Beneath the Neon Moon

BENEATH THE NEON MOON by Theda Black Published by TKB Books Smashwords edition

Text copyright July 2010 by Theda Black Illustration copyright July 2010 by Sonja Triebel This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of either the author's imagination or are used fictiticiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by US copyright law. Smashwords Edition License Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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BENEATH THE NEON MOON Theda Black

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Table of Contents

Cover Page Title Page Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Author's Notes

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Chapter 1 HE WAS SIXTEEN and on his own, his dad laid up drunk somewhere, anywhere, if he wasn't dead. They'd arrived in town nearly a month ago. His dad had rented an old garage apartment painted a peeling blue-gray, three small rooms perched over an alleyway. Zach liked it, mostly because there were no neighbors overhead or to either side. He could breathe easy, feel himself expand in the quiet. The rooms were tiny but neat, the kitchen and the refrigerator aged and worn but clean. After three days of his dad gone and no sign of when or if he'd be back, they were also empty. The naked white bulb shone bright over the white walls and plastic shelves of the refrigerator, and no matter how many times he

opened the door and looked inside it stayed empty. The cabinets, too. He thought about going up to the owner's house and knocking on the door to ask for some food, but in the end he didn't. He was too afraid they'd start asking questions about where his dad was, how long he'd been gone, how often he left him alone, on and on. He'd been through it before and he didn't want to go through it ever again. Finally his stomach got bad enough that he was forced to go out, try to scavenge or steal something. He went down the stairs and into the alleyway, walking and staring up into the yards at the row of houses on each side, their backs to him. The relentless rains of June made everything grow green and wild and grasping, morning glory vines and ivy and periwinkle climbing trees or stretching out long over the ground. The heads of fuzzy dandelions perched high, overseeing the grass on either side of the buckling, overwhelmed asphalt. It was pickup day, trashcans dotting the alleyway. The neighborhood dogs had already made their rounds and pulled some of them over on the ground. Soggy boxes clung to the pavement, plastic bags torn and contents strewn over the grass, smelling of rot. He searched but didn't find anything to eat. Early the next morning, his dad finally came back. His complexion was sallow and his hands shook. He clutched a greasy bag with four sausage biscuits inside, and Zach ate so fast he nearly threw up. Just another day and another town, another bar for his dad to lose himself in. It happened all the time after Zach's mother left. He remembered how his stomach had hurt, so empty. He'd been hungry a lot as a kid, and here it was again, familiar in ways he'd rather not reminisce about. But back then he'd at least always known where he was. Couldn't say the same now. Zach opened his eyes, blinking, and saw weak yellow light stretching down into darkness. He was on his side. He rolled on his back. For a moment it felt like

the room rolled with him. The dizziness passed quickly, but hunger still gnawed at his gut. He wrapped an arm around his stomach and pressed in, which helped not at all. He looked up at the light. It came from a window set high up in the opposite wall. His fingers brushed over cool, packed dirt beneath him. Maybe … a cellar. Yeah, he thought he was in a cellar. Somebody put me down here and left me. His heart raced, but he made himself stay still and quiet. He just needed to think, try and remember where he'd been last. He shut his eyes again and let his mind drift, doing his best to ignore his aching stomach. It was pretty persistent in not wanting to be ignored, growling and making protesting noises. His head hurt, too, and he felt achy and stiff. This wasn't the first time he'd awakened not knowing where he was, though it wasn't something he was proud of. Party hearty, that's what he did, and too much of it since he lost his job. Getting to be like the old man. He remembered some of his construction buddies had taken him drinking last night, but try as he might to remember more, the details just weren't there. At least not yet. The last time he'd eaten, then. Concentrate on that. A lot of hard thinking brought a fast food restaurant to mind, yellow arches, bland food. But filling. Eating things that filled him up and kept him filled up awhile became important after he'd lost the construction job. He hadn't been fired, nothing like that. He was a hard worker, always on time, self-motivated, but this summer the tourists had saved money and stayed home. Tourists were everything to the mountain town where Zach lived, with chalets and cabins and resorts built at a record pace over the last few years. The momentum didn't last. The economy flagged and business fell sharply, to the

point where the whole crew saw the cutbacks coming. Zach tried tracking down another job, but there were more people scrambling than there was work to be had, and he soon found himself without a paycheck. Every day he pounded the pavement. As time passed, he spent more than a few nights with a bottle, trying to wash away the rising fear. And now he was God knows where, sitting in a dark hole and wondering how the hell he got here. There was a sound, something like a drawn breath or maybe the rustle of clothing, and then movement right the fuck next to him. Zach's heart kickstarted, pounding in his chest. He scrambled up, trying to get away. A chain rattled and his ankle jerked back, throwing him off balance. He fell to his knees. Someone gasped or moaned or something in between, low and hurting. "Stop," someone said faintly, then made that noise again, only smothered, like whoever spoke tried to cover it up. "What the fuck?" Zach yelled, sounding like three days worth of grit and no water in sight. He climbed to his feet again. "Quit pulling on the fucking chain!" This time the voice was raspy, a strange little hitch in it. "Why the hell should I?" Panic made Zach pull away again, harder. "Oh God, stop." The pain in the voice sent prickles running down Zach's back. He forced the panic down and turned around to see who was there. The guy sprawled out on the dirt behind him was young, probably a couple of years younger than Zach, his face pale, features drawn tight with pain. He wore faded jeans and a white T-shirt, ripped and dirty, tight enough to show off an impressively muscular chest. A chain ran from his ankle to Zach's in a straight line. "What are we doing down here?" Zach asked, trying to be calm. "Who are you and what the hell is this?" He pointed to the chain.

"My name's Mal. We're in a cellar, chained together, fuck if I know why, your left and my right ankle. There's a chain on my other leg, too. It's attached to the wall, see it?" Mal's voice was breathy, the words rushing out of his mouth as if to keep Zach from moving. He brought up a hand in entreaty. "I'm not going to hurt you. Don't pull away again, okay? Please." Mal crawled forward until the chain between them relaxed and then came awkwardly to his knees beside Zach. Even on his knees he looked tall, wide-shouldered. "Listen, I just woke up here a few hours ago. I tried everything I could to get the chains off and get free. No go." Mal had been careful to use only one arm as he climbed to his knees, and now that they were closer, Zach saw why. A bloody mess of punctured flesh and crusted blood started midway on his upper arm and extended down below the elbow. "Shit, what happened to you?" Zach demanded, forgetting his own fear. "First just … no quick moves, okay? There are some really sharp prongs on the inside of my ankle chain. You pull on the connecting chain, it tightens and the spikes dig in." "Jesus, are you kidding me?" "I really wish I was." Zach took in a deep breath and sat down on the ground. "I'm sorry, damn. I didn't know. This is fucking insane." "Thank God," Mal breathed, slumping, arms hanging loose and low at his sides. He came off his knees and carefully maneuvered himself to sit next to Zach, close enough that his knee brushed against Zach's leg. He pulled his pants leg up and looked at his ankle in the low yellow light coming from the dirtspeckled window. "Damn, that hurts." "Are you—oh fuck, you're bleeding," Zach breathed. "It's Dr. Horror's dungeon hour, coming to you live," Mal muttered, then chuffed out a dry, humorless laugh. He pushed the leg of his jeans down again

before Zach could see much of anything and rubbed long fingers over his eyes. "You gonna tell me your name?" "Zach." It felt unreal, introducing himself like they were at a party when everything in him was screaming to find a way out. He pushed the feeling aside, trying to settle himself and think. "What happened to you? How'd you get down here?" "Here's the weird part. I have no idea. I woke up here." "Yeah, you sure that's the weird part? Because this is pretty fucking weird." Zach was silent a moment. "Shouldn't we do something for your ankle?" Mal shrugged. "Like what? I'd rather not sit here and watch myself bleed. Makes me queasy." "How bad is it?" "It doesn't matter. We can't do jack shit for it, unless you happen to carry a first aid kit in your pocket. No? Just don't pull the chain anymore." Zach felt himself flush. "I said I'm—I didn't know." Mal sighed, slumped back against the dirt. "I know, I really do. I'm a dick." "No, it's got to hurt like hell." Zach pulled his jeans leg up and examined his own ankle. "I've got a cuff, not a chain. With a damned cylinder lock, no less. Right leg's free." "A cylinder lock?" "Like a deadbolt. You can't pick one of those without tools." He closed his eyes a moment, then looked at the ceiling. "Dammit, I just can't believe this. It's crazy." "Be glad all you've got is a cuff. Guess I should feel special, huh," Mal said. The resignation and tiredness in Mal's voice made Zach's stomach tense in sympathy. "What about your left leg?" he asked.

Mal stretched his leg out for Mal to see. "Another cuff. Same as yours, looks like." Zach nodded, then looked at the chain connecting them together. "We've got a little wiggle room, not much. I'd say around three feet." "Yeah, you've pretty well got the lay of the land now. So just stay close, okay?" Mal's eyes roamed the room. His features looked stiff and too still, paler than before. Zach waited until Mal looked at him again. "I will." Mal pressed his lips together, nodding. Both of them fell quiet until Zach's stomach growled, loud and grumbling. "Damn." Mal's eyebrows rose as it went on and on. He looked around the cellar, then shrugged. "Have some water?" Zach dropped his head to his chest and clutched his stomach.

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Chapter 2 ZACH LOOKED INTO a dark corner, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the low light in the darker parts of the cellar. Cellar or unfinished basement, whichever— he never remembered if there was supposed to be a difference between the two, though cellars to him always brought a dim memory of his grandmother's place, the cellar dim and cool, shelves neatly stacked with rows of canned fruit and vegetables. He and Mal sat on the ground close to the back wall, near the midpoint of the cellar. The floor was packed dirt, scooped low in the middle and rising up the

sides before giving way to the smooth river rocks in the house's foundation. Overhead, copper pipes stitched the dim reaches together. An old coal stove squatted in a dark corner to the left, and discarded building materials crowded the corners of the room—paint cans, a table saw, two by fours, and a rolled carpet, its woven underside dry-rotted. A set of wooden steps rose close to the wall on Zach and Mal's far right, old and gray, flanked by flimsy wooden railing. The window, the only source of light, faced them from high up in the wall, square and squat. Dirt pressed against the glass pane about halfway up on the outside and was barred and wired from the inside. Bars on the inside. Not the outside. It made Zach's stomach hurt in a whole different way. "Dammit," he muttered. "What?" "The bars." Zach pointed at the window. Mal didn't even look. He lay on his back, legs tented, feet close to Zach's. "Yeah." His voice was flat. Zach shifted, searching for a more comfortable position. The ground was too damned hard. "So how did you end up in here?" "I got hurt last night. I was unconscious. I don't remember anything about being brought here." Mal tapped fingers restlessly against his chest. "I need to stretch out my legs, okay?" Zach nodded, slowly stretched out his left leg. At the same time, Mal stretched out both of his. "Smooth as synchronized swimmers," Mal said, grinning a little. He folded his good arm behind his head. "You know, it's weird. The details of what happened yesterday before waking up in this shithole are pretty foggy. Fading. Like a dream or … something." He shook his head. "I'm taking an accelerated summer class at UT. The professor and I aren't exactly hitting it off. He made

some smart ass comment a few days ago, like he didn't think I was gonna pass yesterday's test. Pissed me off. So I put pedal to the metal and studied. I passed it. I aced it, I know it." "You like flipping off your professors?" The corner of Mal's mouth lifted. "Maybe, when they're assholes. So then I went with Kassy and Steve and some other friends to …" Mal's forehead wrinkled, thinking. "We went to their place, celebrated a little. Celebrated a lot. Some smoke, some JD. I didn't feel like crashing at Kassy's afterward, just wanted to head home, so I walked. It wasn't that far. It was late, heading toward dawn. Really quiet. I didn't see anyone else out. I crossed a parking lot and was going down Tyler Street when something knocked me down from behind. I hit the sidewalk in front of a florist shop, rolled over and there was this big, light-colored dog standing right over me. I couldn't believe it." "A dog on campus?" "Yeah, I don't know. It bit me on the arm. I beat it on the head with my fist, I kicked it, but it hung on." Mal hesitated. "It got pretty surreal after that. There's this big neon rose in the window of the florist shop. It was blinking, and I'd hear this electrical sound, you know, like a bug zapper? It kept getting louder. I must have been more messed up than I thought because the dog looked crazy huge, too big to be real." Mal looked at Zach, gauging his reaction, then continued. "The thing was chewing on me like a piece of meat. I stared at its eyes and just … stopped fighting. Kept hearing that damn noise the light made, getting louder and louder, buzzing and popping. I remember thinking something crazy, that it was just the beginning—that I was being eaten alive and it'd never end and I couldn't do anything about it. It hurt, damn but it hurt. His teeth were red. Everything was. It all looked red." Mal blinked as if clearing his head. "Talk about a nightmare. I'm starting to wonder just what was in that weed." He shrugged. "That's all I remember. Just woke up here this morning, like I told you. I heard noises upstairs—people walking across the floor. Then two guys came down. They took me up to the bathroom and tried to give me some food." He shook his

head. "They looked at my arm and laughed, said it was a good job or some such shit, the fuckers. I asked why I was here, what they wanted, but all they'd say is that I'd find out later." Mal rubbed a hand absently over his jean-clad thigh. "When they decided it was time to bring me back downstairs, they pushed me toward the basement door. I fought back, tried to get loose. One of them was kind of skinny, didn't look like he'd be very strong, but he knocked me on my ass big time. It surprised the hell out of me. Didn't think he had it in him." He paused. "They were talking to each other about somebody passed out in a bedroom down the hall. Was that you?" Zach swallowed. "Yeah. I guess it was." Mal looked puzzled. He sat up again. "You were kidnapped, right? Same as me?" Zach made himself answer. "They didn't—I was out with my friends. We met these guys. They didn't make me do anything. Not until they threw me down here." Mal watched him, eyes narrowed and moss green in the streaming light coming through the window. "You were dead to the world when they brought you down. Must have been a hell of a party. Or did they give you something?" "No, they didn't. Least I don't think they did." "Zach. What happened?" Zach looked out of the window. "I woke up here. With you. Look, I was really wasted. I couldn't remember any of it when I woke up." "I don't give a shit about when you woke up. What do you remember now? What do you know about all this?" "I don't know why the fuck we're down here, okay!" Zach shouted. He took a deep breath. "Mal, I know you don't know me, all right, so you don't have much reason to believe me, but I'm telling you I have no idea what's going on."

