Silver (24 page)

“
Fight like an Alpha if
you're going to be an Alpha,” I yelled, letting my frustration show
in my voice.

“
If I get rid of you and
Chet there aren't many others who could stand in my way,” Mason
called back, followed by another volley of bullets. His footsteps
sounded again before the echo of the bullets ceased. I took off
running and rounded the next corner in time to see him disappear
into a door on the left.

I pulled out one of my guns and barreled
into the door with my shoulder. Bullets sprayed around me and one
tugged at the sleeve of my trench coat before I ducked behind a
wide ledge that smelled like it was used to serve refreshments to
the players. I fired above the ledge without looking and listened
to the bullets hit various metal pieces and softer objects.

“
Got a gun like the big
boys, huh Jaze?” Mason called out, his voice edged with
anger.

“
Guns are for cowards,” I
yelled back. “I'm stooping to your level to prove you're not the
only one that can fight like a weasel.”

A snarl ripped from his lips and a faint
gleam of triumph rose in my chest. He and Dad used to argue with
pulled punches and half barbs, but weasel was the one thing Mason
never took well to being called. It was a werewolf term to mock
those not of full blood, and my Dad's way of reminding Mason of his
place. I wondered for the first time if they were not full
brothers.

“
You don't know who you're
messing with,” Mason growled, the ferocity in his voice so thick
the hair rose on the back of my neck.

“
I could say the same about
you,” I said quietly.

Another rumble shook the stadium and a light
fell from the ceiling, hitting the floor in a shower of sparks. I
threw a grenade during the distraction, but Mason was a step ahead
of me. Smoke filled the room just as he ducked out a side door I
hadn't noticed. I pulled my shirt up to cover my nose, closed my
eyes, and ran with my hand on the wall to the door. I ducked
through just as the ether began to flow.

I shoved the door shut behind me and leaned
against the opposite wall to give my head a chance to clear. My arm
ached and my sleeve was damp; a quick check showed that the bullet
had cut a deep groove just below my shoulder but went straight
through without leaving many silver shards. Blood trickled down my
arm and dripped off my fingers, but I didn't have time to deal with
it. Spots flashed before my eyes from the sparks and I couldn't
shake the dizziness from the smoke and the blow Mason had landed to
my chin, but every second I waited he grew further away.

I pushed off the wall, stumbled against it,
then regained my footing. I held my gun low in my right hand,
unsheathed a knife and carried it in my left. I was done fooling
around. Mason was too dangerous, and any thought of mercy fled at
the touch of more blood from his hands.

I ran up the hallway and followed his scent
to the elevator. The light stopped at level three and I wondered
who would be stupid enough to ride an elevator in a stadium
currently being bombed, but his scent disappeared inside and the
elevator didn't come back down. I took a steeling breath and ran up
the stairs. Adrenaline drove me and a feral smile touched my lips
at the thought of finally bringing Mason to an end.

The third level turned out to be the highest
in the stadium; werewolves pushed past me to get down the stairs
and outside. No one seemed to notice my gun and knives, but so many
of the werewolves were armed I actually fit. I shoved between a
cluster of wolves at the head of the stairs and reached the top in
time to see Mason push another button in the elevator.

Another explosion sounded and the force
threw me against the railing. Several werewolves screamed and
everyone ran in a mad rush down the stairs. I climbed onto the
railing, jumped across the crowd to the other side, then half-ran,
half-slid my way down the hand rail to the second floor.

The door was only halfway open and the
elevator had stopped just below the edge. I could see Mason
stalking agitatedly across the floor.

“
Give up, Mason,” I yelled
up to him. “Maybe I'll show you the mercy you never gave my
father.”

“
I didn't want to kill my
own brother,” he answered. The sound of metal on metal followed.
“But he gave me no choice.”

“
There's always a choice,”
I shouted. My vision flared red and my heart thundered in my chest.
I shoved the gun into the opening at the bottom of his elevator and
pulled the trigger so many times the clicking of empty chambers
didn't register until the red haze faded.

