Chapter Five
Cyclone
A hiss of pain brought Stewart’s head whipping around to Frieda. She was on the ground, shifting from her wolf form back into human. Stewart grabbed the gun that he and the vampire had been fighting over and whipped around to shoot another two coming at them in the face; they went down as he dropped to one knee beside Frieda.
“Shift, you idiot!” she snarled at him. “There are vampires—”
“I got it covered.” He glanced at the long cut in her side which was oozing blood. Not bad, so long as she stayed down and still. Not going to happen in this climate, he knew, but he didn’t have time to think about that at the moment. He fired the gun at another couple of vampires, then chucked it into the face of another one. “We’re getting blamed for this, aren’t we?”
Pain flashed over Frieda’s face. He didn’t need to hear her answer. It was obvious. Probably why the vampires attacked at this point at all. Kill cops, leave evidence that the Savage Brotherhood was involved, and presto. They’d have even more cops gunning for them. Stewart wasn’t going to let that happen, not if he could help it.
The vampires were starting to break away from fighting the Brotherhood, taking cops here and there with them. Frieda said something, but Stewart ignored her.
So much for following orders. He jumped to his feet, gave a vampire coming at him a roundhouse kick, then took off down the alley. Frieda shouted after him, and several other voices joined hers. None of the shifters were at this end; but also, at this end were cops who hadn’t been killed yet. More than that, the vampires weren’t paying attention to the fight happening at the other end of the alley.
Stewart sprang from the ground, calling his wolf forward as he did so. The shift was smooth, like slipping on a second skin. Fur sprang from his body; his teeth became sharp and pointed. Claws burst from his fingertips and his clothing shredded off his form. He hit hard into the back of a vampire, sending it stumbling forward.
A howl ripped from his throat as Stewart grabbed the arm of another vampire and yanked hard. He felt unwieldy in this form, unused to fighting in it; he shifted back to his human form, causing a vampire that had lunged at his flank to overshoot and run face-first into the wall. He allowed himself a second of amusement before he punched another vampire square in the face, then dropped to kick out the legs of another one.
He sprang back to his feet, already sending out a flurry of punches aimed at throats, kidneys and other weak points. The vampires seemed startled to find him fighting like this, and they were slow to counter his attack. It allowed him to get in close to one of the living cops, who was swinging a nightstick at his enemies with a determined scowl on his face.
Stewart grabbed the cop, spinning him from a long-clawed swipe at his throat, and shoved him toward safety. The vampires hissed, one of them howled, and they surged forward. Stewart punched at the nearest one, but this was blocked. The vampire snatched his wrist and twisted sharply. Stewart let himself twist in the same direction to avoid getting his arm broken entirely. He bared his teeth with a snarl, using the vampire’s momentum to throw himself into a second vampire.
He kneed a vampire between the legs, then shifted quickly back to his wolf form to snap his teeth around the throat of another. His muscles burned with exertion. They were starting to tremble, and he could feel himself slowing. Two vampires came at him from either side, and he just managed to slip through them—right into the arms of a third. This vampire wrapped its arms around his throat and began to squeeze.
Stewart sucked in a deep breath before the vampire’s arm cut off all air entirely. He shifted and twisted, reaching for the vampire’s face. From the corner of his eye, he saw Frieda grab the cop and usher him into a tight group of other shifters. Then she barreled towards them, her honey-gold fur bursting from her naked form as it shifted into that of a giant wolf.
His thumbs jammed into the vampire’s eyes. They sunk in with an audible pop, and the vampire withdrew with a howl. Its arms loosened just enough for him to break free. Stewart weakly pushed the vampire away as he sagged against the brick wall, gasping for breath. Two more vampires came at him again.
Frieda barreled into them. She snarled. Stewart tried to push himself from the wall, but dark spots were starting to form before his eyes. He coughed, massaging his bruised neck. When he tried to push himself upright again, he found his knees couldn’t hold him and he dropped.
Arms wrapped around his chest. He instinctively lashed out, but Lightning’s voice hissed in his ear, “Easy, now!”
Stewart let himself get pulled away from the fight. Gunshots went off, people howled in pain. He felt oddly chilled, like he was in the dead of winter rather than a bright, warm day like this. Lightning hefted him onto his back and carried him back to the van and tossed him in. Moments later, Frieda was there as well, leaning over him, and they were moving.
