by M. D. Grimm
Poe didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
Hunter grimaced. “Please don’t do that to her. She’s a victim.”
“She has shifter blood on her hands,” Douglas said.
“And you have knight blood on yours.”
Douglas glared, eyes sparking. Willow took his hand, her expression distressed.
“I’m just saying, who here can throw stones? She had her rite before mine. She was transferred elsewhere. I haven’t seen her in years. But we cared for each other. We were friends.”
Poe noticed Glenn looking conflicted. He seemed to care about Hunter’s distress, but also couldn’t feel pity for a knight. Poe was straddling that same line.
“None of you understand,” Hunter said. “We were… brainwashed. Well and truly brainwashed to the cause. Our TV and internet access was restricted. What books we read, when and where we could go outside. We weren’t allowed to know anyone outside the Knights. We were raised to believe certain things. That we were heroes, warriors in a sacred war. Servants of a god. When that’s all you know, when the adults around you believe it, of course you’ll believe it. You want to be like your family. Some of the children were born into the Knights.” Hunter ran his hand over his head. “Lindsay doesn’t think she’s done anything wrong because she’s been told everything she’s done is right.”
Poe was eerily reminded of the Hitler Youth and how the Nazis brainwashed an entire generation to believe their ideology. Some things were not just hard to break; they were impossible. No one wanted to admit what they’d put their faith and belief in, what they’d killed for, what their friends died for, was a lie.
“Please, Agent Poe,” Hunter said. “Please don’t let them torture her.”
“It’s not my call, Hunter,” he said as gently as he could. “She has information. If she knows Gregor personally, was commanded by him personally, then she is a great asset. She could turn the tide of this entire war. And war is ugly. And no one comes out of it as pure as they entered. We all have blood on us. But sometimes it truly is the means to an end that matters.”
“Then what makes us—you—any different from them?”
“The end goal.”
Hunter shook his head in anger, hands clenched on his knees. Then he suddenly turned to Glenn, appealing to him.
“Glenn, you can’t condone this!”
Glenn swallowed hard. “It’s not my decision.”
“It shouldn’t be anyone’s decision! Because no one has the right to make it!” Hunter jumped up and pushed past Poe. He moved aside, Hunter’s anguish nearly choking him.
“You’re right, Hunter,” Nordik said. Poe looked at him. Nordik met his eyes. “He is, and you know it.”
Hunter turned back and gazed with relief at Nordik. Then he looked at Glenn.
“She’s my sister. She’s my Rowan.”
Glenn stiffened. Silence descended. Rowan was currently resting in her room after Poe had looked her over. Poe scratched his chin, stubble scraping his fingers. He was tired but also satisfied they’d captured so many knights alive.
“Do you think she’ll speak with you?” Poe asked.
Hunter glanced at him.
“Do you think she still trusts you? Could be persuaded by you?”
Hope flared in his eyes. “M-maybe. I can try. I will try. Let me.”
“I’ll run it by my captain.”
Since Odin was the one who could make her sing, Poe was certain he would be grateful for an alternate solution. Just because he was good at it didn’t mean he liked doing it.
Glenn stood up. “I’ll go with you. Maybe if she sees a shifter as an actual complex being with similar emotions to hers, we can, I don’t know, break the brainwashing. Or something.”
Hunter engulfed Glenn in a hug that looked almost painful. Glenn grunted but hugged him back. Poe expected Douglas to object. But he didn’t. He watched his son, his expression blank. Poe suspected Douglas would slowly start to let Glenn make more and more decisions, easing him into leadership.
“We should go. Lots to do,” Poe said. Glenn and Hunter broke apart. “I’ll let you know what my captain decides. It shouldn’t be more than a couple of days. I assure you she and the others will be treated humanely during that time.”
“Thank you.”
Before they left, Douglas gestured to them and led them away from the others. Curious, Poe and Nordik followed him into the kitchen. When Douglas spoke, his voice was low.
“I haven’t mentioned this to my herd yet. I wanted to wait until this business with Hunter’s vision was resolved. I have been contacted by a couple of herds in other states, and they mention that we might have a new threat separate from the Knights.”
