Polaris Skies

Chapter 24

TW: SA, Drugs, Abuse, Murder

Hogtied and gagged, Nat found himself on slimy concrete in a dark, freezing garage. The pain in his arms from having them pulled behind his back was excruciating, enough so that the ache across the bridge of his nose was lesser for it. The wounds in his shoulders had opened up again. He ground his teeth against the balled-up cloth shoved in his mouth, but it was to no avail. The place smelled of used motor oil, moulded cardboard, and rat faeces.

Sven?

Yeah, dječak?

Do you know where we are?

How should I? When you went down, so did I.

Just thought I'd ask.

I'd tell you that the place is infested with raccoons. We're downwind of an old sewage treatment plant. I smell diesel and metal, lots of metal, and not the stuff in here. We're probably in a rough side of the town. Michael's in the next room, and he has his coterie. He's had them coming and going for a while now, but none of them has been able to find Cashia. Sounds like he was able to escape.

What's your suggestion, wolf?

As you're positioned now, dropping into my preferred form would be a disservice to us both.

So, wait here. Is that what you're telling me?

That about sums up this picture.

Then what?

When they finally let you free of this compromised position, I'd say I'm taking over, and you can figure out how to clean up the mess. Sound good to you?

Sounds peachy. I don't want to find finger bones in my faecal matter later. Got it?

I wouldn't dream of it.

Bullshit.

Nat knew he was lucky to be waking up alive. He had leapt in front of the door at Cashia's escape to hold the men in the master bedroom. He latched onto one of the bird men's arms. The man's winged bulk blocked the others from pursuing Nat's golden wolf. A muffled crunch was all he needed to hear, but the scream following it was sweet music to his ears when the man's arm went limp. He right hooked the bird man's chin and heard another lovely crack of bone as the man's jaw fractured. The bird man stumbled back, tumbling several of the others behind him. Nat turned to pin Michael down. He could feel Sven pressing for control. "Leave the others out of it!" he remembered screaming at Michael. His head pounded at the recollection.

The unlocked French door to the master bedroom had swung open with the wind to crash against the plaster wall. He had flinched, distracted at the intensity of the noise. Sven had reached for the shift, but too late. Michael took a flying jab to his breastbone and a hard knee to the nose. Nat remembered nothing after. He was sure it was broken by the electric throb between his orbital bones and the pressure in his cheeks that ran behind his eyes. Even his teeth hurt.

Nat drifted in and out of sleep. The stiller he stayed, the less his arms hurt. His hands and feet were beginning to numb and tingle, though. He had initially tried rolling to a better position, but that had only achieved putting him on his side, which put more pressure on his shoulder wound and compressed his bruised sternum. He was not positive how many hours passed before Michael showed himself in that dank garage.

"Wake up, mutt." Michael kicked him in the stomach, snickering at a grunt that greeted him. The flock of followers trailed in to congregate around the two. Michael knelt next to him. The birdman grabbed his hair, lifting him to be face-to-face. "I only have one thing I want to know, and you better have the answer I'm looking for, or else I've got a couple of guys here that'll find a few creative ways to extract it." Michael pushed at the rag in Nat's mouth. Nat fought to suppress his gag reflex as he suffocated under Michael's hatred. A cold chill ran down his spine, coming up with a thousand methods that Michael might allow to be employed on him. He fought to swallow as his mouth salivated and his stomach rolled, protesting the wrenching kick that had coated his throat with the taste of copper.