Naked

1

Cage hated trains almost as much as he hated space travel. Trains were always crowded, even more so than air transport because Maglev trains were cheap. They snaked around the continent in a spiderweb of tracks that could deliver anyone or anything from New York to Los Angeles in just a few hours.

Plus, they were packed with smelly travelers and their obnoxious children. Dear God, the children. Cage had been thrown off the Trans-Alpine Maglev for brandishing a large dagger while pulling on a screaming child’s tongue, threatening to cut it off if the brat didn’t shut up.

All that being said, it was infinitely easier to keep a low profile using everyman transport. And of course, given his condition, Cage could only travel comfortably at night. One might think night travel would mean the whole system would be less crowded, but, unfortunately, everyone else seemed to have that same idea.

So there he was, boarding a Maglev bound for Vegas with at least five thousand of his nearest and dearest.

Welcome to the Connestoga Line Maglev. Please store your luggage securely in the compartments overhead, a computerized voice droned as Cage boarded the train. The narrow aisles were cramped with a seething crowd of people trying to find their seats. It made for an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia as he tried to move down the aisle to find his seat.

Wilder had spared no expense; the ticket he’d provided for Cage was marked First Class. Of course, that meant Cage had to weave through coach to get to his final destination. It was like being caught in a herd of sheep with no sense of direction. There was all sorts of bleating and confusion, and everyone seemed to move like zombies, only half-conscious if they were moving at all.

Cage tried to be polite, stepping aside to let a tired-looking middle-aged woman and her child backtrack to get to the seats they’d missed. He even helped a little old lady get her carry-on into the compartment overhead. He could see the door to first class up ahead, but it was like one of those scenes in a horror movie when the hero was trying to get to the door, but it kept getting farther away.

Excuse me, a small voice stammered from behind him. Cage turned to see a young woman staring down at her shoes. Could you possibly help me?

Sorry? he asked, leaning down to hear her. She was practically whispering, and with the din of computerized directions, people shouting, and children caterwauling, he had to strain to hear her hushed voice.

Well, I needed…, she continued, still contemplating the floor.

Cage reached down, putting a single fingertip under her chin, and nudged her to look up from underneath the curtain of dark hair. Her green eyes were enormous behind her round glasses, and he could see the abject terror in them.

Say again?

M-m-my seat, she stammered. I’ve never… She stopped and held up her ticket, her eyes never leaving his.

He took the ticket from her fingertips and read it. Row A, seat four. You’ll be at the front of the train at the window. First-class. It’s this way. Cage pointed toward the door to which they were meandering slowly.

Thank you, she said, taking her ticket back when he offered it. She gave a little gasp as his fingertips grazed hers and she blushed.

He nodded and turned back. Poor girl, she was nearly paralyzed with fear. Probably the first time she’d traveled alone. Or traveled at all, by the looks of her.

Her overly large eyes darted here and there but she never looked anyone in the face. A shame, really. She was an attractive woman, despite that deer in headlights thing.

Ordinarily a girl like that would have made a perfect midnight snack, but tonight he couldn’t be bothered. His search for the vampire, Dagger, had led him on a wild goose chase from Paris to New York where Cage had lost the trail.

He knew Dagger had associates out west, hence the Mag to Vegas. Cage had a lead on an old girlfriend who was a showgirl in Vegas. Maybe Dagger was hiding out there. The son of a bitch assumed that Cage wouldn’t venture this far, and normally he wouldn’t, but if Maurice Wilder could do what he claimed, Cage would travel the Maglev for a month for the promise to return to normal.

For eight years, he’d been this monster who craved the blood of innocents and lived in a world consumed by darkness. A monster whose only thoughts were of vengeance and destruction. He’d give anything, do anything, to be free of this burden.

Mercifully, he made it through the door into first class and found his seat. He nodded to the nervous young woman as she passed him as she made her way to the first row. Several people came in, but it was nowhere near as crowded as coach.

Thankfully, Wilder had bought a seat in the back of the carriage, away from everyone else. Cage threw his overnight bag into the seat beside him and settled down. It would take a few hours to get to Vegas. That should be plenty of time to get a bit of sleep.

