Hotbloods 2: Coldbloods Page 3

  “I know what I saw,” I replied in a steady voice, not lowering my gaze.

  Sylvan paused, scratching at one of his ash-brown sideburns, and I could have sworn there was a flicker of genuine worry in his eyes. “And what is your story for how you came to be a mile or so away from this camp, practically frozen to death?”

  “How did you pick me up, anyway?” I countered, wanting answers to some of my own questions first.

  I noticed suddenly that I was wearing a plain black robe. My broken suit had been taken from me, although I supposed it wasn’t all that surprising, given that the suit was theirs in the first place. Maybe that suit had helped them find me, somehow, even though it was dysfunctional. They’d said it was expensive, so I guessed it was possible they had installed some tracking tech inside it for security.

  “Answer the question, human,” he said coolly.

  “I tried to rescue my… friend, Navan. The coldblood who was sent with me on the mission,” I said. “The rebels captured him, and even with my invisibility suit, I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t save him.”

  My voice hitched at the last part. The guilt over what had happened washed over me, making my gut churn. I’d gotten out. Navan hadn’t, in spite of what I’d promised him.

  “And then?” Sylvan prodded.

  “I was going to call for your help on the ship, but it was infested with shifters. They attacked me, and I barely escaped. I was exhausted with nowhere to go, so I tried to make it to the nearest village, but I collapsed on the way. The last thing I remember is losing consciousness, before waking up to… this.”

  Sylvan’s vibrant eyes narrowed as I spoke, his mind seemingly scanning and dissecting every word I said.

  “And that is all?” he said after a minute.

  “That’s everything I know.”

  “I see,” he said, rising from his chair.

  “So what are you going to do?” I asked.

  He paused, his bushy brows rising. “That remains to be seen.”

  “Can I at least contact my friends?” In particular, I needed to speak to Bashrik. When he didn’t respond, I added, “It’s not like I can tell them where I am—I have no idea.”

  At this, a smile played on his angular features. “True. You do not.”

  He strode out without another word.

  I watched the door close behind him with a sinking heart.

  How long was I going to be kept in here? What if they didn’t believe me? And what would they do with the information I’d given them? Navan was still out there, and based on the vibe I’d gotten from Sylvan, the likelihood of a rescue mission seemed slim. Why would they care to rescue Navan, anyway? That would be a tricky, risky, and time-consuming endeavor. If they were going to act based on what I’d told them, I feared they’d just move in to attack the entire base, and who knew what would happen to Navan then.

  I had to find another way to infiltrate the rebel base, but to do that, this time I desperately needed backup. Angie and Lauren’s cellphones wouldn’t be working out in the country, and I hadn’t the faintest clue how Bashrik’s comm device worked, but I did have one other way to contact them.

  A few minutes later, the door opened to reveal a different lycan. This one was thinner and bonier than Sylvan, while his eyes were a lime green.

  “I’ve been sent in with this,” his husky-yet-melodious voice said. He lifted a device that looked like a phone.

  “Is that…”

  He nodded solemnly. “An iPhone X.”

  As I gaped at him, he swiped a gray curl off his face.

  “What?” he asked drily.

  “Just… I don’t know,” I said. “I figured that you lycans would have different technology, something more advanced.”

  “This is the newest model available, I’ll have you know,” he said huffily. “Human technology will suffice for your needs. You do know how to use one of these, don’t you?”

  “It’s fine,” I said, reaching for the sleek black phone. Once my fingers closed around it, however, he didn’t release his vice-like grip. His lime eyes found mine.

  “I’m supposed to inform you that you’re to indicate that you are safe, but nothing more. Nothing about the Fed—no funny business. I will be here to ensure that.”

  I was waiting for the “or else” part of his statement, but he seemed content that his warning would be enough.

  “Okay,” I promised. “Nothing about the Fed.”

  I didn’t mention that I was going to try to see if I could swing a visit with them… and ask permission from the Fed later. Something told me that admitting that in advance would not go over well.

