Page 60 of Licence To Howl
Vissier glared at him. ‘I’ve told you all I know. Will you let me go?’
Devereau didn’t smile. ‘Let’s walk out of here together.’
* * *
The other inhabitantsof the building paid them no attention as they walked out. Devereau pocketed the gun rather than leave it for someone else to find and took up position behind Vissier.
‘I still have to hide,’ Vissier said. ‘Just because you didn’t kill Solentino doesn’t mean that whoever did isn’t still after me.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about that,’ Devereau murmured. He gave him a nudge out onto the street. There were already a dozen werewolves waiting there, including Moretti. Devereau glanced in Scarlett’s direction. She was watching him but her face was giving nothing away. He gave her a quick nod to indicate that Vissier had told them what they needed. Then Moretti stepped forward.
Vissier glanced to the side, frowning. ‘I left my bike here. Where has it gone?’
‘You won’t be needing it,’ Moretti said.
Vissier tensed. ‘What is this?’ He swung his head towards Devereau. ‘You told me I’d be safe! You told me that you’d let me go!’
Devereau took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t feel an ounce of sympathy or so much as a whisker of guilt. ‘You might be right,’ he said aloud, ‘that governments are willing to negotiate with terrorists. But I am not. Yes, I told you that I’d let you go. Unfortunately for you, however, I lied.’
Vissier launched himself at Devereau, fists raised. He didn’t get very far. In a split second, a wolf landed on his back. Vissier was sent sprawling to the ground. Within mere moments, he was surrounded by a ring of snarling werewolves.
‘You fucking bastard, Webb! You fucking bastard!’
Devereau shrugged. He’d been called worse. He looked at Moretti. ‘I know the plan,’ he said. ‘And now I know it, we can stop it, no matter who had decided to fill Solentino’s shoes.’
He’d barely finished his sentence when a strange rumble tore through the air. The cracked tarmac underneath Devereau’s feet began to shake. From the distance, somewhere towards the other side of the city, a sudden plume of smoke and fire shot up into the night sky. Oh no. Oh hell no. There were shouts of alarm and panicked screams from both near and far away.
From the ground Geraint Vissier began to laugh. ‘That came from the city centre,’ he said. ‘It’s already started. You’re already far too late to stop anything.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
It wasn’teasy getting through the streets of Rome. For one thing, virtually every emergency vehicle and all available personnel, from police to paramedics to firefighters, had been called to the scene. Not to mention the vast numbers of media hordes who were also descending on the area. The Roman authorities had wasted no time in setting up checkpoints which barricaded access to the disaster zone in a bid to stop people who might get in the way from getting close – and people who might be responsible for the attack from getting away. Frankly, if it weren’t for Moretti, they wouldn’t have gotten within three miles of the blast site. It took him three phone calls to reach the Dirigente Generale, the Inspector General of the Italian police, and five precious minutes to persuade him to allow clan Lupo to access the site of the blast and help the immediate recovery attempts.
‘It’s the Pantheon,’ Moretti said through gritted teeth. ‘Those fuckers have blown up the Pantheon. It has stood for two thousand years and now it’s little more than a pile of rubble.’
Devereau sucked in a breath. ‘Was anyone inside?’
‘It’s December. It might be late evening and already closed for the night to tourists but Christmas isn’t far away. There were out of hours rehearsals going on for the upcoming Noel services. There’s no word on numbers yet but the Dirigente expects there will be multiple casualties.’ Moretti’s skin was pale and he held himself tightly, his rigid muscles belying the tension and anxiety they all felt. ‘I should have been the first person he contacted. As wolves we can quickly reach places that would take humans hours to safely get to. And our enhanced sense of smell permits us to locate survivors far faster. We are frequently called upon when earthquakes cause local buildings to collapse.’
‘This is no earthquake,’ Scarlett muttered.
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘And that is all the more reason to ask for our help. It is obvious an act of terrorism like this was committed by humans. Supes don’t blow up their own fucking cities.’
Devereau massaged the back of his neck. The familiar pain between his shoulder blades – the one which only jabbed at him when he was tense and worried – felt less like an irritation and more as if someone had rammed a hatchet into his flesh. ‘Well,’ he said, in a voice as dark as midnight, ‘one of our questions has been answered.’ He bared his teeth and let out a low snarl. ‘Solentino’s killers weren’t attempting to stop him from committing atrocious acts. They were stealing those acts for themselves.’
Scarlett turned her head and glanced out of the car window. The streets were lined with people. A few were crying. Some were hugging both themselves and others close to them. And all of them looked terrified. ‘Sometimes,’ she said softly, ‘I wonder what has happened to our world and where it can possibly be going.’ She shook her head. ‘The capacity which humankind has to destroy itself is unbelievable.’
‘It’s not all humans,’ Devereau said.
‘Perhaps not. But it’s enough of them.’
He reached for her hand, his fingers entwining with hers. For once she didn’t pull away but instead leaned into him while Moretti’s car pulled up behind a bank of waiting ambulances. They all knew this would be a horrifically long night. Devereau closed his eyes for a few seconds, using one brief moment of calm to centre himself and mentally prepare. Then he and Scarlett followed Moretti out of the car and into the screaming hell that awaited them.
Two soldiers, with stoically blank faces that couldn’t mask their horrorstruck eyes, directed them to a narrow side street, shouting something at Moretti over the shouts and yells and wails of various sirens and alarms. Devereau didn’t understand the words but he caught the gist from their hand signals. The rest of clan Lupo was waiting for their alpha. And Devereau knew they would all do whatever he and their city required of them.
He looked round, his stomach clenching as he tried to catch a glimpse of the Pantheon itself – or at least what was left of it. It was impossible to see anything, however. There were too many other buildings and people in the way, not to mention the thick acrid smoke which had filled the cool night air. Devereau gave up trying to see and marched after Moretti with Scarlett by his side and, when they turned the next corner and he saw the large group of waiting werewolves, something inside him eased. There was comfort in his own kind, even under the direst of circumstances. Moretti broke away to speak to an official looking human who seemed to have been waiting for his arrival. Devereau clenched and unclenched his fists, watching the discussion that took place but unable to hear a word of it. This wasn’t his city and he wasn’t in charge. But, man, it was hard to stand by and wait for instructions from someone else.
Scarlett seemed to sense what he was thinking. ‘Once we are done here,’ she murmured, ‘we should go back, retrieve Geraint Vissier from wherever those other Lupo werewolves took him, and,’ she licked her lips delicately, ‘beat the shit out of him. It won’t change a damned thing but it’ll make me feel a hell of a lot better.’