Poe frowned and thought, Shit. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know for sure. But there has been shifter-on-shifter violence. And I’m not speaking of small skirmishes or territorial brawls that are expected. I was told that there are a few packs spouting rhetoric regarding ‘pure’ matings. They are calling for a return to ‘traditional’ matings.”
“Pure matings? Traditional?” Nordik said, tilting his head slightly.
Douglas nodded, then shrugged. “It would seem a few more conservative packs aren’t pleased with the variety of mating pairs that continue to be established across the world.”
“You mean they want only wolves with wolves and deer with deer?” Poe said.
Douglas nodded.
“And they would consider a mating such as mine and Nordik’s to be wrong.”
“Yes.” His expression turned troubled as he glanced at his son and Hunter. “And a mating such as my son’s to Hunter, a former knight, would be seen as a grievous betrayal.”
Poe closed his eyes for a moment. Great, this is all we need.
Nordik pressed his hand against Poe’s back, and though his touch couldn’t calm Poe’s troubled mind, it reminded him he didn’t shoulder the burden alone.
“But various types of matings have always happened, haven’t they?” Poe asked. He glanced at Nordik and got a nod. “So why now? Why are they spouting such rhetoric now?”
Douglas shook his head and met Nordik’s eyes for a moment. “I can only speculate.”
“And?”
“I have not encountered such packs personally, so I can’t say for sure. But the herds mention that the packs believe it’s against the natural order. That such interspecies mating is making us weak and easy victims to the Knights.”
“Bullshit.” Poe curled his hands into fists. “Interspecies cooperation is the only thing keeping those bastards from wiping us out.”
Douglas eyed him for a moment as if working through what he meant by “us.”
Poe narrowed his eyes. “I’ve been in this war my entire adult life. Now I’m mated to Nordik. It’s going to take all of us to defeat him. The concept of ‘pure’ matings is just ridiculous.”
“Yes, it is,” Nordik said softly.
“I agree,” Douglas said. “I wasn’t sure at first whether to bring this to your attention. It seemed to me to be an internal shifter problem. But… as you said, you are mated to Nordik. And Nordik is a master shifter. This isn’t the Agency’s problem, but I want them aware.”
“It is the Agency’s problem. Shifters are our allies. What affects them affects all of us.”
Nordik slipped his hand around Poe’s waist and pressed closer to his side.
Douglas nodded slowly, his expression still unreadable.
“Thank you for bringing this to our attention,” Nordik said. He held out his hand, and Douglas gripped it. As they shook, the two shifters eyed each other, the mutual respect evident.
“Perhaps you can visit again under better circumstances,” Douglas said.
Nordik smiled. “I would enjoy that. You have a beautiful forest.”
“Thank you. One day I would like to see yours.”
“You are welcome anytime.”
Nordik and Poe left by the front doors, and only when they w
ere well out of earshot did Poe finally say, “Fuck.”
“Yes,” Nordik said. “Fuck.”
“I DON’T get it,” Genii said as she took another shot of whiskey. The bar wasn’t as loud as a few others they’d been to. At least they could hear one another without shouting.
Nordik nursed a beer as Poe and Genii took shot after shot. Oenghus didn’t drink at all, and Isis had decided to take a man’s offer to dance. It was a rare moment when all of them had a pause between missions, and Nordik knew they all needed the break.
“What’s there to get?” Poe took another shot. Burped. “Shifters aren’t perfect. We can’t put them on a fucking pedestal. They kill and maim just as knights do. They hate and can be just as bigoted as the rest of us. Doesn’t surprise me in the least that there’s a… a… fucking purity cult.”
“Purity cult?” Nordik said.
Poe looked at him, slightly glassy-eyed. “Fitting name to me, don’t ya think? Pure matings, pure blood. Shit.”
“It worries me,” Oenghus said from the other side of Genii. He and Nordik flanked Genii and Poe at the bar and made sure no one bothered them. “All life is precious. Love is precious. Isn’t that what we’re fighting for? The right to exist the way we choose? And how can so-called ‘pure’ matings benefit anyone?”
