N. Walters: Quinn's Quest

Quinn threw back his head and howled, the mournful sound echoing off the walls. His head was pounding and the urge to kill someone, anyone, was ripping him apart. He felt his hands disappear and powerful claw-tipped paws appear. His jaw cracked, the bones elongating. His vision went flat. His wolf wanted out. He wanted to hunt. To kill.

Isaiah grabbed him by the back of his neck and shook him. Quinn lunged at the older male, but Isaiah punched him on the side of his head. “Snap out of it.”

Quinn desperately sought reason within a mind gone dark with vengeance. His thoughts spun round and round like a carnival ride out of control. Chris had been taken because she was in heat. That wasn’t something he even wanted to think about in regards to his sister. He worked hard at not thinking about the horrors his twin must be going through and mostly he succeeded. But now there was nothing to blunt the sharp edges of his fury and pain. What she must be suffering. Unimaginable. Unacceptable.

Isaiah shook him again and Quinn fought the urge to attack. If it had been anyone else, Quinn might not have succeeded. But Isaiah understood what it was like to lose a sister. And he was right. He was of no use to Chris like this.

Grabbing on to the tattered remnants of his control, he willed the wolf to recede. There would be time enough for the wolf to vent its fury when he found his enemies. For now, he needed to concentrate on finding Chris. And that would take a calm, cold, calculating mind.

His bones snapped and reformed. As the anger fled out of him shame replaced it. Chris was suffering who knows what at the hands of some crazy male wolf. He owed it to her to keep his head on straight and his mind on business.

Damek was watching him carefully, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I will ask around and see what I can discover.”

“That’s it?” The words jumped out of Quinn’s mouth before he could stop them.

“That’s quite a lot,” came the biting reply.

He shoved his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, searching for calm. “Sorry about that. I’ll take any help you can give me.”

“Yes, you will.” It sounded more like a threat to Quinn’s ears than a promise. Maybe it was both. He didn’t care. All he wanted was his sister back home safe and sound.

“Thank you.” Craig came to stand beside him. His brother’s gaze was steady and curious as he studied Damek.

“And you are?”

Craig stuck out his hand. “Craig Lawton, Quinn’s brother. And the only human in the room.”

Damek glanced down at Craig’s hand and slowly took it. “You’re brave for a human.”

Craig shook his head. “Not really. I’m simply grateful for any help you can give us. I want my sister back.”

“And what will you give me in payment for that help?”

Quinn growled at Damek’s question, feeling the threat toward the only other member of his family. Craig simply met Damek’s hard stare, unflinchingly. “Anything you want.”

There was no doubting the sincerity in Craig’s words. Damek gave his brother that enigmatic half-smile he’d given Quinn earlier. “I believe you mean it.”

He whirled away too fast for Quinn to track. “I’ll do some checking around and get back to you.”

With that he was gone, leaving nothing more than an open door and a lingering scent of ancient, dark power in his wake.

Chrissten knew she was in a vehicle. She could feel the vibration beneath her body as it sped down a road. She had no idea where they were going. The metal floor was cold against her cheek and she shivered.

She tried to move her arms and legs but they wouldn’t cooperate. Metal clanked and scraped and her limbs felt heavy. She opened her eyes and looked down to discover she was shackled in manacles that were coated in silver to weaken her. She also had a vague memory of the doctor shooting her full of tranquilizers. Her stomach was queasy and she was afraid she might vomit. If that wasn’t bad enough, her head was pounding like a drum in a heavy-metal band.

The only thing she knew for sure was that Bethany had escaped. That was good. But no one had arrived quickly enough to rescue her. Another shiver wracked her body as she remembered just how angry Brian had been when he’d found her. She remembered trying to shift and attack him. He’d hit her. Hard. Knocking her unconscious.

Then had come the hours of uncertainty as the doctor and Brian had packed up the lab and research. She’d known they were getting ready to leave and she’d prayed for help to arrive, but it hadn’t. Chrissten would never know how close rescue might have been.

Bethany hadn’t had any money when she escaped. She was also weak and frightened. Chrissten knew she might have wandered for hours before she’d managed to find anyone to help her. That’s if she even attempted to. Everything that happened had been so crazy that Bethany might decide it was all a drug-induced dream. But even then she’d probably go to the cops.

That hope had faded by the time Brian had come to her cell. She’d been drugged, chained, wrapped in a blanket and dropped in the back of a vehicle.

She listened hard over the hum of the engine, but no one was talking. The only bit of information she’d managed to glean earlier was the doctor didn’t want to leave the immediate area. He wanted to try to reacquire Bethany.

A lone tear rolled down her cheek. Chrissten didn’t know how much more of this she could take. She was slowly losing herself as each day passed. The urge to fight was dying inside her every time Brian raped her or the doctor prodded and tested her like she was of no more value than a lab rat. And, to him, she supposed she wasn’t. The minute she stopped being useful they’d kill her.

In her mind, she reached out for her twin, hoping to find some connection, some link. There was nothing.

The drug pulled at her consciousness and she didn’t fight it. Not this time.

She let it drag her into the darkness where she felt safest.

Bethany woke with a startled cry. She was rolling to her feet, ready to defend herself before she was fully awake. Her surroundings were unfamiliar. She blinked twice and her racing heart began to calm.

The shelter. She was at a homeless shelter in Chicago. She could hear the snores and deep breathing of the five other women sleeping in the dormitory-style room.

She slowly sank back down onto her cot and rubbed her hands over her face. Her memories were a confused jumble of images and impressions. After she’d escaped, Bethany realized she couldn’t go to the police. They’d never believe her crazy story. She couldn’t go home to Detroit either. Obviously, the good doctor and Brian knew where she lived.

She’d escaped, but found herself in an unfamiliar city with no money for food, clothing, transportation or shelter. It was April, but it was still cold and she’d been wearing only a thin cotton top and pants. She needed clothing, food and money.

The only place Bethany knew to get those things with few questions being asked was a homeless shelter. She knew all about them and how they worked. When she was a child, she and her mother had used them many times. She’d made a vow when she was eighteen and working her first full-time job that she’d never end up at one again, but she’d had no choice. Pride had no place in her decision, not with Chrissten’s life in danger.

She’d wandered through the city for a half a day, faint with hunger, heart pounding with fear, asking strangers on the street for help. Most walked away without answering her while some pointed in a vague direction as they hurried on their way. Several times she’d had to run for her life from men who’d thought her an easy target. Finally, one kind woman had directed her to this shelter.