Silent Cravings

by E. Blix

  Hopefully this would all start making sense soon. That hope was not fulfilled when the woman started becoming fearful of something. Certainly not himself in all his collared, concussed glory.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Arnold asked, both repulsed and fascinated.

  “Max turned and tortured her. Destroyed her voice box, made her into an obedient little puppet. Alec saved her from him,” John replied, tucking his sword into his belt, following Mouse’s example before he crept away from the wall toward Ashi. There was a hungry glint to his eye, and he didn’t seem to care that Royce was frowning at him. “You’re afraid Alec’s going to hurt him just like Max hurt you, aren’t you?”

  She didn’t answer him, shifting her glare from Royce to John.

  “Leave her alone,” Royce ordered as he eased into a chair. “Mouse, if you want him, you can have him. John, please see Arnold out and then find a place to stick the other one, would you? Oh, and call in a contractor to get this window repaired.”

  John nodded, looking all too pleased to carry out his orders.

  Ashi, for his part, was slowly scooting backwards. He stopped with a quiet thump against the wall, one hand on his collar. His eyes darted around in search of an escape route. The window was no longer an option. He started sliding across the wall, inch by inch, toward the stairwell.

  Mouse relaxed marginally when Royce’s attention went elsewhere. John escorted Arnold out, though the look he gave Ashi before he left promised a great deal of something probably involving pain to come. He deliberately shut the door behind him, leaving Ashi and Christoph alone with Royce and Mouse.

  She still clung to Christoph as if afraid Royce might change his mind and drag him away. It hit too close to home to see someone helpless and going through the same kind of mental torture she’d been subjected to. Her actions weren’t simply possessive—she was being protective. She loosened her grip, but that was all. She stroked his curly hair like one might soothe a frightened child. It was more a comfort for her than him, though he didn’t mind very much.

  Royce pulled up a number in his phone and dialed. He sorely hoped the alpha of the Goliaths was ready to negotiate a price to pay for the stupidity of his pack members. A very hefty price.

  Gregory snarled furiously, his teeth bared and the hair on the back of his neck fluffed out. Bowser and Wario careened around a turn, got stuck in the dirt, and lost speed. Baby Mario and Baby Luigi shot past, cheering. The alpha was laughing.

  “Ha! Even as infants, I can still defeat you on Yoshi Island!”

  “Wait until we get to the D.K. track,” Gregory growled. His cell phone started buzzing. The race was lost anyway. He kept his eyes on the screen as he picked it up. “Gregory speaking. If you’re asking about our next meeting, hang up and text before I tear your face off because I have told everyone this seven times and I am counting.”

  The alpha grinned, shooting across the finish line to chipper victory music as Bowser wept. He glanced at Gregory who was turning very, very pale.

  “They. Uh. What? They just—okay. Okay. Please wait one moment.”

  Gregory turned to the alpha, whose expression was curious and expectant. He placed his hand over the receiver. Swallowed.

  “Ashi and Christoph have just broken into Royce’s house.”

  The alpha exploded. “What?”

  Gregory cringed.

  “Why the hell are they in New York? They are supposed to be on lockdown until they’re needed! Wasn’t Barry watching them? Who is in charge of troop scheduling? Give me the grid!”

  Gregory scurried over to the desk, got the scheduling grid, and handed it to the alpha, who looked it over. His long hair was growing thicker as it became a mane. “Look right here! Look at this gap! Who made this grid?”

  Gregory looked down at his phone. Royce was still on the line. “Um, I think Majheed.”

  “He is DEAD!” The alpha threw the grid at Gregory and stalked the length of his den. “Have they forgotten we are in the middle of a war? They could start another! We cannot afford two at once! We’ve got a cub-hide, half of our troops are not even—”

  Gregory made frantic “shush” motions. The alpha backhanded him into a bookshelf.

  “We cannot afford to have those two in New York! That is fucking it. I name them codebreakers and exile them!”

  Gregory ran a hand down his face. “That might be a hasty decision—”

  The alpha bellowed, growing larger with each word.

  Gregory, shaking like a leaf, lifted the phone back to his ear and said as calmly as possible, “We are very regretful for this crime against you and your pack. I would like to offer something in return—”

  “He can have them for a goddamn snack!” the alpha snarled, his words starting to get garbled as he clamped down on the urge to shift.

  “My alpha would like to offer Christoph and Ashi to you, formally. I can probably work out a deal with imported goods between you and Farhad, head of Attenwald Corp.”

  The alpha was shrinking. “They have endangered the pack. I am not only talking about the structure or our strength. I am also talking about our families. Our cubs. Damn it, Ashi was the worst addition to the pack I have ever encountered.”

  “I would like to apologize on behalf of my alpha and the entire pack. We did not send them out. We do not want relations between our pack and yours to worsen.” Gregory was still shaking. This could go very, very badly.

  The alpha threw a bookshelf across the room.

  Gregory pulled the phone away from his ear and pleaded with the alpha. “Please don’t tell Gavin! You know what will happen.” Into the phone he begged, “I hope you understand, this is something that has never happened before. We do not condone this sort of behavior.”

