Lycan Legacy - Paladin: Tales of Luna White - Werewolf by Veronica Singer (funny books to read TXT) 📕

face fell. “It would take an hour to cut through that chain. This might not work either.”

“Give me that,” I snapped, irritated I hadn’t thought to bring tools to free Logan. Too much emphasis on magic, not enough on human resources.

“Mike, I need you to hold the collar still while I saw.”

Logan growled slightly as Mike approached, but calmed down at my barehanded touch. One last pat for Logan, then I pulled the gloves on.

Mike held the collar still while I started sawing. Even though I was careful, the specks of silver the hacksaw threw off burned both Logan and me.

Finally it was finished, and Logan was free. His throat was ravaged and he had lost a lot of blood, but he was breathing.

From across the room, Manny said, “You went through that thing like it was made of butter! That’s not possible.”

“Country girls are stronger than they look,” I said.

“Can’t you zap him with moonlight to heal him?” asked Mike, as he slid the hacksaw into his pack.

“I can only give him so much without burning him out.” I thought for a moment. “We’ll have to carry him out.”

“I’m not carrying a rabid wolf out of here on my back,” said Manny.

“He’s not rabid,” I said sharply. But he had a point; Logan might wake and attack anyone nearby in his rage and pain. His wolf side had always been hard to control.

“Still, you’re right. I’ll have to force him to shift back to human.”

“Shift to… human…” Manny’s voice faded as he tried to process the words.

“Don’t freak out, Manny,” said Mike. “We still need you.”

“Probably better if you don’t watch this, Manny,” I said as I bent over Logan’s head. I stroked his head and forced lunar energy through him—not directed at healing, which might have killed him, but coaxing the wolf side to give up control so the man could emerge.

It took several minutes of intense effort, but Logan finally began to shift. First his fur receded, then his pointed ears shortened and morphed to human shape as his skull shifted with a crunch of bones. His muzzle shortened and his fangs retracted. Last to change were his claws, which finally receded to human length.

Once the change was complete, I looked at Mike. “I hate to ask you to do this, but I need to keep my hands free and Manny’s freaking out. Can you carry him?”

In seconds, Logan’s naked form was draped over Mike’s shoulder in a fireman’s carry. We stepped to the door—which was blocked by Manny. His mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish, but no sound came out.

I reached out and tried to stroke his cheek to comfort him, but he jerked away as if my touch was poison.

I pulled my hand back and crooned in the same tone I had used on Logan. “Don’t worry, Manny. If you’re like most people, this memory will fade away and be replaced by something more realistic.”

As they followed me up the stairs, I heard Manny whispering to Mike. “They had that guy chained up and wrapped in a rug on the floor. Damn, I thought he was a dog.”

Mike nodded in agreement as Manny explained away the impossible.

Good. His memories were rearranging to avoid confronting the supernatural.

We stalked through the main floor, following Alisha’s scent. The corridors were still darkened, forcing Manny to use his night-vision goggles again. Viewing the world through a tiny screen seemed to settle him down.

We turned left at the main corridor. There was an elevator at the end of the hallway, and next to it was a stairwell door.

The scent of Alisha came from upstairs. As one, we moved through the door to the stairwell, ignoring the elevator. Elevators were too easy to block, too easy to turn into tiny kill boxes.

I briefly considered leaving Logan downstairs with Mike. Sure, I was strong enough to carry Logan around like a designer handbag, but it would be tough for Mike to climb those stairs with him.

“Mike, do you want to wait here for us to bring Alisha down? Logan must be getting heavy.”

“Better if we don’t split up. If you leave us, we won’t have access to any of your gadgets.”

Damn it, he was right. I couldn’t leave Mike and Logan here; the sound suppression and other spells only worked in my vicinity. Plus, Logan might wake and wolf out. “Okay. Let me know if you need a break.”

“He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother,” said Mike with a little grunt as he climbed the stairs after me.

It took ten seconds for me to realize Mike had made a joke, quoting an old song. I suppressed a giggle. I like guys who can joke on a suicide mission.

The second floor was a duplicate of the first, with the little tables and knick-knacks exactly matching the layout below. I held a finger to my lips, then pointed to my eyes, then made a horizontal circling gesture to let Mike and Manny know I wanted to take a quick look around on this floor.

They nodded understanding and stayed in the stairwell as I opened the door and slid silently through. I walked down the hallway, stepping over rugs that duplicated those on the first floor, until I hit the intersection.

The scent of wild magic came from my right, so I turned there. A large room at the end of the hall was laid out like an auditorium. Instead of chairs, there were prayer rugs laid on the floor in precise rows. A podium with a tiny spotlight above it held what I assumed was a copy of the Koran. My internal compass indicated that the rugs all faced Mecca.

I breathed the still air, seeking the scent of magic. No, the prayer rugs and the holy book were all mundane. On the right and left walls were small, recessed shelves, each holding an objet d’art. Exquisite figures of gold or platinum, or of ancient make, were displayed.

There it was. A tall, intricately-etched glass bottle