Mal scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "So you don't know these guys?" Zach flushed, his face hot. "Not really." "What do you think they want with you?" "They already got what they wanted. So I thought." "They get upset with you for any reason?" "It was a fuck. You get it? It was what it was, no drama. I'd have left right after if I hadn't been so damn drunk." Mal's eyebrows rose. "Okay, okay. I'm just trying to figure out what in hell's going on." "Doesn't mean I want to talk about it to a stranger," Zach muttered. "Yeah?" Mal snapped. "You might just be dying with this stranger, does that make it feel a little more intimate?" Zach stared at Mal, then put his head down on his knees, shutting out everything—the streaming light, the dankness. The guy he might die with. He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, I'm sorry." Zach rolled his head and looked at Mal from the corners of his eyes. "You think I've got something to do with why you're down here and you're apologizing to me?" "I didn't say I thought you were to blame. We just both need to know as much as we can about the situation, don't you think? So maybe we can figure out how to get out of here." He paused, then gestured at a white plastic pitcher sitting against a legless, peeling pink dresser on his left. "You want any water yet? I drank a little of it earlier. It's okay. They're not trying to poison us or drug us, in case you're worried." Zach shook his head. "Not yet. Let me look at your arm, okay?"

Mal's eyebrows rose again. "We've been over this before. Nothing to be done for it, same as the ankle." Zach straightened, looking Mal in the face. "Have you tried to wash it out?" "With what?" "With water. What else?" "Water won't cut it." "It's a dog bite, Mal." "I'm really, really aware of that." Zach ignored him. "Let me see it, dammit." Mal raised a brow at him, staring, looking a little startled at Zach's emphatic tone. He nodded reluctantly. Zach scooted carefully down by Mal's feet and turned so he was facing him. He held out his hand, waiting. Mal slowly stretched out his left arm. "Don't touch it." Zach huffed out a breath and ignored him, turning the arm and looking closely. He couldn't help the sudden intake of breath. "It fucking hurts," Mal complained, as if he hadn't tried to ignore it before. "I bet it does," Zach said softly, trying not to let the shock of it catch in his throat and show in his voice. The skin was swollen, blood trickling sluggishly from the wound. The center looked like hamburger, and above and below were clear bite marks: deep red holes and ugly, glistening tears. "I'm just going to stretch out and grab the jug. I won't let the chain pull, okay?" "You dump all our water over my arm and we're going to get pretty thirsty." "If I don't, you're going to be in trouble. They'll bring more." Zach tried to sound confident. "You don't know what they'll do. Or why we're here. We don't know anything."

"I know they brought water in the first place. They don't want us to die." Yet, he didn't add, though they both heard the implication. "I think it's a case of too little, too late, to tell you the truth. Water isn't going to fix this. Odds are I'm going to get pretty sick before long." Zach looked at him but Mal refused to meet his gaze. "It'll help. Just let me, Mal. Okay?" Mal sighed, a long deep breath out as if he'd been holding it. "Yeah, okay. Don't blame me if you get thirsty later on." "Ingrate." Zach moved to pick up the jug, keeping his left ankle close to Mal's feet as he could. He settled back into position in front of Mal. "Ready?" "Set, go." Mal smiled a little. Zach poured a stream of water over the wound, blood and water running onto the dirt below. A muscle in Mal's cheek jumped. He stared down at his arm. "You probably won't believe this, but it actually looked worse when I first woke up." Zach kept pouring. "That doesn't make sense. You said you've only been here since this morning." "I know. Said you wouldn't believe me. I don't believe me, but I swear it looked worse. I thought I might bleed out down here at first, but it slowed. A lot." Zach pulled the hem of his dark-colored T-shirt up and inspected it doubtfully. "Maybe we'll just let it air dry." Mal looked at the tail of Zach's shirt and grimaced. "No maybe about it." "Wish we had more to work with." Zach chewed his lip. "I know. Feels better," Mal added, voice soft. "Liar." Zach's brows rose skeptically. "No, really." Mal nodded his head for emphasis. "Yeah?" Zach smiled, looking at him. "If you say so."

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Chapter 3 "CAN WE MOVE a little? Lean against the wall or something?" Zach arched his spine, stretching, and put a hand to the small of his back. "Sure. But I'm here to tell you, those rocks aren't comfortable against your back, even if they are rounded." Zach groaned. "It doesn't matter, I just need to move. Wanted to warn you." Mal smiled at him. "I appreciate that. I'll stay close." Both of them crabbed back on their hands until they reached the wall. Zach leaned against it. The stones stood out round and hard against his back through his T-shirt. He made a face. "Nice." Mal scratched his back against a rock. "At least they're good for something." He looked up to his left and back at the wall behind them. "Did you notice the way these fuckers have me chained up? The wall bracket, the ring at the end of the chain … hell, even the chain's pretty thick. Talk about overkill. No way I could break that. Though I tried." "That work out well for you?" "Smart ass." Zach craned his neck, looking. He gave a low whistle. "Guess they want to be damn sure you can't get off their leash." He eyed Mal. "If that's what they think it'll take to keep you from escaping, they're giving you way more credit than I would."

"Yeah. Definitely more than they should have," Mal said, and Zach grinned at him. "Look at this setup, though. It just screams that these guys aren't new to the kidnapping business. And since we're here now, I'd say they got away with it before." Zach shifted restlessly. His ass didn't like the cellar, and in particular the earthen floor, any more than he did. He looked up at the wall bracket again. "Shit. Is that a blood stain?" Mal glanced up. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure. At first I thought it was rust. Hoped it was. It's harder to spot on the rocks, but it's there, too." His expression was grim. "None of this makes any damned sense. So what, they kidnap us, keep us down here, give us food and water and then kill us?" Zach's voice grew louder as he spoke. "It's like some fucked up horror movie—you get that, right?" His fingers dug into the packed earthen floor. "Yeah, I do." Mal's voice was soft and even. He watched Zach. "And I slept with the guys holding us. Way to go, me." Zach slumped back into himself and rubbed a hand over his face. Mal was quiet a moment. He bumped Zach's shoulder with his own. "No worries, man. Long as you used a condom." Zach stared at him. "Will you shut up?" "Okay." Mal yawned. "How can you be sleepy? We're in the middle of a kidnapping!" "You want me to scream and tear out my hair?" "Please. No." Mal didn't crack a smile. "I'm exhausted. Everything hurts. I don't have a lot left over for hysterics, but if you change your mind and want a show I could give it a shot."

"I won't. What I want is for you not to be hurt at all." Zach felt as startled as Mal looked. It just slipped out of his mouth before he could think. "Uh, why don't you try to sleep anyway? Get some rest." "Don't think I can. We're in the middle of a kidnapping." Zach threw him an exasperated look. Mal ignored it. "The weird thing is, I don't feel as shitty as I did. Relatively speaking. The dog attacked me just last night, we're not in exactly sanitary conditions, we only have water to clean the bites … and I feel better than I did when I woke up, even with the ankle messed up on top of everything else. It's crazy. It worries me." "Quit looking a gift horse in the mouth." Mal looked irritated. "What the fuck is that stupid saying anyway." "You really want to know? I can tell you." "I said I didn't want to sleep now, thanks." Zach bumped his shoulder back. "No? So we'll talk about something else. Why would kidnappers let me keep my wallet?" Mal shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. You got anything in there that'll help us?" Zach dug into the back of his jeans pocket and opened his billfold. "Let's see. There's a five, three ones, and a … never mind … and a penknife." "You're kidding." "Nope." "You've actually got a knife on you?" "Sort of?" Zach pulled it out of a credit card slot and held it up. Folded up, it was about the length of his index finger, the handle ridged and black. "I could try and stab someone in the eye with it, I guess. Maybe. If they didn't check my

wallet, they don't even know I have it." He put the knife back where he had it, then shoved the wallet into his back pocket. "That's good. That little penknife is our ace in the hole. We'll catch them unawares with it and we'll do … uh … what will we do with it?" "Stab them in the eye, remember?" Zach said helpfully. He tapped his fingers on the ground. "You're distracting me. We need to look at your ankle." "What, pour water over it? Not going to help much with the prongs still sticking into my skin. Back to what we were talking about. We've been kidnapped, it was planned, been done before, we're doomed…." "You're not funny." Mal was silent a moment. "I think I am." "Unfuckingfunny. I mean it. " "What do you want from me? Told you panic isn't going to help." Mal hitched a shoulder and rubbed against one of the protruding rocks again. "Well, if it's something that's happened before—somebody missing, somebody held hostage—the news would have picked it up, right? We'd probably have heard something." Mal shrugged. "I don't know. Not necessarily, not if somebody just went missing. It'd be different if somebody saw something suspicious, saw someone dragged away or something like that, but if they just disappeared, well, people take off all the time. But maybe I'm way off, thinking we're not the first. I hope so." Mal leaned over and looked at his ankle. After a moment, he blotted carefully at the blood oozing from under the chain with the hem of his jeans. He sat back and looked at Zach. "Yeah, that fucking helped. Not." "I'm sorry," Zach said again. He couldn't help it, though it felt useless to say so. "I told you before. You didn't do this. Shut up about it, okay?"

Zach cleared his throat. "I don't know about you, but I don't have money. I don't have any family to speak of, either. Hell, I'm the next thing to homeless." He gestured at Mal's ankle. "And even if we were being held for ransom, nothing explains that piece of work." "I'm thinking that being held for ransom's got to be the lesser of evils at this point, but my family's not rich. They're not exactly poor, either, but still. There's plenty of better targets to pick if this were just about money." Mal sighed. "Any other ideas?" Zach shrugged. "I can't figure any reason why anybody'd be after me. You?" "Not a clue." Mal rolled his head against one of the rocks in the wall and looked up at the ceiling. "Not one fucking clue." He looked at Zach. "Time to move again, okay?" Zach took a deep, sighing breath and sneezed. The air smelled musty, heavy with age and cold earth and things too long in the dark. "Okay. Which way we going?" "Forward again. Away from the wall. You have allergies?" "Nah." Zach sneezed again. "They develop at any time, you know." Zach pulled a breath in and thought about it. "If you look in a horse's mouth you can tell if it's young or old or sick, stuff like that. Somebody gives you a horse, you don't look in its mouth because that'd make you an ingrate." "And you're telling me this because why?" "I thought we were trading useless information." "Damn, I like you." Mal's grin crinkled the corners of his eyes. "So, your turn. Tell me what you were doing last night. Shit, not the part where you—not that," he said hurriedly when Zach gave him a look. "Before."

"I've been laid off for a few weeks from my job. Some of my friends thought I needed a night out drinking. I had a few too many." Zach rubbed his nose and thought about it. "More than a few." "Laid off, huh? It's a damn good reason to throw a few back. All the good college boys do it." "I wouldn't know. Never went." Zach looked down at their feet. "And you're not putting me off anymore. I'm gonna look at that ankle, okay? Grab the water jug." Mal rolled his eyes and leaned over, grabbing the pitcher by the handle. He put it by Zach on the ground. "Okay, Nurse Nightingale. But you pull that chain and I'll show you some real hysterics." Zach nodded impatiently, then moved closer and bent over Mal's ankle. "They took your sock." "Easier to carve the turkey that way, I guess. The turkey being me of course. Nice of them to give me my shoe back." "Man, you don't ever stop. Don't move." The chain was thinner than the wall chain and the same thickness as the chain that ran between them. Zach tried easing his little finger in between it and Mal's skin. "Damn, that's tight." He gave up almost immediately. He'd hoped to try and work the jean material from Mal's pants leg in under the prongs, but nothing was going to wedge in there without gouging him further. He leaned down again and studied Mal's ankle more closely, saw the metal prongs disappearing into swollen, bloody skin. "Damn it," he swore, couldn't help himself. "I don't see how you're sitting upright, much less talking through all this." "Doesn't hurt too bad if I don't think about it," Mal said softly.

Zach shook his head, giving him a dubious look. There was blood all over Zach's hand. Blood caked on Mal's ankles and down below, into his sneaker. Zach winced, remembering how he'd pulled away from Mal earlier. He picked up the jug and looked at Mal, making sure he was ready. Mal nodded, and Zach tipped water out of the jug. He heard Mal's breath hiss between his teeth. His hand jerked, splashing water over Mal's shin. "Sorry," he said, not looking up. He kept pouring, a careful, slow flow. "The water's making the prongs cold. Are you almost done?" Zach stopped, looking up again. "Does it hurt?" "I don't like it. Feels weird. Like I feel them cooling inside my skin." "Almost done." Zach resumed pouring, stopping when the runoff was finally clear. The water was nearly gone. He put the jug down, then settled his hand on Mal's knee, looking at him intently. "I just don't understand why anyone would do this to you. What's the purpose here?" Mal scratched his nose. "Don't know. We can ask them again next time they come down." "Don't joke. This is so, so far from funny. They've got this shit rigged specifically to hurt you. I'd like to know why." "I know it's not funny, damn it, but they didn't give me any answers. You're the one that spent time with these guys, not me. I'm sorry to ask, but do you remember anything at all from last night that might help us figure out what's going on? What they want from us?" He paused. "Not that I want to think about you with those guys, but if there's anything—" "Sorry to offend you, man," Zach interrupted, ice in his voice. "This is fucking stupid." "No, you're stupid. Or blind, maybe. I'm not offended. I was kind of wishing I'd met you first."

Zach stared at Mal, taking in the high cheek bones, the eyes tip-tilted like a fox, green-brown, alive. There was no revulsion there, only an openness to being seen that Zach envied, and suddenly he felt that Mal deserved to know whatever it was he could tell him. "I just needed to blow off some steam. I went with them. They liked things pretty, uh, rough, but I can handle a little enthusiasm." Zach felt his face redden, but he kept talking. "You talked about the smaller guy being strong, but both of them are powerful. Really in sync, too, like they know each other really well. They didn't threaten me. They didn't do anything at all that made me think twice about being with them. I was pretty drunk, like I said, and I passed out afterwards. I woke up here." "You didn't hear any noise this morning before they brought you down here? Because I put up a fight." Mal laughed, short and bitter. "Lasted about two seconds, but still." "No," Zach mumbled, rubbing an eye with the heel of his hand. "Been a really shitty week. Month." He sighed. "This is not helping, Mal. Nothing felt off. Nobody acted freaky. It was a pickup, that's all. At least that's all I wanted." "Did they talk? What'd they say?" Mal asked hesitantly, as if he knew he was pushing it. Something snapped inside Zach. "Yeah. Spread your legs, turn over, you like it like this?" Zach's voice was fast, impatient. Mal's mouth fell open. "Shit. Don't do that to me." "You wanted to know, didn't you." Zach said it flatly, suddenly enraged and knowing it wasn't at Mal, acutely uncomfortable with talking about his sex life with anyone—even this shaggy-headed motormouth who already made Zach feel easier with him than anybody else had managed in a long time. "I didn't. Not the way you make it sound." Mal's voice was soft.