This would be a typical late-night run of the Maglev. Lots of snoring and bad pop music from the late twentieth century piped in over the loudspeaker. He wouldn’t be missing anything when he dozed.

Cage pulled a flask from inside his jacket and took a long swallow. The blood inside was still warm and thick. He savored it, letting it slide down his throat and satisfy the beast that was growling within. His hunger quelled for the time being, he lay back against the seat, closing his eyes as the train began to move.

* * *

Cage moved through the house in the pitch darkness. He knew this place like the back of his hand. The shadowy forms of his daughter’s toys lay strewn on the floor around his feet. Reaching down, he picked up a small pink rabbit. Its large plastic eyes stared at him, and he could see his face reflected. Blood and bruises marked his features, and for the first time, he could see the weariness of age and worry drawing a roadmap around his eyes.

A heavy thud overhead made him drop the stuffed toy, and his hand immediately went to the holster just under his arm.

He could feel a subtle shift in the air, and this incredible sense of dread washed over him as he made his way across the room toward the stairs. He could feel an invisible hand in the middle of his chest, telling him to stay back, but he kept going. He had to.

"Corinne," he shouted on his way up the stairs. She would be asleep, and his urgent call would probably startle her, but right now knowing she was safe was all that mattered.

No answer. As he rounded the landing, the silence was deafening. Surely baby Lily would cry, but he heard nothing.

Cage entered the hallway, his gun drawn. A dark spot on the floor caught his eye, and he went down on one knee, touching it. The spot was wet and sticky, and when he brought his fingertips to his mouth, he tasted the bitter iron flavor.

"Corinne. Lily," he called again, this time with an urgency he couldn’t swallow.

As he looked up, he noticed there was blood everywhere. The spot at his feet had grown to a river that ran over the edge of the gallery and down the stairs in a flood. It splashed over him in waves, holding him back as he tried to get to the bedroom. It dripped from the walls and rained from the ceiling. He could taste it in his mouth and feel it burning his eyes. He screamed their names over and over, but there was no one to hear. The sharp scent of the blood infiltrated his senses, blinding him to everything.

Finally, he reached the door and pushed through with a heave of his shoulder. The scene was like something out of Poe or Lovecraft.

Such horrors were the stuff of nightmares.

The blood was deep, covering his shoes and wetting his jeans to the knees. It was thick and congealed, causing him to move in slow motion.

"Corinne," he whispered, putting his hands out in front of him to feel his way through the empty room. He brushed something with his fingertips. Something cold and heavy. Running his palms over it, he began to see the blood rolling down his wrists in rivulets and dripping from somewhere above.

The darkness began to fade, and he could make out shadowy forms overhead. His eyes focused, and he saw her. Corinne hung from the chandelier over their bed, her neck pouring blood from where the rope cut into her flesh. Bound with a twist of barbed wire in her arms was their child, the pudgy little face that was so like his own frozen in a mask of terror.

"Corrine. No, he shouted, grabbing at her ankles and trying to lift her up, but her body was so heavy. He looked up into her face, his vision blurred. Please, Corinne," he whimpered. He tried once more to lift her from the fatal harness and dislodged tiny Lily’s body, which fell to the floor at his feet.

Her blue eyes opened, cold and dead.

"Good night, Daddy. See you in the morning."

2

Cage woke with a start. He could feel the tears stinging the corners of his eyes, and he closed them tightly, trying to block out Lily’s face. That terrible, frozen stare. The melodious tinkling of her toddler’s voice. And the blood.

Every morning when he closed his eyes, he could see it, feel it sliding slick between his fingers, smell it even. And God help him, it made him faint with hunger. He reached into his jacket for his mobile and swiped a fingertip across its face. The numbers 3:47 blared at him bright green. He’d only been asleep for a couple of hours, but the ache in his muscles felt like days.

Are you Phoebe Addison? Cage sat up, looking toward the muffled voice. Peeking over the seat, he could see three large men in black suits standing in the aisle at the front of the carriage. They towered over the mousey woman who had asked him how to find her seat. She looked terrified as they bore down on her. Broad shoulders, these men stood at over two meters and had heavy jawlines and wild hair. Werewolves. Worse yet, werewolves in suits. That suggested government. Since when did the government, any government—even the Interplanetary Union—use shifters as agents? After his own misadventures in London, the program to splice agents had been shut down immediately.