  Royce had covered his eyes with one hand while he spoke into the phone, ignoring Christoph, Ashi, and Mouse. He was trying hard not to laugh and couldn’t hide the smirk that curved his lips at the sounds of destruction coming from the other end. Apparently, the alpha was peeved.

  “They destroyed part of my home. I’ll accept their servitude and the deal with Attenwald, but I also want reimbursement for the repair of any damages they caused while breaking into my property.”

  He was careful not to mention having magically neutered the pair. The Goliaths may not have known that it was possible for magi to do such a thing. It could start them on a path to indiscriminately kill magic users with the potential to create such objects of power.

  The only reason Arnold had been able to pull it off was thanks to Royce and Mouse keeping the two still long enough to get some of their blood and put the focus on them. Most magi would’ve been dead long before they got close enough to take the blood, let alone actually put a piece of jewelry or something on them to claim them. As irritating as the magi could be, they occasionally had their uses, and Royce would not be responsible for wholesale genocide.

  “I’ll forward the bill from the contractors once the repairs are done. I’ll take into consideration that these two were acting of their own will, and not under orders by their alpha. However—” and here his voice went from dry and mildly irritated to low, dangerous, and deadly, “—know this. If I catch another Goliath anywhere near any of my properties, setting so much as a single talon across the New York state line, I will personally come to California to express my displeasure to your alpha by whatever means I see fit.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply. It was terribly satisfying to hang up on Gregory.

  He even smiled at Ashi as he tossed the phone on a low table, rising to his feet. “I do believe you’ve done me quite the favor.”

  As Ashi scrambled back, Royce paced him, reaching down to snag his collar and heft him to his feet, ignoring his struggles.

  “A few words of advice before you get yourself killed. First, don’t try to
run away. We live for the hunt and any of my number tracking you down may be unable to resist the urge to take more than their fill when they catch you.

  “Second, don’t pick fights with the other donors in the building. Show them respect, or the gentleman or lady who claimed them might take offense and punish you. I won’t stop them, either. In fact, I’d recommend you ingratiate yourself to someone as quickly as possible, because otherwise anybody in the building can grab a taste of you right now. I can assure you that most of my people will be quite interested in finding out what Were blood tastes like.”

  Ashi squirmed, but the vampire didn’t let him loose. Royce remained polite and pleasant in everything save the fingers locked on the collar and menace in his words. “Third, and last, you two are on the bottom of the food chain here, and you won’t earn any respect by being big and tough. You’re not the big kids on the block any longer, and it would behoove you to remember it.”

  This was the worst day of Ashi’s life. Usually he could throw his weight one way or the other and whoever was holding onto him would go flying. He could swat someone and they would be down, howling and clutching their broken limb. His presence caused lower-ranking Weres to fall to their knees.

  Right now, nothing like that was happening. In fact, everyone seemed to be sort of amused with him. Being hauled around and easily lifted was downright embarrassing. The threat of being hunted—though he didn’t want to admit it—was terrifying. The threat against his pack was not as worrying. It was only a bit alarming that he could cause something that would get himself demoted further in the pack ranking.

  Hell, even Christoph was having a better day than him.

  Royce set him down, releasing the collar with a slight shove and turning away. He hunkered down next to Mouse, who pressed a hand to Christoph’s face to clutch the Were to her for the Nth time.

  “Do you plan on keeping him downstairs with you?”

  She stared for a second, looked down, then gave an indecisive shrug. It would be a hell of a concession if she did—but she was reluctant to let him out of her sight.

  “Come on, now. Let’s put him somewhere he can rest. We’ll find another place for him later.”

  She reluctantly acquiesced, disentangling herself and rising smoothly. When she urged Christoph to get up, it became clear he would be unable to navigate the stairs in his current condition. Mouse wouldn’t be able to help—not because she couldn’t support his weight, but because her head barely came up to his shoulder.

  Royce ignored Mouse’s hand-wringing and worried looks as he none-too-gently took one of Christoph’s wrists to hang over his shoulder. The other arm went around the neutered Were’s waist to support him so he could make it down the stairs without falling over.

  Christoph was very unused to having to be helped anywhere. Hell, some of his calls to Barry or Manny had been something along the lines of, “Broke my leg, gonna be late. Save some beer for me.” His knee, which had only twinged occasionally as it healed, was now a ball of very sharp, unaccustomed pain.

  Ashi shuffled a bit, not sure if he should follow, but unwilling to be separated from his packmate. For a moment he had that “puppy in a litter” feeling, a need to stick close to his fellow Goliath. It passed quickly and he inwardly grimaced. Let others have weak feelings like that—he just wanted strength in numbers.

  Analie was blowing spit bubbles. It was not very entertaining. There was a tempting loose thread on the edge of the throw, but she thought that perhaps pulling it would be a stupid thing to do, since it was most likely very expensive.

