46. A Stranger With Bad News

T oppling over, Harlow managed to lodge his foot between him and the werewolf as he went down, preventing its claws from reaching him. He aimed and took a shot. Beyond belief, the thing kept coming. Two more bullets later and the wolf finally became a dead weight. Shoving hard with his foot, the body flew off him.

Rolling to avoid the claws of a new wolf, he fired off another round of shots into a second one before jumping back to his feet. But as he reloaded and was about to engage, his attention was caught on Foxx. Harlow watched with a heated gaze as the vampire issued a series of furious swipes with his claws, decapitating a werewolf in a glorious spray of blood and flesh.

Shouting out when searing, burning pain suddenly spread throughout his back, Harlow dropped one gun, spinning in time to catch the wrist of the werewolf who had just sliced up his back. Clamping down, he twisted around, snapping the bone as he yanked the wolf off balance against him.

"Get fucked," Harlow growled as he pressed his gun to its head and empty his clip, the creature's blood splattering on his face when its skull burst open.

He let go of the corpse. As he didn't hear anymore werewolf heartbeats, he didn't bother looking around. Instead, he let loose a string of curses as he reached back and pulled his shredded jacket and shirt away from his damaged skin. Harlow cursed again on finding that they not only shredded his jacket and shirt, but sliced through the leather sheath for his sword, and cut his chest holster.

Foxx let out a whistle. "That's…going to be a bitch to heal."

Harlow flinched away when the vampire's fingers brushed lightly against his back.

"I was just going to check how deep it was… You may need stitches."

"Fuck stitches," he growled. "FUCK!" he bellowed, spinning with an angry hiss as Foxx's next touch was the little demon just digging his damn fingers into his wounds.

The vampire didn't look the least bit impressed by his hiss. "You need stitches…and that's likely going to take at least a week to heal."

"Just…shut up," he groaned. But then his gaze zeroed in on Foxx's hands, it was hard to miss how absolutely coated they were in blood. "You just…stuck your hand…in…me."

"By the Goddess, Harlow…deal with your touch phobia later. It's just blood. It's not like you are going to get an infection or something. You need stitches, and we need to call people."

Ugh…he had to mentally push the disgust away…and he found it easier to do than normal due to the…searing back pain.

Harlow tried to stand in a way that wasn't painful—it wasn't working. "Santiago…we need to call him. We have to find out how these members were infected…or if it's not just them. There's no point calling Tony until we know how bad it is."

He frowned when Foxx remained silent.

"What?"

"There was a medic station in case of emergencies. They may still be here."

"Foxx, stop worrying about my damn back. It's not like I'll bleed out."

"Fine! But it's just going to take longer to heal the more you put off getting it looked at. How did you get injured anyway?! Like, this is more than you got when we fought those damn overpowered blood moon fueled mutts from hell!"

"Do you really think they stayed around after the screaming and the stampede?! And I just…" He trailed off, not wanting to admit the truth.

"You just, what?"

"I got distracted."

Foxx frowned. "By what?"

Harlow glanced away. "Does it…matter?"

"Yes, it matters!"

The dhampir hissed. "Fine! I got distracted by you…okay?! Satisfied?! You were just clawing the fuck out of that thing, and I stood there and watched."

"By…" Foxx giggled. "Me?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, brat!"

"Aww, my old man was distracted by little old me." The vampire giggled again, happily rocking where he stood.

"Just call Santiago," Harlow growled.

"Yes, yes, I'm calling him now." Foxx pulled out the phone he'd gotten from Tony and showed him the screen as he pressed call and set it to speaker, as if he thought Harlow wouldn't believe him.

"Hello?" Santiago said on answering, though it sounded more like a question than a greeting.

"It's Foxx and Harlow, Santiago. Save this number. The line is secure, so you can say whatever you want to say without worrying about anyone hearing you. Witch magic, or something along those lines," Harlow drawled, doing his best to keep the pain out of his voice.

Fucking hell, back wounds were the worst… Always shit that you felt with every fucking movement.