Um, yes. I’m Phoebe. Her voice cracked and wavered as if she weren’t sure what answer she should give. What on earth would they want with a country girl schoolmarm? Is there something wrong?

I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us, Miss Addison.

Come with you? Where? There were tears in her voice.

Bastards. They were intentionally using her weakness to intimidate her. Pushing his coat aside, Cage stood and made his way toward the front of the car. He listened to his purposeful footsteps and wondered why he was bothering to get involved. It wasn’t as if he knew this woman.

But Cage hated a bully.

Come quietly, Miss Addison, the speaker said, no emotion at all. We don’t want to have to force you.

I don’t understand, she stammered. Have I done something wrong?

We certainly hope not, the overgrown dog of the group growled. He reached forward and grabbed her arm, pulling her up out of the seat.

Phoebe shrieked, trying to pull away from him with little success. Please. I haven’t done anything. Throughout the carriage, people’s heads were beginning to pop up over the seats to watch the scene unfolding in front of them. To her credit, Phoebe was putting up quite a bit of resistance, flailing and scratching to free herself from the grasp of the agent.

Let her go, Cage said, throwing his voice at them in as deep a timbre as he could muster. Whatever you think she may have done… The largest man turned to stare down at Cage and found that they were eye to eye. Cage gave a smug grin and flashed his eyes in a show of dominance. She hardly looks like a terrorist.

This is none of your concern, vampire, the leader whispered, trying to keep his voice down. But it was too late. The girl had heard the word vampire and was now staring up at them, abject terror clear on her face. Walk away.

Cage’s blood boiled in his veins. How dare this dog call him a vampire at all, no less in public. Grubby little parasites. But now was the time to remain cool. This situation could escalate quickly and they were in a carriage full of innocents who had no idea that The Others even existed.

I’m afraid I can’t do that. This woman is under my protection, he lied. Any issues you have with her you’ll have to take up with me.

"Your protection? You were in the back of the carriage."

I don’t like being noticed. It must have worked, as you obviously didn’t see me until this moment. He held out his hand to the girl. Miss Addison. She started to take his hand when two of the goons pushed between them.

I’m afraid we have orders to detain this woman, and you’re interfering with national security, sir. Cage could see the hair on the back of the officer’s neck stand up and his eyes begin to glow red with anger. I suggest you stand down. He put his hand on Cage’s shoulder, pushing him back slightly.

Cage stared down at the were’s hairy forearm. Take your hand off me, sir. Glancing over the man’s shoulder, he could see the girl staring in disbelief. Her mouth was open as if she wanted desperately to say something.

Or what? the were chuckled.

Grasping his wrist, Cage twisted until there was a satisfying pop. All of the air in the room seemed to dissipate as the onlookers sighed in unison. The girl let out a bloodcurdling scream as the werebeast roared, his nose lengthening into the long, furry muzzle of the wolf as he snapped his jaws a hair’s breadth from Cage’s cheek.

With a roll of his eyes, Cage reared back, bashing the beast’s forehead. The were gave a dog-like whimper and fell backward, shaking his head, clearly trying to stop the metamorphosis. The other two turned, their faces masks of disbelief at what had begun so quickly.

Looking over the weres’ considerable shoulders, Cage mouthed to Phoebe, Get down. She obeyed, throwing herself to the floor and crawled under the seat just as both agents lunged at Cage, smoothly shifting to their gray, wolfen forms.

Chaos erupted in the carriage. The passengers who moments before had stared at the exchange in shocked disbelief were now getting up and pushing toward the doors, throwing carry-ons and snack boxes in every direction. Their screams and the sounds of their fists against the doors created a cacophony of sound that made Cage cringe with his heightened senses.

The wolves noticed this weakness and threw themselves at his body. They growled and snarled, biting and scratching at him as they knocked him to the floor. The two fought like animals, rolling him over and over, using their weight to keep him immobilized. Cage’s hand went to his shoulder holster and found it empty. A quick glance to the side revealed that during the tussling, his gun had fallen, sliding under the seats where the woman cowered.