“Cyclone!” She slapped his face. “Wake up!”
Stewart groaned. “I’m awake.”
Relief washed over Freida’s face. “Can you tell me where it hurts?”
“Right now? Where you slapped me.”
“You’re a real fucking riot, Stewie.”
He rubbed his eyes and glanced at her again. She had put on a vest and a pair of shorts. A blanket was laid over his body, and when Stewart pushed himself to his elbow, he found that they had stopped moving. At first, he was confused, but then he realized what had happened. His cheeks turned bright red as he fell back with another groan.
“I passed out, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you did. Shifting a half dozen times in five minutes will do that to a body.”
Stewart shook his head, ignoring the pounding he had just noticed, and pushed himself up again. Lightning sat near the back of the van, along with the cop that he’d managed to rescue. Stewart grinned at the sight of him, happy that at least one thing in this mess had turned out the way he wanted. That grin faded away entirely when he caught a full view of the utter fury on Frieda’s face.
“Did we lose anybody?” he asked, sobered by her expression.
Frieda snorted and rolled her eyes. “That’s the first question that you ask?”
“Well, yeah!” His brow furrowed. What was she so mad at him about? Was it because he’d disobeyed her orders during the fight? “Don’t you think I’m concerned about whether or not anybody was killed?”
“He’s got a point,” Lightning pointed out, but dropped his head at the rage Frieda sent his way.
Frieda poked Stewart in the chest. “We haven’t lost anybody. Yet. I’m this close to tearing your throat out myself, though. What were you thinking? Acting like a complete idiot! What, did you think you were being heroic by taking on all those vampires by yourself? And what for? To save a cop? Dust-Face Brad of all people?”
“Dust-Face?” the cop sneered at her. “I thought you’d be more imaginative than that, Frieda.”
“The name is Polaris!” She turned on him, the snarl and growl clear in her voice. Her teeth sharpened into fangs in her mouth and the cop flinched back. “You shut up before I decide to call up the vamps and hand you over to them. I’m sure they’d love your sugary blood.”
His already pale skin paled further, and he hunched his shoulders. From the way he held his arms, his hands were bound behind his back. Stewart studied him for a moment before turning back to Frieda. He had seen her in a temper before. True, it was never this intense of a temper, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to deal with it.
“Why are you mad at me?” Best to be direct.
“Why?” Frieda threw her arms into the air. “You risk your life for a fucking cop and you have the nerve to ask me why I’m mad? I told you to retreat! I gave you a direct order and you deliberately ignored me! You can forget about getting your tattoo, Cyclone, because after this I’ll make sure you never—”
“Chill out.”
Frieda’s face turned bright red, her eyes narrowed to slits and she seemed about to burst with fury.
“I didn’t risk my life just to save a single cop. I did it because the vamps were killing off all the cops, and they were doing it so that the Brotherhood would take the blame. They were going to have the cops breathing down our necks forcing us to fight a battle on two fronts. I saved Dust-Face there so that we’d have a witness for our side of things. So that we don’t get labeled cop-killers.”
Frieda’s nostrils flared. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her shoulders slumped forward as the rage slowly drained from her face.
From the corner of his eye, Stewart saw Lightning’s eyes widen. Even the cop seemed to be somewhat shocked as Frieda sat back and hid her face in her hands. Her dark tattoos stood out against her pale skin. Stewart clutched the blanket around his middle as he slowly reached out and traced his fingers over the dragon just above her elbow. She shivered at his touch, then lifted her head and glared at him. The venom had gone out of her look, though. Instead, she just looked tired.
“I get what you were thinking. It wasn’t the best thinking, mind you, but you had the Brotherhood and the crew in mind.” She shook her head and dragged her hands through her hair. “But it was an empty gesture, Cyclone. We can’t use the lieutenant to sidestep the blame on this one.”
Stewart frowned. “And why not?”
“Because,” she snarled, her voice taking on an edge again, “he saw vampires. He saw us shifting. He knows too much.”
