Midnight in Berlin (19 page)

Shit. I’d walked into that one. Another subject I wasn’t too keen on talking about. “I’d say it was pretty much like your first experience of sex,” I said at last.

Christoph’s hand landed for a moment on my arm, squeezing gently. He didn’t speak, though, and in the end, the silence got too much for me. “He taught art when I was in high school.” I kept my voice even. “It was just after Ben died—he helped me get through it, you know? At least, that’s how I saw it at the time. We were together for around six months—hell, if you can call it that. I guess his wife might have seen things a little differently. It all blew up in our faces when the principal walked in on us making out in the classroom. He got fired—I was only seventeen. The rest of the kids blamed me for losing him his job. He was a popular guy.” Me? I was about as popular as a skunk in a perfume factory. With leprosy.

“Did you stay in touch?”

I looked down at the crumpled, empty wrappers on the table. “No. He wrote me—said he was trying to make the marriage work. I don’t know if he succeeded. Right then I didn’t really give a damn about anything other than the fact he’d fucked up my life and left me.”

“It sounds to me like he did a good job of fucking up his own life too.”

I had to smile, even if it came out kind of twisted. “Yeah, he was just one big fuck up, that’s for sure.” I felt a weird kind of lightness now I’d finally gotten it all off my chest, and figured I ought to make the most of it while it lasted. “We should get going if you’re done,” I said, rising. Christoph took a last sip of his coffee and followed suit.

It wasn’t until we were out on the street that I realized I’d never gotten to hear about the first time he’d been in love. I felt a stab of regret in my gut. But it was too late now. The moment had passed.

Maybe, if we didn’t die today, there would be another.

Chapter Eighteen

The underground parking lot was dark, the concrete floor littered with pools of leaked oil and worse fluids. Not a great place to be if you’ve been blessed—or cursed—with above-average olfactory senses. The many pillars made me jumpy despite the fact my nose was reassuring me there were no wolves hiding behind them. Or people, even—it struck me this would be an ideal venue for a mugging.

On the other hand, if we did get jumped by a human, it might be the best way of getting our paws on some sort of weapon. “Hey, you ever think it might be worth getting hold of a gun?” I asked as we headed over to where Burak had told us the Porsche would be.

Christoph shook his head. “Too difficult. You can’t just buy them over the counter here—you have to be registered. And a member of a gun club, with a year’s training.” Sounded like he’d considered it in the past.

“Well, that’s if you’re insisting on being all legal about it,” I pointed out. “I thought the Eastern European mafia was supposed to be big around here. They’ve got to have weapons available for a price.”

Christoph spun around to shoot me an incredulous look. “You think I have links to the Russian mafia? I’m an architect. Who likes to paint in his spare time.” He gave a short laugh. “I wouldn’t even know where to go to buy a joint.”

“Well, if we ever get out of this alive, I can help you out there,” I promised. Hell, it’d been a crazy idea in any case. Sure, I’d shot a gun a couple of times, but at a person? I was too damn squeamish to go shooting rabbits.

Although it occurred to me that might just have changed now.

It felt weird, getting back into the Porsche. There were still a couple of sad-looking feathers clinging to the fabric of the passenger seat and a faint smell of cigarette smoke. Damn, I must have stunk of it that night. I looked over at Christoph. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he looked exactly the same as he had that night—or maybe not. There was a roughness about him now, a harder edge, and it wasn’t just to do with the stubble on his chin and the grungy clothes.

I guess his thoughts were running on similar lines. “I’m sorry,” he said out of nowhere. “You’ve suffered a lot for my mistake.”

Like I was the only one here who’d suffered. “Hey, you’re not the first guy to see just what he wanted to. I mean, hell, getting to meet a werewolf from another pack, that was confirmation of your theory, right?”

“Except I was wrong.”

My left hand crept over to squeeze his thigh. It was meant as a friendly reassurance, but even that brief contact had my dick taking an interest. Only for a moment, though. Then it remembered where we were going and tried to hide behind my balls. “Do you still think there are other packs?” I asked before the rest of me turned yellow too.

Christoph drummed his fingers on the wheel. “It’s the only explanation I can think of for Dr. L remaining so distant from his experiment. If we were the only ones, then as you said, he’d want to be where he could observe us.” He put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking space, driving up the ramp and into the daylight.