Throw me the gun, he shouted at her. But she could only stare, her eyes alight with flames of terror, her body paralyzed. At that moment, one of the wolves sank its teeth into Cage’s shoulder. He gave a groan of pain and thrashed, trying to get out from beneath them as the agony of their venom infected the wound.

The serum that lurked in each of his cells made his skin burn with the unnatural healing, and the bite still hurt like a bitch. But pain was a weapon that Macijah St. John wielded with ease and grace. Cage rolled his body over, elbowing the face of the were closest to him as he got to his knees. He could feel the beast within himself rearing its head, and he could no longer fight it.

He roared, the deafening sound reverberating off the walls of the carriage. The passengers still trying to get away screamed, all of them dropping to their knees and covering their ears as if the noise was Gabriel’s horn heralding the Apocalypse. Cage’s body began to twist and contort, clothing and flesh splintering and falling away, leaving a shock of white fur that grew into an enormous wolf. He roared again, saliva dripping from razor-sharp teeth. The three weres lifted their muzzles, barking to one another as if speaking. Cage growled in response, huffing through his nostrils and pawing at the ground. The three sprang.

Cage ducked, letting them fly over his head to hit the seats, shattering them in a downpour of metal and glass. He took the opportunity to pounce, landing atop the largest of the gray wolves. Blind rage ruled, and Cage easily found the throat of his opponent. His jaws were powerful, and he locked them down, biting through the muscle to the bone. The wolf jerked his head, trying to stave off the Cage’s attack. It was of little use. Within seconds, he had pulled away, bloody tissue and fragments of bone clinging to his whiskers. The wounded wolf howled one last time before shifting back to its human form, writhing and choking on his own blood.

Cage took an attack stance as the other two growled menacingly, stalking and pacing as much as the confined space would allow. It was obvious the alpha had been destroyed and the other two were trying to decide whether to fight or flee. Cage wasn’t going to give them that chance and launched himself at them. They bit and tore at his torso, trying to get their jaws around his throat, but Cage was clever.

Oliver had done his research. The serum made St. John faster, larger, more ferocious, and more intelligent than any of these mindless beasts that slithered through the portal. Cage was simply better.

Using his powerful hind legs to kick at the smallest wolf, Cage sent the were flying into the wall opposite. The wolf flew over the girl’s head, and she watched, following the arc it made in the air.

As it hit the wall, it gave a pained bark, and the sound of the creature’s bones shattering as it slid down the wall were clearly audible. Suddenly the train screeched to a halt, and luggage rained down on them. Cage swerved to avoid a falling case, and the other were used the distraction to his advantage. He lunged and sank his teeth into the soft spot just behind Cage’s throat. The pain blinded him, and he could feel hot, sticky blood pour from the wound as the were jerked his head back and forth, pulling at the muscle there. The nerve pulsed and Cage slid on his paws, unable to gain purchase to roll over. He realized that he might actually be in trouble this time, and it only served to make him angrier. He gave a pained bark, trying to scramble from under the gray wolf while he still had enough strength to fight him off.

Suddenly, the were howled, loosening his grasp and jerking backward. Cage looked up and saw Phoe standing over them with a suitcase. The were stumbled, shaking his head in confusion, then caught sight of her. He growled and turned. She raised the case to hit him again, but Cage was faster. With a leap, he slammed into the wolf, tackling him with enough force that they rolled over and over through the wall of their carriage and into coach.

* * *

Phoebe began to pick her way around the strewn luggage in a daze. The carriage was devoid of passengers, all of them having fled from the fight. The silence that descended after the chaos was eerie. Her head was swimming and a wave of nauseous confusion crashed over her. She couldn’t have possibly seen the things she had witnessed in the last twenty minutes. Men who could turn into wolves at will and who had superhuman strength. She had heard the rumors of nightmarish creatures, The Others, that had been sighted from time to time in cities all over the world. But she’d always assumed that those were just the ramblings of conspiracy theorists or drug-crazed lunatics.

Now she was the one having the hallucinations.

She fumbled over the cases and seats, making her way to the aisle. She put her foot down carefully, and it slid. She went down on one knee and shrieked in pain. When she stood up again, she