Once the building was in sight, Nick signaled them to halt and gestured them in close. “A.J., this looks like a good place for you to pick off anyone who gives us trouble.”
“I got your backs, boss.” The human wasn’t a fighter, but he had a high-powered rifle with a scope, and he was deadly accurate with it.
“The rest of us will split into two teams. Kalen, Ryon, Hammer, and Jax take the back. The rest of us will cover the front. Ryon, let us know when you enter the building.”
Ryon gave him a thumbs-up and took his group, making a wide circle to the back side of the facility. Kalen couldn’t get the stench of the Sluagh’s blood out of his head, the itch to shred something—anything—out of his system. The need crawled through him like a disease, insidious. Barely contained.
At the back of the building, they pressed up against the wall on either side of a door that looked to be a service entrance. The lack of guards was disturbing, to say the least. That feeling mounted as Jax picked the lock and they eased inside, still unchallenged.
We’re in, Ryon pushed into their minds. There’s a garage area back here, probably where they bring in the prisoners. Three vehicles, two of them vans with blacked-out windows. No guards. I don’t like this.
He paused, presumably getting an answer from Nick. Ryon, as the team’s Telepath, could push his thoughts into their heads, but no one could hear a direct mental reply except him. After a few moments, Ryon gestured his group forward, scanning carefully.
With an effort, Kalen kept his mind firmly focused on taking out the enemy when the time came—and only the enemy. These were his brothers. His future. Not Malik or his empty promises of acceptance.
He could resist the evil. He would.
Across the garage was a door that served as the entrance to the main building. They crept toward it, alert. Something, perhaps some small sound, made Ryon look up, into the beams over their heads.
And he shouted, “Get down!”
The garage erupted into high-pitched squeals as several Sluagh swooped down from the rafters at once. Kalen dropped into a crouch as the others hit the floor. Facing these numbers, he figured it was better to use his magic than call his panther.
Ryon and Jax shifted into their wolves and leaped, tearing into a couple of the creatures. Hammer traced, confusing the beasts near him. But there were too many, and they would quickly be overwhelmed in hand-to-hand combat.
Summoning his staff, Kalen stilled. Focused his magic on the attacking Sluagh. Then he called the element of water, coaxed it from their bodies. Disseminating it into the air. The creatures began to shrivel and scream. One particularly smart one seemed to realize Kalen was the cause of this development and charged him, closing the distance between them rapidly.
His heart pounded, but he didn’t move. The beast rushed toward him, roaring his rage, eyes small and red. And then he too shriveled, dropping right at Kalen’s feet like stone.
“Fuck.” Kalen’s knees shook at the close call. Uttering a phrase in Latin, he reduced the bodies to ash, and the particles floated away. His friends morphed back to human form and picked up their shredded clothes.
“That’s a damned nice trick you’ve got there,” Jax said, pulling on his pants.
“It’s saved our bacon more than once,” Ryon agreed. “Thanks.”
“Think anyone heard the commotion?” This from Hammer, who brushed himself off.
Jax smoothed down his goatee. “Only one way to find out.”
They gathered on either side of the door. Ryon turned the knob and gave it a small push. It swung inward, revealing a long corridor beyond, clean and sterile with white walls and tile. Faint wailing could be heard from a distant room, the soul inside completely without hope.
“Just a few more minutes,” Jax whispered. “Help is on the way.”
Here is where it can get tricky, Ryon projected as they entered. We’re in the back hallway. It’s long and narrow, a tight space for a fight. We’ll take it room by room, gather any survivors.
The first few rooms were being used for storage. Upon inspection, the spaces were surprisingly well organized, with metal shelves storing various useful items. The industrious Dr. Bowman had been busy since they’d nearly caught him last time. One room was full of cleaning supplies, another labeled with medications of all kinds. Jax took an interest in these.
“Before we torch the place, we need to gather this stuff. Maybe it will give our own doctors some helpful research into what these fuckers have been using.” He fingered a labeled bottle. “And some free meds, too, if there are some good drugs here.”
“Good point,” Ryon said.
The next room held shelves of clothing. There were the drab green scrubs that were meant for their doctors and other staff. Some others were plain, consisting of rough tan pants and pullover shirts. Kalen wondered if these were for their unwilling residents, which didn’t make sense. Malik’s lackeys had never seen fit to clothe their test subjects before. They didn’t care about them that much.
“Maybe they got tired of their experiments dying,” Jax observed, studying the clothing. “Won’t matter after today what those assholes wanted, though.”
They filed back into the hallway, watchful. At a junction where their corridor was met by another on the left, an armed human guard stood leaning against the wall with his back to them. His stance was relaxed, bored. That would be his last mistake.
Jax quickly sneaked up behind him, grabbed his hair, and jerked him backward. A cry of surprise was silenced as Jax used a sharp claw to slice the man’s throat and allowed him to slump to the floor. The guard gurgled, reaching to his neck, but the light in his eyes faded. He was dead in moments.
Kalen’s bloodlust rose, hot and shameful. He needed to kill. The next one was his, and he’d enjoy every second.
Good, my son. Feed your need. It matters not what your Pack believes they’ve accomplished today. What matters is that you use this as your training. Give in to your desires and we’ll rebuild together. No one will stop us then.
Dammit, the Unseelie had broken through. The hypnotic words tightened their grip on his soul. He could take out the guards, all the staff here, and that was acceptable. He could channel this need without risking his friends. Right?
A bead of sweat rolled down his face. Control was hard. He wanted to give in to the seductive darkness. Needed to.
As expected, the actual labs and holding areas for the captives were located in the middle of the building. They knew they were upon them when sounds of activity reached their ears. There was a voice here and there. The roll of a cart’s wheels along the tiled floor. Beeping from a monitor. An assistant inquiring as to which subject would be brought to the OR next.