Elizabeth Blake [Blake - Bait and Bleed

Kaidlyn

I woke inside a body made of lead with hands like mallets and fingers like tire irons. Bumps decorated my legs, tributes to the shrapnel that had slashed through my meat. Thank goodness for Gorgonblood, which accelerated healing. Sadly, the cocktail supported hard scarring. The bumps would probably stay.

The air smelled of accelerant and corpses burned to ash.

My bedmate, as still as the dead, rested against my side.

People claim death changes everything, and it can. Death sauntered around me, toying with people, keeping life in a constant state of flux. My mother. My brother. Coworker after coworker, innocent after innocent. Death took a toll. It sat heavy on the heart.

When a werewolf attempted to die for me, it changed everything in a new and scary way.

If Svetlana was any less of a monster, shed be a feast for maggots. Her sharp bones pressed against her flesh. She didn't appear to be breathing. I touched her skin and found it lukewarm. Her lips parted, her ribs rose against my palm. Alive, but not quite right. Naked save a corset of thick duct tape holding her guts together. Yesterday, she had jumped on a suicide bomber to save a crowd from a bomb.

To save my life.

The explosion nearly halved her body, ripping her ribs open like flower petals, splattered gore up to her chin, and left her spine dangling like a kite string under a crater of missing innards.

I slid out of the bed and set my feet on the floor. Feet like cement. Blood like burning oil. Joints like grinding gears. I really needed a vacation, a few years away from disease and death and mutts.

Werewolves.

Currently, I was in a house filled with monsters who could shed into wolves at any time, on the slightest whim. Considering my job required me to kill the beasts, and Id woken beside the Wolf Queen of Russia, my priorities were clearly misaligned.

How did I fall so far into her crap? It began with one mutt. One little moment when I didnt follow the rules and landed waist deep in a world I couldnt get escape.

My hand slid under the mattress and fumbled for my sidearm. Fingers felt like sausages. The healing tonic, Gorgonblood, left me fat with edema and swollen with fluids bent on healing me whether I liked it or not.

I couldn't work in this condition.

Scarcely able to move my head from the hardened scars wrapped around my neck, unable to bend to the side from slabs of fat damage, hindered by leathery clusters at my joints. I needed to see my dermatologist, peel off a few layers of skin, and take a Rejuve treatment to recover dexterity.

First, I should go home and remove the dead man from my kitchen floor.

It had been one of those weeks.

I struggled to my feet, stiff like a totem pole, and nearly keeled over. I grunted, heaved, and caught my balance on the bed. Svetlana woke, blinked rapidly, exhaled, started to sit up, and yelped. I held my breath, pulse clamoring, as I waited for the monster to rise through Svetlana and attack the wounded animal: me. A moment passed, but no honey-toned wolf burst to the surface.

I laughed, possibly hysterical. Look at us. What a pair.

She didn't answer. Her face resembled ash and her chest skipped a breath.

Peter? I squeaked.

The door opened to reveal a man, six foot seven, nearly three hundred pounds, and lithe like a panther. Hed posted outside with a coffee tray.

Good morning, Svetka, he said. Kaidlyn, I trust you slept well.

He set down the tray holding a bottle of vodka, a carafe of coffee, a teapot, and two tea cups. He passed me a cup of coffee and poured her a cup of hot tea.

She attempted to sit upright. He helped, applying his enormous arms to the task. He smelled of a fresh shower, olive oil, and coffee. An odd mixture. While she reclined against the headboard, he pulled the blanket over her bare breasts. He secured the teacup in her hands and sat mere inches from me.

How do you feel, Svetlana? he said.

Carved up like a pumpkin, thats how. Hacked. Tossed. Twisted. Hollowed out. A brief smile flickered over her lips before exhaustion weighed it down.

Can you feel your wolf?

She scowled. Shes dancing on a distant ridge, ignoring me.

Svetlana couldnt completely heal without the aid of her supernatural disease. When she took a bombs worth of damage without shedding into a wolf, something must have gone wrong. I opened my mouth to release a slew of questions, but she beat me to it.

Anything I should know about last night? she said.

We lost Genevieve, Johan, and Mina. Peter frowned as he broke the seal on the vodka bottle.

I didn't know mutts by those names. In fact, I shouldn't know mutts at all, seeing as it was my job to kill each and every one of them. Should I leave?

No. Svetlana raised the teacup and swallowed the steaming tea in a single gulp. Peter refilled with vodka, which she also drank in one swig. Gasping, she shook her head and blinked. How many men did Iago lose?

Twenty one, Peter said, filling the empty vodka cup with tea. Carbine burned the bodies and we're scattering the remains. Iago, unfortunately, was not among them. None of our scouts have seen him since the bombing.

What exactly happened here yesterday? I said.

Svetlana tightened the blanket around her as if warding off a chill. Her pallor oscillated between shades of gray and green, yet she spoke with the voice of a tired, determined queen.

Iago. She sipped her tea. Steam rose against her face. When I first arrived Phoenix, I interviewed kennel masters who had the potential to become allies. Iago was one. Upon speaking with the beastly fellow, I discovered he and Erik were in direct competition for territory and manpower. Iago asked me to remove Erik so we could run this city together.

She cleared her throat, sipped, and continued. When I decided not to humor Iago, the brute threw quite a tantrum. Panties in a twist, as they say. He sent a crew to kill my wolves and convinced a suicide bomber to kill you. He underestimated us and sacrificed nearly two dozen weak dogs. The fool learned an expensive lesson. We survived and we will retaliate. No big deal.

You nearly died! For me, I almost added . We were surrounded by a crowd, a swarm of agents, and utter chaos. How did you escape?

Kliment ambushed the ambulance, taped me up, and brought me home.

She held out the teacup, which Peter filled with vodka.

Rumor estimates Iagos mutts outnumber Eriks four to one, I said.

We believe so, yes. He prefers quantity while Erik pursues quality wolves. She offered a meager smile. Erik has done well for himself, and his thirteen closest wolves are impressive, but he does not think big enough. He has no global vision. We need him to understand the scope of our political battle. Until he has an epiphany, I must continue interviewing other wolves.

But if Iago has enough wolves to overrun Erik

Iago will be dealt with, she said. He escalated the violence to heights which cannot go unanswered. His methods and sanity are questionable. Worse, I do not like him. He must die.