Page 74 of Triumph of the Wolf
“Wholesome ingredients, I’m sure,” I muttered.
“She’s in here, I think.” Bolin touched his chest then pointed, not straight down the center aisle but toward a distant corner. Dozens of giant vats and who knew what else blocked the view in that direction. Inmostdirections.
“So is he,” Duncan said in a grim tone.
I followed his gaze to one of the catwalks, my senses telling me who he meant before I spotted the dark wolf in the shadows.
“How’d he get inside?” I glanced toward the doorway next to us—since Duncan had thrown the grenade, nobody else had tried to run in—but realized there had to be other entrances.
“You could ask him.” Duncan waved as he held gazes with the kid.
Lykos was focused on him. I doubted he would answer my questions.
“I suppose I can’t throw a salami outside and hope he’ll run off and eat it.”
“Probably not. He seems determined to… do as Abrams ordered.” Duncan shook his head sadly. “As you pointed out, I’m going to have to confront him.”
“I’ll help you.” I suspected Lykos didn’t plan to leap into a one-on-one fight with the older, larger, and stronger Duncan. He had to have laid a trap.
Duncan turned toward a wall with a metal support post, rivets running up the sides. “I’ll deal with him. You’d better keep an eye on Bolin.”
I cursed. Bolin had already started down a walkway along the wall, doubtless hoping he could follow it to the corner that held Jasmine. Meanwhile, Duncan gripped the edges of the post and climbed toward the catwalk. Lykos padded back into the shadows, disappearing behind vats and machinery.
Luring Duncan away from me, my mind wanted to add, though it was possible the kid didn’t care about me in the least.
“Help Bolin,” Duncan called softly down to me. “I’ll take care of Abrams and Lykos.”
“Anyone think we should stick together and deal with our problems as a strong and cohesive group?” I called, the words both for Duncan and Bolin.
Neither man looked back at me. Duncan pulled himself over the railing of the catwalk, hazy blue-gray smoke that wafted from one of the vats obscuring his form. He trotted in the direction Lykos had gone, soon disappearing from my view.
“Men,” I grumbled and jogged off after Bolin.
23
As I trailedBolin down the shadowy walkway along the wall of the building, heat and magical energy radiating from the vats, distanttink, tink, tinksounds reminded me of the mechanical bugs. They would doubtless show up in here too. Other noises, I couldn’t identify. Some of the vats gurgled ominously, and so many scents assailed my nostrils that something toxic could have been mixed among them, and who would have known?
Reminded of the mask, I touched it to reassure myself that wearing it was an option. Bolin passed an aisle that opened up perpendicular to the wall. He glanced down it but hurried past without slowing.
“It’s getting harder to tell where she is,” he whispered back to me. “I’m afraid the elixir is wearing off.”
“We’ll find her. She’s in here somewhere.” I kept glancing toward the catwalks, reminded that Lykos was in here too. And some of his rifle-toting allies? The grenade probably hadn’t scared them off for long.
I couldn’t sense Lykos up there anymore. I couldn’t even sense Duncan. There was too much other magic about. It waslike trying to hear a pin drop in a room while rain hammered on the roof.
Since Bolin hadn’t reacted to anything in the aisle, I didn’t expect trouble when I reached it but glanced to double check. Two men jogged out of a gap between two vats. They were less than ten feet away, and I blurted an exclamation.
The men flinched, as surprised to find me as I was to find them.
Recovering quickly, one turned toward me, a rifle cradled in his arms. Maybe my instincts should have urged me to run, but I charged toward him with the sword instead, hoping to reach him before he could fire.
He aimed the weapon at my chest, finger on the trigger.
I whipped my blade toward the rifle, clipping the end of the barrel and deflecting it. To my surprise, the sword not only struck the gun but lopped off the last inch of the barrel.
My attack didn’t keep the man from firing, but I’d knocked the rifle aside. Several bullets hammered into a nearby vat, and two struck his ally. The man screamed and reeled back, dropping his own weapon.
The guy who’d fired jerked his rifle back toward me and lunged in, trying to club me with it. I parried it as if it were a sword in a sparring match with Yuto in the dojo. Again, I knocked the rifle wide. This time, the man kept from accidentally firing, but I took advantage of the opening and kicked him in the gut. He stumbled back, bumping into his ally. The man had dropped to hands and knees, blood gushing from his neck. He gripped the wound, trying to staunch the flow, but it looked like a fatal wound.
