Already the shifters were dragging the bodies of our attackers into a pile and tending to those of ours who were wounded.
I counted nine bodies before Jamal dragged a bloodied soldier towards us. Robert had another and soon the two men were shoved to the ground, forced to kneel in front of a blood-covered, and shirtless Declan. But before Declan or I could say anything, the front door to Clan Wolf slammed open and Derek Keen—Alpha of Clan Wolf—stepped outside.
He spotted the two men on the ground and launched himself at the nearest one. His fist slammed into the man’s face, splitting the skin across his jaw. Again and again, he pummeled into him.
Declan and the others stood by in silence, letting Derek release his pent up rage. The other man fell back and scrambled to put some distance between him and his fallen friend but the shapeshifters surrounding him wouldn’t allow it.
The circle tightened, forcing him to watch as Derek beat his comrade senseless.
“Where’s Teagan?” Robert asked.
“Inside with the pups,” Derek answered, not bothering to stop the beating. “These motherfuckers…” he trailed off and just kept punching.
After what felt like forever, but in reality was little more than a minute, Robert pulled a blood-spattered Derek off of the man, who now lay unmoving, his face a molted shade of purple with eyes already showing signs of swelling shut.
“We need answers,” Robert said when Derek looked like he was on the verge of launching himself at our captives again.
“Mercy,” the man on the ground croaked, coughing and spitting out blood and what looked like a few teeth.
Mercy? I don’t bother to hide my sneer. Did they show the shifters mercy? No. They didn’t. They attacked a home filled would children. I shook my head.
What could possibly make him believe he’d be offered something he himself had denied Clan Wolf? He’d shown no mercy as he gunned down both man and woman. Adult and child.
Clan Wolf had sustained casualties. Not the least of which looked to include a mother and daughter who’d been shot just outside the gates, the mother’s body wrapped protectively around the smaller body and riddled with so many bullet holes that her flesh resembled hamburger meat more than it did a human being.
No, there would be no mercy here.
“Derek—” Declan’s voice held a warning in it.
Derek ran a hand through his hair and uttered a variety of expletives, some more creative than anything I could have come up with.
Cock-sucking son of a hairless cat’s balls had a particular ring to it.
“We were pinned down. These fuckers and their guns had us pinned down and every attempt to get out …” he shook his head. “I have thirteen kids in there, Declan. Clan Wolf demands justice.”
“And you’ll have it,” Declan said.
Derek wasn’t an Alpha for nothing. Despite the fury and grief riding him, he had enough coherent thought to recognize this had been a coordinated attack and we needed information.
He nodded once in Declan’s direction and stormed back inside the house while Robert crouched in front of the man who only moments ago had been Derek’s punching bag, giving him a scorn-filled look before flicking his gaze towards the other.
“So what do we have here?”
Before the second man even opened his mouth to speak, he wet himself, a stain spreading out beneath him where he lay as he whimpered and asked for the same mercy his friend had requested just moments ago.
Robert made a sound of disgust but then tilted his head to the side as though examining something of interest. I tried to see what had caught his attention and when I did, I sucked in a breath.
Blood flow slowed, gashes slowly sealed, and the bluish-purple color to the man’s skin ever so slowly faded.
What was happening?
Declan crouched beside Robert and examined the slowly receding injuries. “How is this possible?”
The injured man had lost consciousness either from his injuries or because his body was trying to conserve resources as it healed much like mine did.
Could he be a psyker?
No. I quickly shoved that idea aside. If he’d been a psyker, he would have used his abilities. No one stood by while they were pummeled to near death if they could help it.
Robert poked at a particularly nasty cut and the man moaned. “He’s healing but he still feels the pain.” Leveling his gaze on the other man, he asked, “What is he?”
He visibly swallowed but answered. “Human. Just human.”
Robert’s nostrils flared. “Curiouser and curiouser.”
I had no idea what he was talking about so I voiced the question on my mind. “How is he healing?”
Robert stood but Declan stayed crouched, watching the healing occur right before our eyes. “He’s telling the truth. The man is human, but clearly he’s regenerating. I’d like to know how.”
The other man’s lower lip trembled. “If I tell you everything,” he licked his lips, “everything I know. Will you let me go?”
“No.” Declan left no room for argument. “You attacked my people. You won’t leave here alive, but you can have a slow death or a quick one. Give us the information we need and I’ll give you the death you ask for.”
He closed his eyes for a brief moment before looking up, resigned. “Alright. I’ll tell you everything.”
13
I didn’t know what I expected the man to tell us but it sure as hell hadn’t been this.
He wasn’t lying when he’d said his friend was strictly human, but what he’d initially left out was that they—all of the men who’d attacked Clan Wolf—had ingested a particular type of blood, one known for
