She stared at him. With a scowl, she turned, not fighting, barely wincing, as he pulled her wrists and cuffed them together.
"Come," he said.
She followed him out of the cage. "Free the vampire."
The alpha glanced back at her with amusement. "My wolves need sustenance. Would you take his place?"
"You know I won't." Arturo would survive it. Probably. She certainly wouldn't. But it had been worth a shot.
He led her through a maze of hallways and up a long stair into what was apparently the main part of a house that had seen far better days. Wallpaper, long faded, covered only strips of walls, the rest having fallen or worn off. The ceiling sagged, the wood floors creaked with every step. And the few furnishings looked like they'd come from the city dump.
Though the house appeared relatively large, if nowhere near the size of Cristoff's castle, it looked like it had been lived in continuously since the 1870s and never updated or adequately maintained. If ever a house looked like it should be haunted, this was it.
The place reeked of dog . . . or wolf, which wasn't too surprising, considering. Though a few people-well-muscled and naked people-walked about or lounged on the furniture, they had to vie for room with more than two dozen wolves. The animals were everywhere.
At her appearance, they lifted their snouts, as if sniffing the air, and turned to watch her with interest. Several leaped to their feet, one licking his lips as he tracked her with hungry eyes.
Quinn's skin crawled, and she found herself edging closer to the alpha.
Did wolves do nothing but lie around, threatening their food? If this were her pack, she'd order them to find some tools and get to work fixing up the house. But maybe wolves just didn't care about the looks of their living space.
They'd probably care if the roof fell on their heads.
As if hearing her thoughts, the alpha said, "It's solid, despite what it looks like. Most of my wolves spend the majority of their time outside. They're far more wolf than human." He eyed her with a warning in his eyes. "You'd do well to remember that."
Quinn swallowed, her gaze fastened on one who watched her as if she were a fat little rabbit. "It's rather hard to forget."
A man's yell of pain carried from outside, jacking her pulse through the roof. She knew that voice. Arturo.
She had to get him out of there. But how? An energy blast was too temporary to do her much good. She'd watched how quickly the wolves had righted themselves after being thrown back. And her gun was gone.
No, she needed another idea.
"Why do you eat vampires and humans?" she demanded. "Why not deer. Or chickens?"
The alpha glanced at her, his expression bored. "I'm sure the deer and chickens prefer we eat you." He shrugged one massive shoulder. "We actually prefer beef or pork. And while we've never been successful raising our own in this place, we're happy enough with cuts straight from the market."
She looked at him askance. "All you need is a grocery-store run?"
He scowled. "Do you see a grocery store around here?"
"There have to be markets."
"Run by Traders, yes. We are at war with the vampires, at war with the Traders."
"Maybe you wouldn't be if you quit eating them."
The gaze he turned on her was filled with annoyance. "We did not turn on them in that way until we had no other choice. When the magic first began to fail, the vast majority of the Traders fled, unwilling to risk their hides since no one knows for certain what will happen when Vamp City disintegrates. As the shipments declined, the wolves began to go hungry. Unfortunately"-his mouth tightened-"a couple of rogue wolves from the Herewood pack ate the last Traders who were providing us meat."
"So now the Traders won't come near you."
"No."
"And you're trapped in Vamp City, too?"
"We have been trapped since Vamp City's earliest years. Like the human Slavas, the weres here turned immortal and now can never leave."
This place just got more and more complicated.
"What if I could get you a shipment?" To free Arturo, she was certain that Micah would find a way to smuggle the contents of a butcher store into Vamp City.
For the first time, the werewolf looked at her with something approaching interest. "I have forty wolves, sorceress. That is a lot of mouths to feed. How would you procure such a feast?"
"I actually have better connections than you might think." It was odd to realize that was true.
"But that would mean releasing you. And trusting you. And that would be foolish."
"You have a reason for me to return."
The werewolf scoffed. "He is a vampire. Not reason enough." His hand sliced the air. "No more. I am through discussing this."
