I Kissed a Dog

chapter 37

I detected the minute we entered a building. The lingering scent of flowers was replaced by the stale, sweat-tinged odor of too many people crowded together.

My blindfold was yanked off, getting caught for one agonizing moment in my tangled curls. “Ouch!” I yelped. “You don’t have to be so rough.”

Jazmine trilled. A sound that sent shivers down my spine.

Her laughter was minus even a hint of happiness. Rather it rang with perverse pleasure over my discomfort. I figured her attempts at niceties were long over. Part of me was glad. I was tired of playing games with a serial killer who was lusting after my husband.

She grasped my chin in her hand, forcing my face within an inch of hers. “Rhonda mentioned you had a sarcastic streak. She also said you were used to getting what you wanted. I can relate to that. I always get what I want. Which means, you won’t.” She flicked my chin, hard, before tugging me into a headlock.

Opposed to violence, I was shocked to find my mind reeling with ways to snap the offending finger right off her hand. Revenge, one thing I’d always avoided and discouraged others from enacting, had never looked sweeter.

A crowd had formed, distracting me from my vengeful thoughts. They were watching us, some licking their lips, anticipating more violence.

With my head secured in Jasmine’s grip, I could see those standing behind her. They were all women. Attractive women dressed in tan uniforms. There were girls as young as twelve or thirteen and women in their fifties, maybe older.

Their commonality was their beauty.

I remembered my vow at the hotel — stop being a victim.

I’d conveniently forgotten somewhere along the way that dumping the victim role didn’t equal being reckless. I was just too tired of Jazmine’s abuse to refrain from spouting off more careless words. “You won’t get Zane. He loves me. You can’t force him to love you, can you, Jazmine? Can you?”

The change came without warning. I barely sensed the vibration before her clothing blasted in every direction.

A black bra strap snapped against my cheek as it sailed by. Jazmine landed on all fours in full wolf form. She circled, snarling and snapping, her gums trembled, drawing my gaze to her razor-sharp canines. I recalled in that instant that wolves had forty-two teeth, and I was pretty damn sure I was getting a good view of most of them.

The ring of surrounding women stepped back. Some had their backs pressed against the concrete walls. They looked as terrified as I felt.

“No!” A male voice shouted. “Honey, please, settle down.”

She swung her head in the direction of his voice. Martin, the least-trusted elder, from yesterday’s board meeting, pushed through the growing crowd of females. His faithful German Shepherd on his heels.

Although somewhat startled by his appearance, I wasn’t that surprised. His dog had already revealed Martin’s connection to the redheaded woman — Jazmine. I was still having a hard time accepting they were the same heartless woman.

The regal charcoal wolf she’d become whined, her attention now on the man.

“Remember our goals. You wanted her alive. We have too much at stake,” Martin soothed. “Let’s get you a hot bath.”

She nodded her massive head and turned one last time to glare at me before trotting away at his side. The minute she was out of sight, several women hurried to collect what was left of her clothing. They understood what was expected of them.

I realized then that another window-of-opportunity had opened wide. No one seemed interested in me, and the red wig was splayed across my feet.

Taking advantage of my latest window, I reached down and made a show of massaging my calves while stuffing the tangled mess up the pant leg of my jeans, thankful I wasn’t wearing one of my skinny-legged pairs.

Curious, several women continued to stare at me. I rubbed my legs and rotated my hips from side to side before returning to an upright position. I kneaded my lower back and grimaced.

“Are you okay?” A blonde asked, her striking blue eyes mirroring concern.

“Stiff. Too much tension I guess.” I rotated my shoulders.

Her eyes moved from my face and darted around the lobby. She started to speak, but grimaced instead when Jazmine’s two musclemen rounded the corner, flanking me. Each grasped an elbow, squeezing harder than the situation warranted.

The blonde woman dropped her head to stare at the floor, avoiding any further eye contact.

I was more than irritated by the men’s’ intimidating attitudes. “Stop it! You’re hurting me!” I snapped. Not only was I annoyed, but I was also getting sick and tired of being manhandled and bossed around. I wanted my old life back. And if that wasn’t possible, I wanted to at least hear what the blonde had to say and adjust my plans if necessary.

“You’re lucky The Mistress didn’t …” the tallest drew his fingernail across his jugular, adding semi-realistic gurgling effects.

“Wow. So mature,” I muttered. Despite their physical prowess, these guys were lacking in the intelligence department.

