Page 80 of Triumph of the Wolf
The second gunman turned, not toward me but toward the floor and where that vine was coming from. He leaned over and fired.
“Shit.” I sprinted down the catwalk, not sure if he was aiming at Bolin or Jasmine.Neitherwas an acceptable target.
“I’m not the threat, brother,” Duncan said calmly, as if the chaos going on all around him was of no consequence. His arms were still out as he stood naked, his focus on Lykos. “Abrams is. Until he’s out of our lives, we’ll never truly be free.”
“Killhim, boy!” Denied his bodyguards, Abrams rushed toward Lykos with the flask.
To do what? Throw more of a coercion potion on the kid?
Whatever he intended, Lykos, in his wolf form, must have seen it as a threat. Even as I reached Duncan, leaping to his side with my sword at the ready, Lykos turned on Abrams. He charged straight at the man and sprang.
Eyes bulging, Abrams backpedaled but not fast enough. The wolf, made bigger and stronger by his own alchemical potions, slammed into his shoulder. Lykos didn’t bite him, but his weight was enough to pitch Abrams backward. He tumbled through a gap in the railing and landed with a great splash in the bubbling vat of green liquid.
Abrams screamed and flailed, utter pain and horror contorting his face. Only as his flesh burned and his screams worsened did I realize what should have been obvious all along from the gurgling noises coming from the vats. Those liquids wereboiling.
Lykos stared for a moment, then turned his back on Abrams. Duncan set his jaw and didn’t move to help. I took a half step, so horrified that I wanted to pull Abrams out, but Duncan gripped my arm and shook his head once.
Before I could decide if I wanted to argue—even if Abrams deserved to die, surely this was too awful to inflict on anyone—the screams ended. Scalded to death, Abrams slipped under the surface and disappeared.
“Damn,” I muttered and glanced back to see if Izzy was still with us.
She’d stayed back but had seen it all. Her only response was to toss the rifle she’d used to shoot the gunman into the same vat that had swallowed Abrams. Destroying the evidence that she’d been involved. I had a feeling the police wouldn’t show up at the door to arrest us, but I couldn’t blame her. I felt… less than wholesome after the night’s events.
On the catwalk a few feet in front of us, Lykos sat on his haunches. His aura rippled, and he shifted from a wolf to an eight-year-old boy. Wrapping his arms around himself, he put his head between his knees and cried.
Duncan grabbed his clothes and went to him, resting a hand on his back. I started to join them, but an uncertain call of, “Aunt Luna?” floated up from below.
Reminded that those men had shot at Bolin and Jasmine, I ran to the railing on the other side of the control console and looked down.
Hair tousled and face red from whatever exertion creating vines took, Bolin stood beside Jasmine, offering her support. Somewhere along the way, she’d turned back into her human self. Her face was twisted with pain, and she gripped her left arm as blood leaked between her fingers.
“I want to go home.” Jasmine’s eyes weren’t as glassy as Izzy’s had been when I’d pulled her out of the cage, but she also looked rough.
“We will,” I promised and turned back toward Duncan and his little brother. “Lykos? Do you know the way back to Seattle? Can you take us home?”
After wiping his eyes, the boy rose. He looked numb and haunted by his choice, but he didn’t push Duncan away. If anything, he appeared glad to have someone standing with him.
He took a shaky breath, then nodded. “Yeah.”
“I say we take our leave then.” Duncan also nodded as he looked around at the potion factory and our ragtag team. “Let’s find a place with fewer bodies of enemies.”
“And more clothes,” Jasmine said firmly.
“There were some more lab coats in the cabinet I checked,” Izzy said.
Jasmine couldn’t have seen her from her position on the floor below the platform, but she must have heard the words, because she responded with a firm, “I’m not wearing anything that the freaks working in this place wore.”
“You can have my shirt,” Bolin offered. “And my pants if you want. Anything I’ve got. And when we get back, I’ve got a first-aid kit in my SUV.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I could really use a mocha.”
“Metoo,” Bolin said.
Maybe he still needed to wash the taste of that potion out of his mouth.
Lykos didn’t speak as he led us to a ladder heading down toward an exit out of the building. I leaned my shoulder against Duncan’s while we walked, wondering if Lykos would be willing to stay with him now that his… whatever Abrams had been to him was gone. I could hardly call the old scientist a father or guardian. Creator and captor. That was what he’d been.
“I’m surprised I didn’t have to change and lose my clothes too,” I said, certain Duncan would also have offered me his shirt if I needed it.
