25

Ahote smiles. "I'm glad to hear that, Holstein. You've been through some rough times, but I believe you've always had the pack's best interest at heart. Come; follow me." Ahote turns without waiting for an acknowledgment and starts walking back toward the shed. You stare at the ground for a moment, gathering your nerve.

"It's for the best. Talking with her, I mean," Dena says. "Those people are a threat to all of us. You might be the only one who can help. Besides, it's not like she can hurt you."

You bite off a reply about hurt running deeper than anything as pedestrian as physical pain—the creeping rot that betrayal sows in one's chest—whether they choose to acknowledge it or not. It would be easy enough to forget such things—the beast within offers dark promises, whispering as you lie awake at night—but your individual pain motivates you to be a better person, strong of will and one step ahead of those who would do harm to you or your loved ones.

"Holstein?"

"Yeah," you say, stepping after the elder. "I'm going."

Next

You try not to gag as you step into the prisoner's quarters. The stink of body odor and dried blood joins with a solid wall of stagnant, hot air. Not much of a jail, the structure is obviously re-purposed from its former existence as a tool shed. Bits and pieces of gardening equipment hang from wooden pegs along the far wall, and a small stack of fertilizer bags sits beside the door. A wooden chair rests dead-center in the room, its occupant's head down and covered with a glistening sheen of sweat. Recently-treated wounds score her body, but werewolf claws dig deep, and some of the lacerations have burst open again, weeping a slow trickle of fresh blood to mix with beads of salty perspiration.

You glance at Ahote, and he reads your meaning.

"These aren't recent wounds; Inferi had to strike quickly as you left the Nail or there could have been more casualties. The prisoner has been receiving regular treatment. The humans think we're savages, but we aren't prepared to resort to torture." He raises his voice for the benefit of the prisoner. "Not yet at least. Sonoma's almost at the end of her patience. That's why I brought you, Holstein."

The prisoner's head shoots up at the mention of your name and she stares at you with wide-eyed fascination. Her eyes are a dark, piercing brown, gazing out at you through a messy tangle of tight braids. If you had to guess, you'd say she's in her mid-twenties. "You're him," she says, her voice slurred through split lips. "I can see it in your face. Strong, like your father's. I had to see you with my own eyes to believe it." A trickle of blood slips from the corner of her mouth and she spits it to the floor, determined not to show weakness. "A pity to see how far you've fallen, Holstein; the HSM had high hopes for you. Williams planned to save you before the end came for your species. I find myself unsure if you're worthy, given the company you keep."

It might be worthwhile to play up your connection to Williams for the moment if you hope to gain the woman's trust, but you may also be able to anger her enough that you get her to slip up. She seems genuinely disappointed that you would associate with Sonoma's rebels—a show of support for the werewolf cause might rattle something loose.

"My father sent me here on purpose. To learn to control the beast within."

"The closest I ever got to my father was when I was claw-deep in his belly, tearing his guts out."

"What do you mean, the HSM had high hopes for me?"

I assert dominance. "You dare to talk this way to Williams's son?"

Next

"Ah," the woman says, nodding. "It makes sense. But what about that one?" She shifts her eyes to Ahote. "Does he know why you're really here?"

Ahote clears his throat. You can only hope he'll play along with you. "I encountered Williams back in Haven," he says. "His experiments cured me of my disease."

The prisoner gasps. "He…succeeded?"

Ahote nods. "He did."

She looks back to you. "Then there's hope." She smiles, and you could swear it is genuine happiness. "Most of us thought you'd have to die too. I always told them that they were wrong. That we should have faith. The colonel always had a soft spot for you. He took me aside once and talked to me about you—how you'd been cursed with lycanthropy—the mark of the wolf. I always thought it was strange that he chose me; now I know he must have had a reason."

"Did he talk about my mother?" you ask before you can stop yourself. You catch Ahote flash a disapproving eye.

"He never spoke much about her," she says, and you can tell from her body language that she's finally beginning to feel more comfortable talking openly. "He came to me one night when I was just a recruit. He seemed strange, almost like a different person. He said that he'd killed her—that she'd contracted lycanthropy and he tested a cure on her. He said he'd never be able to forgive himself. When I tried to talk to him about it the next day he was furious; he had no memory of the conversation and he accused me of reading his private files. The punishments were…severe. It was my fault; I shouldn't have brought up something so raw for him. He's a good man."

"A good man doesn't form a mercenary group bent on genocide."

"You do know that there have been reports of Williams's death? Why speak as though he's still alive?"

"Williams has multiple personalities. His werewolf self split from his human side."

"I never had confirmation of how my mother died. Thank you for telling me."

Next

The woman scoffs. "I've seen him since the Haven battle. It's true he was wounded, but he's recovered well."

You shake your head. Can she be telling the truth? Has she really seen your father?

She smirks. "They say he made it upstate and connected with one of his safe-houses. Don't go looking for it, we've moved shop by now. We're operating in cells. I couldn't give you all the new locations if I wanted to. Your father will contact you when the time is right."

Emboldened by the direction of the conversation, you decide to ask the prisoner's name. It might not get you any real answers, but it might help humanize yourself to her if you bring the discussion down to a personal level.

She narrows her eyes for a moment and stretches against the bonds holding her to the chair. Finally she sighs. "What can it hurt? My name is Tayla. Now that I've gotten to see you face to face…I think I'm ready."

"Ready?"

"For the ultimatum. I give you information or you kill me. Not that I have much to give; I'm just a mercenary following orders." She laughs at your consternation. "Oh don't be so surprised. Even though you're his son, I know you're still a werewolf. I know what that beast inside you desires. Get to it, then."

"I'm not going to kill you; you're a prisoner of war!"

"You have information that could save hundreds of lives. I won't hurt you, but if you don't tell us what we need to know Sonoma might lose her temper."

I try to bluff her: "I don't think you're as ready as you think you are for the pain that we're able to inflict."

I kick the chair over to violently intimidate her.

Next