Several women smiled, encouraging me. One slapped a hand over her mouth, forcing what might have been laughter into submission. The majority still looked shaken, and a few appeared alarmed by the situation. I couldn’t wait to find out why they were being held.

Ignoring my last remarks, my terrifying tour guides steered me down a long corridor. The tall rude mutant, on my left, was without doubt leaving imprints where his fingers pressed mercilessly into my upper arm.

I tried once to pull free, but he tightened his grip in retaliation. Between the throbbing in my arm and the wig tickling my leg, walking wasn’t easy. Trying my best to ignore these inconveniences, I surveyed my surroundings, searching for any possible escape route.

What I saw did little to increase my confidence.

We were trapped in what appeared to be an abandoned school.

Each passing door had a window, and I could see more women. Some were resting inside what looked like classrooms turned dormitories. Others were seated at sewing machines. Several classrooms were filled with supplies, weapons, and canned food. The place reminded me of a women’s minimum security prison combined with a survival training camp of some sort. Cameras were mounted above us, red lights blinking as they monitored our movements. Throughout the hallways, men patrolled with assault rifles resting on their shoulders.

This building was not escape friendly. I’d have my work cut out for me. I needed some major help — supernatural help.

From my brief observations, I’d determined that most of the women were scared, and they also appeared unhappy with their circumstances. If I could gather enough support for my cause, we could overthrow Jazmine and her crew. There were more than enough weapons to go around.

At the passages end, a staircase wound downward. Fantastic. This had to be the way to my new home in the lower hallway

Forcing my feet together, I refused to take another step without first testing the loyalty of Jazmine’s closest sidekicks. “Why do you listen to Jazmine? She’s just using you. You could fight back like real men, you know.”

“And why would we want to do that?” Mr. Tight Grip said, digging his fingers deeper into my flesh. I winced, and a little whimper escaped my mouth.

“Because she’s a lying bitch,” I managed to hiss through gritted teeth.

“Man, let up on her arm,” my right-sided captor commanded. He released my arm, taking a long step back. I knew what was going to happen next.

Since mutants no longer required a full moon to shift, I’d guessed right.

In what seemed like slow motion, his snout elongated and his body expanded, sprouting patches of fur in the process. Fingers became razor sharp claws, and his mouth filled with jagged fangs. I wasn’t sure how, but unlike the purebreds, his clothing stayed on, sort of. They were ripped and tattered like the Incredible Hulk’s after his transmutation.

Instead of shifting, his taller counterpart, whipped out his sidearm and a crackle of gunfire followed, pulverizing my defender’s chest. He stumbled and tottered before plummeting backward, furry arms flailing but failing to stop his fall.

What felt like a small earthquake rocked the concrete floor, causing me to topple forward. I landed with a thud next to the bloodied mutant. The holes in his chest were more than bleeding; they were smoking. Silver — of course — the one thing that could kill both werewolves and mutants.

“Listen,” with a gurgling, wet sound the fallen creature managed to whisper.

I leaned forward, pressing my ear to his snout. Afraid he might not finish, I plunged, without permission, into what were surely his last thoughts. I’m in your mind. Think, don’t talk.

I’m Dante. I’m so sorry. I was trying to help. They’re creating an army.

I didn’t like the sound of that. For what?

To destroy the purebreds and take over their holdings, then the humans. His chest rattled as death crept closer.

A hand grabbed my shoulder, ripping me from Dante’s shuddering form.

The bald men can help. The old barge …

What barge? I asked hoping to latch onto his final thought.

It was too late. He was already shrinking, his human body replacing the mutant one.

I’d never been inside an animal’s mind at the moment of death. What I felt was empty darkness, like the universe without stars. The shell remained, but the soul had departed. Dante, I hoped, was in a better place.

For the first time since my capture, I allowed a tsunami of hopelessness to wash over me. Wave after wave, bowed my body until I was grasping my thighs. A torrent of hot tears followed.

Without comment, my remaining guard yanked me upright. This time, I marched obediently beside him down the staircase. I could hear doors above opening and women screaming. I knew the other guards were already descending on Dante’s motionless form.

They’d seen the whole thing. One or two of them had even laughed. Their laughter was what pushed me over the edge. What little faith I’d clung to was washed away with my tears.

It was hard to hang onto hope when your tormentors found death something to laugh about.