Page 79 of Triumph of the Wolf
“He murdered Radomir and ended our plans for the distribution of my life’s work,” Abrams added. “Youwillend him, as I’ve commanded.”
Abrams pointed at something on the platform behind Lykos. Even with my lupine heritage giving me keen eyesight in the poor light, it was hard to identify from such a distance. Something made from glass? An empty vial?
Neither Lykos nor Duncan looked back at Abrams. Their gazes were locked on each other.
Since Izzy and I were deep in a shadowy section of the vast building, I didn’t think Abrams saw us creeping along the catwalk. The gunmen at his side were poised like the other two, weapons trained on Duncan.
I groaned to myself. Had Duncan not been worried about us—probably aboutmespecifically—he wouldn’t have let himself be lured into this situation.
The bipedfuris growled, clawed fingers flexing. His gaze shifted to Abrams, and he crouched, looking like he wanted to rush past Lykos and attack the man. But Lykos hunched and growled back. In the glow from the control panel, the whites of his eyes were visible. He was afraid. Afraid but determined. He didn’t look like he would back away. If Duncan attacked Abrams, Lykos would attackhim.
One of the gunmen closest to us stirred, his finger tightening on the trigger in anticipation. I resumed heading toward him, picking up the pace. We risked being spotted or heard, but I dared not delay. This was coming to a head.
To my surprise, the air rippled around Duncan, and he shifted back into a man. A naked and nearly defenseless man, at least compared to the powerful bipedfuris.
At first, I thought Abrams had thrown an alchemical concoction or used a magical artifact to force Duncan to change, but when Duncan spread his arms wide, hands open, I realized he might also have decided Lykos would attack if he threatened Abrams. But what if Duncandidn’tthreaten him?
“Killhim.” Abrams thrust a finger toward Duncan’s bare chest. “Now’s your chance.”
Lykos stiffened, as if magic compelled him to obey. It probably did.
“Really, now, old chap,” Duncan said to Abrams, though he watched Lykos. “Given all the things we’ve been through together, I’m aghast that you’re trying to arrange my death.”
“You tried to killme,” Abrams snarled. “All those years ago. And you destroyed mylibrary.”
“I do regret that. I adored the library.”
Lykos looked hesitantly back and forth between them. My heart went out to the kid for being caught in the middle of this.
“And then you destroyed mylaboratoryin Maple Falls.” Pure hatred filled Abrams’s eyes, as if that was the greatest crime of all.
“I don’t regret that,” Duncan drawled. “In truth, I helped you out. It was completely infested by huge insects.”
“Killhim, Lykos,” Abrams growled.
Earlier hesitation evaporating, Lykos jerked into a low crouch, ready to spring.
“I’ve a better idea,” Duncan said, addressing Lykos now. “Why don’t you change out of that form as well, and we’ll go for a fish, eh?” He backed off the platform and to the railing on the catwalk where his clothes draped. Keeping his movements slow, he waved at the magnet. “Maybe we can find some more of those tins. Or even a bicycle. Have you ever ridden one? I had to teach myself as an adult. Abrams didn’t grasp the importance of showing a child how to ride a bicycle.”
Lykos didn’t rise from his crouch, but he cocked his head, as if trying to understand. As if… curious?
Abrams turned toward one of his guards. To order them to fire?
I’d almost reached the other gunmen but paused, movement on the ground to the right of my catwalk drawing my eye. A man I hadn’t seen before writhed about, a firearm several feet away. Not only did his clothes appear to be stuck to the floor but a thick green vine stretching out from between two vats had secured his ankle like a shackle. Slumped against one of those vats, another man bled profusely from fang puncture marks in his neck. Had Jasmine done that? While still in her wolf form? She and Bolin must have found each other.
“It’ll be a right fun time,” Duncan added. “Muchmore fun than taking orders from that dusty old git.”
I was only five feet from the gunmen when one heard or somehow sensed me and glanced back. He cursed and spun toward me.
I leaped, hoping to knock the rifle out of the way with my sword, the same as I’d done below. The crack of a firearm sounded right behind me, almost startling me into dropping my blade. The second man, who’d also been turning to aim at me, flew backward as something slammed into his chest. A bullet.
As he pitched backward, I struck the rifle in the other man’s hands. It clanged as it hit the railing and went off. The bullet flew wide, streaking toward a wall and striking it. I sprang upon the man, punching him in the nose before he could recover his equilibrium. He stumbled back, and I kicked him in the gut. When he lurched forward, I pointed the tip of the sword between his eyes.
He whirled, climbed over the railing, and jumped down of his own accord. Behind me, Izzy stood with the gun I’d given her. She nodded at me, then pointed it toward the platform.
I expected the two men who’d been guarding Abrams to have heard us—how not?—and be preparing to fire. But a green vine had snaked up from the floor below, wrapping around the waist of one of the gunmen. It lifted him from his feet, and he kicked Abrams in the back as he flailed and shouted.
“Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy,” I muttered.