  She’d tried to peruse a box of books without dropping it, but that had been almost impossible while maintaining her modesty. Now that she was almost brain-dead from boredom, she was willing to give it another shot. She shuffled over to a box, nudged it open, grabbed the first interesting thing she saw, and hurried back to the chair. She created an awkward sort of cocoon so she could hold the book and opened it up.

  John’s voice came from the door at the top of the stairs, laced with anticipation of something.

  “Analie, you should probably go get some clothes now. Arnold’s gone.”

  He didn’t bother to wait for her reply.

  It was soon clearly evident that, even with Royce’s help, Christoph was having a hell of a time getting down the stairs.

  Royce wasn’t interested in taking three hours to get the semi-delirious guy on Mouse’s couch. Adding insult to injury, less than halfway down the first flight, the vampire lost his patience. He came to a halt and unceremoniously shifted his grip to put Christoph in a fireman’s carry over his shoulder, then took the stairs two at a time. Mouse made faint choking noises, but he ignored her, not stopping until he’d reached the landing of the first floor. Without putting Christoph down, he stood aside and waited for Mouse to open the door and let them in, which she did in a rush.

  Royce was slightly more careful putting Christoph down than he had been in picking him up, not wanting to exacerbate the knee injury. He put the Were-cum-human back on his feet, “helping” him on his way to have a seat on the couch.

  “Thanks!” Analie called.

  She gathered the throw rug around herself and shuffled to Mouse’s apartment. There were too many people—she spared them a glance, then raced to her room where she threw on some clothes. Once she was dressed, she crept out and peered into the living room.

  Christoph was sitting on the couch. He looked exhausted, and strangely frail. Ashi was standing close by, hunched over, his eyes constantly moving. Both of them were only wearing slightly ragged sweatpants.

  Ashi saw Analie, and his eyes narrowed. She narrowed hers right back, a very clear challenge. He bared his teeth in a snarl. She did the same, though her threat was considerably more fangy.

  He looked away.

  Analie was stunned. She looked up at John, grinning. “Ashi isn’t so tough anymore, huh?”

  He looked at her. Something about his expression or posture or demeanor caused Analie to back away a couple steps. She was very much relieved when he turned away.

  “Treat them gently, Analie. They’re stuck as humans, and with human limitations, until I’m good and ready to let them go,” Royce said, the grim satisfaction in that statement speaking volumes.

  John’s eyes were positively alight, as eager and excited as a kid on Christmas morning. No one could fail to miss the hunger he was radiating. “Come on, Ashi. Let’s find a room for you.”

  Mouse, watching John with distaste, scrounged in some drawers, pulling out a blanket and bringing it to Christoph. Royce shook his head and left.

  Ashi felt as if he was a caterpillar and John was a praying mantis. Being alone with the vampire was not an option. He’d rather face Gregory than John at that very moment.

  Analie hopped on the back of the couch next to Christoph. She wasn’t thrilled to see him or Ashi, but he was currently the closest thing to a packmate and a friend at the moment. Right now his eyes were half-open and he was watching Ashi.

  “I think I’d rather stay here with my packmates,” Ashi said, sidling closer to Christoph and Analie. “We stick together, right?”

  Analie stared at him. Ashi was giving her what would have been an intimidating look if he’d done it about half an hour earlier. He was practically ordering her to agree with him.

  “Right, Analie?” Ashi ground out.

  Analie leaned forward, a clear challenge. “Ashi.”

  “What?”

  “You. Kicked. Jo-Jo.”

  Ashi’s eyes widened in surprise, then anger, then horror. He started backing away from John, pointing at him. “You stay away from me.” He looked back to Analie. “Listen to me, you little shit—”

  “And you kept me facedown on the ground under your feet,” Analie snarled.

  “Analie, we’re all Goliaths
here—”

  “And you broke Freddy’s arm and leg.” Analie growled at him. “Fight your own battles.”

  Ashi backed up against the wall, his eyes flicking from her to John and back.

  “You really are an asshole, Ashi,” Christoph mumbled from the couch.

  “Doesn’t look like you have any friends here,” John taunted, secure in the knowledge that he was bigger, badder, and stronger than the Were.

  Even with all the weapons lining the walls, Ashi wouldn’t be able to fend off John, whose speed rivaled Mouse’s. He might not even reach one before John would be on him.

  “You should be more respectful. Someone else might not take an order like that very kindly and beat the living shit out of you instead of stealing a little taste.”

  Mouse hissed softly at John, baring her fangs and making a “get out” gesture at him. He ignored her.

  Lifting her lip, Mouse snagged one of the many pens and small pads of paper she kept lying around, and scribbled out a hasty note. She tore it off and handed it to Analie.

  He broke Freddy’s arm/leg? Your friend you told me about?

  At Analie’s nod, Mouse scribbled out another note, her frown deepening.

  Pretty boy is right. Ashi is an asshole.

  Analie glanced at Christoph. “Technically he’s allowed to enforce his dominance over lower-ranking Weres, but high-ranks always show a bit of... humanity or restraint or... I dunno, but most won’t grind your face into the ground when a swat will do.”