It was so damn bright I thought for a moment I’d turned into a vampire. “Nice day to find out, anyhow,” I muttered, blinking.

Nice day to die.

Driving out to the Wannsee took a hell of a lot longer at this time of day than it had the night we’d met. Even on the AVUS, traffic seemed to have slowed to a crawl—kind of ironic for a road that used to moonlight as a race track. Or maybe it was just that I had a whole different set of things on my mind. In broad daylight—in bright sunshine, even—it was hard to believe we might both be going to our deaths. Would Schreiber kill me for siding with Christoph? Or would he let me back into the pack—after a suitable punishment, of course? I tried to imagine it. Tried to imagine moving back into the house, making nice with all the werewolves—while what was left of Christoph lay in an unmarked grave somewhere out in the forest.

Funny how every time I tried to picture it, my mind filled with images of me ripping out Schreiber’s throat and spitting out the bits.

“Leon, are you all right?”

I started at Christoph’s voice, and there was a sudden ache in my jaw as my teeth unclenched. “Yeah.” I swallowed. “Yeah, I’m good. Just…thinking.”

He didn’t answer, just grasped my hand where it lay in my lap.

When we rolled up in front of Christoph’s house, I got the same sense of déjà vu I’d gotten earlier. My limbs felt heavy, my throat tight. “So how’s this going to go?” I asked. It came out kinda croaky, so I cleared my throat. “Are we going to knock on the door?”

We didn’t have to. It opened as I finished speaking, and Sven walked out slowly, followed by Tobias and then Schreiber. They looked pretty stern, but Sven wore a grim smile. I guessed he was looking forward to getting his revenge on us. There was a light bandage around his throat, but other than that, the bastard looked as good as new. Tobias too wasn’t looking any the worse for wear. Pity. They all lined up by the front door, arms folded across their chests. The official unwelcoming committee.

Christoph got out of the Porsche slowly, making no sudden moves. The other side of the car, I mirrored his actions. “I’m here to challenge you, Schreiber,” he called out, his voice loud and clear, cutting across the tense silence. “A fair fight for the leadership of the pack.” Then he smiled. Well, bared his teeth. On second thought, it was nothing like a smile. “I want my house back.”

Sven muttered something in Schreiber’s ear but got waved off impatiently for his trouble. “Where’s Silke?” Schreiber called out harshly. “What have you done with my daughter?”

“She’s safe,” I said. “Safe from you, anyhow.”

Sven took a step forward, but Tobias held him back.

“Do you accept the challenge?” Christoph called.

“Why should he stoop to fight you?” Sven jeered. “You’re nothing. Maybe if we marked the other side of your face too, you might remember that.”

It was my turn to take a step forward, but the brain kicked in and stopped me before I could throw myself at the bastard. Seemed it was a good way of getting his attention, though. “And you!” Sven was openly sneering. “You’re going to regret what you did to me, American. For a very long time.”

A bead of sweat trickled uncomfortably down my spine, but I forced myself to stand firm. I tried not to think of that goddamn cage.

“
Enough!
” Schreiber barked the command, and like good little dogs we all fell silent. “Christoph, there is no need to fight. Just tell me where my daughter is, and we can discuss matters.”

Christoph’s voice as he replied was a hell of a lot calmer than I could have managed. Hell, it was almost chatty, and it took a moment for what he was saying to sink in. “Matters like your email correspondence with Dr. L?”

I guess Schreiber had the same problem I did. He went utterly still for what felt like a year—then, with terrifying speed, he moved. Morphing into his wolf form as he ran, he covered the short distance between us in about zero point three seconds and leaped at Christoph’s throat.

The Porsche was between me and them, damn it. I scrambled around to the other side—but when I got there, I stumbled to a halt. What the hell could I do, anyhow? It was as if Christoph and Schreiber had turned into a single, snarling, blood-flecked ball of fury. Both were fully transformed into monsters, their teeth gleaming in the sunlight as they snapped at each other’s throats. Bestial sounds came from them, and claws ripped into clothes, into flesh. Was Christoph winning or losing? I couldn’t even tell. I stepped forward—I had to do something—but a hand gripped my shoulder painfully and pulled me back again.