“Well said!” Genii kissed him sloppily, and Oenghus yelped in surprise. “I love your pretty face. You think Josh and Xavier or Pan and Viktor or, hell, Poe and Nordik here, thought about ‘purity’ when they bumped uglies? No freaking way!”
“Then there’s Jack and Travis in Haven,” Poe said. “Or Derek and Brian. Love those guys.”
“And Hunter and Glenn,” Nordik said, playing along.
“Exactly!” Poe took another shot and slammed it down. He shook his head. “Exactly. Purity don’t mean shit.”
“Hear, hear.” Genii raised her next shot in a toast before gulping it down.
“I think that’s enough for you,” Isis said as she returned. Curvaceous and dark-skinned, she certainly attracted attention, especially in her revealing blouse and short skirt. She had her dark hair bundled up on top of her head, and her makeup was flawless and understated. Nordik was frankly surprised she wasn’t flirted with more. She sauntered up to them and grabbed the last shot in front of Genii and gulped it down herself.
“Come on, missy. Let’s go pour you into bed.”
“Only because you’re so sexy tonight.” Genii giggled drunkenly as she slid off the stool and into Isis’s arms. But first she turned and kissed Poe smack on the mouth. Before Nordik could feel at all possessive, Genii gave him the same treatment. He blinked in surprise as she grinned up at him with glassy eyes.
“You’re so good for him. Bless you for keeping him safe.”
Despite her being drunk, Nordik knew she was speaking from the heart. He touched her cheek and smiled. Then she let Isis, who seemed amused by the entire scene, lead her away.
“She overdoes it every time.” Oenghus shook his head in concern. “I know it’s how she copes, but it can’t be healthy.”
“You worry too much,” Poe said, apparently missing everything Genii had said to Nordik. “She’s perfectly fine. Strong and sturdy, that’s Genii.”
“But even those strong and sturdy need someone sometimes.” Nordik plucked Poe off the stool and ignored his slurred protests. “Good night, Oenghus. Take care of yourself.”
Oenghus smiled. “Same to you, Nordik. And I second Genii’s sentiment. You’re the best thing to happen to him in a long time.”
Nordik heard the longing in his voice. “Never stop looking, Oenghus. There is someone out there for you.”
Oenghus blinked rapidly in surprise before his face flushed. “Well, um. I don’t. I mean… um.”
“Trust me on that.” Then he turned and left, cradling a now-sleeping Poe in his arms.
Chapter Seven
Four months later
THE CARGO truck sped down the dirt road, and Poe didn’t hesitate to leap after it. He ran full-out, ignoring the gravel and dirt the tires kicked up. It was obvious he couldn’t keep up the momentum. But if he had any hope of rescuing the shifters trapped inside the cargo compartment, he had to make a decision now. With a deep breath, Poe launched himself in the air and managed to grab hold of the rectangular handles that protruded from the doors. He shoved his boots against the bumper and didn’t dare look behind him. He knew once Nordik bound the three knights left behind, he would take Poe’s motorcycle and follow. Poe just hoped Nordik remembered to contact the Agency before giving chase. The raid wouldn’t count if they lost the knights running the operation.
Two months earlier Hunter had managed to break down Lindsay’s barriers and get her to talk. Not that she would ever be a friend to shifters, but her love for Hunter managed to overcome her trained hatred for creatures she didn’t understand. She did, in fact, know Gregor personally. She had even followed him to claim the scroll Agents Pan and Jin had worked so hard to protect. The Agency first pressed her on Gregor’s current whereabouts, but it seemed they split up after claiming the scroll, and he gave her leadership over a unit, trusting her to carry out his commands. But as for himself, he was keeping his location secret from everyone.
She still managed to inform the Agency that units of knights were rounding up small groups of shifters. Her information confirmed Poe’s suspicions that the Knights hadn’t yet abandoned their experimental operations, despite the raid on their main compound. Then Agent Pan was nearly kidnapped weeks earlier. Thankfully Agent Jin and Pan’s mate Viktor managed to rescue him before knights could take him off the grid. A few other agents were nearly caught in the same way, but all had managed to slip through the enemy’s grasp.