She wasn't through, not by a long shot. But she'd bide her time. And hope the vampire still had time.
As hungry eyes bored into her back, the alpha led her into a room, a study that looked like it belonged in a different house. A large desk dominated the room, and bookshelves lined the walls. A woman sat on one of the chairs, wearing what appeared to be a sleek green satin nightgown, but at least she had something on, unlike the two muscular, naked males standing on either side of the hearth, each with a glass of amber liquid in his hands.
The tableau had a genteel quality about it. Or it might have had if not for the dangling penises.
The three looked at her with interest and the same hunger she'd seen in the other wolves' eyes. She remembered too well how Gunroth had leaped at her as he'd sought to eat her.
Her jaw turned rigid, sweat gathering at the back of her neck as the suspicion that she'd been led to a private slaughter raised its ugly head. Once more, sparks began to dance and burn beneath her skin.
"The sorceress?" the woman asked.
"Yes." The alpha began searching through the books on his shelves. "The rumor that sorcerer flesh empowers the eater refuses to die."
One of the males scoffed and took a sip of the liquid. Probably whiskey. "It's a stupid myth. There's not an ounce of logic to it."
"And yet the pack continues to believe it," the woman murmured.
"We need her alive," the alpha said. "The magic of Vamp City must be renewed."
"We could feed them her legs," the second gentleman drawled. "She'd survive that. At least long enough to renew the magic."
"You take my legs, and I won't be renewing any magic." But the thought of it sent chills along her spine just as Cristoff's threat to cut off her feet had. "Nor will I procure that shipment of meat for you that I offered your alpha."
She'd expected . . . hoped . . . to see some spark of interest in their expressions. Instead, they just eyed her with amusement.
"Why did you let her out?" the woman asked, her tone deferential but curious. Straight, shoulder-length hair framed an attractive, middle-aged face.
"Gunroth picked the lock on her cage. I'm not going to be able to let her out of my sight." The alpha made a sound of satisfaction and pulled down one of the books. "Here we go. I've done a lot of research on the old ways, recently, seeking a strategy for surviving the magic's failing. Long ago, when the world was full of sorcerers, the wolves often aligned themselves with a magic wielder for protection." He glanced at Quinn. "And power."
"The sorcerers shared their power willingly?" one of the men asked.
"At times," the alpha said cryptically. "The protection went both ways."
"How?" the woman asked.
"The moon ritual." The alpha flipped through the book. "Ah, this is it. Waiting until a full moon would be best, but it's not necessary."
"What exactly is the moon ritual?" Quinn asked. Inside, she was terrified-that Arturo was going to die before she could get him out of that trough, that the wolves were going to kill her before she could renew the magic and save Zack. But if werewolves were anything like real wolves, the last thing she could afford to do was show that, or any, weakness.
"It speaks again," one of the males drawled.
Quinn glared at him. "It thinks you might look better as a toad."
The male stared at her, his eyes widening a fraction. "You wouldn't."
If only she could. She snorted. "Try me."
"Enough," the alpha said without heat. "You'll survive the ritual, sorceress, but the moment the ritual is over, word will be sent to Cristoff that we have you."
"What? Do you really think he'll bring you meat? He'll kill you, werewolf. He'll slaughter your pack or capture them for torture. He's the last person you want to call."
The alpha glanced up at her as if she were a difficult student interrupting his class. "Cristoff will pay handsomely to get you back."
She wanted to scream her frustration. What could she possibly say, or do, that would make a difference to them?
The alpha continued to peruse the book. "We'll perform the ritual tonight at midnight." He glanced at Quinn. "Make yourself comfortable, sorceress. You're not leaving this room until then. And neither am I."
Midnight. And it apparently wasn't even night yet. That was hours from now, hours more that Arturo would be eaten alive. Hours in which Vintry might die. And she still didn't know what the moon ritual was or what it would cost her.
The only bright spot in any of this was that Arturo had talked her out of bringing Zack with them. At least her brother was safe.