Zach looked at him sharply. "Yeah. Listen, it's just … I don't talk about this shit, okay? Not anyone else's business." He sighed again, tried to relax. "The dark-haired one's name is Kane, and the bigger guy is Aaron. Not that it helps or anything, but…." Mal nodded, then stared at the dirt floor, his face expressionless. He rubbed a finger idly in the dirt. "Mal … guess that's short for something?" It was the first thing Zach could think of to break the awkward silence. "Yeah. Sometimes my friends call me Malach, too, but it's short for, uh, Malachi." Zach eyes went wide. "Do your parents even like you?" Mal's eyes shot up to meet Zach's. His brows drew down. "Hey, now." "Well, I mean it's a little … unusual." "They've always acted like they like me, but there's no possible way they'd lay a name like that on a baby if they really did, so no. They do not. And thanks, I was completely unaware that my name was unusual until you so kindly pointed it out." "Listen, bitch, I like odd. I'm odd. It's Biblical. It's great." Zach smiled. Mal eyed the smile with suspicion. "Lots more Malachis than what's in the Bible." "Like who?" "Never mind. Most of them were pretty creepy. Unlike me." "Of course." "So is Zach short for Zachary or what?" "Isaac."

"Ah. Also Biblical." Mal looked absurdly pleased, as if he felt the playing field were somehow leveled between them. "Yeah, but Isaac isn't … embarrassing." "You sure about that?" Mal punched him in the shoulder. "Sounds like somebody's grandpa to me." Zach grimaced, and Mal smiled at him. It knocked Zach back a little—it was a great smile, complete with dimples. The smile disappeared as suddenly as it came. "Damn." "What?" "Here they come." Zach looked at Mal, question in his eyes. "Don't you hear them?" Zach listened, finally hearing the floor creak close by the stairway. The door opened.

******

Chapter 4 LIGHT WIDENED AT the top of the cellar stairs and outlined two silhouettes, one of which followed the other downstairs. Mal's hand found Zach's and held on. Zach jumped a little, nearly jerking away. Mal glanced at him with something unreadable in his expression, then quickly squeezed his hand and let go as Aaron approached. Kane stood back, watching.

"Bathroom break, guys. Mal first," Aaron said, stopping in front of him. "I'm going to unlock you now. Stay still and both of you will be fine. Otherwise Kane will be happy to come over and help me. You won't like it." He knelt at Mal's left side and unlocked the cuff, freeing him from the wall chain, then looked up at Mal and grinned. "In case you're wondering, the other one isn't coming off. It's made to fit really close. I guess you noticed." He stood up. "But don't feel bad. If I took it off, I'd only have to put it back on again. Imagine how that'd feel." Aaron moved to Zach's side and unlocked his cuff, then slid the connecting chain from it and held it up. Kane stepped forward to take it, then handed it to Mal. Mal looked surprised, then furious. Kane grinned. "Yeah, you get to carry your own chain around. I guess I don't need to tell you not to pull it too tight, do I? And don't get any brilliant ideas about what you can do with it or I'll pull your fucking foot off with it." Aaron hooked Zach up to the wall chain and grabbed the water jug, then followed Mal and Kane upstairs. The door closed behind them. Zach stared at it, unmoving, trying his damnedest not to imagine the worst. Twenty minutes later, the door opened again. Zach hadn't moved an inch. He watched Mal, Aaron and Kane climb down the stairs. Mal caught his eye and nodded, reassuring him he was okay. The chain clinked as he moved, and he scowled at it. Kane stayed back as before. Aaron put the water pitcher back in front of the pink dresser, then freed Zach from the wall and locked Mal up in his place. "Aaron. What are we doing here? What's going on?" Zach tried to sound calm, rational. Aaron wrapped a hand around Zach's arm. His fingers were blunt, the nails bitten to the quick. "C'mon, walk. Move slowly. Nothing sudden, okay." Zach didn't budge. "Just tell me what's going on."

Aaron exchanged a glance with Kane, then shrugged. "You were there right when we needed you, simple as that. Nothing personal, just your bad luck. Let's go." Aaron pulled at Zach's arm, but Zach still didn't move. "Zach." Mal's voice was low, but Zach heard the push beneath it. He looked at the blood soaking the bottom of Mal's faded jeans. "I want to know what they want, that's all. Maybe we can make it easier on ourselves if we know." Kane followed Zach's gaze and started to grin. "He doesn't like how we've chained Mal." He looked at Aaron, amusement clear in his eyes, then back at Zach. "Tell you what, Zach—you don't want Mal hurt? When we bring you back down, all you have to do is stay close to him. Don't pull on the cuff, don't try to get away. We're not going to hurt him unless he tries to escape. We're just keeping him for a little while." "Zach, I'm okay. They're just taking you to the bathroom. You'll be back down here listening to me and wishing I'd shut up again before you know it." Zach looked at Mal, considering. "I haven't bitched about how much you talk." "You don't have to." Mal gave him a small smile, and it did something to Zach's insides, something sudden and intense rolling over him, pushing him off balance. He absolutely did not want to leave Mal alone in the dusky cellar, not even for a few moments. Mal looked up at him from the ground, expecting him to go along quietly, urging him to it by the worried look on his face. Zach stared back at him, unsmiling, confused by the sudden strength of his feelings. Mal's smile faltered and his pupils widened. Jesus, he'd lost his mind. He didn't even know the guy. Zach turned away and walked up the stairs, Aaron in front and Kane behind. He didn't look back.

They took him through the kitchen and down the hall to the bathroom. Aaron stood in the doorway and crossed his arms, grinning at Zach, so Zach whipped it out and took a leak as if he could give a shit, then shook off as insolently as a person could possibly manage in his position. He washed up, and Aaron led him into the bedroom further down the hall, Kane following. The bedroom walls were tan and blank, no pictures or mirrors to adorn them. There were two pieces of furniture in the room, a bed and nightstand. The bed had a metal frame, tall and thin and black. It bunched up like a spider in a corner of room. Beside it was the nightstand, painted black to match. Kane shoved him to the mattress, and the bed squeaked as he fell on it. The mattress was too soft, but the sheets were smooth and cool against his skin. He remembered the squeaking from last night, but he'd had other things on his mind then. And beneath his hands. Over his body. Things he didn't want again. "Yeah, thanks but no thanks." Zach sat up and raised a brow, trying to appear cool. "Ah now, you liked us last night. We still like you," Aaron said, bending over Zach. His mouth hovered over Zach's lips. "That was a one-time deal and fuck if I didn't pick lousy, seeing as I've been trapped in your cellar ever since." "We haven't hurt you. We're not going to, either." Aaron's breath was warm against Zach's mouth. "Can't say the same for your friend downstairs." "You've hurt him enough." Aaron looked into his eyes and smiled. "That's not what I meant." He lowered his body against Zach's and kissed him. Zach didn't react, didn't move. "C'mon, Zach. You remember the part about making it easier on yourself?" "Tell me what's going to happen to us." "I will," Aaron whispered against his mouth. "I'll tell you all about it, but there's more interesting things to do right now." Kane's hands settled on Zach's

ankles, encircling them. Zach tried to jerk away but Kane held him still. Aaron kissed him again, lips firm, demanding entrance to Zach's mouth. Zach kept his eyes open, contempt written all over his face, and Aaron pulled away and looked at him, then sighed. He placed a hand against Zach's neck, warm and rough, fingers curving around Zach's throat. No pressure yet, just held it there, watching Zach's eyes. Zach's expression didn't change even when the pressure began, but he brought a hand up and tried to pull Aaron's hand away. He couldn't budge it. The man was incredibly strong, more so than Zach thought humanly possible. Zach fought him, tried to come off the bed, and the grip around his throat squeezed tighter. His chest burned for oxygen, dark spots floating over his vision. Aaron's face was beautiful behind the spots, eyes pale and laden like a winter sky holding snow. Something alien grew in them as Zach's vision grayed, fire and heat and hunger fixed on him, coupled with a terrible, cold detachment. Pleasure, watching Zach struggle. Zach understood. He'd learned long ago when to stop fighting, to concede before he lost everything. He opened his mouth to the kiss, settling into it while his mind went elsewhere, remembering the alleyway from when he was sixteen, the vines strangling the trees by the little blue apartment. His empty stomach, and how it had hurt. He remembered his tenth birthday. His dad had taken Zach to the carnival, the heat of summer baking into the walkways and rides. Hid dad had stayed sober the whole time. Zach rode all he wanted and ate even more. It was a good day. He thought about the stray he'd been feeding for the last couple of months, warm yellow tiger-striped cat with big balls and big, soft white paws, white patch the shape of Texas on his face. He'd first seen the cat pouncing on a rat snake out in the back yard of the shitty little rental he'd managed to so far hold onto in spite of losing his job. The cat had looked pleased as punch, the snake writhing slow as a nightmare between his jaws. Zach called him Jasper. The name came to him without thought. It suited him fine.

Jasper was a scrappy little bastard, sweet face round like the moon, possessing the loudest purr in the state. Zach missed him. He hoped someone would feed him if he didn't make it back home. Zach closed his eyes, remembering and feeling and thinking other things until here and now meant nothing, or as nearly so as he could make it. When it was over, Aaron rolled off him. "You're not nearly as good as you were when I was drunk." Zach wasn't sure he'd even spoken until Kane laughed.

******

Chapter 5 AFTERWARD, AARON AND Kane took him into the tiny kitchen. It was twilight. Zach stood at the sink, feeling sore and loose and tired. Numb to the point of blankness. He stared outside the window over the blue haze of the mountains, tips shrouded in shadows stretching longer by the minute. He spotted another house below them on a steep incline, isolated, though Zach knew that further down out of the wilderness the land was dotted with homes, chalets and cabins. He'd worked on some of them, helped build them. Zach tilted back a tall glass of water and drank, then gazed outside again. A gravel driveway wound out of sight behind some pines. A floodlight came on over the small black import sitting by the side of the house where the drive ended. It seemed odd to him that they'd drive such an efficient, neat little car. He figured them for something showier.

Zach finished his water. They gave him a sandwich. It clogged his throat and he thought he'd never get it down, but he finally managed. He'd been so hungry earlier, and besides, he figured he'd need all the energy he could get. Aaron and Kane walked behind him down to the cellar, the floodlight's glare following them a short way through the opened door, then shining in through the dirty window below. The piles of junk in the corners of the room were dim, irregular shapes. Mal paced the length of his chain, the white light touching the tips of his hair, curling a little in the damp air. He grew still as they filed down the steps, tension pulling lines in his face tight enough to break. Zach looked away from him, trying not to panic. The food he'd swallowed was a rock in his stomach, and he wished he hadn't worked so hard to get it down. "Don't do this," he whispered to Aaron. Mal heard him. "Do what? What'd they do?" He sounded off balance, his voice rough and uneven. "Doesn't matter, Mal. Not with what's coming," Aaron said. "Don't talk to me like you know me," Mal spat, hands curled into fists. "He's been gone too long. I want to know why." Zach cleared his throat and willed his heart to slow from a hard thump in his chest. He breathed deep and even, and when he spoke his voice was mild. "Hey, I'm here now. You could just ask me." He stopped next to Mal without being told. "Both of you sit," Kane instructed from behind Zach and Aaron. Mal smiled, baring a thin strip of teeth. "What are you afraid of?" "Kane's not coming closer until you sit, though if you chose we can force it. Voluntary is better—right, Zach?" said Aaron. Zach's mouth tightened but he didn't look at Aaron, all his attention on Mal. "Sit, okay?" He sat down by Mal on the dirt and looked up at him expectantly. Mal looked back, eyes slitted, hair swinging over his face. He didn't move, his body large and looming over Zach.

"Mal. C'mon. Sit with me." Mal blinked and took a slow breath, then folded slowly to the ground beside him. Aaron knelt in front of Zach and picked up the connecting chain. Mal had been dragging it as he paced the cleared area, and a long, stringy cobweb clung to one of the links. Aaron threaded the chain onto Zach's cuff, then locked the cuff around his ankle. "Talk to me." Mal's fingers were dead white, digging into the dirt. Zach rubbed his forehead. "I'm fine." "I hate people who say they're fine whenever you ask how they're doing." "You don't hate me," Zach said softly. "And I am—" he huffed, exasperated, then slumped a little. "I'll be all right." "It's just a way to shut people out," Mal said, jaw stubborn as if he hadn't heard the partial concession. "Why so friendly with this guy, Mal?" Aaron asked, standing up as he did. Mal jerked his head up to look at Aaron. "Unless you intend to tell us what we're doing here and what you're planning, fuck off." Aaron smiled. "Wouldn't want you to get too attached, that's all." Mal looked Aaron over, contempt clear in his face, then rose and took a swift step toward him, heedless of the chain. Zach pushed himself up with his hands and scrambled after Mal. "Shit. Will you stop?" "You better hope I don't figure my way out of this, because if I do, I'll tear you apart." Mal's voice was low and uninflected. The smile vanished off Aaron's face. "I know. There's a reason why your chain's so thick. You'll feel differently later."

"You think so?" Mal snarled, face etched in hard lines and taut fury. He ducked his head and took another step forward, then another. The chain yanked tight between him and Zach. "Jesus. Stop it!" Zach tried to close the gap between them again. Kane stopped him, clamping a hand over Zach's shoulder. "Let's see how far he takes it." Aaron stepped back hastily as Mal advanced. Kane grinned, then glanced down at Mal's ankle. He winced. "Man, I know that's got to hurt." Mal's head lifted and his nostrils flared. He breathed in deep, his eyes going dark as he stared at Aaron. "I smell him on you. What you did to him." He stepped back as if to turn away, then suddenly lunged forward. The wall chain extended to its limit, but Aaron didn't realize it. He stumbled back, fear flitting over his face. Kane whistled, looking down at Mal's feet. "Damn, brother." Blood rolled over the dirty white of Mal's sneaker into the dirt. "Shut up," Aaron snapped, and Kane laughed outright. "This is nothing compared to what you're going to feel for hurting him." Mal's gaze flicked over Aaron. He turned to look at Kane. "Both of you." Kane took his hand from Zach's shoulder and pushed him forward. He stumbled to Mal's side. Kane nodded at Mal, eyes narrowing. "You're already feeling it. Like you want to climb the walls. Hit something. Run. Tear something up." He flashed a glance over Mal's body, then back up to his face, giving him a lopsided grin. "Or someone. Like me and Aaron, currently." "You'll understand after tomorrow night," Aaron said. Mal's upper lip cocked, showing his teeth. "By tomorrow night you'll understand me." Aaron studied him a moment. "We'll see. Fun's over—for now." He glanced at Kane, who nodded, and they headed for the stairs. At the top they looked back,

two featureless shadows backlit by the light from the doorway. The light narrowed and disappeared as the door closed. Mal grabbed Zach's arm and backed up a few steps, then sank to his knees, panting, head falling forward. Zach went to his knees beside him. He grabbed him by the shoulder. "What the hell are you doing, Mal?" "How bad did they hurt you up there?" Mal's voice was low. Zach felt him trembling beneath his hands. "I'm not the one bleeding, dammit." "Did they hurt you?" "No!" Mal looked up into Zach's eyes. "You're lying." His voice was deep, ragged. His dark hair was damp with sweat. "Answer me, Mal. What do you think you're accomplishing besides tearing yourself up? There's nothing you can do." "I told you to go with them. Just go with them, Zach, they're taking you to the bathroom. Fuck." Mal looked sick. Astonished, Zach said, "This isn't your fault, idiot." Mal made a sound that was supposed to be a laugh, short, unhappy explosion of sound. "I told you it'd be okay. I told you that." Zach shook Mal's shoulder, a quick, hard shake. He leaned closer, making sure Mal made eye contact with him again. "I am okay. Back with you now." Mal's mouth twisted. "Yeah, just where you want to be." He rubbed his face and leaned back, his upper body curving into itself. Zach took a deep breath. The brutality of what he'd just seen Mal inflict on himself on top of everything else had sucker-punched him. He breathed out and leaned in, touching his forehead to Mal's. "Hey. You don't know what I want." His heart raced, fear and something more.

