Chapter 26: Revenant

Femke leads us out of her office, down an ancient elevator to the basement of the building. I smell the revenants before the door opens, catching their scent even as I step through the doors to descend. The scent grows stronger as we plunge underground and I can barely stand it by the time the elevator doors swish open.

I have to breathe through my mouth, almost panting from the effect of the stench. Piers quickly offers me a handkerchief, monogrammed with his initials. I feel vaguely amused he carries something so old fashioned in spite of feeling a need to throw up.

Femke turns to me as we approach a door, her distress at my discomfort all over her face. "If you can't," she starts.

"I need to see them."

She leads me inside. The glare of the overhead bulbs leaves no shadows in the long, narrow room where five steel platforms, like hospital slabs in the movies, hold five twisted bodies. Unlike the make-believe of Hollywood, these bodies aren't draped in white sheets, but open to the air. Varying disfigurements mar their forms. Some with wolf-legs, another covered in fur though he appears human otherwise. The one on the end has a fully formed upper snout with a man's lower lip and chin beneath.

"Horrible," Sunny whispers. "How absolutely horrible."

I ignore her, going to the first slab to examine the revenant. There is a hole in his chest, a small wound though charred around the edges. I smell witch magic over the stench of his corruption.

"He was killed by an Enforcer," Femke says softly in my ear where she hovers, out of my way, but available none the less. "We tried to subdue him, but it was impossible."

I nod. "He's a revenant," I say. "They are uncontrollable. You did him a favor ending what remained of his life."

Sunny and Sebastian remain by the door, Piers watching me, but Alison drifts down the slabs, examining each of the bodies with distant curiosity. "I don't feel them," she says. "It's as if their souls were never in their bodies."

"Creating werewolves is the greatest offense," I say, my own soul shriveling inside me, "because it dooms the revenant to certain death and, before their end, the loss of all they are." I look up into Femke's eyes. "While making more of themselves, perpetuating the horror."

Femke's lips tighten. "We killed him before he could bite anyone," she says.

"You're certain?" I look back at the twisted, half-furred form on the table, barely human, not even close to werewolf. "Just one victim can turn into a plague of them in as little as a week." In the past, whole towns had been burned to the ground, the Czar's guards surrounding and barricading them to keep revenants from escaping the flames.

"We're sure," Femke says. "The odd part is their appearance, as if out of nowhere." I follow her as she moves down the line to the next body. This man is tiny, barely over five feet tall and from the gray of his hair, he'd seen far more days than I have. "As if someone is testing something." His upper body appears human, aside from the softly pointing ears, but the hindquarters are werewolf, shining silver like his hair. "But testing for what?"

I shrug, nose twitching though I grow used to the stench. The revenants smell of worse than death, worse than decay or defecation. They are a mix of all those things and more-the wrongness of them sparking a moment of memory at last as I lower the handkerchief and frown, trying to grasp the thought. It disappears as Femke goes on.

"If someone is trying to make werewolves," she says, "how possible is it they could come up with a viable means to do so?"

That's a more horrifying though than any other. "They can't," I say, shaking my head.

"Maybe they can." Piers's scowl tells me I've missed something. I'm well aware of my cultural biases. My, my inherent rejection of any such possibility dominates my thinking. I can't wrap my mind around what he's saying until he speaks again. "If they used sorcery."

I shudder violently, forced to lean against Femke as she catches me before my knees buckle.

"Sorcery?" I whisper the word, thinking of Sage and Isabelle and Maks and wondering again why the feeling of the revenants on the table is so familiar.

"Your kind was created by sorcery," Piers says with an apology in his voice. "Could someone be trying to replicate the process?"

I turn from them, head to the end of the room, let them talk it out. A far doorway twitches, eyes following me from the other side, but my watcher is gone before I register who he is. Or why he was smiling at me.

It doesn't matter. Not when the possibility exists my people could be in very serious trouble.

Piers comes to my side, his hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Charlotte, but it's true."

I spin around, not wanting to be angry with him while my inner wolf paces and whines. "It's not your fault," I say. "But you realize if they succeed, if there are sorcerers out there trying to make revenants into viable werewolves, they could then use that knowledge to enslave my people all over again."

"We will never let that happen." Femke joins us, the vampires, too. "Never."

I sigh, knowing my grandfather won't take her word for it and this will put him on high alert. It does, however, shake me loose from my fear and refocus my mind to those who might-if not know something-be on the fringes of this issue.

I certainly wouldn't put it past Andre Dumont to have his fingers in this. And it would explain his real reason for being in Europe.

I quickly tell Femke about the Dumont visit. "I know it's not illegal for them to be here," I say. "But if there is a chance Andre has anything to do with this, you might want to investigate him."

Femke hesitates. "Without proof?" She shakes her head, blonde hair almost white in the bright light. "I'm not sure I can. But, I will keep an eye on him while he's here."

"Not to mention Caine and his people," Piers growls.

Femke looks back and forth between us while I frown over another hint of memory. What connection is my mind trying to make? I can't think surrounded by the stench of the revenants. And with Sage's face floating unbidden into my mind.

"A visiting pack from California," Piers says. "I don't trust them, and neither does Charlotte."

I shrug it off as Femke opens her mouth to speak. "Werenation business," I say.

She stops, nods, lets out a breath of air. "Understood," she says.

We file out of the room, the vampires whispering among themselves. Femke stops me in the hall, pulling me away from Piers who shrugs and joins Sunny and Sebastian. The Council leader's icy eyes are intense, but full of caring.

"Charlotte," she says, keeping her voice low in the gloom of the hallway. "Please remember I'm here for you." I nod but she goes on. "If you need anything-anything at all-please don't hesitate to ask me. I'll do anything I can to help, you know that, right?"

I hug her swiftly before letting her go. "Thank you," I say and leave it at that. Yes, I respect her and trust her, but Femke is the leader of her territory and has her own laws to follow. And she's a witch, has to put witch issues first.

So Syd is a witch, too. But she's proven over and over again she has my back. I know Femke's offer is genuine, but the fact she won't-or can't-expel the Dumonts tells me her offer is also hollow.

I watch Femke go, the vampires following her to the elevator. Piers lingers, waits for me, hand out. I let him take mine in his, sighing as he tightens his grip.

Don't be so stubborn and accept a little help now and then. He grins at me.

Do I dare? He made the offer... I will feel so much better knowing Piers has checked in when I can't.

Speaking of which, I send as we near the elevator and the others who wait for us, trying to keep my mental voice light. I do need a favor.

Anything. His response is so fast I worry he isn't thinking things through.

I step into the elevator, the doors closing behind us, Piers at my side, still holding my hand.

I need you to find someone, I send, cringing inside. And make sure he's safe.

Piers's hand loosens, his grip slack. He must understand the implications of my request past my attempt to hide my feelings. I show him Sage's face and his hand falls away.

Syd's martial arts guy, Piers sends, mental voice dull with an edge. What's going on, Charlotte?

He's my friend, I send. Piers doesn't comment. He doesn't have to. I rush on. He came here to see me, not knowing what he was getting into. I leave out the details and how I feel, but Piers isn't stupid.

Understood, he sends. I'll do my best.

He walls himself off from me and as the elevator doors open, strides off ahead of us all, disappearing into a black tunnel while my heart aches to call him back.



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