by John Conroe
“Well, let me know when you all are coming up and I’ll be ready. They all right staying here or they got fancy needs?”
“If they need fancy, they won’t want the property. Speaking of which, can you email me some photos of the house and barns?”
“Actually got a memory card full of photos already. Been placing some ads, but times are tough and I haven’t had so much as a nibble!”
We said goodbye and hung up. I moved back into the conference room where the Malleks were in deep conversation, some of the young observers joining in. They all went silent and looked my way.
Let me tell you, it’s a little unnerving to have the complete attention of seven werewolves at once. I kept my expression blank even as I shoved the black monster inside back into its cell. It wasn’t impressed.
“He’s okay with the concept. He’ll need to meet you of course, but we’re welcome to stay with him and see the property at a moment’s notice. He’s also going to send photos of the house and barns,” I said, directing that comment mainly to the women. My phone chirped with an incoming text. It was Gramps telling me he had sent the photos to my email.
“Can I sign on to my email? He’s already sent the photos,”
“Works fast, your grandfather does, or is he desperate to rent?” Brock noted, a predatory gleam in his eyes. But it was the gleam every successful businessman gets when he senses a weakness.
I snorted, “He doesn’t need the rent, or even to farm for that matter. But he hates waste and he’s very efficient,” I said, opening the first photo on the wall monitor.
I found myself moved away from the keyboard by a wave of estrogen as Afina and Kelly took control.
They asked questions as photos flipped by.
“We would, of course, have to redo most of the interior!” Kelly said a little scornfully.
“Yeah, the Benningtons never updated. Not a lot of free money for small dairy farmers,”
“Chris, would your grandfather consider selling the property?” Brock asked, before Kelly could continue in her derisive tone.
“Possibly…down the road. I think he would want to get a good feel for his neighbors first. That’s part of the reason we bought the property. Control,” I said.
He nodded, control being a concept that Alpha wolves understood at a genetic level.
Turning back to the women, I addressed a concern I had with Kelly’s response.
“You need to understand that St. Lawrence County is as far from New York City as you can get in all ways. The services you take for granted are nowhere near as plentiful, much less in the way of shopping, and…..” I trailed off, Afina’s cold look and Kelly’s glare effectively stealing my words.
“I’m just saying!” I finally finished, hands placating.
They turned back to the photos, ignoring my comment as unworthy of an answer.
I looked to the men, who wore matching bemused expressions, until Brett gave me a sympathetic nod.
Of course, Alpha weres of either sex would be formidable.
“Right, then, I’ll just grab a bite to eat while you all continue on,” I said. The domination games that all wolves play, especially Alphas, are not my cup of tea. On top of that, every time they implied a challenge, it sent the beast under my skin into a rage. Completely unnerved and as always, hungry, I headed to the buffet line, loading a plate with shrimp, stuffed mushrooms, pasta alfredo, and cheese cubes. Then I filled a second plate at the carving station with rare beef, turkey and ham slices. Apparently, Pack functions leaned heavily toward the carnivorous side of the menu. I stood to one side, chowing down and talking myself out of my annoyance. What the hell was I doing here anyway? And what the hell was all the attitude from the females. Screw it! I would finish my food and hit the road. Fucking wolves! My self-pep talk wasn’t going well.
“Excuse me? Are you Chris?” a voice asked.
I turned with my mouth stuffed full of food to find a petite blonde woman, who was probably in her late-thirties or early forties, and almost certainly Stacia’s mother. Very pretty, even through the tired, world-weary demeanor of a single mom. I gulped my food down and answered.
“Yes ma’am. Are you Stacia’s mom?”
She nodded briskly, and it struck me that however hard this was for me, meeting the Pack like this had to be extremely intimidating to her.
“Yes, I’m Lisa, Lisa Reynolds. Ah..Stacia has told me all about how you saved her from that…..” she gulped and looked around before lowering her voice, “thing!”
“It was a rogue, ma’am, and I never should have let it get to your daughter. I’ll be sorry about that the rest of my life!”