"Witches," Santiago grunted in disgust.

Yeah…werewolves liked witches as much as most vampires did, Foxx supposed. Them being on the human's side throughout history…usually had them working against his kind, and often Santiago's too.

"Santiago, I'm sorry to tell you this…but we ran into six infected werewolves at the fairground in Gally Falls."

"Six…" the man repeated softly.

"I think you know where this is going, but…we believe they were yours."

Santiago was quiet for a moment, but when he spoke next, he sounded tired. "What do they look like? I'm assuming they are all dead now, so you should be able to tell me."

Foxx grimaced. "Yes…" He glanced at the dead. And as quickly and succinctly as he could, he described them. "Three with brown hair, tall and stocky, they look to be related. Two have blond hair, one's thin while the other has a swimmer's build. The last has white dyed hair, an average build, but a large scar on his chest."

"They…are…part of my pack. Those six refused to go into hiding with the rest of my people."

Harlow shifted on his feet, somehow managing to speak without sounding like he was hurt. "Do you know where they were staying? Or did they continue to go out even with the warnings?"

"They didn't go out. While they refused to hide…they promised me they…wouldn't leave pack lands. My land is spread out. We don't live in one house, or even a close grouping of houses, like many packs do, but in this case, they…" There was a soft distressed whine that was barely audible before the man admitted, "They were staying in my house."

"They were at your house? Are you sure?" Foxx asked sharply.

"Maybe if they hadn't been…they would still be alive…but the stubborn bastards decided that since they weren't leaving, they would guard their…" He let out a derisive scoff. " Alpha's home…"

Foxx winced. The werewolf was obviously blaming himself. He didn't bother saying that it wasn't his fault, as he was sure the man wouldn't appreciate it at the moment. "We will check it out for you. Did anyone else stay behind?"

"No."

"Santiago, play dead," Harlow suddenly said.

"W-what?!" the man stuttered.

Frowning, he eyed Harlow with a brow raised in question.

"Maverick is obviously coming for your ass. Why else would he try to attack your pack when he'd already infected another? It was unnecessary. He only terrorized one area with his attack on vampires…why would he then do two with werewolves? He views both in the same light. So play dead, all of you. We will tell the news that your pack managed to lock themselves inside, and as a result, you killed each other."

"Or…" Foxx gasped. "We can spin it that the pack, in a desperate effort to protect innocents, on realizing they had been poisoned and would soon lose control, locked themselves inside, dying bravely for the safety of others. They don't even have to say the name of the pack. We can leak it as developing news. The Guild can tell them that they are keeping it vague to protect the families that are mourning. The public doesn't need to know who, as long as Maverick knows. At the same time, it will generate sympathy towards paranormals, while shedding bad light on Humanity's Last Stand."

"Will that even work?" Santiago asked slowly. "Won't whoever they sent to do it know that we weren't all there? Besides, the public doesn't yet know what is really going on either. They know the group is involved, but the Guild hasn't released information letting the public know that these individuals aren't just attacking at random."

"This could be the chance to inform them of that fact. And whether the person exposed your home, or every house on your pack's land, they wouldn't stick around to watch things go down. But if this is around the time the chaos would start, the lack of noise would draw them back, wouldn't it?" Harlow said, the man wincing as he shifted on his feet.

"They won't come back now. If one thinks they infected a pack of a hundred and…fifty-seven wolves…one doesn't just go back. Cowards would never risk their own skin in that way." Santiago chuckled darkly. "No, they aren't there now. If they were to come back, and the lack of chaos likely would draw them in…they'll come eight to nine hours from now…when they know that even if we were infected…we'd be dead."

"You are most likely right," Foxx mused. "But we'll make sure to be there waiting for them when they do come back. Though, I suppose, this does give us time to get your back stitched up, Harlow."

"Stitched?" Santiago asked grimly. "Were you injured?"

Foxx had an urge to cheekily blurt out why Harlow was injured…but didn't, because the werewolves they killed weren't just strangers, they were people Santiago cared about.