  He released the phone, but seconds later, his hand had grasped mine. He took a long sniff, and then his nose crinkled.

  “Hm,” he said, releasing me.

  “Uh, can I call now?” I asked.

  “What is your name?” he asked.

  “Riley.”

  He took another sniff, and then, before I could respond, said, “And they say you and your coldblood comrade discovered a base of thousands of coldbloods and shifters, who’ve been living in Siberia right under our noses?”

  “Yes. Although your friend doesn’t seem to believe me.”

  Another closed-eyed sniff.

  “Interesting,” he muttered to himself, then directed a wry smile my way. “Not all of us lycans are ‘friends’, by the way. We are duty-bound to each other and to our cause, yes, but nothing more.” He stepped back and gestured at me with his arm. “Now you may call. You have ten minutes.”

  It felt odd dialing the Churnleys’ landline number in such weird circumstances. I hoped I remembered the right digits, even though I’d memorized them before leaving home. Part of me was afraid that no one would pick up at all, especially since the old machine ran on solar power or something, and I’d never heard it ring once while I was there. What time was it back in Texas, anyway?

  On the eighth ring, just as I’d started to lose hope, Mrs. Churnley’s cautious voice came through the line. “Hello?”

  A strangled cry came out of my lips. I hadn’t realized just how much I missed human contact up until now.

  “Who is this? Whatever you’re selling, we’re not buying,” she snapped.

  “Wait, Mrs. Churnley—it’s Riley!” I said. “Sorry. Could you put Angie or Lauren on the line?”

  “Oh, Riley, dear! So nice to hear from you.” Mrs. Churnley’s tone warmed instantly. “I hope that new boyfriend of yours is treating you right.”

  My chest ached at the thought of Navan being tortured and beaten, trapped inside the rebel camp. “He always puts me first,” I said, then, with a glance at my lycan companion, added hurriedly, “I really need to speak to my friends.”

  “All right, dear. I think Angie’s upstairs.”

  Each moment that passed felt like an eternity. My ten minutes were ticking away.

  A gasp erupted on the other end of the line, then came a shaky voice: “Riley, is that really you?”

  “Angie! Oh man, does it feel good to hear your voice!” I said, sighing with relief and leaning back in my chair. The lycan looked less than impressed and was tapping his finger on his wrist. I kept talking. “So much has happened, but I don’t have much time. I just wanted you to know that I’m okay, but… Navan’s not.”

  A stony voice called out in the background. “What is she saying, Angie? Why didn’t they call with Navan’s comm?”

  The pit in my stomach grew three sizes.

  “Put my brother on the line,” Bashrik said, his voice now a dismal croak. I wasn’t even sure what he was doing hanging around at the Churnleys’—I’d expected one of my friends to have to rush and fetch him.

  “Bashrik, I—” I said.

  “He’s dead, isn’t he!” he burst out.

  “No, I—”

  “I told him not to go. I told him it was a suicide mission,” he continued. “I should’ve gone there myself to stop him!”

  “BASHRIK, HE’S
BEEN CAPTURED BY REBEL COLDBLOODS!” I cut in. “But he’s alive.” For now, I mentally added.

  There was a long pause, in which my heart slowly broke. “Oh,” a small voice finally spoke from the other end of the line, and I could hardly recognize it as Bashrik’s. “Wh-What happened? H-How did you get out? How… How could you leave him?”

  The last question broke me completely. “I-I tried my best to save him, Bashrik,” I said quietly, my chest aching, tears rising to my eyes, “but there were too many coldbloods and shifters. They’ve been keeping a hidden base.”

  “What? There were coldbloods and shifters working together? H-How many?”

  I put my elbows on the table, and my head in my hands. This was playing out just as horribly as my conversation with Commander Sylvan had.

  I swallowed hard. “Bashrik, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. But I don’t have time to go into those details now. Can you please just—”

  “No,” he cut in, the strength suddenly returning to his voice, though it was still hoarse—and I could tell that his shock was giving way to panic. “I’m coming over there myself! And this time I won’t take no for an answer! Where are you?”