“But you saved her! You can’t blame yourself for the bite!”
Actually, I could and did, but she wouldn’t understand that part of it and I was still raw from thinking about it.
“Anyway, I’m really happy to meet you. Stacia talks about you a great deal. She’ll be glad to see you here. I’m sure she wants to talk to you…” She glanced at her daughter and the attendant swarm of males “… when she gets a moment.”
I didn’t think that was a great idea, but before I could think of an answer, one of the security wolves moved quickly into the conference room and spoke to Brock. Everyone in the room came alert at whatever he said and they all turned to look at the elevator, just as a commotion broke out. Five newcomers shoved into the room, dressed in motorcycle leathers and grungy, torn jeans. The Pack members around them spun toward them, outraged and angry at the invasion.
My gut told me who they were even before I caught sight of the Loki’s Spawn emblem on their jackets.
Brock and company headed for them, the crowd parting like the Red Sea before the angry Alpha’s advance.
I found myself moving across the room, my food plates dropped on the first handy table.
The newcomers were pointing at Stacia and started to head her way. There were four males and a female. Three of the men were likely wolves, the fourth big and burly in a bearish way. The female had tawny brown hair, a cold, harsh face and a lithe, lean figure that put me in mind of a cat.
Over the uproar of the Pack, I heard the leader of the Spawn as he yelled at Brock.
“I claim Progenitor’s Right!”
The crowd went silent for a moment, then roared in outrage.
“What’s going on?” Lisa asked.
“I honestly don’t know,” I replied.
The Pack was angry, but Brock, who looked troubled, was frozen in thought for a moment.
“Come with me!” he commanded the Spawn leader. All five followed, surrounded by hostile Pack members itching for a fight.
Lisa and I had arrived just behind Stacia and her admirers, and we ended up with front row positions for the drama that unfolded.
Brock led the invaders to Stacia.
“Stacia, this ... were has claimed Progenitor’s Right. Under Pack Law it means that as the originator of your bite, he can claim you for his pack first.”
“But he didn’t bite me! The one that bit me died. Christian killed him!” she said, swiveling to point unerringly at me as she said the last.
The Spawn looked at me, sniffed and sneered. “This…hairless one killed my get?”
“Yours? If he was yours how come you weren’t there to guide him? He died because he turned without guidance by the one who bit him!” I said.
It didn’t seem possible for the atmosphere to get more hostile but it did. The Spawn ignored them, instead growling at me and letting his inner wolf peek through. It was meant to intimidate, but instead it brought my own beast straight to the surface.
“What does this Right, or whatever, mean?” Stacia asked Brock.
“If we determine that he originated the LV virus that infects you, then he has first right to claim you for his pack,” he said, his tone bleak.
“Don’t I have a say?” Stacia asked.
“Only if you’re willing to fight him for the right to make your own choice!” he said.
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“Can she substitute a fighter? Say her Sponsor?” I asked, not looking away from the leader.
Brock was thoughtful and he glanced at Afina, who looked apprehensive, before he answered.
“I suppose she can, because of the circumstances of the rogue and all.”
“ ’kay, let’s get to it!” I said, the beast inside raging to get loose.
“You’re not even were!” the Loki leader spat. He sneered and turned back to his people.
“You hear that? This ape wants to climb in the cage with me! Me!”
They laughed, and then right on cue, he whipped back with a hard right punch aimed at my face. Backed by werewolf strength it would have killed me seven months ago. But not today.
I had expected something of the sort, and while he moved much faster than a human, he was still molasses slow to me. I Hardened my face and stepped into the punch, meeting his fist well short of full extension. The snap of his arm bone was loud enough for the entire room to hear.
“Oooh! You’re gonna want to put some ice on that!” I said with a chuckle, the blackness seeping through me.
He howled in pain and his group shoved forward to get me, but were held back by the threat of the surrounding Pack guards.
“Where’s this cage? Let’s get Billy Bad Ass here accommodated!” I snarled.