Ever since Lindsay dropped the bomb about the kidnappings, all field agents had been working nonstop on rescue missions. Not just in the US but around the world. It wore them down, but every shifter saved kept their hope and determination alive.
Poe grabbed the heavy deadbolt on the lock. The lock seared his skin, indicating it was pure iron. He hissed and yanked his hand away. As the truck gained speed and the road became bumpier, he concentrated on his footing. It would be a painful drop, and he’d lose the shifters only a wooden cargo door was separating him from. No. It wasn’t an option. He pulled back his arm and called up all his strength. Then he smashed his fist into the door. The thick wood splintered as a hole the size of his fist appeared. But he ran into the same problem and cried in pain as he jerked his hand back. Iron bars were braided through the wood. He was fucking helpless against so much pure iron.
The knights had to have been using thick gloves to handle the iron bolt and create such a cargo hold. The knights had obviously expected a raid, and that wasn’t surprising given the Agency’s success in shutting down one operation after another. Poe leaned forward, and in the dark, he saw movement and heard crying and howling. He realized why as the sun decided to peep out from behind a cloud. The light flashed off silver bracelets locked on each of the prisoners. He cursed viciously and quickly came up with a plan. It wasn’t the best, but he didn’t have a choice. Their sounds of suffering were tearing his heart apart. There were children in there with bracelets just like the adults.
Fucking shit-eating psychopathic bastards!
It disturbed him how much machinery the Knights still had at their disposal. The Agency might have infiltrated their HQ, but it seemed Arcas’s pockets were deep indeed. He had far too much influence and money.
Gritting his teeth, Poe gripped the handle of the cargo hold and rose on his toes, balancing precariously on the bumper. He considered just yanking the door open and breaking the iron lock that way. But he’d probably go flying with the door and would still lose the truck. No, he was about to pull an Indiana Jones.
He gripped the top edge of the cargo hold with both hands and bounced slightly before pulling himself up to the roof. He breathed shallowly as he belly-crawled toward the cab of the truck. They suddenly took a hard right tur
n, and he slipped a couple of inches toward the edge. Poe couldn’t swallow back the high-pitched squeal that erupted from his throat. Thank God no one heard that!
He continued on his way and took a deep breath as he reached the cab. It was below him with two knights inside. Now how to stop the truck without killing everyone involved? He had to get control of the truck itself, which meant eliminating the knights. He had no choice. Knights were wanted alive, but they already had three back at the compound. These two dead were acceptable. The shifters were first priority.
Breathing carefully, Poe moved around and sat on the cargo hold with his feet placed firmly on the cab roof. He slipped down until he was on his belly again, facing the passenger side. He crawled forward and glanced in the side mirror. He saw the arm and shoulder of the passenger, who wasn’t wearing a seat belt. It was a woman. Didn’t matter. She was a knight. The enemy. He took a precious moment to close his eyes and harden his will. Then he struck.
He yanked the door off its hinges, and before either knight could react, he grabbed the woman’s arm and flung her out of the cab. She landed wrong, and he heard a sickening snap even over the sound of the truck’s diesel engine and the tires crunching gravel. Without pausing, he swung himself inside the cab feetfirst. He plowed into the other knight’s shoulder. The lanky man hit the door with enough force to pop it open. But he was wearing his seat belt and didn’t go flying out. But the sharp popping sound proved his shoulder was dislocated. Poe plowed a fist into the man’s face as he gripped the wheel with the other hand. They swerved dangerously, and Poe struggled to get his foot on the brakes. But the man somehow kept his foot on the gas.
“Fucking asshole!” Poe punched him again, but the man ducked. The swing glanced off his already damaged shoulder. “You lost! Just let the fuck go!”
The knight snarled and suddenly yanked the wheel to the left. At the speed they were going, that caused the truck to jerk sideways and become airborne. But only for a moment. Poe had the nauseating sensation of flying before the truck slammed into the street upside-down. Poe smacked his head against the roof of the cab and saw stars. The truck bounced one more time before crashing back and skidding across the gravel. Poe heard the distinctive sound of snapping bone, and a hot, greasy sensation raced up his arm and to his throat.
