Kelly Meding - Wrong Side of Dead

“You keep fighting, hear me?” I said. “Fight for me.”

He slept on.

Milo trailed me into the main part of the infirmary, where I nearly walked into Astrid.

She gave me a quick, assessing glance. “Nothing keeps you down long, does it?”

“I’m contrary. What can I say?”

“Did Milo bring you up to speed?”

“Yes. Have we heard from Phin?”

“They’re having trouble questioning the werewolf. It’s got some sort of tracer. They’ve switched locations twice and are still being trailed.”

“By?”

“The other wolves. They seem to want their brother back. If this continues, Phineas may have no choice but to kill the werewolf and return.”

“Can’t they trap the pursuing wolves?” As soon as I asked the question, I saw its logical fallacy. “Guess it wouldn’t matter, since Thackery could just trace them, too.”

“Correct.” Her attention shifted to something behind me. “What are you doing up?”

Marcus shuffled down the hall using Kyle for a crutch. His left foot and ankle were wrapped in gauze and one of those walking boot things, but if the pain bothered him he gave no sign of it. “Walking,” he said. “Okay, limping, but you need me on this.”

Astrid glared. “Fine. But if you pull stitches, you’re answering to Dr. Vansis.”

“Noted.”

“Do we know anything new?” I asked, impatience growing.

“No,” Astrid replied.

“Is everyone quarantined here, or just the vampires?”

“Everyone,” Dr. Vansis said from across the room, where he was hunched over a microscope. “Until I’m certain it isn’t communicable via Therian or human, no one leaves the premises.”

Not the answer I wanted to hear. “Who’s out in the field?”

“Phineas. Baylor is out with his team. Jackson took Leah’s squad out looking for her several hours ago.”

“That’s not many.”

“It’s what we have.” Astrid’s phone rang. She checked the display. “What?” Her eyebrows shot up. “Okay, send it to the infirmary computer.”

“Send what?” Marcus asked.

Astrid plunked down in the desk chair and tapped away at the keyboard. “Incoming video conference call with Elder Macario Rojay of Cania and Elder Marcellus Dane of Felia.”

Dane? Milo and I turned to stare at Marcus, likely wearing the same curious expression. I knew the Felia were something of an anomaly, because they had both a Pride Alpha and a Clan Elder. The former was a position of authority that had been in place for centuries before the Assembly formed; the latter was their voice on the Assembly. I’d just never connected the Felia Elder to Marcus or Astrid before today.

“What?” Marcus snapped. “The Elder is our grandfather.”

From what little I knew of Assembly politics, the majority of Elder positions were inherited from parent to child. Marcus and Astrid were already at the half points of their lives and had no mates or children. Judging by the steely glare coming my way, it was a touchy subject. One I wasn’t about to broach with either of them.

I’m not a huge fan of computers, but the fact that Astrid could bring up two different screens with two different men’s faces impressed me. Even more so that we could all apparently talk to one another via a little camera and microphone already embedded in the infirmary’s laptop.

Elder Rojay was the younger of the pair, with a ruddy complexion and wild brown hair. Even across the desk, I could see that his eyes were the same striking brown as Kyle’s—as dark as a mug of black coffee. He had a large mug of something steamy on the desk in front of him, and just visible on the corner of the screen was a silver flask. Elder Dane, on the other hand, had more wrinkles and folds than a shar-pei dog. His hair was white, and his demeanor sullen, but life sparkled in those sharp copper eyes that all of his people possessed. Identical eye color was a consistent characteristic among many of the Clans. At least, it was in the Clans I’d met so far, which was only half of them.

Dr. Vansis circled to stand behind Astrid. Marcus and I hung to the side, Milo behind us.

“Who is witness to this call?” Elder Dane asked.

“Astrid and Marcus Dane of Felia,” she replied. “Reid Vansis of Ursia. Humans Evangeline Stone and Milo Gant.”

“Stone may stay. The other human must leave.”

Milo rolled his eyes —politics , he seemed to say—and left the infirmary. I considered protesting on the grounds that I’d probably just tell him everything anyway, but I held my tongue. Back-talking an Elder was a good way to get on their bad side, and I had enough enemies.

“Where is Phineas el Chimal?” Elder Rojay asked.

“He is in the city, completing a task for us,” Astrid said. “He will be briefed on our conversation as soon as possible.”

“We have no time for formalities, Elders,” Dr. Vansis said. “Have you approved my request for further information on the Lupa?”

“We have,” Elder Rojay said. “We realize that with recent events, what we know will soon become common knowledge amongst our people—something we have tried to prevent for a variety of reasons. All of our compiled medical data, sparse though it is, is being emailed to you now.”

“Good.”

“Did the Coni hunt and kill off the Lupa?” I asked. The question earned me an elbow in the ribs from Marcus.

“Yes,” Elder Dane replied. “Humans were spreading rapidly across the globe, settling in the wildernesses that had once been our sanctuaries. The Lupa were out of control, attacking humans and creating fear throughout Europe. There were cries of witchcraft. Innocents were accused and murdered. Our ancestors decided that integration with humans was the safest course for the future, which meant concealing our true natures.”

“The Lupa disagreed,” Elder Rojay said when Dane faltered. “A pack destroyed a village in Tuscany out of spite for our decision. As protectors of our kind, the Coni were tasked with hunting and executing the Lupa.”

I recalled the open hostility between Phineas and Teen Wolf, and now understood it more than ever.

“We had thought they succeeded,” Rojay continued, “but it appears we were wrong.”

“Or simply deceived,” Astrid said. “The Fey are adept at that.”

“Yes, we have heard the admission that the Fey are responsible for the survival of the Lupa. It’s their motivation that baffles us.”

“The motivation of the Fey is the least of my worries right now,” Dr. Vansis said. “Is Lupa blood poisonous to humans?”

“Their saliva can be quite toxic if it enters the blood through a bite or other wound,” Dane said.

My heart pounded harder, even as my stomach soured. This wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

“Historically, bites caused the human to go quite mad. It affects them not unlike rabies would, without the period of dormancy. The toxin causes neural inflammation, and in those early days before proper virology studies, humans didn’t understand why this happened.”

“The bites never caused a transformation among the infected humans?” Dr. Vansis asked.

“Of course not.” Dane’s tone told us exactly how daft he thought that question was. “Such a notion is pure fiction. A human cannot become Therian any more than a vampire can become a goblin.”

Wyatt isn’t just any human . The thought did little to comfort me.

Dane continued. “The Lupa bites are not mystical. They cause a violent fever, madness, and eventually death.”

“There’s no cure?” I blurted out.

Elder Dane shook his head. “There has never been a need for one. Those early infected humans were killed by their own. Your infected human is the first in centuries.”