The weres around me had pulled back, their expressions indicating they had just discovered something dangerous in their midst. Afina looked worried.
“Chris, this isn’t like a newborn rogue. The cage is basically a death match, and he’s an experienced fighter!” she hissed, her voice pitched to reach only me and those around me.
“Afina, I thank you for your concern, but frankly you know very little about me. I swore an oath to see this girl safe in her new life and I’ll keep it over his dead body!” My voice was pitched deeper than normal, the beast affecting my vocal cords. She pulled back, her own inner animal sensing something about me that she hadn’t before. I had had it. Suspension, disbanding of the Squad, my own failings as a person, and all of Briana Duclairs machinations. Not to mention the superior air of the weres around me.
Chapter 21
So that’s how I found myself, stripped to my boxer-briefs and standing in the center of a huge steel fight cage. Glad I listened to grandma and wear clean undies every day! The were would fight naked of course, but I’m never excited about fighting with my privates flapping in the breeze. Way too vulnerable. The only other thing on my body was the Tear of God, which frankly I kept forgetting I even had on.
The Pack’s ceremonial fight cage was located underneath the corporate building in the old sub-cellar. The ceilings were twenty feet high and the arch of steel mesh over my head reached within four feet of it. Poorly lit by six ancient double tube florescent lights fixtures, the cavernous room was dark and dank. The concrete walls had balconies and theatre boxes of chain link fencing and rusty iron rods along the sides, providing seating for the hundreds of weres in attendance. Like an Ultimate Fighter octagon on steroids, the cage itself was set into the concrete of the floor and made of zoo quality cage steel. Basically a forty-foot-diameter circle with one entrance of heavy duty steel. The concrete floor was stained in ways best ignored and the industrial drain in the center didn’t escape my notice. Brett was standing with me while Brock arranged the final details with his staff and the Loki leader.
“He’s gonna be fast and merciless! I know you killed the rogue without firearms and I saw you take that punch, but don’t underestimate him!” he said, a frown of worry creasing his forehead.
“What about his arm?” I asked.
“It’ll heal as soon as he Changes,” Brett replied.
“Brett, will there be betting going on?”
He looked at me for a second, then answered, “Yeah there will be.”
“Do me a favor? There’s about nine grand in the pocket of my pants. Bet it on me, please. Thanks!”
He nodded, his eyes raised at the amount. I hadn’t figured out where to hide my emergency stash yet, so I was carrying it around with me.
Part of me was a little nervous, as I had never faced a full-grown, experienced werewolf before. Hell, I’d never seen a full-grown werewolf before. The black beast inside was humming with excitement, completely confident.
The Spawn leader stepped into the cage, naked, flanked by his other two pack members, who were clothed.
“Ready to die, asswipe?” he sneered.
I shuddered.
“Scared?”
“No, I’m hoping you’re better looking as a wolf, ‘cause you are one ugly motherfucker!”
The weres crowded around the cage laughed at that, although it was a nervous laugh. I understood; they didn’t expect me to survive. I could see Stacia and her mother, both looking terrified and worried standing next to an anxious Afina. Kelly, Brett’s mate, stood arms crossed, frowning next to the Alpha female. Brett left the cage, heading to a couple of wolves who appeared to be taking bets. Brock nodded to me and stepped away from the entrance to talk to Afina. Suddenly things began to happen at high speed.
The Spawn werebear shoved the door attendant out of the way, slammed the steel door shut, shot the bolt and bent the rod, all in one move, effectively locking me in with all three Spawn wolves. The other two wolves began to strip, the leader sneered and the Pack wolves went crazy with anger. Brock and his staff moved the bear away and tried to unbend the locking bar. The three naked men in front of me began to change, and I watched in fascinated horror as limbs and spines buckled and twisted into new positions. It only took about thirty or forty seconds. The three enormous wolves in front of me were each the size of a big black bear, running close to four hundred pounds apiece. The leader was coal black, the wolves on either side running to brown. I had done a lot of research into the Pleistocene Era, the better to understand my giant spirit bear, and I remember seeing skeletons of Dire wolves, along with artists’ renditions of how they would have looked. These things looked like hulked out Dire wolves, with legs that were shorter and thicker than those of a timber wolf. Their teeth were also bigger, in fact, it looked like they might have trouble closing their jaws completely.