Mal's hand came up hesitantly, touched Zach's forearm, then wrapped around it finger at a time, taking it slow. He closed his eyes. "I wish you weren't here," he breathed. "You're in trouble because of me, aren't you?" Horror wrapped in some sort of macabre humor squeezed its way up into Zach's throat. He swallowed it back, trying his best not to open his mouth and blow everything. "Why do you do that? Take the blame for what's happening? They kidnapped us. You didn't do anything. You don't even know them. I'm the one who went with them last night." Mal pulled back, eyes narrowing, studying him. "Did they tell you anything?" "I'd have told you. Now stop staring at me and let me look at your ankle. You know I'm not thrilled with this nursemaid duty shit, so stop doing this crap to yourself." "No, I don't know that. That's all you've been doing, clucking over me." "Fuck you, I don't fucking cluck," Zach grumbled, hiding a smile when Mal snorted. "Grab the water jug. Ordinarily I wouldn't think this needs saying, but after what I just saw—stay close, okay? No more pulling. I don't ever want to see shit like that again." "I didn't think you talked a lot. Guess I was wrong." "You aren't wrong. I just talk to you more." "Why? You just talk more when you're nervous?" "Is there something to be nervous about?" Zach said wryly. "Stop with the twenty questions. I know you're hurting like hell. Shut up and let me see the damned leg." Mal threw him an irritated look and muttered something under his breath. Zach ignored him. They both settled on the packed dirt, side by side. Zach pushed Mal's jean leg up and examined his ankle.

It was hard to make anything out because the white light from the window made the shadows black. Even after his vision adjusted, he couldn't tell anything because of all the blood. He poured water over Mal's ankle and saw multiple gouges shredding the flesh, skin swelling grotesquely tight around the chain. Blood welled in the cuts again as Zach watched. But for some reason it was the blood, dark and thick against Mal's dingy white sneaker, that affected him the most. This wasn't supposed to be happening to Mal. Zach understood the shit that happened to guys like him, but Mal had family. He was going to college. He was smart and funny, sarcastic and goofy and generous. He was supposed to lead the good life. Zach finally gathered the courage to look at Mal's arm. Stared at it. Didn't touch it. The wound there had shrunk, the area in the center rough and reddened but no longer raw. Mal had been bitten less than twenty-four hours ago on campus. Not by a dog. By a wolf. Zach's fingers shook. His fingers rubbed compulsively at the blood on the sneaker, smearing it. Thinking. They'd told him the truth upstairs. Even some details. The first change always came with the waning moon. Chaining the whelps was a ritual that the pack followed whenever possible. The chains provoked their anger and accelerated the change, with the first prey there for the taking. It all sounded crazy, easy to deny, but a part of him had believed from the minute they'd told him. And here was proof, or something near enough. Mal's arm would be completely healed in another twenty-four hours. He didn't know what to do. People wore their humanity like a coat of armor as if it guaranteed rationality, civility, but he'd seen plenty of monsters beneath the facade. Even his father. Especially his father. Zach barely knew Mal, but he

trusted himself, his instincts. He believed with everything in him that Mal wasn't a monster, that it would kill him to become one. "Damn." Mal frowned, held up his uninjured arm. A small brown spider huddled just inside the crook of his elbow. He squashed it between the fingers of his left hand and held them up, absorbed by the blood spot. "It bit me. I barely felt it." He looked at Zach, tried to smile. "Think it was radioactive?" He stared down at his hands, thinking. "I smell them on you," he said softy. "God, I wish I didn't. It makes me crazy. I'm—something's happening to me." Zach poured more water over Mal's ankle. Blood threaded and twisted in the water trickling to the earthen floor. He pulled the leg of Mal's jeans back over his leg, then sat back on his haunches and look at him. "Tell me. What is it, Mal?" Mal ran a restless hand through his hair. "I'm—I'm wired. Like I took a hit of speed or something. My skin's crawling, too. Jumping, like there's something in under it. Makes me want to scratch it out. And my senses have gone haywire. Even the air tastes, fuck, I don't know how to describe it—fresher since they opened the cellar door. Lighter. More life to it when it moves over my tongue. And I'm thinking crazy things." He swiped a forearm over his face. "Shit, this isn't making any sense." "What crazy things?" Mal faced him, eyes wide. He looked torn and guilty and very young. "Doesn't matter." He hesitated. "I heard you upstairs. You and them." "Well, yeah. I hear them moving around sometimes." "I heard more. I heard you with them. Mostly like ... a murmur, low and indistinct, so that I couldn't make it out. And movement. Like I could hear the energy of it, or sense it. But there was this big hole, this silence from you. You weren't making noises like they were. Like you were gone, or dead, but I knew you weren't. That's when I knew they hurt you. I wanted to kill them." He clenched his fists. "Want." Zach looked away. "They didn't hurt me. It doesn't matter, okay."

"It does. I would have stopped them if I could." "Listen to me. Don't let whatever this is take you over, Mal. Don't let it make you do things you don't want. Look at me." Zach put a hand on Mal's arm. His skin was scorching. "So okay, something's changing in you, but you need to remember what's important. This crazy stuff in your head isn't you." Mal climbed to his knees again and put some distance between himself and Zach. The chain lifted off the floor and hung in a curve between them. "Cut it out." Zach moved closer again. "Don't. Move back." Mal's voice was rough. "Why?" "I don't want to—just move back." "You know I didn't want to be with them," Zach said softly. He raised himself on his knees at an angle in front of Mal. "I know." Mal looked down miserably, hair hiding his face. Zach leaned forward, raised a hand to Mal's shoulder and rubbed, firm muscle beneath his hand, then touched his face and felt the hard, high curve of cheekbone beneath skin. "C'mon, Mal. Look at me." Mal raised his head slowly. His skin was so hot. Zach rubbed it, felt stubble beneath his hand. This close, he could see a freckle by Mal's nose, saw the dark pinpricks of stubble, the dryness of his lips. Zach leaned closer and brushed his mouth over Mal's. It was electric. Mal leaned back, breaking contact, chest heaving. "Stop." "I didn't want them, Mal. I want—" Mal stared at him. "If you say it, if you tell me that, I don't know if I can stop." "I don't want you to stop."

"Aren't you listening? Something's wrong with me. It's getting worse. I might —fuck, I might do something." "Do what? Can you fight it?" Mal didn't answer. "Don't you want—" Mal's gaze settled on Zach's mouth, his eyes heated and dark. "You fucking know I do. It's burning me up but I can't. I can't." "Didn't want them. Want you." "Fuck—" Mal cursed, deep and jagged. "No." "I don't want you to say no to me. I'm not afraid of you," Zach breathed, leaning in, touching his mouth to Mal's again. Mal made a sound, something wretched and wanting, and his body pushed closer, heat and want pulsing from him so strongly it felt like something physical. Mal pulled away. "I might hurt you, okay? I might hurt you." "You wouldn't, Mal. Not me." Zach's body curved into Mal's as he leaned close and whispered in Mal's ear. "I want you to get their smell off me." He kissed him again, pressure light. Asking. Mal opened his mouth against him, slowly, as if he were still trying not to, and Zach pushed a little closer, the kiss deepening. His hand cupped Mal's arm, moving down, feeling the swell of muscle beneath skin, soft hairs brushing over his palm. Mal put a hand to the small of Zach's back and pushed his thumb against his spine, rubbing back and forth, moving slowly upwards. Zach shivered. Mal gripped the back of his neck, forcing him to look Mal in the eye. "You don't know. It's bad, it's fucking insane. I'm losing my mind." His voice broke. Zach couldn't move away from the vise around his neck if he tried. "No you're not," he whispered. "Being with me, that's what you want, that's nothing but you."

Mal's grip loosened. Zach moved so that his body touched Mal's from shoulder to knee, long line of heat. He breathed against Mal's exposed neck, mouth lowering. Felt the tension there in bone and muscle. Flicked the skin with his tongue and tasted salt. He sucked a bruise there, then bit down. Mal stopped breathing. Everything seemed to stand still when he turned and looked at Zach, eyes too slanted, pupils too wide, black, something savage in his face, the bones gone sharper, leaner. He gripped Zach's head in his hands and slammed his mouth onto Zach's, pushing inside with his tongue. Zach's breath damned up somewhere in his windpipe, felt only the need and heat beating into him from Mal's mouth. He pushed back and their teeth clicked together. His lip stung. Blood. Mal made a sound in his throat, desperate, choked, licking the blood from Zach's mouth, the sound going continuous, low and vibrating in his chest, sinking into Zach. Somehow they were on the ground, Mal looming, heavy over him. For a minute fear competed with arousal, then mixed together uneasily. Zach grabbed at Mal's belt buckle, got distracted by the skin beneath, thumb tracing over it, feeling the line of hair from his bellybutton down. He followed it, smooth skin, muscles bunching under his touch. He felt Mal's strangled intake of breath and the fear receded, leaving a confusion of sheer physical want coupled with a desperate need to make both of them forget this fucking black cellar they were trapped in, swallowing them alive. He jerked his hips up, sheer reaction, feeling Mal's cock hard against his, both of them straining, rubbing mindlessly together, needing more. Zach's hand pushed in between them, rubbed the hard ridge of Mal's dick from the outside of his jeans. Mal grunted and grabbed his hand again, pulling it back to his waist. Zach fumbled at the belt, cursing, and Mal's hand shoved his aside, thumbing the button open, unzipping, grasping Zach's hand again and thrusting it inside. Zach pushed further in and wrapped fingers around the head of Mal's cock, swollen and slick with precome. Zach closed his eyes and rubbed his fingers in

the slick wetness, spreading it. Mal arched, breath hissing between his teeth while Zach's fingers traced over Mal's cock, felt the swollen veins, the thickness of him. He wrapped his hand around him at the base. He felt so good, big and hard and perfect beneath his fist. Zach stroked up hard and rough, rolling his grip a little when the smooth head of Mal's cock caught beneath the circle of his fingers, then repeated the motion just to feel it again, the slickness of the ridge riding under his wet hand. Mal made a keening sound in his throat, straining into his touch, his whole body shaking. Zach pushed at Mal, wanting him to lie on his side. Mal rolled over and Zach followed, both of them facing each other, leaning in to kiss again, open-mouthed and urgent. Mal's tongue curled over Zach's, then pushed further inside. His hand came up to Zach's waist, quickly unbuttoned his pants and slid down, grabbed his dick. Zach yelled and took a shaky breath, trying not to lose it. His cock throbbed, unbearably sensitized, threatening to come at that first touch. As if he sensed it Mal released him, dick slapping up hard against Zach's stomach. Mal encircled his balls in a loose grip and then pushed a finger behind them, rubbing over the thin skin there. Mal breathed into the shell of Zach's ear, murmured, "Want to fuck you so much, Zach," and kissed him again, lips slippery and swollen. "God," Zach groaned, couldn't help himself, spreading his legs wider, the teeth of his zipper pressing sharp into his skin as the material pulled tighter over his hips. Mal's hand was around Zach's cock again, and Zach put a hand over his, made him stop moving. Mal's lips curved over his in response. "You're coming first, fucker," Zach murmured against Mal's open mouth and bit him, this time the tender skin of his lower lip, teeth sinking in slow and hard. He jacked Mal quick and rough, felt him throbbing, felt his cock tighten and harden even more. Mal cursed, stiffening, his heels scrabbling in the dirt, cock jerking a bare instant later in Zach's hand. Zach held his breath, felt the strong

pulsing of Mal's cock, the low moan vibrating against mouth as they kissed, Mal spilling wet and hot into his hand. It sent him over the edge. Zach closed his eyes, coming helplessly into Mal's grip, the remnants of fear and a need he could barely face combining into a sharp, brutal climax that broke him apart, had him yelling, jamming his mouth against Mal's shoulder to block the sounds he made. When he opened his eyes again, Mal was watching him. Zach couldn't tear his eyes away. He opened his mouth, not sure his voice would work just yet. "What?" "You're beautiful, you know that?" Mal said quietly. Zach's instinct was to deflect it, make a joke, but he looked at Mal and the words died. He squeezed Mal's hand, hoping it was enough. He drifted, jerking awake only when Mal spoke, hushed and close to his ear. "Think we can spare enough water to wash up a little? Let me rephrase that. I don't care if we do or not, I'm not lying here with jizz in my pants." Zach cracked open an eye, grinning when he caught the look of faint distaste on Mal's face. They cleaned up best they could and then lay back down, arms and legs tangling slow and sleepy as they shifted together, trying to get comfortable. Zach's eyes closed. He felt Mal's lips against his and he kissed back sleepily for awhile, their mouths moving lazy and warm against each other. Gradually they fell still. Zach fell asleep first, dreaming of summer and crushed mimosa blossoms melting under his feet like spun sugar, of air so humid it felt like a warm, wet sheet wrapped around his body.

******

Chapter 6 HE WOKE HIMSELF early the next morning talking in his sleep. Mal stared down at him in the gray shadows of the cellar. He couldn't read Mal's expression. "What?" he asked, blinking. "Did I do something?" "You were dreaming. Pulled on the chain." Zach winced. "Sorry. Why didn't you wake me up?" "Didn't sound like a good dream, whatever it was," Mal said, ignoring the question. "Said something about your dad. Called out for him." Mal looked into his eyes. "So where is your dad?" "He died years ago." Mal nodded, looking away. "Yeah. That's what I figured." He paused. "I wasn't sleeping anyway." "What's up?" Mal cocked his head. "Worried about my sleeping habits?" His pupils were too large, a thin edge of hazel and gold surrounding them, hint of something wild in them. Instinct prickled over Zach skin, waking him fully. Mal shrugged. "I don't know. Just wasn't. I don't think I can. My arms and legs keep cramping up. I feel weird. I was … listening." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Did you know there's a rat nesting by the wall? She smells like—she's warm and her heart beats so fast. She's burrowed underneath some junk under a rusty grill, I think. Got it lined with old newspaper. It smells like leaves in the early winter, decomposing on the ground. Only drier and not as nice … dead a long time. She has seven pups. You hear the squeaking?" Zach pushed Mal away from him and sat up. He tried to make himself sound normal, though all kinds of alarms were going off inside him. "I don't hear anything."