Instead, he just said, "They clawed up his back pretty bloody well."

"Ask for antibiotics when they stitch you up. Beyond any logic, the marks I received in my efforts to restrain my nephew…had begun to fester."

Foxx frowned. "Werewolves can get infections, even though it's extremely rare. However, vampires can't. Harlow is vampire adjacent. He is close enough to my species that the same should hold true for him."

"This is true… However, even on the very rare occasion it happens to us…it's something that usually takes months of neglect. This developed in less than twelve hours. It's best to be cautious."

"Right… We'll try," Harlow said slowly, sounding unsure.

Foxx was a bit unsure himself. They could go to any hospital they wanted to now…but getting antibiotics could prove difficult, unless they came across another arrogant bastard like that one ignorant doctor. Then again…maybe it wouldn't be difficult at all. Ignorance and arrogance were abundant in hospitals.

He wrinkled his nose at the thought. "Well, until then, play dead. We will keep you updated."

"I'll attempt to. Doc has informed me I am welcome to stay here. Though, I think part of that welcomeness is due to him needing my blood. In more ways than one." The werewolf muttered the last part so softly he wasn't sure they were meant to hear it.

"Ah…so that's how he's decided to stay awake longer."

Wonder what sort of side effects the crazy asshole was dealing with on top of lack of sleep…

"Right…I'll let you two go…get stitched up." Santiago hesitated. "Ah…what about…the bodies? Can I… Can we have them to bury?"

Foxx winced.

"This happened too publicly. They will be burned," Harlow responded when he didn't.

Santiago took a deep breath. "Did they…kill anyone?"

"Yes," Foxx rasped. "Sorry, Santiago. Umm…we…could ask if the clean-up crew would collect the ashes for you."

"W-would…" He heard the man swallow hard. "Would you do that?"

Harlow looked to be about to nix that idea, so Foxx blurted out, "Of course!" Cutting off whatever the fuck Harlow had been about to say.

Foxx just smiled as the dhampir started glaring at him.

"Thank you. I'll be here… If you could…inform my second, my Beta, Cardel, about what is going on and the plan. I worry some may get too anxious and head back in my absence."

"Of course!" Foxx said, again before Harlow could respond.

"Thank you, his number is—" The werewolf rattled off a number before saying goodbye and hanging up.

"Foxx…" Harlow ground out. The dhampir went to cross his arms but flinched mid action, groaning loudly as he dropped them back by his side.

"Yeah, I imagine that hurts. Also, we can and will do both of those things. Even if we have to collect the damn ashes ourselves!"

Harlow sighed, but didn't argue.

Smiling, Foxx dialed the number Santiago gave him.

"Hello?" the man asked suspiciously.

"Hi! You don't know me, but I know you, sort of. Anyway, I'm Foxx Honeywell?—"

"That grumpy bear?" the man blurted.

Foxx sputtered, while Harlow started to laugh. He couldn't help but take immense pleasure from the laughter dying as quickly as it came under the man's winces of pain. Served the bastard right.

"Which one are you? The redhead with a death wish or the quiet, broody one?" Foxx asked sweetly.

"Broody one," the wolf said, sounding amused.

Foxx was about to make a crack when he remembered why he'd called. "Ah…so this is not really a fun phone call."

Cardel inhaled sharply. "What's happened?! Is it Santiago?!"

"No! No, not him." Foxx quickly assured him, before slowly saying, "It's the wolves…that stayed behind…they…"

"What…? No…they…" The man's grief was instant and audible in the shake of his voice.

His spine stiffened at the first bone chilling wail of devastation and pain. The sounds that followed sent aches through his chest, and made him fully aware that Cardel had put the call on speaker when he'd answered.

His hand clenching around the phone, Foxx listened, saying nothing. As what could he even say? That he was sorry he had to kill their loved ones. That he was sorry he hadn't spoken with more tact. That he hadn't made sure the wolf was alone before he said anything. That…these people couldn't have heard it from a loved one instead of him, a stranger.

Foxx blinked rapidly as tears filled his eyes.