabbed the bottom branch. He only watched me. It was still a game to him.
I swung onto the first branch. He climbed higher. I went to the next branch. So did he. Beneath us, Clay circled the tree. Ten more feet up and Winsloe's stockinged foot slipped. The branch he held gave way and he grabbed the tree trunk for support. After steadying himself, he squinted at the remaining branches above.
"They won't hold your weight," I said. "But don't take my word for it."
He didn't. He grabbed a branch and tugged. It snapped in his hand. He hesitated, then lowered himself onto the branch under his feet until he was sitting on it. When I got close enough, he kicked at me. As if I wouldn't see that one coming. I ducked easily and seized his injured leg. He gasped and jerked back, nearly tumbling off the branch.
"You want to fight me, go ahead," I said as I climbed onto his branch. "But you'd better have a spare gun under that jacket if you hope to win."
He said nothing. I teetered on the branch, getting my balance. Winsloe sat still, as if resigned to this. Then his hand shot out and smacked my ankle. I grabbed the limb overhead and steadied myself. The branch beneath us swayed.
"Don't be doing that," I said. "If this branch breaks, I can jump to the ground. Even if you survive the fall, you won't survive what's waiting at the bottom."
Winsloe muttered something and made a move to settle, then slammed both hands into my calf. I grabbed his collar, hauled him to his feet, and smashed him backward into the tree trunk.
"You want to fight?" I said. "Okay, let's fight."
He didn't move. His gaze flicked down. I whacked his head against the tree.
"Thinking of knocking my legs out from under me? Don't bother. You do and we both fall. Now, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm not trying to kill you. In fact, I haven't laid an unprovoked hand on you, have I?"
A glimmer of cunning lit his eyes. "You want to negotiate."
"Maybe."
"Fifteen million."
"I thought we were up to twenty-five?"
"Twenty then."
"Oh, so that's how it works? Once I show some interest, the offer goes down. A true businessman."
His mouth tightened. "Fine. Twenty-five."
I pretended to consider it. "You know, Clay was right. We don't need money. We have enough. Wanting more would be greedy."
"Thirty million."
I grabbed him by the shirt collar and swung him over the side. His feet scrambled for purchase, finding only air. I shifted sideways and rested my back against the tree. When he clawed at me, I thrust him out to arm's length.
"Offer me more," I said.
His mouth tightened. I let him slip to my fingertips. He flailed, all four limbs jerking, convulsing, lashing out. I started to release my grip.
"Fifty million," he said.
"Not enough." I let him slip another half-inch. "Offer me every thing."
"What?!"
I released one hand from his shirtfront.
"Okay, okay! Fine!"
I grabbed and steadied him. He gulped air, then cast a surreptitious glance at the ground and shuddered.
"Let's clarify that," I said. "What exactly are you offering?"
"My estate. All of it."
"Your personal estate? Not good enough. I want your business holdings, too. Every dollar, every share, every last thing you own. Offer me that."
"Wh--what would I live on?"
"Start over. You're a smart guy. You could make a living. At least you'll be alive. That's more than we can say for Lake and Bryce, isn't it?"
"I'll give you my holdings in every thing but Promethean Fire."
I let go. He shrieked, arms windmilling. Before he fell, I grabbed him by the shirtfront, hauled him up, and bent over him.
"Wanna try again?" I said.
His shirt tore, just an inch, but the sound ripped through the silence like a chainsaw.
"All of it," he said. "Goddamn you. Take it all."
"'Cause nothing's worse than dying, right? Tell me, Ty, what would you have done if Armen Haig had made you the same offer? Promised you every thing he had? Would you have let him live?"
Winsloe's shirt tore another inch. He stared at me, wild-eyed, lips moving soundlessly.
"Let me answer that for you, Ty. It's 'no.' He could have offered you millions and you still would have killed him. Why? Because his death was worth more than all the money he could give. The few seconds of amusement his death offered was worth more."
"Please," he said. "Please, I'm going to--"
"Fall? Hah. Too easy. You fall. Clay rips your throat out. Game over."
"It's not a fucking game!"
I cupped my hand behind my ear. "What's that, Ty? I think I misheard you."
"I said this isn't a fucking game. It's my life!"
"No, it's your death. Hey, there's an idea. Not a game, but a game show. This Is Your Death. Now, I've got to admit, I'm a bit young to have seen This Is Your Life. I only know the title, so I'll have to improvise. Cross it with something I do remember watching as a kid. Let's Make a Deal."
I pulled him back onto the branch and helped him get his balance, keeping my hands wrapped in his shirtfront.
