lycanthropy that werewolves are strong and fast. I felt like an Olympic athlete when it was
my time of turning. But I’m still seriously freaked by what I’m reading. I never knew they were
this
advanced.
I shouldn’t let it matter. The Shadow must remain the priority. If it succeeds in uniting the demon masses and breaking through,
the world will fall. The damage a pack of escaped werewolves might cause is nothing in comparison.
But how can I ignore the possibility of tens of thousands of deaths? Beranabus could. He’s half-demon and has spent hundreds
of years subduing his human impulses. We’re statistics to him. He’d take the line that a few thousand lives don’t make much
difference in the grand scheme of things, that we have to focus on the millions and billions —
real
numbers.
I can’t do that. Even if we find out that the attack in Carcery Vale has nothing to do with the demon assault at the hospital,
that Prae Athim isn’t working with Lord Loss, I have to try and stop her. I won’t let thousands of people die if I can prevent
it. Especially not when the killers are relatives of mine.
Perhaps crazily, I still think of the werewolves as kin, even those bred in cages. They’re part of the Grady clan. That makes
it personal.
“We have to find them,” I blurt out, without meaning to. All heads in the office bob up and everybody stares at me. I’m sitting
by one of the large windows, the city spread out behind me. Any of the people on the streets, eleven floors down, could fall
victim to the werewolves if Prae Athim unleashes them.
“We have to stop this.” I get to my feet, discarding the photos I’d been mutely studying.
“Maybe there’s nothing to stop,” Meera says unconvincingly. “Maybe Prae was telling the truth about a new disease and took
them to dispose of safely. Perhaps the few who were sent to attack Dervish were simply being used to settle an old score,
and were then executed along with the rest.”
“Bull!” Shark snorts. “If she’d wanted to kill them, she’d have slaughtered them in their cages. It would have been a lot
simpler than smuggling them out.”
“Probably,” Meera sighs. “I was just saying
maybe
…”
“What will she do with them?” Marian asks.
“I guess she’ll drop them off in a city somewhere,” Shark replies. “Let them run wild. Maybe collect them at the end and take
them on somewhere else.”
“But why?” Marian frowns. “Why not build bombs, poison a city’s water supply or develop chemical weapons? Hijacking hundreds
of werewolves to use as crazed assassins… it’s like something out of a
Batman
comic!”
“Crazy people don’t think the way we do,” Meera says glumly. “They have all sorts of warped ideas and plans, and if they gain
enough power, they get to inflict their mad schemes on others.”
“Like Davida Haym in Slawter,” I note.
“There’s another possibility,” Terry says. “She might have done this for humane reasons. Maybe she suffered a moral crisis.
Decided they’d been mistreating these creatures. Took them somewhere isolated, to set them free.”
“Unlikely,” Antoine says with a cynical smile. “Her people killed seventeen of our staff during the breakouts. Many more were
seriously injured. Hardly the work of a good samaritan.”
“I’ve seen fanatics who think animals are nobler than humans,” Terry says. “They’d happily kill a human to save a dog or cat
from abuse.”
“Prae Athim isn’t an animal rights activist,” Antoine says firmly. “I refuse to entertain the notion that she did this to
free the specimens, that she stood waving them off as they returned to the wilds, happy tears in her eyes.”
“He’s right,” Shark says. “We have to assume this was done with the intent of creating maximum havoc.”
“So let’s track her down and stop her,” I snarl. “We can’t just sit here and talk about it. We have to… to…” I throw
my time of turning. But I’m still seriously freaked by what I’m reading. I never knew they were
this
advanced.
I shouldn’t let it matter. The Shadow must remain the priority. If it succeeds in uniting the demon masses and breaking through,
the world will fall. The damage a pack of escaped werewolves might cause is nothing in comparison.
But how can I ignore the possibility of tens of thousands of deaths? Beranabus could. He’s half-demon and has spent hundreds
of years subduing his human impulses. We’re statistics to him. He’d take the line that a few thousand lives don’t make much
difference in the grand scheme of things, that we have to focus on the millions and billions —
real
numbers.
I can’t do that. Even if we find out that the attack in Carcery Vale has nothing to do with the demon assault at the hospital,
that Prae Athim isn’t working with Lord Loss, I have to try and stop her. I won’t let thousands of people die if I can prevent
it. Especially not when the killers are relatives of mine.
Perhaps crazily, I still think of the werewolves as kin, even those bred in cages. They’re part of the Grady clan. That makes
it personal.
“We have to find them,” I blurt out, without meaning to. All heads in the office bob up and everybody stares at me. I’m sitting
by one of the large windows, the city spread out behind me. Any of the people on the streets, eleven floors down, could fall
victim to the werewolves if Prae Athim unleashes them.
“We have to stop this.” I get to my feet, discarding the photos I’d been mutely studying.
“Maybe there’s nothing to stop,” Meera says unconvincingly. “Maybe Prae was telling the truth about a new disease and took
them to dispose of safely. Perhaps the few who were sent to attack Dervish were simply being used to settle an old score,
and were then executed along with the rest.”
“Bull!” Shark snorts. “If she’d wanted to kill them, she’d have slaughtered them in their cages. It would have been a lot
simpler than smuggling them out.”
“Probably,” Meera sighs. “I was just saying
maybe
…”
“What will she do with them?” Marian asks.
“I guess she’ll drop them off in a city somewhere,” Shark replies. “Let them run wild. Maybe collect them at the end and take
them on somewhere else.”
“But why?” Marian frowns. “Why not build bombs, poison a city’s water supply or develop chemical weapons? Hijacking hundreds
of werewolves to use as crazed assassins… it’s like something out of a
Batman
comic!”
“Crazy people don’t think the way we do,” Meera says glumly. “They have all sorts of warped ideas and plans, and if they gain
enough power, they get to inflict their mad schemes on others.”
“Like Davida Haym in Slawter,” I note.
“There’s another possibility,” Terry says. “She might have done this for humane reasons. Maybe she suffered a moral crisis.
Decided they’d been mistreating these creatures. Took them somewhere isolated, to set them free.”
“Unlikely,” Antoine says with a cynical smile. “Her people killed seventeen of our staff during the breakouts. Many more were
seriously injured. Hardly the work of a good samaritan.”
“I’ve seen fanatics who think animals are nobler than humans,” Terry says. “They’d happily kill a human to save a dog or cat
from abuse.”
“Prae Athim isn’t an animal rights activist,” Antoine says firmly. “I refuse to entertain the notion that she did this to
free the specimens, that she stood waving them off as they returned to the wilds, happy tears in her eyes.”
“He’s right,” Shark says. “We have to assume this was done with the intent of creating maximum havoc.”
“So let’s track her down and stop her,” I snarl. “We can’t just sit here and talk about it. We have to… to…” I throw
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