Mal sat up slowly beside him. "Yeah, I bet. I guess you didn't hear Aaron and Kane moving around upstairs, either. Something's going on. Their scent's changing. Like mine. You didn't hear them, right?" Zach's pulse quickened. "Guess I was asleep." He tried to sound off-handed, a little irritated. He rubbed his eyes. "Grab the water, would you? I need a drink." Mal ignored him, leaning closer. "I can tell when someone's nervous now, Zach. I hear your heart beating, your respirations. You know what I think? I think they told you something." "Yeah? Why wouldn't I tell you that, Mal?" "You tell me." Mal shrugged. "Maybe you don't want me to know what's happening." Zach wouldn't look at him. "Paranoid much?" "Which leaves a big question for you. You're not changing. You're hooked to someone who is. Why? And why would you need to hide that from me?" Zach looked up at the dim ceiling above and sighed. "What do you want from me, you want me to make something up?" Mal's lip curled. "Yeah. Didn't think you'd tell me." When he spoke again, his voice was low and deep. "So what should I do to get you to tell me, Zach?" "Mal. Stop," Zach whispered. Mal slid closer, leaning on one arm and staring into his eyes. He smiled, his lips curling wide and thin. "What is it, what's happening to you?" Zach breathed. Mal brought his face closer, a hair's breadth away. At this angle the slant of his eyes was noticeable and his gaze cold, calculating. "Don't insult me by acting as if you don't know. You said you wanted to help me." "I do."

Mal's upper lip lifted. "You know." Zach swallowed, looking back at him squarely. "You think I do, anyway. So what are you going to do about it?" His voice was soft, barely there. Something uncertain flashed over Mal's features, cracking the hard mask he wore. His shoulders slumped. After a few minutes he spoke again, turning his head to look off into a dark corner. "Scents are so strong now. I react to them before I think. They're like mainlining a drug." He shifted restlessly. "I can barely stay still anymore. Pain's almost a relief from it." Mal gestured at his ankle. "I know the smell of my own blood. Recognize it like I've always known what it smells like. Do you know what yours smells like, Zach?" Mal turned again and leaned into Zach, bumped his face to his, rubbed against stubble. "I do. Even though you haven't bled, I'd know it anywhere. I've never realized how our blood smells so distinctive … blood skin, sweat, piss." The tip of Mal's tongue traced delicately over Zach's cheek. "Tears." He moved until his lips brushed Zach's ear. "I thought you weren't afraid of me." Zach shivered and took a long, slow breath, tried to disguise it as a yawn. "I'm not. I just woke up. I don't know what the hell's going on with you." "Why do you think you're here with me? Chained in the dark?" He nuzzled Zach's ear. His hair tickled Zach's face. "You keep acting like I know something. I don't." "I don't believe you." Mal took Zach's earlobe between his teeth and bit down hard, then harder. Zach stiffened before he could stop himself, feeling Mal smile against his cheek as he kept the pressure up. "Fucker. Cut it out. This isn't a game. It's our lives." Zach threw all the annoyance he could into his voice, then wrapped a hand around Mal's neck and pushed him quick and hard, meaning it. Mal let go and fell back. Zach breathed easier, trying not to let it show. He'd wondered for a minute if he'd get his earlobe spit back at him for his trouble.

Mal sat up and blinked as if surfacing from a dream, or a nightmare. His expression looked familiar again for the first time this morning, like the Mal Zach had met—just yesterday? Jesus. "I just want to make this all go away. For both of us." Zach said, soft and urgent. "I want to walk out of here with you. See your face in the daylight. Maybe you could show me where you live. What do you think?" "I think …" Mal started. He still looked disoriented, like he'd been pulled back somewhere he hadn't realized he'd left. He sighed. "I think whatever else is going on, you're telling the truth now." He nodded slowly. "Yeah, of course I'd bring you to the apartment. Show you around. It's the size of a postage stamp, though. Take about thirty seconds." He hesitated, then took a deep breath, the words coming out in a rush. "I don't want to sleep anymore because I've been dreaming, okay, and I don't want to see that shit anymore. I keep seeing blood. Me. Hurting them." Mal forced himself to look at Zach, his eyes apologetic. "Even —even you. But I don't want to hurt you, you know that." Zach's heart was pounding. "That's a hell of a thing to tell me, Mal." Mal didn't look away. "You already knew." A good five seconds passed. "Yeah, okay. I don't want you to hurt me, either." "I won't. I won't, I swear." "Good. Now can I get that drink now?" Mal reached for the water pitcher and handed it over. There wasn't much left. Zach took a couple of swallows and handed it back, waiting for Mal to settle beside him again. He put a hand on Mal's arm. "Just now, just before, it was like talking to someone else. A stranger. You weren't even in the room. Where'd you go, Mal?" Zach whispered.

"I don't know. Something's trying to … to take me over, somehow. Sounds crazy, but that's what it feels like. I don't think the lack of sleep is helping me fight it off, either. I'm sorry. I'm trying to stop it. Maybe I am crazy." Zach nodded, moved his hand to Mal's thigh and rubbed it. "Okay, okay. You're not crazy. So, we were talking about what we'll do when we get out of this hole. We could go to your place, right. We could talk. Maybe you could tell me what classes you're taking, maybe even let me meet some of your friends, yeah? So then I'd have a picture of you in my head, what your day's like, something new to remember so I won't have to think about this place anymore." Zach gripped Mal's arms. "Or about how you're trying not to hurt me. Being scared you will. Mal, I know you think I've been lying, but I wouldn't ever hurt you, you know that, right? So please … try, okay? Just keep it under control. We'll find out what's going on, we'll get out. I promise we'll get out. Don't give up." Mal swallowed, nodding, staring at Zach as if he were his only hope. He'd looked so menacing earlier, looming, all angry fire and cold menace, a stranger, and now he was earnest and trusting, eyes wide and pleading. Zach wondered how he did that, a big guy like Mal. "C'mere," he said, and Mal lay down beside him, face to face, body touching Zach's chest to legs to feet. "So would it help you not dream if we, uh …" "What?" "Ah, well—" "Jack each other off again?" Zach looked startled, then grinned. "That wasn't what I had in mind, exactly —" "Hold each other?" "Hold each other. How romantic," Zach mimicked scornfully. Mal went on, unperturbed. "Yeah. Or you can call it hugging, I guess. Clutching, even. Like a security thing, clutching a stuffed animal."

"Shut up." "Or a blankee." "Fuck. You're ridiculous." Mal burrowed his face under Zach's jaw. "No I'm not." His voice was muffled. "Maybe a little." Zach sighed. He cleared his throat. "Cuddle." "What?" Mal looked up. "The word I was gonna use." Zach flushed. Mal propped himself on an elbow, rose up and looked at him, eyes narrowed and slanting. "So in the Book of Zach, 'cuddle' is supposed to be less pussy than 'holding each other'?" "God. Why did I say it." "I knew that's what you meant anyway." Mal smiled, doing his damnedest to cover up every last trace of the fear and confusion that had shown so plainly on his face minutes before. He played a good game, and this time, at least, Zach went with it gratefully. "You did not." "You're a cuddler. I get it. You don't have to be afraid of your sensitive side, not with me." Mal shook his head, a little tut-tut gesture, and Zach flushed harder, knowing he was being played but unable to help it anyway. Mal dropped his head back into the curve of Zach's neck and shoulder, settling in and sighing a hot, noisy breath against his skin.

******

Chapter 7 THE DOOR OPENED with a creak, sunlight falling down the stairway. Mal and Zach jerked awake, Mal with a curse or ten when Zach forgot himself and scrambled away so that the chain pulled tight between them. He quickly moved closer again. "Bathroom break, guys. We'll take you both up this time, so sit down and don't move while we get the chains off. When we tell you, move straight up the stairs. We're going to bring your asses down real fast if you make any moves at all that we're not expecting, because we're the cautious types and that's the price you pay for togetherness." Kane's arms were crossed over his chest. His face was impassive, and he made eye contact with Zach and Mal individually. He stood back and watched while Aaron tied their hands together in front of them, then unlocked their cuffs. He gave Mal the loose connecting chain to hold. Kane grabbed the water jug, and they all climbed the steps. Upstairs, Mal and Zach were directed once again to the bright white bathroom. Aaron sent Zach in first. It was an awkward, miserable business taking care of bodily functions with his hands tied and an audience waiting outside the door, but he managed. He tried to wash up a little, managing enough that he felt better for it, though his T-shirt was soaked by the time he was done. Mal went next and came out scowling, clearly and considerably pissed off at the lack of basic freedom to take care of business. They went to the kitchen and ate sandwiches, both of them hungry enough by now to eat all they were given. Afterward they went back downstairs, Kane leading, then Mal, then Zach with Aaron following. Before they reached the bottom, Mal threw himself forward on top of Kane, both of them falling to the left and crashing through the old wooden railing. Kane

gave a winded bellow as Mal's bound fists pounded into the back of his head, then grunted in pain as elbows slammed into the base of his neck. Zach stopped suddenly and braced himself. Aaron bumped into him, carrying the water. It sloshed down Zach's back. Zach thrust an elbow sharply back, punching hard into Aaron's stomach, the pitcher falling, rolling off the side of the stairs. Aaron grabbed his stomach, breath leaving him in a whoosh. He gasped in, then again, trying to catch his breath, and punched a brutal blow to Zach's kidneys. Zach fell forward, tumbling down the steps, Aaron coming up fast behind him. At the foot of the stairs he grabbed the back of Zach's T-shirt, bunching it and pulling him up to sit. Mal beat into Kane's back, neck and head with his elbows, but he had no way to hold Kane down other than by his weight. Kane bucked beneath him and rolled to one side, then reversed himself, throwing his body on top of Mal's, pinning him. "Good try," Kane snarled in Mal's face, nose dripping blood, "but guess what, you fucking lose." He grabbed a handful of Mal's dark hair at the crown and banged his head up and down in the dirt. Mal's eyes squeezed shut, and he gasped at each impact. "Next time it's back to going up separately. You'll get to worry all over again about the six ways to Sunday we're fucking your buddy upstairs. How do you like that?" "Quit screwing with him, Kane—" Aaron started. Mal lifted his head fast and headbutted Kane. They all heard the crunch as Kane's nose broke. Kane howled. Aaron laughed. Kane looked furiously around at Aaron, slinging blood, then turned back to Mal. He grabbed the chain lying loose by his side and grabbed it, started to pull it. He stopped, watching Mal thoughtfully. A slow smile settled over his slick red mouth. Kane settled himself deliberately against Mal's body, blood gushing from his nose and down his face, some of it catching in the strands of his long hair.

Mal fixated on the blood. His mouth opened as if in a dream. He licked his lips and swallowed. "Fucker." Kane grinned. "Taste it. Tastes good, doesn't it?" He shook his head, blood rolling, dripping onto Mal's lips and into his mouth. Mal licked his lips and swallowed convulsively. He squirmed tied arms up between his and Kane's body, then gripped Kane's throat by both hands and pulled him closer. His eyes closed. He opened his mouth, seeking. "Mal?" Zach whispered. His voice strengthened. "Mal, don't!" Mal hesitated, stopped. His mouth closed, flushed and swollen as if the skin itself had bloomed beneath the fall of blood. He opened his eyes and blinked, chest heaving as his breath quickened, disgust wrenching his face. He scrubbed his mouth frantically with his bound hands. "Get off me!" he snarled at Kane. Kane laughed suddenly and stood up. He tipped his head back, trying to make the blood flow lessen. "Lucky I'm a quick healer or I'd have to beat the shit out of you, Mal." "Take your shot while you can. But he's alpha, and he'll remember. We both smell it." Aaron looked at Mal and Zach from the corner of his eyes. "Among other things." "All right, all right." Kane threw Aaron a hostile look. "Stand up," he said to Mal. "Get over to the wall. Unless you want one more shot at me before I go." Mal rolled from his back and onto his feet. "What are you doing to me?" he yelled, his chest heaving. "Why are we here?" "You really want to know?" Kane grabbed his shoulder. "All you have to do is open your eyes, you stubborn son of a bitch. Now why don't you do the smart thing and stop fighting? We're not gonna touch your buddy again beyond getting the two of you chained back up." He shrugged. "You just pissed me off, what can I say?"

"Just settle down, okay?" Aaron said. "You're not going to be here much longer." Mal looked at both of them a few seconds, then walked over to the wall and knelt. He didn't speak, but his eyes followed Kane, cold as ice. Kane shook his head, bemused. Aaron stepped forward and locked Mal into his cuff again. "You next, Zach," Kane said. Zach didn't move. Kane put a firm hand around his shoulder and shook him a little, as if he were a good buddy he was trying to cheer up. Zach didn't know if it was meant as some bizarre gesture of sympathy or just mockery. Kane whispered in Zach's ear. "I have to hand it to you for trying, but you can't get out of this. Nobody makes it out unless we let them out." He gave Zach another short, hard shake. "Come on." Zach went. Aaron threaded the chain on his cuff, closed it shut and locked it, then stood up. "See you later, guys," Kane said, a flash of humor in his eyes. He nodded and swiped at the blood under his nose, then cursed when he saw how much blood was there. Aaron smirked, apparently still entertained. He and Kane climbed the stairs, the old gray planks creaking under their feet. The door shut behind them. Mal and Zach heard it lock. Zach sat down hard on the packed dirt and ran a hand through his hair. "Good job there, Rambo." His voice rasped, and he had to clear his throat. "I was trying to get us out of here." Mal's shoulders hunched in on themselves. "Guess it didn't work." "That fucker paralyzed my kidneys," Zach grumbled. "I don't think I'll ever piss again." "How bad?" Zach shrugged. "Not bad. Not really. Just not real happy with how easy he got me out of the way, I guess."

"If you ask me, you had pretty good reaction time." Zach grimaced. "Whatever." "Are you sulking or what?" "No." "Yeah, I think you are. Wow." "Can you just drop it?" "Yeah. Okay. Dropping it. Damn, I got a splinter from that shitty wooden rail. You'd think they'd maintain the place better." Mal picked at his thumb. "Those guys are pretty arrogant." "Yeah, well, they're pretty strong. If you didn't notice." Mal frowned at him. "They put all their faith in their chains. Did you notice the lock on the door up there? It's one of those where you turn the button in the middle." "Yeah. That's a spring lock. It's not hard to get open." Mal's eyes narrowed. "Think you could open it?" "Yeah, the knife would probably do it. A credit card for sure." Zach smiled tiredly. "All we have to do is get me off this chain." "That's all, huh?" "Yep." "Someday I'll ask why you know so much about locks." "I don't know much about locks. You just don't know anything about them." Mal quieted a moment. "Ow." "Sorry." "Aaron's strong, you know. They both are. Neither one of us had much of a chance."