"You--you want to negotiate." He wiped sweat from his face and swallowed loudly. "Okay. Good. Let's negotiate."
"Negotiate? Hell, no. I'm making a deal regarding the method of your execution, Ty. You're going to die. That's a given. The only question is how?"
"N--no. No. Wait. Let's talk--"
"About what? You've already offered me every thing you own. You have nothing else to offer, do you?"
r />
He stared, mouth working soundlessly.
"You've offered every thing. I rejected that offer. So you're going to die. Why? Because I finally see your point of view. You've convinced me. Watching someone die can be worth more than all the money in the world."
His face drained of blood, mouth opening and closing like a fish on land.
"Behind door number one we have the most obvious choice. You fall from this tree. Only I'll make sure Clay doesn't kill you. And I won't drop you, I'll throw you. Hard enough to break every limb, but not hard enough to kill you. Then we'll gag you and leave you to die, slowly and painfully.
"Behind door number two--"
"No," he said, his voice nearly inaudible. "No. Don't--"
"Hey, I'm just getting warmed up. You know what I admire most about you, Ty? Your creativity. Your ingenuity. Like giving me the choice between killing Armen or being gang-raped. You've inspired me to new heights of creativity, so shut up and listen.
"Option two. Remember that video you saw of me fighting Lake? The one where I change my hand into a claw? Cool trick, huh? Well, here's my idea. I change my hand and slice open your guts. Not a lot, maybe pull out a bit of intestine, start a steady blood drip. You know what they say about gunshot wounds? That the gut shot is the absolute worst. Takes forever to die and hurts like the fires of Hell. Which, if you ask me, would be a good precursor to what you can expect from your eternity. I kind of like that one. Very appropriate. To hell with the game, I'm going for this one."
I pressed my hand against his stomach. He convulsed and a strong, acrid scent wafted up. I looked down to see a wet stain spreading down his pant leg.
"Shit, Ty. I was only kidding." I waved my hand in front of him.
"Stop it," he whispered. "Just stop--"
"Can't. You remember Let's Make a Deal, don't you? You're about my age, so you must have seen it as a kid. There's a door number three left. And behind this one we have ... hmmm." I looked around, then caught a glimpse of something overhead. "There. See that bird flying to the east? Know what that is? A turkey vulture. Also known as a buzzard. A scavenger. That will be the last choice. Death by scavenger. I take you down from this tree and stake you out on the ground. Then I slice you up. Lots of little, nonlethal slices, just enough to draw blood. Before long, you'll get a firsthand view of every scavenger in these woods. Oh, and I'll need to cut out your tongue so you can't scream. A definite sadistic improvement over gagging, don't you think? You should be proud of me, Ty. I'm your star pupil. Oh, speaking of pupils, I won't blindfold you. That way you can see the vultures and stray dogs as they feed on you. Well, until the vultures take your eyes--"
"Stop!" His voice rose, nearly shrill. "I know what you're doing. You want me to beg for my life. To offer you more."
"What more? You've offered every thing, Ty. And I said no."
His eyes rolled, rabid with fear and denial. "No. You won't kill me. I'm worth too much."
"You're worth nothing. Only your death is worth something to me."
"No! You won't do it, Elena. I know you won't. You want to scare me, but you'd never--"
"Never?"
"You don't have it in you."
"Option one, two, or three. Pick now."
"You're torturing me. That's all. You only want to see me squirm. You don't have it--"
I grabbed him by the throat and hauled him off his feet. Then I pressed my face against his.
"Don't tell me what I don't have in me."
I growled. Saw the terror in his eyes and drank it in. Then I let him go. Clay ripped out his throat before his body hit the ground.
CHAPTER 48
CLEANUP
After killing Winsloe, Clay Changed, and we returned to our clothing. No time for lingering. There was still work to be done at the compound. Every bit of evidence had to be found and destroyed. Then we had to remove all traces of our presence. Eventually someone would find the compound and the bodies within. To decrease the likelihood of a large-scale police investigation, Paige had hacked into the computer system early this morning and transferred the property deed to a Colombian drug cartel. Don't ask me how she even knew the name of a South American dope lord. Some questions are better left unanswered. As for Winsloe, we'd disposed of his body in a way that ensured he'd never be found. How? Well, that's another one of those questions. The point was that no one would ever find Winsloe or link him to the compound, which would avoid the media blitz that would surround his death.
"Did Savannah look okay to you?" I asked as we finished dressing. "She hit that wall pretty hard."