Ice flooded Stewart’s veins. He knew that they sometimes did hard things, but it wasn’t like they’d kill a civilian for witnessing more than he should have… right? Except he’s a cop. He doesn’t count as a civilian. He might not be vampire or shifter but does that matter?
“So… where does that leave us, then?”
“It leaves us holding a lieutenant prisoner. Typhoon’s on his way, gonna try to figure this mess out. You know, we can say that we weren’t responsible for that massacre all we want, nobody’s going to believe us unless we let Duster here go.”
“Which we can’t do.”
Frieda’s face turned to a scowl as she nodded. “Now. Think you can walk?”
Stewart tested his muscles. “Yeah. I feel… pretty good, considering I passed out.”
A ghost of a smile flickered over Freida’s lips. “Good. Now help Lightning get the lieutenant to the holding cells, and I want you standing guard. You pulled him away from the vamps, he’s your responsibility until Typhoon gets here.”
Stewart nodded. He fought the urge to salute—right now it was clear that he was skating on thin ice, and while normally that might make Frieda smile, he had a feeling that his humor would not be appreciated at the moment. He only hoped that when she calmed down more, Frieda would take back what she had said… surely his behavior hadn’t been bad enough to be completely expelled from the Brotherhood… right?
***
He waited on guard duty for several hours before the lieutenant fell asleep. Like she was waiting for that moment, Frieda appeared shortly after. She gestured at him to join her across the hallway. Stewart sucked in a deep breath as he obeyed. There was tension in her jaw and shoulders still. Had Typhoon arrived yet? Were they going to kill the lieutenant for being a witness?
“Before you say anything,” he started, “I have something to say.”
Frieda folded her arms and studied him with a blank face before she nodded.
Good. Stewart took a moment to collect his thoughts, running a hand through his short hair. When he found a knot at the back of his neck, the sharp prickle reminded of when she had tangled her fingers there, and the taste of her lips on his. With a grunt of annoyance at himself for the swirl of desire that had him hardening, he slumped against the wall and folded his arms.
“We’re supposed to save lives. I know the Brotherhood isn’t all about protecting people against vampires. I know that we’re also big into the crime scene. Robberies, heists, drugs… even murder. I knew all that when I decided to sign up. But the thing is… our central purpose is supposed to be saving lives. Stopping vampires from preying on innocent people. Maybe if the world knew about shifters and vampires, we’d have a different sort of relationship with the law. Maybe not! But we have to be more than just crime, otherwise… Otherwise what good are we, really?”
Frieda didn’t answer.
Stewart held his breath, waiting anxiously. Yet she still didn’t speak. She was utterly still, her gaze slightly distant, her arms folded over her chest. Her expression was utterly blank. Usually, he was able to guess at least partly what was going on in her head, but not right now. She was completely unlike his best friend.
Was this what it meant to be part of the Savage Brotherhood? He was so worried about their friskiness in the woods coming between them. Should he instead have worried about his greatest dreams?
Eventually, her gaze flickered back to him. Still no expression.
“Come on, Frieda.” His voice slipped into a tone of begging. Wow. Where had that come from? He hardened his voice. “Just speak to me, dammit. If you’re still pissed, fine. Be pissed. But don’t just close off like this! You and I are supposed to be able to talk about things. If you’re going to start changing that now— “
“I’m thinking.”
Her tone was petulant, and Stewart let out a sigh of relief. “Well, think a little louder. I’m going crazy over here. I don’t want this to end up being the last hurrah of Frieda and Stewie. You’re too important to me for that… if you need me on a different team or—”
“Shut up.” Frieda smiled slightly as she shook her head. “You’re talking too loud for me to think. When you talk like that you sound like Twister.”
Stewart smiled proudly. There was nobody he’d rather sound like than his big brother.
Frieda sighed. “I don’t want you on another team. And I’m not going to kick you off for that stunt of yours. I can’t promise anything about Typhoon, but I can promise that I will fight for you. As for what you said… yeah. We are supposed to save lives. Sometimes, though, the lives that we save are ours. We always have to put ourselves first.”
Stewart nodded, understanding what she meant.
“Now come on. Duster’s secure enough in there. Typhoon’s almost here. We can’t leave him waiting.”
Stewart cringed but nodded. No. It would not do to leave Typhoon waiting.