I put a foot on each side of the door and
used it to lift me up so I could see inside. The acrid smell of
gunpowder filled the elevator, but that was all. Mason had pulled
himself through the roof.

I cursed my stupidity and ran back up the
stairs. I shoved the barrel of my empty gun between the doors and
pried them apart. The elevator shaft below me looked empty until
movement behind the elevator caught my eye. I jumped and landed
half a story down onto the elevator with a jarring thud that made
every pain in my body explode to life. I lowered myself down the
side in time to see Mason disappear back out the partly opened door
to the second floor.

I threw myself toward the door, caught the
edge with an answering stab of pain through my ribs, and pulled
myself up. Mason waited with a half-smile, his dark brown eyes, the
same color as my dad's, were cold and contained an animosity and
hatred that never would have filled my father's.

“
Attack,” Mason
growled.

My heart slowed as close to twenty
werewolves around him surged toward me. I grabbed the only chance I
had and yelled, “Alpha Accord.”

The werewolves slowed and threw confused
glances back at Mason. He stared at me, his eyes narrow.

“
Alpha Accord,” I repeated.
“You want to be the Alpha, you follow the Alpha laws.”

“
What if I killed the
elders who made the laws?” he replied with a triumphant, toothy
grin.

I swallowed to push down the fear that
streaked through my bones. “So you call yourself an Alpha, but
throw aside any law that governs werewolf conduct? Then what makes
them follow you?”

His lips pulled back in a snarl. “I'm the
strongest, so they have to follow me.”

The werewolves looked from him to me,
following our conversation closely. I pushed away any pain, fear,
and any reluctance I had and stood straight and proud. “I am the
only true Alpha in this building if you've already killed Chet.
They won't follow you unless you kill me.” He raised his gun, but I
took a chance and grabbed the strap that released the knife harness
and grenades from my chest and let them fall to the ground, then I
tossed both my guns on top of it. “Alphas fight to the death with
nothing but their wits and brawn,” I reminded him.

He stared at me and a faint spark of
reluctant respect showed in his eyes when he finally nodded. The
werewolves surrounding us both gave him no choice, and we both knew
that, but he made a show of setting down his gun and tossing a
myriad of knives and other weapons I hadn't known he carried onto
the pile. “Fine, a fight to the death, then. May the strongest
werewolf win,” he declared. There was a strange catch to his tone
as if he was still trying to pull something over on me, but when he
moved in, his expression was deadly serious.

He lunged in an effort to knock me down, but
I jumped out of the way, then spun back with a kick that caught him
across the jaw. He didn't fall, but staggered backward with a
surprised expression. “You fight dirty like your father,” he said,
his gaze dark.

A growl burst from my chest and I barreled
him into the wall with my shoulder and slugged him twice in the
stomach before he pushed me back. “Don't you dare talk about my
father,” I said in a voice so low and angry I barely recognized
it.

I ducked a left. He swung a right roundhouse
that caught me in the ribs right where the knife had gone in during
my fight with Chet's pack. The air left me in a rush and I fell to
the ground clutching my side. Mason caught me behind the ear with
another right, then kicked at me, but I managed to get my wits
about me and blocked his kick with my forearms. I grabbed his foot
with both hands, ducked under it, and rose while sweeping out with
my own foot to catch him just below the knee. He spun horizontally
and landed heavily on the ground.

I jumped on him and wrapped an arm around
his throat, pulling back hard with my other hand so that he bowed
backward with my knees against his spine. He sputtered something
that sounded like, “Wait!”

I didn't want to let go. Every inch of my
being screamed for me to pull back further and break his spine,
ending the destruction he had spread through every inch of my
world. But it didn't feel right. Instinct told me that something
was off and I needed to listen.

I slowly eased him down to the point where
he could talk. “Speak,” I growled into his ear.

“
Chet,” he gasped
out.

“
What about him?” I
demanded.