"She seemed fine. Jeremy will look after her."
"Do you think Paige will be able to handle her?"
"If Paige could handle that sorcerer, she can handle a twelve-year-old kid. She'll be fine, darling. They both will."
"I hope so."
Clay pushed aside a branch for me. "Watching you with Savannah, I was thinking--"
"Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"Good. Don't."
"I was just thinking--"
"No kids."
He laughed and put his arm around me. "That sounds definite."
"It is. Me as a mother?" I shuddered. "I can only imagine one thing worse. You as a father."
"Thanks a hell of a lot. I'd make a ... fairly good father. And if not, there's Jeremy. He's a great parent. He'd compensate for my shortcomings."
"Great idea. We have the kids and dump the responsibility on him. He'd love that."
"He wouldn't mind."
I groaned. "No kids."
Clay walked a few more feet, then grinned. "Hey, you know what else? If we had children, you couldn't leave. You'd be stuck with me. Now there's a thought."
"You--that's--oh!"
I threw up my hands and stomped off. Clay's laugh echoed through the forest. He jogged up, swung me off the ground, and tickled me.
"I'm hiding my birth control pills," I said, gasping for breath.
"We'll discuss it later."
"Nev--"
He cut me off with a kiss. A few minutes later, there came a rustling in the bushes.
"They're kissing." A young voice. Savannah.
I twisted to see Jeremy yank Savannah back. Then he peered through the bushes.
"Oh, you're dressed," he said, and released Savannah.
I wriggled out of Clay's grasp. "Of course we're dressed. Since when have we ever stopped in the middle of a dangerous situation to have"--I glanced at Savannah--"a rest."
Jeremy rolled his eyes.
"Did you kill Winsloe?" Savannah asked.
"Kill--" I choked. "Um, no, we--uh--"
"He's been taken care of," Jeremy said. "Now I think we should get you back to Paige before--"
"There you are!" Paige said, bursting through the bushes, face glistening with sweat. "I told you to stay close."
"I did stay close," Savannah said. "You didn't say who I had to stay close to."
"I was out here trying to pick up Leah's trail," Jeremy explained to us. "There's no trace of her. Perhaps you two can do a better job."
"I'll go with Elena," Savannah said. "If we find Leah, I can use my binding spell again."
Paige and I both opened our mouths to protest, but Jeremy beat us to it.
"Why don't we go find Adam?" he said. "Perhaps we can help him."
Savannah's eyes sparked at the mention of Adam, but she only shrugged and allowed that she supposed that would be an acceptable alternative. When Jeremy headed toward the compound, Savannah trailed behind him.
Paige sighed. "I may have finally met a challenge I'm not ready for. Thank God I have my Coven sisters. They'll probably die of shock when I actually admit I need help."
"Do you want to come with us and look for Leah?" I asked. "Take a break?"
"No, you two go on. Be careful."
I grinned. "Now, what would be the fun in that?"
Paige laughed and jogged after Jeremy and Savannah.
Wh
en we left the compound at dawn there was no evidence to suggest anything out of the ordinary had happened there. Okay, a building filled with dead bodies isn't exactly commonplace, but there was no evidence of anything supernatural. Before leaving, Adam started a series of small fires, not enough to be seen by passing planes, but enough to fill the building with thick smoke, further damaging anything that remained.
Oh, and Leah? We never did find her. I spent two hours scouring the grounds outside the compound. If she'd left, I should have found a trail. Since I didn't, we had to assume she'd holed up somewhere in the compound, where she would have eventually been overcome by smoke. And if she did manage to escape? Well, let's just say none of us planned to visit her home state of Wisconsin anytime soon.
KELLEY ARMSTRONG lives in Ontario with her family. Visit her website at www.kelleyarmstrong.com.
VINTAGE CANADA EDITION, 2009
Copyright (c) 2002 K.L.A. Fricke Inc.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote
brief passages in a review.
Published in Canada by Vintage Canada, a division of Random House of Canada
Limited, Toronto, in 2009. Random House Canada, a division of Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto,
in 2002. Distributed by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.
Vintage Canada and colophon are registered trademarks of
Random House of Canada Limited.
www.randomhouse.ca
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Armstrong, Kelley
Stolen/Kelley Armstrong.
(Women of the otherworld)
eISBN: 978-0-30735877-6
I. Title. II. Series: Armstrong, Kelley. Women of the otherworld.
PS8551.R7637S76 2009 C813'.6 C2009-902237-0
v3.0
Kelley Armstrong, Stolen
(Series: Otherworld # 2)
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