I looked around into Sven’s grinning face. Instinctively I wrenched myself out of his grip and leapt away, out of his reach. I didn’t need to look at my claws to know I’d changed. My vision went monochromatic, and it was almost calming. I growled at Sven, but he just laughed at me. “Later. For now, it’s Schreiber’s fight, not ours. Try to interfere again, and I will kill you where you stand.”

I took a few deep breaths and tried to will myself back to human. I wanted to talk, damn it, and I still couldn’t do it in wolf form. “You’re mad, following Schreiber,” I said thickly when I finally felt my fangs recede a little. “He’s lied to you, held out on you for years.”

“You think I’ll believe anything you say?” Sven finally taunted.

A howl of pain came from behind me. I spun around to see who’d made it. Shit. It was Christoph. He had a wound on his arm, a jagged gash from Schreiber’s teeth, or so I figured. It was bleeding badly, the ripped sleeve of his shirt soaked in crimson. It made it hard to see just how bad the damage was, but by the way he was holding himself, I figured Schreiber might even have broken the bone. This was not good. This was so fucking not good.

Schreiber was bleeding too, and from more than one wound—but they looked superficial to me. Christoph had gotten in a couple of gashes and a bite to Schreiber’s neck, but they didn’t seem to be inconveniencing the guy any, damn it.

The guys in the house must’ve woken up and smelled the blood—the whole damn pack was lined up along the front of the house like a row of shop-floor mannequins. Ulf was missing. That was bad news—but I didn’t have time to worry about him now.

Of course, if the fight kept on going Schreiber’s way, I’d have worse things to worry about later.

The combatants backed off, each of them breathing hard. I could tell Christoph was weakening. He’d lost a lot of blood, and that arm had to be hurting like a bitch. Shit. You know how when you think of dueling, it’s all really civilized? Debts of honor and all that crap. This was nothing like that. This was a filthy, bloody fight to the death.

And Christoph was going to lose. He was going to die at Schreiber’s hands and leave me with only a memory of one snatched night together that was no damn comfort at all.

My chest tightened, squeezing my racing heart. I couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t lose him like that. No way. But what the hell could I do? If I put one foot out of line, Sven would kill me—hell, chances were the whole damn pack would be on me like a furry, razor-toothed avalanche. A sharp pain in my hands made me look down. I’d balled them into fists, and my growing claws were biting into my palms.

I took a deep, shuddering breath and uncurled my fingers with an effort, staring at my claws until they sheathed themselves.
Think
. Maybe I couldn’t interfere in the fight—but maybe I could mess with their heads enough to make a difference.

“Hey, Schreiber!” I called. “Why don’t you tell Sven and the guys about all those emails? I’m sure they’d be interested to hear about Dr. L and the data you’ve been collecting on them.” I remembered a snippet I’d read in the Internet cafe. “Like how you think Sven’s blackouts are the wolf side of him trying to take over. And the way you picked out Ulf to turn so the doc could see how a kid took to it.”

That got everyone’s attention. Schreiber was looking from me to Christoph, clearly trying to figure out which one of us he wanted dead first. It was a damn good thing I had the Porsche to lean on, seeing as my legs were shaking so much. “Didn’t know Christoph read your emails, huh?” I carried on. “I’ve seen it all—you know this is all some big experiment, right?” I gestured wide, encompassing the whole pack. “They took the virus from the real werewolves, and they cooked it in the microwave or stirred it in a test tube or whatever the hell it is these assholes do. Then they shoved it into you guys, just to see what would happen. How’s it feel to find out you’re a bunch of fucking lab rats? And Schreiber’s the one who’s been helping run the tests.”

“That is a lie!” Sven spat at me, but his eyes flickered over to Schreiber.

“You think so? Why don’t you ask your glorious leader why he was so damn keen to shut Christoph up when he mentioned Dr. L? Come on, even you can’t have missed that—Schreiber was all for talking things out until Christoph said the magic words.” I stopped, breathing heavily. Hell, my mouth was too dry to say more anyhow.

Time slowed as Sven wheeled around to stare at Schreiber. “Is this true? We’re an
experiment
?” His face was pale under his tan, leaving him a queasy shade of yellow. “What about all the things you told us? That we are the true werewolves of Germany?”