He motioned and I pulled him to his feet.
The motion pulled angrily at my stomach, but I ignored it. He
motioned again and I walked with him to the wide stretch of windows
that overlooked the brown grass of the retired stadium grounds.
Shadows of players, memories of points scored and games won, hearts
broken and heroes made, haunted the darkness where the faded
stadium lights no longer reached, but in the clearing on the brown
grass that had once been proud turf beneath cleats and leather, lay
the still form of Chet surrounded by at least fifty werewolves who
stayed firm to Mason's orders despite the stadium exploding around
them.

“
My werewolves will kill
him if you kill me,” he said with a hint of triumph in his
voice.

“
What makes you think I
care if you kill him?” I asked in a growl.

“
You’re here, aren’t you?”
he pointed out. Then he slipped something out of his sleeve and
turned faster than I thought he could. I raised my left arm in time
to feel the slice of silver run from my wrist to my elbow, leaving
my trench coat sleeve in tatters.

“
Playing fair?” I asked
angrily. I shrugged out of the coat and let it fall to the floor.
Blood streamed down my arm.

A dark shadow crossed the window behind
Mason, blocking out the bright stadium light for the briefest
second. I tipped my head so I could see around him, and my heart
soared at the sight of Hunters streaming down both sides of the
field.

“
Who said we need to play
fair?” Mason growled, missing the shadow. He tore off his shirt and
jumped at me.

But I was ready. My body bent, my teeth
grew, and in a split second I was in wolf form, my black hair
standing on end and a growl of such menace rolling from my chest
that the werewolves around us backed up to the far ends of the
hallway.

I met Mason tooth to tooth as he tried to
tear out my eyes and blind me or reach my jugular. But I was an
Alpha, and I was stronger. I forced him back and his eyes widened.
I shoved him so that he staggered backwards, then lunged low and
clamped onto one of his hind legs.

He tore at my shoulder, but I didn't feel
the pain past the red haze that fueled my thoughts. I bit down
until the bones snapped and he let out a howl, then I shook my head
and he smashed into a wall and climbed slowly back to his three
good feet. He growled, low and angry, realizing I was about to take
everything away from him that he had tried so hard to create. His
eyes rolled and any normalcy he had shown disappeared behind a
crazed glaze. Foam flecked his dark gray muzzle when he
snarled.

I faked a lunge forward; when he jumped to
meet my attack, I leaped to the side, using my shoulder to shove
him over onto his back. Before he could right himself, I clamped
onto his throat and bit down. Blood pooled around my muzzle. Mason
whined in protest, his tail between his legs and his feet kicking
for any purchase. His breath wheezed in his throat and his blood
pounded millimeters from my fangs.

Chapter 22

A step sounded to my right and I glanced
over to see that the twenty or so werewolves who had been ready to
tear me apart were now in wolf form, watching the fight and waiting
for the moment when I would release Mason and give the defeated
would-be Alpha to them so they could rip him to shreds. It was
werewolf law that any Alpha who challenged another Alpha and lost
was destroyed by those he wanted to lead.

But I had lost all respect for the law. I
released Mason's neck slowly and growled a warning for him to
remain still. He froze, his neck out and paws in the air, a
humiliating position for any werewolf, but one that could save his
life if he did as I instructed. The werewolves around me stepped
forward, gray heads lowered and teeth eager to rip into flesh. I
snarled, fierce and angry at the laws, the situation, and the faint
shard of humanity that whispered that I wasn't a killer, that I
wouldn't stoop to Mason's level.

The wolves backed off immediately, confusion
in their eyes but their heads bowed respectfully. I phased back to
my human form, then stood slowly and pulled on the tattered remains
of my shirt and pants. The blood from my arm dripped to the floor.
I hesitated, then pulled on the trench coat, too. It wouldn't do to
appear injured to the wolves.

I glared at the animals around me and they
dropped their eyes submissively. “No one is to kill Mason. He's
mine,” I said in a tone that left no room for argument. Mason
stared up at me, his dark brown eyes, so like my father's, were
shrewd, calculating, and filled with fear. “Phase,” I growled at
him. “And pull on your clothes. We have some people to meet.”