by Amos Cassidy
Raven came to a halt. “We’re here.”
They came through the floor of the small administration office at the back of the warehouse. It was a basic room, with no windows, a desk, a computer, filing cabinets and a phone. There was only one door leading into the main warehouse and this was locked from the outside. Raven placed his hand on a small metallic panel to the side of the door, similar to the ones giving access to the tunnels. There was a muted click.
“It’s open.” He turned to the pack. “This office leads directly into the workshop. There’s a wall between the workshop and the storage floor. The ramp leading to the floor is on the other side of the workshop. Got that?”
They all nodded eager to get on with it. Raven frowned. “Proceed with caution. Roman, Kris, you flank me. Harold and Damon, bring up the rear. Spread out so we can cover more ground.”
Instructions meted out, he slowly opened the door and slipped through. The others followed.
The workshop was wreathed in darkness. With their wolf senses, they were able to manoeuvre easily across the floor. Half way across Raven froze, his nostrils flaring, his head thrown back as he inhaled. He dropped to the ground, holding up his hand in a signal to the pack to do the same.
Roman sidled closer and froze as he caught the scent that Raven had. “Werewolves,” he whispered.
“Rogues,” Raven confirmed, the scent being one he recognised. “I can smell two of them, but there could be more. Don’t shift unless you need to.” Which meant unless the rogue shifted.
Roman nodded, scuttling back to relay the information and instructions.
As one unit they entered the storage floor.
The cold night air hit them first. The delivery doors were open. The rogues were planning on helping themselves to the goods.
From his vantage point behind a 1928 Bentley Speed Six Tourer, Raven could see the front of a large black lorry parked almost out of view of the huge roll-up doors. He scanned the floor and noted that two podiums were already empty. They’d succeeded in loading two vehicles.
Harold, parked to the side of a 1926 Austin Box Saloon, slid forward slightly. He had managed to get closest to the door and the scent of the two rogues was driving him mad. They smelt of sea salt and a spicy earthy tang that spoke of running free across vast expanses of forest and beach. The wolf within yearned and his anger rose.
Roman was suddenly beside him. “Calm down, man. I can feel your agro from over there and we’re not even in wolf form,” he whispered.
Harold turned his black eyes on him, his face as hard as flint, his lips stretched in a crazy grin. He lunged forward, shifting before his paws hit the ground.
“Shit!” Roman thought fast, throwing a look over his shoulder for instruction.
Raven was out of sight, he couldn’t let Harold go in alone. There were two rogues that they knew of for sure and Harold would be out numbered.
Roman growled deep in his chest and shifted. The world was suddenly pin-sharp around him, his senses heightened tenfold. He shook his head blowing air out of his nose. Ears pressed flat against his head, he advanced to back up Harold who was now at the doors.
Raven felt his temper flare. From his vantage point he could see both Harold and Roman in wolf form heading into what could be a bloody confrontation. His aim was not to kill the rogues but to bring them in to be interrogated. Killing them was a last resort. If he could be certain there were only two rogues he would have pushed forward. But the plan had been to wait for them to come back in for another car, to circle them and surround them. Thus contained they could either take them in or hold them as hostages against any other rogues that were potentially waiting outside the warehouse.
Harold and his impulsiveness meant a change in plan. Quick strike rather than a slow deploy. Kris and Damon were within signalling distance and he signalled for them to move out. They nodded, moving forward but keeping to the cover of the cars as much as possible.
Roman’s nose picked up the smell of death, a human, there was blood.
The guard, they killed him. Roman spoke mentally to Harold.
What the fuck you expect? How do you think they got in?
Raven said the guard didn’t have a key
Yeah, well they killed him anyway. The fuckers! And now I’m gonna rip them another one!
We need to try and bring them in alive! Roman reminded him.
They’ll be alive…barely, but alive.
Roman’s head snapped up. They were coming this way. Quick, back up. They’re coming.
Ambush?
Let’s do it!!
Outside, a large muscular man with shoulder length black hair, and a slightly shorter wiry man, entered side by side. They were laughing about something, completely at ease. A few feet from the door the smaller man stopped, holding out his arm in front of the bigger man so it smacked him in the abdomen.
They scent us! Attack! Harold screamed the command in Roman’s head and instinctively Roman followed the slightly more dominant wolf’s lead.
They rounded the doorway, bounding full pelt toward the men. The larger man’s eyes widened in shock, he probably hadn’t expected them to be in wolf form. The smaller man was already shifting. It happened quickly. Harold barrelled into the large man, throwing him off his feet, his fangs going for the throat, when an orange blur hit him from the left, sending him sprawling to the side. The orange wolf struggled to pin him. The smaller man, now in wolf form, smacked head-on into Roman and they both fell back, momentarily stunned. But only momentarily. They were back on their paws in a flash and circling each other.
Raven, Kris and Damon came sprinting outside, Raven’s eyes blazing as he took in the scene– three wolves against two.
A dazzling white light blinded them.
Raven staggered back, his eyes streaming, his hand going to his face to shield his vision. His foot stepped on something soft and squishy and he almost slid. He heard Kris and Damon cry out and Roman howled then whimpered.