"Mal." "I'm just saying." Zach looked at him. "Okay, okay. Sorry. We'll talk about something else before laser beams shoot from your eyes and turn me into an ash pile. So … you from around here?" Zach looked at him, startled, then threw back his head and laughed. "Unbelievable. You're throwing a pickup line at me after all this?" "You picked me up already, remember? So to speak." "I think I have that committed to memory, yes. Thanks." "Well, what else do we have to do around here but talk?" Mal asked defensively. "Well, and other things, of course. Which we did. Some of them." Zach raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Okay, I'll bite. I guess I'm from all over. Dad moved a lot. I was born here, though. Kept coming back over the years. Most of the guys on the construction crew I worked with are from around here, too. The company didn't even hire college boys like they usually do over the summer, but they took me on. And then they ended up laying me off anyway." "That sucks. I'm sorry, Zach." Zach shrugged again. "I've been coming through town every year or so for the past three summers, but I'll find something else. Always do. What about you?" "I'm from around here. Parents live on Apple Valley Way, you know it?" Zach nodded. "Sure. I've helped build cabins back in the mountains behind there." "They were going to pay my way through college until I screwed it up." "How'd you do that?"

"Ah, I played football in high school. Had a really good thing going, probably a scholarship. Then I dropped the ball." "Dropped the ball?" "So to speak. Fucked it all up." Mal shook his head, staring at the ground. He changed the subject. "What happened to your dad?" Zach's immediate inclination was to clam up fast, the way he did with most other people. He didn't want to do that with Mal. "He was at a bar, got into an argument. Got himself shot when I was seventeen." "Damn." Mal paused. "Your mother?" "I don't remember much about her. Dad said she took off when I was little." Mal nodded, thinking, then faced Zach. "What I said about dropping it? Everything, that's what I dropped. I stopped playing football. I stopped getting good grades. I got interested in …" He smiled without humor. "Other things." "Yeah? What?" "Drinking. Getting high. Parents got pretty pissed at me. Took me a while to get my shit together enough to realize what I really wanted. I got into college a year after that, but not on my parents' dime. You know the state's got that aid program if you keep your grades up? I'm on that, and washing dishes and whatever else they need at a bar on the Strip in my spare time. I get by." "You still see your parents?" "A little. They're not exactly happy with their golden boy taking such a dive." Mal's broad shoulders hunched with tension, elbows on bent knees. The warm yellow light from the window traced the curve of his cheek, caught on dark stubble. His expression was pensive, shadowed. Zach studied him, found himself thinking in an oddly detached manner of the changes that would come tonight. How Mal would change. Wondered if it would hurt him.

It crashed in, what was going to happen tonight. He panicked, tried to throw up a mental roadblock against his thoughts. He didn't know what to do, was afraid nothing he did made a difference. He'd been in dangerous situations before, but nothing this insane and implacable. Hell, nobody he knew would have believed it if he told them. He wouldn't have, either, if he hadn't seen with his own eyes how Mal was healing. It was impossible and he knew it. He'd always taken care of himself, sometimes doing a less than stellar job, but if there was one thing Zach was good at it was learning on the fly. Had to. There was no one else. But he still didn't think he had a prayer of getting through the night alive. He couldn't afford to think like that, but for just a moment he couldn't control it, his brain chattering dead man, you're a dead man. Somehow the terror had him moving, rising up beside Mal on his knees, careful not to pull the chain between them taut but still moving fast, decision made. If he couldn't fix what was going to happen then he'd take the time he had left, because it had to matter. This crazy thing between Mal and himself mattered. It was all he had.

******

Chapter 8 ZACH PUSHED HIS forehead against Mal's, nudging him. Mal turned his head. "What?" He whispered, his voice hoarse. He licked his lips.

Zach brought a hand up to Mal's face and rubbed over his cheekbone. "You're thinking about something. What is it?" "Something's coming, Zach. It's not—it's not here now, not in the daylight, but it hasn't left. It's digging around in my brain." Zach leaned closer and kissed him, slow and gentle. Mal's lips moved against his, kissing him back just as deeply. Mal pulled back a little, just far enough to speak, his eyes sad. "Why are you doing this? I know you think I'm going to hurt you. Aren't you afraid?" "Not of you." "What then?" "It's not here now, that thing. You said so, right?" Zach leaned closer. "Just you and me now." He took a deep breath, telling himself again that it mattered. "I've spent a lot of time wanting people to want me because they liked me, not just because they wanted to fuck me." "But I want to fuck you," Mal said, solemn as a confession. "Never doubt it." Zach grinned. "I know." He put his hand in Mal's hair at the back of his head, threaded fingers through it at the scalp and pulled back. "But you like me, too." Mal's head tilted, long throat exposed, warm-tinted skin, darkness pooling in the vulnerable skin between the collar bones. Zach touched it with his tongue, felt the coolness of the cellar on the surface, pressed firmly and felt the heat inside coming through. Licked, tasting salt. "I do kinda like you." Mal's voice caught as Zach's mouthed up the column of his throat. Zach felt the words beneath his lips, felt Mal's breathing deepen, chest moving against his. His tongue traced Mal's jawbone, tiny pin-pricks of Mal's stubble, pressed his tongue in and felt the small sting grow, then bit down. Mal groaned, the rumble of it vibrating against Zach's mouth. He pulled Zach to him and kissed him, light touch of tongue on his upper lip, his lower, then inside as

Zach opened for him. Zach tried to pull him in, opened his mouth wider, but Mal drew back. "Tease," Zach grumbled. "Nobody really makes you feel, do they? I want to, if I can. Want to watch it on your face." Mal's face was wide open, flushed, eyes dark and earnest. It opened something in him, made him respond without thinking. He pulled Mal close and kissed him harder. The idiot didn't realize he'd made him feel from almost the first minute he saw him. He'd disarmed him without even trying. Zach made an impatient noise and quit thinking, pressing in until their noses were pushed up against each other and it was hard to breathe. He kissed Mal until his mouth was slick and swollen, little noises pouring out of him, their tongues twining together. Zach wanted him deeper, further. He wanted more of everything. More time, more of this, of them together. He blocked the thoughts out viciously, refusing to think of the future. He pulled away and grabbed the bottom of Mal's T-shirt, pulling it up and over. Mal's face was flushed and fucking gorgeous. Zach pushed him and followed close, all the way to the ground. He licked down Mal's chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth, tonguing it until it grew into a tiny, hard peak. Mal's ass lifted off the dirt and he rolled his hips, slow rolling grind, stiff length of him rubbing against Zach's dick and making him crazy. "I'm gonna suck you off, Zach, c'mon, God, get your fucking pants down." Mal propped himself up on an elbow, squeezed his eyes shut and thrust his hips, palming his cock through his jeans. "Jesus," Zach groaned, watching him, and rose to his knees, hurrying to push his jeans down around his calves. He lay back and Mal reached for him, circling fingers around the base of his cock, then leaned in and lowered his mouth over him. The touch of his warm, wet mouth sent a shiver of pleasure all the way down to Zach's balls. Mal sucked him in, cheeks hollowing, tongue dragging over the

head and wriggling inside the slit. Zach's stomach fluttered, coiled with heat all tight and high, his hips making little jerking movements as Mal rolled his tongue over the head again and then dragged down the thick vein on the underside, moaning appreciatively. Zach felt it vibrate through his cock and thrust without intending to, losing control fast. His legs were shaking and weak and he let them fall apart as much as he could. Mal stroked faster, up and down with tongue and lips. When he pulled off Zach made a protesting noise, craning his neck to watch. Mal smiled up at him, slow and warm, and blew a cool breath over Zach's cock. He dragged his tongue over the head, lips curving slyly, bruised-looking and wet, and his eyes were at half-mast as he looked at Zach, like he'd been fucked already and wanted more. Zach groaned, his voice sounding thready, wanting to beg. Mal licked a long wet line all the way to his balls, his hand already there, cupping and tugging. "Please," Zach whispered, feeling his face flush hot. He tried to spread himself wider but his pants hampered him. Mal rubbed his face against his thigh and kissed it, mouthing the long muscle beneath the skin. He sucked on two fingers and ran them behind Zach's balls to the tight opening behind, pushing gently, rocking his fingers inside a little. Zach felt the drag and stretch inside him. He jerked against Mal, little breathy groans coming from his mouth that he couldn't seem to stop. His cock leaked, pearly trails slipping over the head and down the shaft. Mal's mouth was on him again, chasing it. He flicked his tongue into the slit, searching for more, then took him down as far and fast as he could, his fingers still working Zach's ass. Zach flushed all over, his legs going rigid and trembling, spine stretching and straining to push himself deeper inside Mal's mouth. He came, pulsing hard, and Mal swallowed, taking it all. He rose over Zach on his knees, shoulders wide and bare, mouth red as wind burn and hunger written all over his face, desperate with it, so beautiful. "C'mere," Zach said. His voice shook. He didn't try to hide it. He pulled up his pants and sat up. Mal lay down beside him, unfastening his jeans from over

his flat belly. Zach took over, working them down over his thighs, and then bent to follow the line of hair from Mal's navel downward with his tongue, unable to resist. Mal's cock was rock hard, flushed red and straining. Zach braced himself on one arm beside Mal, leaning down and swirling his tongue over the crown, tasting him, lapping all over, slow, reveling in it. Mal writhed in protest, getting his hands in Zach's short hair, trying to push him down. Zach mouthed the jut of his hip bone, then bit down and held it, looking up to meet Mal's gaze. Mal's eyes widened, pupils going dark, something so intense, some animal response leaping into them that for a second Zach wondered if he'd pushed him too far. He kept watching him, licking slowly where he'd bitten, and Mal closed his eyes tightly. A tremor went through his body. "Spread your legs," Zach whispered, voice like gravel, then moved to the crease at Mal's hip, licked there and then down, avoiding his cock, licking slowly over Mal's balls. Mal made breathy, wordless begging noises, hips rising off the dirt, straining into Zach's touch. Zach pushed Mal's jeans down as far as he dared over the chains. He sat up and slicked his fingers with spit, then brushed a finger over Mal's hole. He felt Mal's body grow still before he shuddered, trying to open wider for him, sounding frustrated, but it was enough for Zach to get where he wanted. He pushed in a little at a time, then deeper, working his way into him with another finger, opening him up. Mal made a wavering sound, Zach's name in it somewhere. His pupils were blown wide, stomach muscles straining as he pushed down onto Zach's fingers, taking them in further. "More." Mal's voice cracked. He licked his lips. "Motherfuck," Zach swore. His cock twitched and started to fill again as if he hadn't just come. He bent and sucked Mal's cock into his mouth, his tongue sliding in long swipes over the head, tasting precome. He pushed a third finger inside, hard and sudden. Mal's hips jerked, then froze. A long, drawn out groan fell from his open mouth as he came, hips jerking, pulsing into Zach's mouth.

Zach closed his eyes, tasting him, feeling the shift and twitch of skin against his tongue. He breathed in the musky, sharp tang of what they'd done together, wishing with everything in him for a tomorrow he probably wasn't going to see. Mal pulled him up over his body and rolled Zach beneath him, kissing him, trailing kisses down his throat, then settled down, nudging Zach's neck with his nose. Zach lay back and stretched his neck for easier access. He glanced once at Mal's arm. There was only deep pink scar tissue there. "Maybe we'll get out of here, Zach. Maybe we'll be okay," Mal said into his throat, burrowing closer. "Yeah, maybe." Zach turned away from the sight of the scarred arm. He bent to kiss Mal's head.

******

Chapter 9 "LAST TIME," AARON murmured into Zach's ear. Kane and Aaron had tied Mal's hands and taken him upstairs, then brought him back in quick order. They'd brought fresh water. Mal's face was dark with anger by the time they'd brought him back down, and his expression moved right on to unqualified fury when they unchained Zach and took him away. He'd stood and watched them climb up the stairs, his whole body stiff with rage. "Last time what?" Zach asked, trying to sound indifferent. "Last time we're bringing you up here. Tonight he turns." Aaron was behind Zach in the hall, leaning forward to speak quietly. Kane led the way back toward the stairs.

"How? What's going to happen?" "You really want me to spell it out?" "Why not?" The question sat like lead in his chest. He really didn't want to hear the answer. "You're going down there with him. When the moon rises he'll presto, change-o, same as us. He'll tear you apart. A first timer's ritual, like I told you, courtesy of the pack bringing a new member in. In the morning we'll come back and let him out. We'll teach him some control and how to hunt without putting all of us in danger. But then, you're not gonna be around for that part." Zach's legs went weak. He fought to keep from showing it. "Well, you might have a problem there." "We haven't yet. We've turned three in this house." "Not what I mean. He doesn't want to be one of you." Aaron nodded. "Not yet, but he will. He's alpha. He's strong." "An alpha who hates your guts. Sounds dangerous." Kane stared at him. "He hates us now, but that'll change. It always does. There's nothing like wanting to chow down on the people around you for a bonding experience with other wolves. And even if he doesn't want to be with us, where else would he go? In the end there's no choice at all." He leaned closer so that his mouth brushed Zach's ear. His voice was a low growl. "Now how about you tell me something. Was it good when he fucked you?" Zach jerked away. "How did you—" "His scent's all over you, just like how I know he smelled us on you. You have no idea, do you? No wolf could mistake it." Zach ducked his head. "Not like he gave me a choice." He felt like shit for saying it, but he had to throw them off. The bastards already knew he and Mal had a connection. He didn't want their guard up even more because of it.