  I breathed out and glanced at the lycan, who was shaking his head.

  “I don’t know,” I said truthfully.

  “How can you not know? No matter. Wherever you are, I’m coming there! Both Ronad and I have healed decently enough. Ronad knows the ins and outs of coldblood technology—and our devices’ tracking capabilities are far superior to anything you can imagine on Earth.”

  I cast a nervous glance to the lycan, whose teeth were bared.

  “No, no need,” I said, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. “I can meet you near where they captured Navan. The coldblood base is in remote Siberia, but we could meet at the nearest village.”

  Silence.

  “Bashrik?”

  “I’m listening,” he said.

  “If you’re really determined to save Navan, then all of us can meet there.”

  I determinedly kept my gaze off the lycan, who, out of the corner of my eye, I could see was shaking his head back and forth in a furious “no”.

  “Hm…” Bashrik said.

  “The name of the village is Borscht,” I said quickly.

  As I hung up, I could hear Bashrik’s voice go frantic. “I meant what I said about tracking—”

  The lycan snatched the phone out of my hand. “That wasn’t—in any way, shape or form—what we discussed.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “But you heard him—he was going to track the call anyway. The coldbloods do have really advanced technology.”

  The lycan grimaced, then handed the phone back to me. “Whatever the case, you’ll have to call your friends back and tell them that unfortunately you made a mistake and you won’t be meeting them at all.”

  I shook my head. “If I don’t meet them in Siberia, they’re going to track the call and find me anyway. Do you really want to gamble with those odds?”

  The lycan’s face spread into a series of stoic lines. “Killing some interfering coldbloods won’t be the worst thing I’ve done.”

  I snatched the phone back. “Oh yeah? What about innocent humans? Because my friends haven’t done anything to hurt anybody.”

  His face remained unmoved. “Any human who works with a coldblood can’t be innocent,” he maintained with a decided shake of his head.

  “Then why didn’t you rip the phone away and tell Bashrik to go to hell?”

  The lycan didn’t respond, only frowned deeper.

  “Because you know I’m right,” I said, realizing it as soon as I said it.

  At that, his green eyes flashed, and he grabbed the phone again. “Regardless of what I know, the idea of you going to Siberia to meet your friends is, well, impossible,” he said. “You’re a prisoner under suspicion, not a tourist free to come and go. It’s out of the question.”

  “Maybe the commander wouldn’t authorize it,” I agreed.

  The lycan frowned. “What are you saying?”

  Truth be told, I wasn’t sure why I’d responded that way. I guessed I was just trying anything at this point to get a positive response out of the odd lycan, and my reverse psychology seemed to have given him pause.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But at least… please just think about it overnight. I’d be extremely grateful if you could convince your higher-ups to let me have this meeting with my friends.”

  At this, he looked at me curiously. “All right,” he said finally, with a slow nod of his head. “I’ll take you to your room then.”

  “I have a room?” I asked, surprised.

  Rising, he chuckled. “We may be harsh here, and you may be our prisoner, but that doesn’t mean we wouldn’t provide you with the basic necessities of life.”

  “Thank you,” I said uncertainly, standing.

  “Oh, don’t thank me,” he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m only following orders.” He cast a dark look at the iPhone before tucking it into a pocket. “For the most part.”

  My room was pretty much as described: basic. It was somewhat cell-like, with a stone door, floor, and ceiling, stone walls, and a toilet and bed made out of—you guessed it—smooth gray stone.

  “I will come to you tomorrow with my answer,” the lycan said, lingering at the door. “Until then, sleep well, human.”

  It was only once he’d closed the door behind him that I realized I’d never found out his name.

  The door was shut firmly, as expected, while the bed was just as uncomfortable as it looked. The sad scrap of a rag for a blanket seemed like a cruel joke. Nonetheless, I settled onto it, and, despite it being about as comfortable as a coffin, exhaustion claimed me, and my eyes dropped closed.