Something large and heavy connected with Raven’s torso and he fell back, pinned under the weight. The roar of an engine coming to life superseded everything. The light was gone and dark spots danced before his eyes. He blinked rapidly to try regaining his vision. His nose told him he was pinned by Harold and he heaved, pushing the unconscious wolf off him. The ground vibrated under the massive wheels of the lorry as it drove out of the lot. Raven ran after it, barely able to make out the outline of the vehicle. His foot connected with something soft and he tripped, falling forward, his arms coming out to connect with the ground, breaking his fall. His vision chose that moment to clear. He found himself staring into the one, intact eye of the night watchman, the other having been ripped from its socket.
“How could they have known how to access the building? In fact, how could they have known what was in there? They came prepared with a massive fuck-off lorry and bloody flash grenades!” Harold held a bag of ice to his head even though the gash inflicted by the rogue wolf had already healed.
They were congregated in the Alpha’s lounge, in his plush penthouse apartment in Canary Wharf.
The living room was a generous rectangle sporting a minimalist and contemporary feel. The panoramic windows looked out into the night, the city lights twinkling. The view was breath-taking, the Thames below, a generous view of St Paul’s Cathedral, The Gherkin and other famous London landmarks. The view was a privilege of the wealth of the werewolves, and of being an Alpha.
The atmosphere was stubbornly tense as the active pack took residence on the enormous black leather sofas. The Alpha was finishing some calls in his study and Marianne, his wife, had, on their arrival, retired to the kitchen to whip up an energy-restoring snack.
Raven stood with his back to the pack, looking out into the night beyond the windows. “I don’t know how they knew. There could be a leak somewhere in the pack as a whole. It’s a serious possibility.”
“They tore out that bloke’s eye,” Kris whispered to himself.
“The only way to access the building is an optical scan…clever.” Roman nodded in comprehension.
“Not clever enough.” The Alpha strode into the room and every spine straightened to attention as if it were an automatic function.
Richard was a tall, lithe man, radiating power and barely restrained energy. His silver hair was swept back from his forehead elegantly. His eerily pale blue eyes bore into them in turn as if searching for weakness. As his gaze came to rest on Harold, his mouth tightened in barely controlled fury. Harold pulled his gaze away, resting it on the plush cream carpet instead.
“You disobeyed a direct order.” Richard’s tone was even and deceptively calm.
Harold’s shoulders tensed at the words, his head shooting up as he glared at Raven. His lip curled in a sneer. “Tattling already are we, Raven?’
A sudden violent burst of power, its signature one of white-hot fury, had the active pack members falling to their knees in pain. Raven staggered back until the only thing holding him up was the window.
Richard was a blur as he moved across the room. In mere seconds he had Harold by the throat, holding him against the wall, his feet dangling inches from the ground. “You dare to disrespect your Beta in my presence? You dare to disrespect me?” His voice was thick and a few octaves deeper than normal, a sign that the wolf was in control. “I see everything, I feel everything. I know what you did. I felt your lust, your jealousy. I know what you desire!”
The Alpha’s face was mere inches away from his. Harold’s eyes were wide with fear and shock, his face red as the blood was squeezed upwards by Richard’s hold on his neck. He tried to speak, to explain, but he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t…
Harold gasped, taking a lungful of air as he hit the floor on his hands and knees.
Richard stepped back, having released him. He stood impassive as Harold retched and gasped trying to regain his composure. Around him the other pack members shook themselves, glad to be free from the emotional impact of their Alpha’s wrath.
Raven stood to one side of his Alpha, his hands folded across his broad chest. He wanted to feel some compassion for Harold but he had exhausted all of the chances he was given. In the old days he would have been ripped to shreds by his Alpha for showing the disrespect he did. Harold had got off lightly.
He wanted to live like a wolf, wanted the old rules and the old freedoms to run and change and feed, yet he failed to show the old respect that any pack member would to the chain of command. Harold was one confused werewolf, a werewolf living in the present day yet unable to let go of a past he had never actually lived. He had no idea how good he had it.
Finally, Harold’s breathing regulated and he pulled himself up to stand, his head raised and his eyes looking at the Alpha. But not directly into Richard’s eyes. Harold looked composed, except for his hands, which were trembling slightly.
There was a beat of silence in which every eye was on the Alpha. The air seemed to wonder what he would do next.
Richard turned pointedly to his Beta who stepped forward and addressed Harold. “Your impulsive actions put the pack at risk tonight. You almost got yourself killed and would have taken Roman with you.”
Roman looked away. He had a bad feeling about what was coming next. And although he knew that Harold deserved it, he wouldn’t wish it on any active pack member.
“With all due respect,” Harold said through clenched teeth, “Roman didn’t have to follow me.”
“Oh, but he did, Harold. He was doing his duty to the pack by backing you up,” Raven said.
“Yet instead of thanking him for acting in a way that most certainly saved your hide, you attempt to label him as incompetent?” Richard was speaking again. He took a step forward cocking his head. “It is a shame, you have much potential. Yet you are your own worst enemy.” He sighed as if exhausted with the whole thing. “You are suspended.”
