Zhan chose a direct route to the Cleveland Cold Storage building (CCS), the giant, mostly windowless structure at the heart of the disputes of the new I-90 project. The real reason the old building continued to exist was that it secretly housed the Cleveland wærewolf pack. The advertising painted on the sides made it a big money-maker for them; they refused to sell and relocate. The city couldn’t afford to forcefully tear down the one place that kenneled ninety percent of the local wærewolves. Bad things would happen if they didn’t have a den.
Apparently, bad things were happening anyway. It was one thirty in the morning and the parking area underneath the structure was packed like a Best Buy at dawn on Black Friday.
“There’s nowhere to park and the moon isn’t full for another twelve days.” Zhan stopped the Corvette in front of the rickety freight elevator.
“Wait for me over by the University Inn,” I said.
“No way. You don’t know what’s going on up there.”
“Wæres aren’t fans of Offerlings.” The term referred to a twice-marked member of a vampire’s court, and that’s exactly what Zhan was.
“I’m not a spy.”
“I know that. I’m not comfortable pulling E.V. rank on you, but if you need a direct order to remain behind, consider it given.”
She crossed her arms. “Text me that you’re fine in ten minutes or I’m coming up.”
“Deal.”
Having little trust in the elevator, I headed up the stairwell as the Corvette rolled out of the parking garage. The wæres had increased the security, and though there was no one seen here, that didn’t mean they weren’t watching. They should all be familiar enough with me that they weren’t alarmed by my presence.
A young man and an older man were waiting atop the first-floor landing. I hadn’t seen either of them before. “Miss Alcmedi,” the older man said. “I’m George. This is Renaldo.”
“Hello.” I paused halfway up and out of reach. “I called earlier, and Johnny said I could meet him here, but he didn’t mention there was anything going on. Has something come up? Can I see him, or is he too busy?”
“He said to bring you up when you arrived,” George said.
Renaldo added, “And he said to tell you the elevator’s safe.”
Johnny knew I was leery of that elevator; that he’d thought to tell them to assure me helped me believe these strangers—but not totally. “Lead on,” I said.
Without hesitating, Renaldo proceeded to the waiting elevator. It could have transported a car, but I wouldn’t have dared such a thing. George held the gate for me. The second-floor gate wasn’t as bad as the termite-damaged garage-level gate. Still, small pieces of wood splintered to the floor.
Renaldo lifted the dirty control panel, revealing a pristine and high-tech one underneath. He pressed his thumb to the button. A light flashed under his print. The gears shuddered, and we were heaved upward. Good thing I hadn’t tried the elevator. I would have fiddled with the fake cover forever.
I glimpsed the dark open expanse of the third floor as we rose past it. Only dim bulbs in steel fixtures at each corner of the elevator illuminated us. On the eighth floor the main doors parted. Renaldo led us out.
The halls in the upper floors of the CCS were off-center, leaving smaller rooms on one side and larger ones on the other. In the days when this place was the cold storage center of Cleveland, there was probably a reason for it. Now, however, it meant I didn’t have a clear view down the hall from the elevator. It made me nervous.
I relaxed when Johnny’s voice wafted down the hall. He was talking to someone in slightly loud but formal tones, then he fell silent. He was here and these two were truly escorting me to him.
As we entered the head of the hall, however, a wave of energy hit me like an explosion. I staggered. Shock waves rolled through the walls. Johnny’s yell of pain followed.
I bolted.
Renaldo grabbed my arm as I passed him and he jerked me back. “He’s just transforming.” He released me.
I’d never felt such a surge of energy when any wære changed near me. “Didn’t you feel that?”
“Feel what?”
Guess that was as good an answer as any.
I knew things might be different for Johnny since we’d unlocked the power bound in his tattoos. That, and the fact Renaldo did let me go, made me more inclined to keep on believing him, but wære strength is not to be underestimated. My skin stung under my sleeves and a bruise was forming.
“There’s cameras in there,” Renaldo said. “Running live via satellite to the Zvonul. Allow me to lead so you don’t disrupt the confirmation meeting?”
“Of course.” Johnny had to prove to the Zvonul that he was the Domn Lup, and though they’d sent the Rege to confirm him, the Rege was now dead. It appeared that the Zvonul were moving forward in spite of the loss of their head honcho.
“Remain quiet when we enter,” he added.
George and I followed.
Inside, a throng of bodies stood between us and the corner, where bright lights were illuminating the dingy block wall. Some of the rooms, I’d learned, still had the old steel panels with the piping underneath that had once contained coolant. In this room, all of that had been discarded. Mobile work lights were the only light source in the room, but they had wattage to spare.
Three cameras were also aimed at the corner, and the red lights atop them meant that they were broadcasting.
A howl erupted from the corner and resonated off the block walls so loudly that I covered my ears. Renaldo clasped me by the arm, more gently this time, and led me through the throng to the front. Gregor, the head of the Omori—the Zvonul’s version of the Secret Service—adjusted his bulk to give me a spot.
In front of me a large, familiar black wolf paced. The animal sniffed in my direction, blinking as if the bright lights made it hard to see the crowd.
But this was not the wolf I’d seen before. The fur was still jet-black, and the size and conformation were the same visually, but he
When Eris had released him from the bonds she’d placed upon him long ago, I’d been aware he was different. He’d returned to Cleveland before I’d been able to get a real sense of the “new” him. Now, all the power that had been locked away blazed around him like a nimbus only my core could feel, completing him in a way I hadn’t previously realized had been lacking.
Sideways to the camera, the wolf stilled and the transformation reversed. In under a minute Johnny crouched, naked, before us all.
He was on his fingertips and toes, his knees an inch from the floor. His body, lean and muscular, was beautiful. In that position he rolled one shoulder, then the other. He twisted his neck side to side and arched his back. I could see every muscle ripple, and then he stood, his thighs flexing as he assumed a square-shouldered stance and faced the camera.
I felt more in awe of him than I’d ever felt before.
Power radiated from him still. It was heady and invigorating, with a touch of recklessness. It was unreservedly masculine.
He was unquestionably a power-equal to Menessos, in his own unique way.
He said, “I am your Domn Lup.”
Something flickered beneath the camera lens, and Johnny’s focus dropped a few inches to see it. On the far side of the room, a larger screen also flickered. I hadn’t noticed it before because of all the bodies in the way. The whir of a motor sounded as the screen mechanically lifted so those in the back could see it as well.
The screen was a field of black with a crowned wolf rampant in two shades of red: one the bright color of fresh blood, the other darker. The two shades of red meant not only energy, but vigor; not only strength, power, and determination, but leadership and courage. The wolf had his claws out, holding a shield divided into eight triangles of either dark blue or gold. Emblazoned on the shield was a silver and black helmet with spikes rising from its crown.
The crowned rampant wolf was the symbol of the Zvonul; the shield was indicative of the local den. Each