I put my head down, eyes closed and reached deep inside. The monster demanded release and I opened the door, letting the berserker loose. My head raised, my eyes opened and everyone went stock still. The blood rage slammed through my body and I felt unholy power course through my veins. I felt indestructible.
The wolf pack paused at the sight of me, catching the first glimpse of what they were really facing. I could feel the monomolecular edge form itself around both hands, and when the wolves growled, I growled back. A glance at my hands showed a glittering line running around the outside edge and across each set of knuckles.
Shaking himself into motion, the leader sprang, blurring forward. Time slowed, the wolf’s motion like a football replay, my own perceptions normal. I jumped over him, flipping in the air, my feet impacting the steel mesh overhead and driving me off it like a spring board. A mental image filled my fight brain, a three dimensional outline of the cage, my opponents, their movements and myself. I leapt at the two remaining wolves, who were just starting to move. They split in opposite directions, but I caught the hind quarters of one, slicing his back legs off at the thigh with a side swipe of my right hand. He howled in pain as his legless hips hit the ground. The fight schematic in my head showed the other wolf changing direction and coming back at me from behind, the leader coming from my right side. The rear wolf darted at the back of my neck, but I accelerated, ducking, turning and slamming both hands deep into its chest. Pulling in opposite directions, I thrilled at the feeling of the giant wolf ripping down the middle. My left hand executed a reverse knife hand strike, slicing its skull from below the ear to the opposite temple. The leader slammed into my side, knocking me away from his mortally wounded partner. Instinctively, I Lightened and Repelled, sling-shotting to the cage wall. Still moving at speed, I bounded to t
he legless one, landing on its back. My fist rose and fell. Shards of skull bone drove deep into the old pitted concrete floor. Were bones are dense!
I straightened, turning to check the leader. He was circling against the far cage wall. I moved steadily toward him, shifting back and forth to match his turns, narrowing the arc of his path. Finally, he stopped his pacing and faced me full-on, heavy body crouched low to the floor, ears back, nightmare teeth bared. He lifted his head and howled a long hair-lifting, primal cry. The call of the apex predator, facing the end. Without any pause, his howl turned to a rage-filled snarl. A deep evil laugh met his battle cry, and I realized it had come from me.
His charge was the fastest he had moved yet, straight for my throat, oversized jaws wide as death’s door. He expected a dodge, jump or evasion, his yellow eyes watching for any shift in my posture. I didn’t budge, my body Posted, waiting till those slavering teeth were almost to my face and then jammed my flattened upright hand into his mouth. Feeling contact he bit down with thousands of pounds of force, driving the mono edge on my thumb right through his own pallet, effectively bisecting his own skull. My left hand caught his dense chest and stopped the impact of his charge cold, the heavy chest bones crushing under his own momentum.
I dropped the body and looked around the cage. Blood pooled and glistened in the florescent light, bits of fur floating in the air and sticking like dandelion fluff, caught in red glue. I turned, my rage free and unchecked.
I bounded to the door and struck it once with my right hand, hard. The heavy metal tore and the door slammed open as I rounded through it onto the were bear and cougar.
“Next!” I said, my voice unrecognizable even to myself. Everyone near me scrambled backwards, the Loki members showing terror on their faces. “No? No more claims on the girl? Pity!”
Several hundred faces showed almost uniform expressions of shock and, on some, horror. The rage wanted more, but a heavy weight on my chest and neck made itself known. The Tear of God seemed to weigh as much as a pickup truck, hanging on my neck. It had been weightless mere moments ago. My hand touched it, to ease the weight, and instantly, my rage turned to sorrow. Loss. Sadness. Resolve.