Harold’s head jerked up in surprise his eyes accidentally meeting the Alpha’s then darting quickly away. He opened his mouth to speak and the air around him tightened as Richard’s temper flared. He quickly closed his mouth.
“A week, I think, will be sufficient. Think long and hard, decide whether you are able and willing to commit to the chain of command. If so then you may return. If not then…” he let the sentence trail off.
They all knew what it meant to be suspended from the active pack. Harold would be cut off from the shared consciousness, the shared awareness and the sense of security they shared when in wolf form. He would be secluded from all active pack duties. In essence he would be just a civilian in the pack as a whole, just like all the other non-active pack members who lived in suburbia or lived their lives as regular humans who just happened be a werewolf, part of a mundane routine, another face in the crowd, a slow death to the dominant wolf akin to ripping off his balls.
“Now get out. We have pack business to discuss.” Richard spoke without malice, his tone perfectly neutral. But the words themselves could not have cut deeper if he had shouted them in Harold’s face.
Harold’s whole body jerked as if he had been slapped. He blinked rapidly, looking around the room at his pack mates. Kris’s eyes were moist. Damon sat staring at his hands. Roman closed his eyes, shook his head and looked away. Only Raven and Richard remained with their eyes fixed on him as he turned on legs that felt like jelly and walked out of the room, down the hallway and out of the penthouse.
He could still feel them, his pack– feel their disappointment, their sorrow, their anger. As he closed the door behind him he felt the connection snap. For the first time in a long time he was totally alone in his head.
After Harold’s departure the mood was solemn. Marianne entered carrying a large tray laden with sandwiches and homemade triple-chocolate gateau.
She was a beautiful woman who looked to be only forty of her eighty years. With silver blonde hair and sparkling grey eyes, she was an exquisite picture to look at. She laid the tray on the glass dining table that the wolves were gathered around. Then she straightened, smoothing down her chic pencil skirt. She moved to Richard’s side placing a soothing hand on his shoulder.
“Come eat something.” Marianne said simply. She then addressed the pack “What are you waiting for, pups? Tuck in.” She smiled her warm, dazzling smile, a smile that said that it was okay, that everything would be okay. And just like that, the tension was broken. The werewolves shook it off and began to eat.
After the plates and cups had been cleared away Richard asked them all to be seated. “There is one more order of business to discuss.” He frowned. “A new development actually.”
Raven leant forward in his seat sensing his Alpha’s anxiety.
“It seems that we have some unauthorised demon activity.”
Kris looked confused. “What do you mean?”
Richard sighed. “A Henry Simpkins, a warlock, was reported missing this morning. Apparently he didn’t show up for work. He was supposed to be meeting up with a friend the night before, another warlock, and when he didn’t show his friend asked some questions. The council authorised an investigation and it’s pretty certain that he was taken by some kind of demon a couple of nights ago. There’s a strong demon signature in the supermarket car park near his home and his cat tells us that he was indeed attacked. It’s unlikely that he survived.”
“Sorry I’m not sure I heard right. Did you say ‘his cat’?” Roman asked.
Richard nodded. “Many warlocks keep familiars and it is not uncommon for a warlock to be able to communicate with it. In this case the familiar was his cat. We are unsure where the demon came from as no summoning has been authorised in the past month.”
Raven rubbed a weary hand over his face. First rogue werewolves and now a demon attack, what next? “So the council want us to keep an eye out on patrol?”
“Yes. And report anything else that may look suspicious. Keep your eye on the news, the papers and so on. We have been asked to assist with any furthe
r investigations. Let’s just hope this is an isolated incident.” He smiled thinly.
The pack nodded– Raven already mentally drawing up a new patrol schedule for the coming week, one that did not include Harold.
Richard retired to his study shortly after having instructed Raven to up the ante on the patrols, and to keep him informed of any further disturbances. The security on the other warehouses would now have to be re-thought. His Beta was always one-step ahead, always on the ball. Raven had already spoken to Maxwell, the warlock on the pack payroll, about introducing some serious warding on the buildings. With magic and technology working together they should be able to keep their properties secure.
He ran a hand over his face, sitting heavily onto the luxurious leather chair in his study. This rogue attack had been too close to home. His worry wasn’t for himself. It was for the love of his life, his dear Marianne.
They had met fifty years ago, she the daughter of the Russian pack’s Beta, and him the new British Alpha. It had been a chance meeting at the ball after the World Wide Meet– an annual meeting where the heads of each pack from around the world congregate for the annual werewolf meeting.
He remembered the moment he had laid eyes on her. It had been as if the world around him had slowed down, as if only he and she remained in the whole room. He could tell she felt it too by the stunned expression on her face as their eyes had locked. The room had spun out of control as her scent, her consciousness and her pure goodness had barrelled into him and through him like a tsunami. He had bonded. It was the quickest, strongest bonding he had ever heard of, and he had had the privilege of experiencing it. Falling in love, it seemed, had happened instantly, although he knew realistically that it had come over them bit by bit as they got to know each other. But their wolves had chosen each other and the wolves had been right. They were made for each other.
“Sweetheart, are you coming to bed?” Her voice was like a pacifier to his worried thoughts.