"No?" Aaron said, and Zach heard the humor in his voice. "Well, I know how hard you are to resist. As a matter of fact, so is he. I'm surprised you didn't go for it willingly." "He's hard to resist all right. Especially when the son of a bitch has twenty pounds and a couple of inches on me and suddenly decides he wants a fuck buddy," Zach swore, doing his best to sound bitter. "Good looks don't always get you what you want after all, huh?" "Fuck you, you wouldn't know. And speaking of, why don't you all just get each other off and leave me the hell alone? I'm a little tired of getting passed around." Aaron smirked. "Above all, wolves are opportunists." "Why me? Just tell me. Hell, why him? Why'd you pick us?" "Nothing mysterious. We need more pack members. New pack needs food, but out of the public eye." He shrugged. "It's almost that simple. The pack picked him, and then there you were. A little early, but it was just too convenient not to take advantage." He paused. "Too bad. You're not a bad guy." Zach doubted very much that all the people Aaron had killed had been bad guys, but saying so was pretty senseless, he supposed. "So let me go." Aaron gave him a slow, knowing smile. "It's too late. See, I've got a brother to feed." Zach gritted his teeth and returned his look. Aaron might be able to read the signs and know how afraid he really was, but damned if he'd show it. The fear had built steadily over the last few hours in the cellar with Mal, who'd twitched and paced and ran restless hands over his hair, once growling and slinging the damn chain aside when it got in the way, purposely careless of how it tightened over his ankle. He'd stopped, towering in front of Zach, chest heaving in frustration. His breathing slowed and he'd raised his head. Sniffed the air like a dog, short sips of

breath through the nose, focused and intent, an animal on the hunt. He'd smiled, hearing Zach's heart beat faster. Hunkering down, Mal had pulled up the bottom of his jean leg. He'd grabbed the chain between him and Zach and wrapped a hand around it, pulling slow and deliberate. Blood welled around the ankle chain and down his ankle. "Dammit, Mal, just stop!" Mal ignored him, a mixture of pain and lust and terrible need growing in his face, taking it over and leaving nothing behind that Zach could recognize, nothing of the man who'd touched him and whispered beautiful in his ear. "You smell that? It smells like coins you've carried in your hand in the summer, warm and sticky and metallic. There's an edge to it. It's so sharp it sings. And it's heavy, almost too heavy. Rich." Mal closed his eyes and breathed in, smiling. He rubbed his fingers in the blood at his ankle. "Ummm. Fuck, that's good," he said, his voice rumbling low and smooth in his chest. He held his hand up to Zach. "Taste it." "Hell, no." Zach slapped his hand away. Mal grinned and jabbed his hand insistently at Zach, and Zach grabbed his arm and thrust it away. "No." God, he didn't want to go back down in that cellar again. Kane unlocked the door. They walked through it. Zach heard the snick of the door behind him, loud as a gunshot. It was a bad dream, a nightmare. They walked single file, steps creaking dryly beneath their feet. Kane hooked them together again while Aaron stood back and watched. When he finished, Kane stood. "Tonight's the night," Aaron sing-songed, his voice melodic. Kane inclined his head at Mal. "You're going wolf." Mal stood beside Zach, watching Kane and Aaron. He didn't react. "You were bitten. It's the third night of the full moon. You've been feeling it and now you're going to complete the transformation. You'll be one of us." Aaron

waited, looked impatient. "Full moon fur fest, get it?" Mal looked down at his arm where the dog—no, wolf—had bitten him, then at the two men. His voice was drawling, his face impassive. "You know, I kinda feel like the slow kid in class, but I finally noticed how fast I've been healing. Acknowledged it. It's just, there was no rational explanation for it, so I didn't have to believe it. Nobody heals like this. Nobody human, anyway. I couldn't quite make the leap, you know? Didn't want to, to be honest. But yeah, I got it now." He looked at Zach. "You've known for awhile what they want me to do to you. I bet they thought it was fun to tell you what you had to look forward to. Why didn't you tell me?" Zach stared at Mal. He couldn't begin to figure out how to answer. "I won't hurt you," Mal said, his voice firm. Kane threw back his head and laughed. "You will. You'll love it." "It'll be me first." Mal yanked the chain deliberately, the spikes digging into his skin. "You hear me. Believe me. I won't." His teeth were bared and white, every line of his face taut. He bent and touched his ankle. He raised his hand to Zach, offering the blood. "I promise. This is a promise," Mal said. Zach flinched back. "I won't hurt you. They think I will. You think I will but I won't." Kane laughed again. "A covenant offered in blood. Just like a pup. The blood means more than this piece of meat knows, but you can't keep your word this time, Mal." He looked at Aaron, grinning, but Aaron's face was thoughtful, studying Zach and Mal. "Stop, Mal." Zach grabbed the bloody hand, his face wrenching, and pushed it away. "You keep hurting yourself as if it'll keep anything from happening, and it won't." "Just—tell me you believe me? Zach?" Zach ignored the plea in Mal's voice. His stomach hurt. His eyes felt dry and

swollen. He let the terror and the grief show naked on his face, but he couldn't look at Mal. "You think I don't want to? It's my life we're talking about here. You can't change what's happening to you, Mal, no matter how hard you try. I'm going to die, and God, I don't want it, but it's going to happen. You're the one who's going to do it." He could barely finish saying it. He stared at the ground, found a blood-soaked patch of dirt and fixed on it. He waited for the sounds that told him Aaron and Kane were gone, counting every beat of his pulse until the door closed at the top of the stairs.

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Chapter 10 MAL SLOUCHED WITH his back against the wall, looking down at his hands folded in his lap. "You were being overprotective. You showed them too much of what you were thinking," Zach whispered into the silence Aaron and Kane had left behind. They'd gone upstairs, but he knew their hearing was extraordinary, and he couldn't have them knowing what he had to say. Zach put a hand on Mal's shoulder. "Aaron noticed." His fingers dug in harder. "Mal. They told me upstairs that they were leaving and they won't be back until tomorrow morning. They said it's what they do for the first transformation. The pack leaves you alone, safe and with your—your—" "Victim? Prey? You think that's how I see you?" Mal flared, then closed his eyes. "No." Zach paused, rubbing his forehead and looking away to break the

intensity between them. "I don't. I've been in this cellar with you and I knew what they were doing and I still believed in you, Mal. They've turned others in the pack here. They consider leaving you alone with me as a rite of passage. I couldn't have them seeing something between us and risk them siccing a guard on us. I'm sorry." "I know you are. I also know you don't believe me." Mal turned and finally looked at him, regarding him steadily. The fear and dull weariness there made Zach's heart contract painfully. He couldn't keep his own fear hidden, not any more. "It's not that I don't want to believe you. But you've been changing. It won't do either of us any good to deny it." Mal looked at him levelly. "Then remember this, okay? I'll do anything to keep this thing inside of me away from you." "How?" Zach asked softly. The question hung in the air between them. "You're right here beside me, reminding me of who I am and what happens to you if I let go. You're the one that told me I can do this, Zach, okay, so you have to believe it now. I'm not gonna kiss you, put my mouth on you and make you feel something for me—God, make you come for me and then hurt you. Not as long as there's any of me still left in here." Zach stared at him, at the red-rimmed eyes, the pain and the gentleness in his face, and then he remembered that same face, brutality stamped in every line. He understood what it meant to fear something within himself, and he understood turning the fear away, denying it, though it'd been a long time since he'd fooled himself about how far he'd go to survive. He also understood about holding out against something bigger and stronger, fighting for one more hour, one more minute or second. It surprised him to look at Mal and believe that Mal knew and understood these things, too. He'd figured a guy who had a family and college and the normal things Zach had always wanted wouldn't know about the bad times, when all that

was left to fight with was inside a person. But that same guy sat beside him, blood spilling onto the dirt from his ankle, hurting and wanting Zach to believe in him. "I told you. I said what I said so that Aaron wouldn't come down on us. C'mere." Zach moved over and wrapped his arms around Mal. He dropped his head, looking down at Mal's ankle. It looked like raw meat, gore too thick to see through. "God, I'm sorry you have to hurt like this," he murmured. "Leave it, okay? Please? I don't want to talk about it, fuck, I don't want to see it." "All right," he said, and then when Mal looked skeptically at him, "Okay." He still couldn't help thinking about it. Mal's physiology had to be changing or he'd never have been able to stand the pain. He moved his head to Mal's shoulder and rested against it, hearing the grateful, pleased sound Mal made. He was exhausted. He dozed a little, drifting in and out. He sank into a dream about the summer when he was seventeen, his father still alive. They'd stayed in some boggy little town in Florida, Spanish moss dripping off the trees. There were plenty of empty, sandy spots in between the boiled peanut stands and the gas and beer marts off the lonesome stretch of US 231. Their rental place was tucked up in one of those spots behind a stand of trees. The road that led to the place wasn't paved, just sand and rutted dirt. The air was hot and wet and still, and the bugs so raucous up in the trees at night Zach could hardly hear himself think. One night Zach heard his dad cursing and yelling outside, followed by the sound of something like a car backfiring, cracking loud and decisive. He scrambled up off the sagging old couch, heart pounding, and ran outside. His dad was drunk, skinny body reared back as he flung firecrackers into the branches of the two trees in the front yard, yelling goddamn bugs and shut the fuck up and fucking driving me crazy. Zach stood and watched, mouth open and eyes big. He leaned slowly against the railing of the ramshackle wooden porch and started

laughing, couldn't stop until he was nearly sick, his T-shirt sticking to his back in the clinging heat of the evening while the jar flies and his dad screeched like demented things. His dad looked at him, saw the startled, ridiculous hilarity written over all over his face, and then he laughed too, eyes crinkling at the corners, dark hair with more iron showing in it every day curling over his collar and swinging over his forehead. He bent over and thwacked himself on the knee. The next night his dad went out, just like always. No big deal. He just never came back. Zach awakened the morning after his dad left with a case of the flu that got worse as the day went on. By the time evening came around he was sweating buckets, then freezing, out of his head with fever. He huddled up on the squeaky, narrow bed and tried to wait it out. Things got foggy after that, and he didn't know how long it took for the fever to break, but when it did it left his head with an odd, floating feeling. He was weak, his mouth as dry as a ball of cotton. He worried fretfully about his dad. It felt like he'd been gone a long time. The next morning Zach finally felt up to heating some chicken noodle soup on the stove. Afterward he managed a shower by sitting on the cheap plastic floor of the stall and letting the water do most of the work. He dressed in a baggy Tshirt and some jogging shorts and went back to bed. The landlord came knocking in the late afternoon hours. He stood in the doorway, shirt too tight over his stomach and bald head sweating, arm propped on the door jam. He told Zach his dad had been killed—shot right outside of the Lobster Bar. Nobody knew exactly what had happened. The local who'd shot him was so drunk he barely remembered getting into the argument in the first place. The landlord said that the cops had tried knocking at Zach's door more than once after it happened, looking for someone to tell, but Zach had been so out of it he hadn't heard. The landlord figured he'd already skipped out and was surprised to

find him still there. He was awful sorry about Zach's dad, but he had to have the rent, couldn't afford to run a charity. Couldn't be helped. One thing led to another, which was how Zach came to be introduced to sex —legs weak and trembling, heart numb and scared out of his mind while the landlord bent him over the couch and took it out in pay. Even though it hurt like hell he didn't cry. He saved that for later in the evening. He walked to the bar where his dad had died, stood under the glow of the red neon lobster on the sign above and sobbed until he felt hollow and more alone than he'd ever felt in his life. Like now. Zach woke up, his cheek pressed against Mal's shoulder, blinking into the slanting light coming through the window. His father had been a drunk who'd left him alone as a kid way too much, but he remembered little things, happy moments together, too. He remembered walking on the beach with his dad, splashing through the waves at the water's edge. He'd had a bad cut on his foot and his dad had told him the salt was good for it. He remembered his dad kissing the top of his head, sometimes. He missed him. He guessed no one else ever did, wasn't sure if he was even supposed to miss someone who failed so terribly in his responsibilities and hurt his son so badly, leaving him hungry and alone and much too young to know what to do about any of it. But his father was dead and gone now, no responsibilities left toward his son, and it freed Zach to remember the good things. His dad was all he had for seventeen years, and it hadn't been all he needed but it had been enough. He knew one thing. His father would never have wanted him to die like this,

alone in the dark, in blood and in agony. Mal's fingers rubbed the back of his neck, rhythmic and soothing. Mal's breath was warm against his skin. "Don't forget me," Zach whispered and felt him nod, felt Mal's lips press against his neck.

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Chapter 11 THE SUN PUNCHED in low, dim and red through the window before Mal started losing ground. He fought for every inch lost. It was excruciating to watch. It was terrifying to know what lay at the end if he failed. Zach held Mal's wet face between the palms of his hands. "Don't listen to that crazy shit in your head. Remember what I told you. It's not you. Listen to me." He wiped tears off Mal's cheeks. "Look at me, look at my face, okay? Trust me." Zach pushed Mal's sweaty hair off his forehead and kissed it. Mal's face crumpled. He let out a short sob before he opened his eyes, ashamed, trying to smooth out his face. "This isn't your fault. Not any of it. They did this to us, okay, and whatever happens, we didn't do anything to cause it." "I dream all the time now, even when I'm awake." Mal's voice faltered. "I won't, though. I won't." Zach didn't ask what it was he wouldn't do. "Me and you, Mal. We're all that matters, right?" Mal nodded, touched his forehead to Zach's. Standing helped him keep focus, kept him from falling into black dreams. His hands roamed over Zach's

skin, under his shirt, palms smoothing over his chest, tracing down the middle to his stomach with two slow fingers. He leaned in and brushed his lips over Zach's. "Help me, please, help me to stay here," he whispered, and Zach didn't know if he was talking to him or praying. The light bled from the cellar little by little. Zach and Mal stood together and listened to the sounds of each other's breathing, touched foreheads and mouths and bodies together. The floodlight came on outside, turning the sky behind it into black ink and laying a square of white light over the earthen floor of the cellar. Mal's grip on Zach's waist grew tight. Zach leaned away from him, trying to catch his eye. Mal swayed forward with him, his grip growing uncomfortable and then painful, fingers digging deeply into Zach's flesh. Zach's heart thudded hard and fast. Instinct told him not to try and pull away again. He opened his mouth, tired and scared and angry. "What is it you want? You want to crack me open, want to hurt me, Mal, is that it?" Mal's eyes narrowed. He pressed closer until the long line of his body pushed all along Zach's. "No. But they want me to. And you knew." Mal's eyes were green and brown, wide and heated and wild. "Why didn't you tell me?" "Because there's nothing you could have done about it. You'd have tortured yourself over it. I didn't want that for you." Mal's shoulders slumped. The wildness faded from his eyes and his grip slackened. "Zach," he whispered, "I don't know if I can do this much longer. Stop me, please just stop me. Any way you can." The hopelessness scared Zach more than anything else had. He made his voice deliberately hard, even while fear spread and shrilled inside his body. "Stop yourself. You said you would. You wanted me to believe you. I believe you. Now do it. Don't you let me die."

Mal's face went whiter than paper, his eyes like black holes in his face. His mouth twisted. "Isaac. Biblical all right. Aaron and Kane gave you to me, a sacrifice from my brethren." He laughed, his voice deeper, coarser. It hurt to hear, forced through vocal chords already beginning to change as the night took hold. "Only they're not my brethren. I don't know them. I owe them nothing but payback for what they've done. They're a pack of wild dogs running the streets, and I'm going to put them down. They just don't know it yet." He moved closer again. "You know what I dream of, don't you? Your blood filling my mouth, your body ripped apart. You're afraid of me, and you should be." His body touched Zach's, so hot, a furnace. "But you weren't wrong to believe me. You're not the one I'll take apart." He pressed still closer. Zach felt the burn of him sink into his skin. "I'm still in here, I swear it." "Stay with me," Zach implored. He buried his face into the crook of Mal's shoulder. "Don't leave me, don't forget me." Mal kissed the nape of Zach's neck. "My chain's meant to hold me, strong enough for a wolf. Yours is strong enough to hold a human. No wolf releases his prey. Zach, it's almost here, I'm almost strong enough." "It'll tear you apart," Zach whispered against the hot skin beneath his lips. "I don't care. It's you or me, Zach. I'll heal, dammit." Mal pushed Zach gently away from him. He bent, placed both hands spaced apart on the chain and pulled. The length between his hands went taut. His arms trembled. The chain held. He changed position and pulled again, shoulders and arm muscles bunched, veins swelling and tracing his arms in sharp relief. One of his hands slipped. The entire length of the chain went tight, the prongs in his ankle digging in, scraping bone. Mal threw his head back and cried out, low and hoarse. Zach put shaking hands on his shoulders. Mal snarled and slung him off. The tip-tilt of his eyes seemed exaggerated, wild, and his cheeks were sharp bone, outlined in the white light from outside.