  Chapter Three

  I woke up to a scraping sound, but before I could open my eyes, something covered them. Striking out my arms only resulted in them being grabbed. My cries were muffled by a cloth gag. As I thrashed, I was lifted into what felt like a cloth bag and dropped in, and I hit the floor with a smack. My body smarted with pain as the cloth bag was dragged across the floor. Tears came to my eyes. After all I’d been through, now I had to be kidnapped again and taken to who-knew-where?

  Worse still, whoever had taken me, judging by how they’d thrown me to the floor, didn’t much care if I was hurt.

  I was carried out of my room and down steps—to where, I had no idea—and then I was put down, shoved onto what felt like a wooden chair. My blindfold was ripped off, and when I saw who I was facing, my blood ran cold.

  “So, human, let’s try this again,” said the same harsh, masked lycan I had originally woken up to, and whom Sylvan had driven out—Farl. “Sylvan can’t save you this time. He and some other fools left to look into your lying claims. No, there will be no getting out of this. Tell me what you and your coldblood master have done and I’ll consider sparing you.”

  I gaped at him, as panic rushed through my body. There was a deadly edge to Farl’s words, and I didn’t doubt for a second that he’d hurt me if it came to it. But still, what did he want from me? Did he know about the Fed agent Navan had killed?

  “N-Nothing,” I stammered, “I was telling the truth.”

  There was a long, measured silence. Farl stepped back and began pacing in a circle around the table at which I was seated. His impassive eyes darted from his companions, who also wore black clothes, to the room’s only door. We appeared to be in the basement, as the floor here was dirt. The walls were stone, although lined with something much more ominous—long, curved pikes, metallic-looking spears, a spike-covered bed leaned vertically against the wall…

  Farl sat down on a wooden chair, turning to me with a terrifying fanged smile.

  “Let me tell you a story, human.” His mouth became a sneer. “I had a brother—once. Lyon. He was a good lycan, a loyal agent, a compassionate brother. He was just and brave. He performed his job flawlessly. One day, he didn’t report to headquart
ers. He was last seen in Alaska. Days passed, weeks…” Farl’s coral eyes flicked to me. “I bet you already know how this story ends.”

  I took a deep breath, praying that Farl couldn’t see the truth in my eyes, as I was already guessing how this story might end. A shiver of fear danced across my skin.

  “They sent a few lycans over to investigate, and my brother’s body was found,” he continued in a low voice. “His bloodied corpse was discovered in the middle of the snowy tundra—frozen, a bullet in his brain, his mouth twisted open wide. He died yelling, you know.”

  Now Farl’s coral eyes had gone lighter, filmed with tears. “They promised to investigate,” he continued, “But you know how it is. We aren’t exactly booming with agents here on Earth at the moment—we have to make do with what we have. That was why they assigned you and your coldblood master to that coldblood base investigation in the first place. We just don’t have the manpower for it. So, the investigation was juggled from one date to the next, until it was put off indefinitely. That was when I decided to go there myself, see what I could find.”

  Farl smiled bitterly. I felt at once sorry and scared. There was a pitiable, yet dangerous, fire in his eyes.

  “You know what I found?”

  He slammed his fist down on the table, an inch from my hand, sending it flying up. Out of the corner of my eye I took note of my surroundings—we were encircled by the other masked lycans, all of whom were armed. There was no way out. Whatever Farl was going to do to me, there would be no escaping it.

  But he wouldn’t actually… kill me—not when he wanted information out of me—right?

  I took a deep breath. “No,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

  Farl’s eyebrows contorted in rage. He snatched up my hand and squeezed with his powerful fingers. Pain ratcheted through my arm.

  “N-No—stop!” I cried.

  He dropped my hand onto the table.

  “I found a bunker. I kept an eye on it for a few weeks, and, what do you know, I saw its owner come back.”

  Now Farl was leaning in uncomfortably close, his rank breath wafting into my face. My hand was still throbbing, and now my head had started to throb, too. My eyes darted about the room again, desperately seeking a way to escape, a way I might have missed before.