With humungous effort, I drag Jax outside to the truck. He’s so much bigger as a wolf, and in his inert form he’s unbelievably heavy.
When I reach the back of the truck, I have another hurdle to overcome. I’ve got to heave wolf Jax into the back, and get us out of here and into a portal elevator. The enormity of the task nearly scuppers me.
But just as I bend to lift the shaggy beast over my shoulder, he turns back into human Jax. Still inert. Still unconscious.
I quickly scan his body. No wounds. No blood.
Relief floods through me. I can lift him now, no problem.
I pick Jax up and stride round to the passenger door.
Clem opens it, and I place her brother on the bench seat next to her.
He lolls against her, and her arms come round him as he pitches sideways onto her lap.
“Is he dead?” Her eyes are hollow with fear.
“I hope not, babe. I hope not,” I mutter through gritted teeth before striding round to the driver’s side.
A moment later, we’re hurtling toward the portal elevator, just as gunshots pepper the side of the vehicle.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CLEM.
My memory of the last few hours is a blur.
I don’t know how we survived the ordeal, but I do know that Otis and Jax put themselves in grave danger to rescue me. I do know that my brother shifted into his wolf and threatened to kill every single one of those soldiers and stupid jerk guy who abducted me.
And that my warrior orc helped get all three of us out of there.
Now we’re sitting with comatose Jax, who is lying limp and barely breathing on a huge, fur-covered couch in the Trojan pack’s lair on level three.
I stroke Jax’s brow. His skin has a strange sickly glow to it, and his breathing is erratic.
“Traggar is on his way,” a wolfman wearing thick grey furs informs us.
When the wolf leaves, Otis crouches down and looks at Jax, then at me, his eyes soft and full of concern.
“I-is he going to die?” I ask hoarsely. It’s a question I’ve asked countless times since we escaped the Periphery.
“No babe, he’s not going to die.”
I try to trust his words, but I can see worry in the deep red of his eyes.
A moment later, in strides a tall and striking wolfman. There’s no mistaking his heritage, even in his human form. He is bearded, his salt and pepper hair looped into a long ponytail that trails down his back. His cheekbones are sharply angled, and his eyes are a vivid ice blue. His gaze takes in the scene swiftly and then homes in on Jax.
“Otis, Clem,” he greets us, and I blink at the sound of my own name falling so easily off his tongue.
“Traggar,” Otis replies in grim greeting.
The wolfman strides over to the couch, pulls back the blanket and examines Jax, his lean fingers pressing lightly on my brother’s solar plexus, then feels for the pulse in his neck. Next, he recites a strange guttural incantation, and from a bag at his waist he takes out a purple crystal and places it on Jax’s forehead.
Next, he unsheathes what looks like a small dagger from his belt. Instantly the dagger lights up from within, its point glowing bright, the same purple as the crystal. Traggar passes it over Jax’s body, indenting his solar plexus with the point, as if he is going to run the knife into my brother’s heart.
I gasp.
Arcs of light spark between the crystal on Jax’s forehead and the dagger. After another moment, the sparks join, forming a circle around Jax.