Mal wrapped the chain around one of his hands and pulled up with both arms as the blood flowed from his ankle and pooled into his sneaker, slipped over the sides, and still he kept pulling, growling, half-moaning sounds coming from his throat, tears and sweat rolling down his face. It made Zach sick. He couldn't look away. Break, please, please break now— A weld in the middle broke and the link pulled, one end unfurling, slowly pulling into a line of gleaming metal. He was free. "Get out of here," Mal said, his voice no longer his own, dark and guttural as if he'd forgotten how to speak. He sank to the ground, hunched over. Zach didn't move. "I said get out of here!" Mal shouted. The shadows were black, pouring over his face. His cheekbones were knives. His hand stretched forward, elongated, then dropped, fingers squirming in beneath the chain links tight against his ankle. He pulled at them, more moaning, growling sounds coming out of his mouth. Zach climbed the stairs, unseeing, hearing Mal's hoarse voice as he cried out. At the top of the stairs Zach stopped, looking back wearily. Mal watched him. His eyes had changed, grown larger and lighter. "It's all red, Zach. Rose red." It wasn't Mal but it was. Zach still heard him, trapped behind the facade. "He bit me and the light kept flashing on and off and on, everything red. I couldn't see my blood in all the red, and I thought I was going to die, watching him eat me alive. I can't stay here anymore and feel it. Leave or I'll do it to you. I'll find a way to get to you. Then you'll know what it feels like." Zach nodded numbly and turned away, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. He opened it, found the small penknife and unfolded it. He stuck the blade in the jam, feeling for the lock, pressing until he felt the knife slide in more. He pressed the other way, felt the lock go back. He pushed against the door, hands steady. He turned one last time. Mal looked up at him with lowering eyes, head

shaking like a lion twitching off flies. He panted, chest rising and falling, fast and shallow. He closed his eyes and screamed, tearing at himself. Zach watched it all. Mal's body broke apart and formed into something else. He lost control as it happened, calling out Zach's name in his torn, raw voice, reaching up towards the stairs and screaming until the sounds leaving his mouth were unrecognizable. When it was done Mal stood, raised his head and looked at him once more, wolfen eyes yellow and green, body long and graceful, strong. Larger than any wolf should ever be. The cuff still held him, but the bloody, hated chain lay on the ground, dirt sticking to the gore on the links. He'd broken free of it. Something passed between them. A warning, the last one. Zach nodded again and opened the door. He didn't look back, just walked through the doorway and fell against the door with his back, closing it. He locked it and sank to the floor. It had been like watching Mal die, or something so near as to make no difference. It was who Mal was now, and who he'd be for the rest of his life, dying once every month. Zach bent over and vomited, clutching his stomach, gasping air in between heaves until nothing was left but stringing yellow spit, and still he saw Mal eaten up by something he didn't want to be, something that tore his body up like a dirty rag and tied it into a new shape. Something that didn't know to love Zach. Zach barked a laugh, deep and raw. Love. Two days. He laughed again but it sounded more like a sob. He remembered the wild slant of Mal's eyes, unspeakable and hungry and enraged, unwilling and terrified and alone. Zach dropped his head and cried.

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Chapter 12 AFTER ZACH STOPPED crying he walked to the bathroom, washed his swollen eyes and rinsed his mouth out. He stared at himself in the mirror, hair like wheat bleached under the sun, shorn short like always. A full mouth, eyes of speckled gray stone. A face a lot of people had told him was handsome in one way or another, by spoken words or groping hands and mouth. By taking when it wasn't given. It never meant anything, never touched him. He looked at himself, thinking about how it always used to feel like staring at nothing. He wondered why it felt like maybe now he was something more than that. Zach went through the house, looking for a key to the ankle cuff. He didn't have much time to worry about what he'd do if he couldn't find it before he actually did find it, in the desk of a little office set up in an alcove. He took the key with him into the kitchen and sat at the table. He propped his foot up on the seat of a chair, then inserted the key, lips tightening until he heard the small click as the lock disengaged. He only realized he'd been holding his breath when he let it out. He sat with the cuff in his hands, staring at the smooth dark metal, hating it. Carrying it to the kitchen window, he opened it and then flung the cuff outside, as far away as he could. He put the key in his pocket. There was a tool cabinet in the pantry closet. He pocketed a screwdriver, saw a roll of electrical tape and took it as well. He found what was probably Aaron's bedroom at the last door off the hall, shirts tossed on the floor and a drawer not quite shut, clothes sticking out over

the top. The clothes looked too large for Kane. He went through the bureau and found some jeans and a shirt for Mal. By no means a perfect fit, but they'd do. He saw a pair of sunglasses on the dresser and took those, too. Then he went back to the kitchen, stared out the window and waited. He'd left the window open, and the wind blew in. He watched as the rain came in from the west and listened to the sounds of the wolf below. He'd heard it as he searched the house, fading when he'd walked into the rooms facing the front of the house. The cellar door was in the kitchen, and the sounds were very loud. The hair on the back of Zach's neck prickled, and goose bumps rose on his arms at the utter, alien rage pouring over the kitchen from downstairs. It grew quiet after midnight. After a while Zach moved to the door, listening. He heard nothing. A couple of hours later he heard movement and went to the door again, pressing his ear to it. He heard a low, vibrating growl and then crashing sounds. He thought of the piles of junk in the cellar. He heard something high-pitched, a squeak, then another, rising, terrorized, ending in a shriek. He heard the wolf snarl. He pushed away from the door as if it'd gone white-hot beneath his fingers. He retreated back to the sink, staring out the window, fingers clinched colorless over the sides. He waited for daytime, for the memory of those sounds to stop. It rained and rained. It was hard to tell when dawn arrived with all the clouds. Zach opened the door and climbed down the stairs. Mal lay at the back wall of the cellar, curled in on himself. His body was bruised, pale, and his breaths fast and shallow, pushing his ribs in and out. His clothes were rags on the floor. His ankle was tacky with old blood. He was still bound by the wall chain.

Zach knelt beside him. "Mal?" His voice was rough. He cleared his throat. He put a hand on Mal's shoulder. The skin was cold. He rubbed it. "Wake up. Please wake up. We've got to get out of here." Mal opened his eyes. He rolled over on his back. Zach gave him water, asked about his ankle. Mal looked up to the pipes crisscrossing the cellar, eyes unfocused. He didn't answer. Zach used the key to free him from the cuff. He offered him Aaron's clothes and watched Mal put them on. Mal still didn't speak. He didn't limp when he walked. They climbed up the stairs for the last time. Zach closed the door and locked it behind them. Maybe it'd give the wolves something to think about. They left the house and walked down the graveled drive to the steep, winding mountain road, listening for any approaching vehicles. The morning skies were dingy, a ceiling of soft gray cloud and shrouded mist, drizzling a little. Rain pattered on the leaves of the trees, and birds called softly from the branches as if the rain had hushed them. After fifteen minutes they came upon the house Zach had spotted from the kitchen window yesterday at twilight. The driveway was paved and empty. They looked inside a window. The place was bare of furniture. "Doesn't matter anyway." Zach stepped back from the window. "We can't exactly call the police and tell them we were kidnapped by a werewolf pack. We'll have to figure out what we're going to tell them if we go to them." "No," Mal said, the first words he'd spoken. He looked back the way they'd come, then tilted his face up to the drizzly sky. "We come back and burn the place down." Zach shrugged. "Works for me." They walked. The road curved down and down. The land grew less steep for a mile or so. They got off the road and hid in the trees whenever they heard a car. They walked past an area a quarter mile long that'd been clear-cut, the land shorn

and severe. There was nowhere to hide. They both walked faster, feeling exposed, even more so when the sun came out, steam rising like ghosts from the road. Mal still wasn't talking much, but once the trees crowded around the road again and gave them some cover, he unbuttoned his shirt and fished out the sunglasses from Aaron's shirt pocket. His shirt flapped back as he walked, and the sun brought shining bronze highlights to his hair. Zach got ahead of him and then turned around, walking backwards. "You've been stuck in a cellar for two days." He looked Mal up and down, then flapped a hand at him. "You're dirty. You've been bleeding. You've been a werewolf. You're not supposed to look like this." Mal's slow grin faltered at 'werewolf.' He kept walking. "Like what?" "Like … good." Mal kept walking. "If you don't start talking to me soon, things are going to get extreme." Zach's heel scuffed the pavement. He nearly stumbled. "Turn around. We've been through nothing but extreme for two days now. Let's give it a rest, try for normal." Mal paused. "Guess I can't do that anymore. Be normal, I mean." Zach stopped in front of him in the middle of the road. "Are you okay?" "Good as a new were can be, I guess. Are you?" "I'm alive. That's good enough." "Yeah." Mal nodded, looking into his eyes. "It is." He took a step into Zach's body, nudging him. "We need to move. Aaron and Kane are coming back for us." Zach took the hint. "We need a car. We'll be going through a residential area soon, I think. Look out for an old one, mid-nineties or earlier. I know, good luck with that in this area, but they're easiest to get into and I don't feel like trying to

finesse my way through anything if we don't have to. Besides, I don't have the equipment." "Imagine that. You know how to hotwire a car." Zach tugged the screwdriver and tape out from the back pocket of his jeans. He smiled. "Used to, anyway. We'll see." Half an hour later, they heard a car approach from down the mountain. Zach and Mal took off for cover behind the trees lining the road. A small black import appeared and then disappeared around the curve. They waited until the sounds of the engine died out completely before they got back on the road. "It was them," Mal said after a moment. Zach nodded. "We have to find a car." Fifteen minutes later, with the sun back behind the clouds, they came upon a cluster of one-story homes and log cabins dotting one side of the road. A stream ran parallel to the road on the other. A long grassy area with picnic tables and grills stretched alongside the stream. Wooden walking bridges crossed the stream periodically, leading to hiking trails on the other side. A lone Olds Cutlass was parked at one of the areas, rust creeping up the sides. They heard no voices, so they walked to the stream and peered down at the banks. Dappled sunlight winked on the surface of the water as it rushed over the rocks. No one was on or near the bridge in front of the Cutlass. They went back to the car and tried the doors. They were unlocked. "Perfect. About time our luck changed." Zach sat in the driver's seat and patted the dash. "Baby, they think you're too old for anyone to want. They're wrong." "Okay, just hurry, will you?" Mal looked up and down the road, then peered at the trail on the other side of the bridge. Zach jammed the end of the screwdriver into the ignition and pounded it with the heel of his palm. "Damn, wish I'd brought a hammer." He stopped and

looked up at Mal standing beside the car. "If we stay lucky I won't need the tape or the knife. Or something I don't have. I think we're lucky. What do you think?" "I think you better start the damned car," Mal snapped, and Zach grinned up at him. He turned the screwdriver. The engine cranked. Mal grinned back at him, relieved. "Nice." "She likes me," Zach said. "I knew it. Get in." Mal rolled his eyes, long legs sliding into the car. "Go." Zach patted him on the leg. "It's okay, relax." Mal glared at him. "Don't you have better things to do? Like driving?" Zach smirked at him. "Yeah, but this is more fun." He drove away from the graveled pull-off. They stopped in the foothills to go through the drive-through of a fast food joint, then pulled over and ate, unable to wait. They watched a black and yellow helicopter with a wicked shine take off from a grassy place down the road. A dry erase board perched at the edge of the lot, advertising helicopter rides in big red letters. They left the main drag, driving along twisting back roads. When they were within a couple of miles of Zach's place, they left the car by the road and walked the rest of the way. The sun came out briefly, mist rising again from the road, trailing up and reaching for the sky. Zach listened to the faint sound of his and Mal's steps gritting against the road. He wondered where Jasper was, guessing he'd given up on him by now. He was surprised to realize how much he'd miss him. The houses got shabbier the further they walked, some of them with peeling paint, some with mold showing on the siding. Bikes and toys laid where they were dropped out in the yards. Zach stopped in front of a narrow gray house,

situated on a lot only a little wider than the house. He put a hand on the gate. "This is home. Crappy as it might be." "It's not crappy if it's home." Mal stood on the sidewalk, looking all around. "Give me a second." Zach climbed the steps to the wide front porch, looking for the cat. The blue plastic feeder he kept outside for Jasper was empty, the water bowl dry. He leaned against one of the old wooden columns at the top of the porch steps, looking out at the neighborhood. Mal looked up at him, not saying anything. Zach went down the steps again and out the gate. He stood by Mal on the sidewalk, listening. Finally he called for the cat. He hadn't wanted to do it because Jasper might not come. He heard Jasper before he saw him, a crabby, urgent meow that demanded to know where he'd been. Then came a little streak of yellow, legs blurred and hurrying down the walk. The cat slowed into alley cat slink as he got closer, his tail held in an elegant S-curve. Zach picked him up, the tightness in his chest loosening. He rubbed his finger against Jasper's cheek, feeling the stiff bristle of whiskers and the soft fur beneath. "Think he purrs loud enough?" Mal asked. Water sparkled like diamonds in his hair. Jasper tilted his head into Zach's finger and rubbed. "Jasper, meet our new wolf," Zach said. "It's not a joke, Zach." Mal's voice was soft. Zach stepped closer to him. "We've got nearly a month to figure out what to do next. Which is a hell of a lot more time than we had in that fucking cellar. It feels like enough time to deal with anything." Mal shook his head. "You made it out. It's over for you, you know? You don't have to stick with me." "I know I don't."

Mal looked at him. He held up his hands and opened his mouth, ready to argue. "Just shut up, okay?" Zach looked into his eyes and waited. Mal dropped his hands. The corner of his mouth lifted. "Okay." Suddenly Zach could breathe again. He hid it by looking at Jasper, running a thumb in under his chin and rubbing back and forth. Jasper purred louder, little round head tilted blissfully. Mal sighed, reaching out to rub behind the cat's ears. Zach put him down and he ran up the stairs ahead of them, then turned and watched expectantly. The white blaze on his face shone. Zach turned to look at Mal. "Coming?" he asked, holding out his hand. "Yeah." Mal reached out. His fingers curled warm around Zach's.

THE END

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Author's Notes Jasper is a real cat, not made up. At one time he was a homeless scavenger with a painful eye infection. Now he's fat and happy and loved. His balls hit the chopping block some time ago, but they were as described in the story, if you care to know: big. Like his feet.

Since I was very young, I have traveled back and forth over parts of Florida that are as I (briefly) described in Zach's final flashback. I wanted to write about the area as I remembered it. I loved it and still do, even though it's hotter than hell. The story came about because I love paying fan service to some freaky, overwrought, unbelievable, and well-loved (by me) ideas. Two men in a basement, chained together, in terrible danger, falling in love in the middle of their ordeal (and I may not ever get over that falling in love in the middle of a cellar thing during a kidnapping—it's a gem), and then: one guy EATS THE OTHER'S INTESTINES. Or threatens to do it, anyway. It made me happy, and I had plenty of encouragement and cheerleading from a very good friend. I figured I needed two lovely guys to carry the story (and got them, I think). The challenge then was to give it heart without it all sounding too ridiculous. If the story succeeds, it's because of those two. I'll probably come visit them again. There's plenty of story left for them.

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