The Rainmaker

by Petra Landon

  “You’ve given me nothing I don’t already know” countered Anderson.

  “Perhaps. But do you know where he was before San Francisco?”

  “Is it important?” shrugged Anderson.

  “What if I told you he was running wild without a Pack.”

  “Without a Pack” the Guardian repeated, a frown marking his face. “Faoladh frowns on that.”

  “He does indeed. And yet, he allowed Raoul Merceau to claim the Northern California Pack. Doesn’t that surprise you, Guardian?”

  “Very much so.” Anderson looked intrigued for the first time since the Vampire had walked into the room.

  “The rumor is that he stayed away from both Si’ffa and Chosen to deal with issues of control.”

  “Merceau” the Guardian exclaimed incredulously.

  A vision of the implacable and steely-eyed Alpha in absolute control of himself, his Pack and his surroundings, flashed at Anderson. The night of their encounter, the Alpha had kept his head despite the provocations and barbs, taking on a Guardian with exponentially more magic to defeat him comprehensively. It had not been done with power or brute strength, but with intelligence, knowledge, and a shrewdness that belied his reputation. That had not been a man with an uncertain grasp over his beast. It had been a Shifter in complete control of everything. Anderson did not like to remember that night, but the idea of the Alpha losing control seemed rather extraordinary to him. Shifters with tenuous control were rarely able to hide it, either from their Pack or other Shifters.

  “Are you implying that Raoul Merceau ...” His voice trailed off, clearly not convinced by the Vampire’s revelation.

  “Yes.” The Vampire was supremely confident. “Obviously, it’s in the past for there’ve been no rumors since he became Alpha. This is not something that can be kept quiet, especially for a Wyr as well-known as the Alpha. That Faoladh does not challenge him is also a good indication that it is behind him.”

  “Even if I were to believe you, Vampire, how does this help me, except of course to needle the Alpha when we meet again?”

  “Aah. The important bit is not that he slipped in the past, it’s what caused his control to slip then.”

  The Guardian sat up straighter. Any information regarding a Shifter’s loss of control was no small matter. The fine line between life and death for a Shifter, it was guarded very zealously by them.

  “He was exposed to experiments by a Wizard for about a year, as far as I can gather, right before he disappeared. After that, all record of him goes silent until he appears in San Francisco a few years later to challenge the local Alpha.”

  “What kind of experiments?”

  “My sources tell me a combination of silver and powerful magic.”

  “Silver” Anderson repeated thoughtfully. Experimenting on a powerful Wyr with magic meant holding him captive. That was not an option he felt comfortable signing off on. It would be dangerous for many reasons. Silver, on the other hand, might be easier. There were many ways to expose a Shifter to silver without holding him for any remarkable length of time.

  “It’s whispered that the Beast Lord bears lasting scars from the experience” Bianchi said. “His visceral dislike of Wizards for one.”

  Anderson nodded. That would certainly explain the Alpha’s notorious disdain for all Wizards.

  “The experience has forced the Alpha to develop a phobia of confined spaces, as well as greater intolerance to silver, more so than other Shifters” the Vampire added.

  Silver was like kryptonite to Shifters, though how each Wyr was affected by the metal seemed to differ drastically.

  “His body has a hair-trigger reaction to silver because of the past. The combination of a large dose of silver and confined space might remind him why he fled civilization before, Guardian” Bianchi suggested smoothly. It was a barbaric recommendation to destroy a Wyr, but Bianchi was counting on the Guardian’s burning desire for revenge to override his morals.

  “What is your enmity with the Alpha?” Anderson inquired bluntly, after a few moments of reflection.

  The Vampire smiled. “He stands in the way of something I want.”

  “If I may make another suggestion, Guardian? Something guaranteed to destroy the Beast Lord” he offered insidiously.

  Anderson assented mutely.

  “Once he’s weakened, confine him with that Wizard he calls Pack.”

  “Tasia Armstrong.” The Guardian was surprised. “Why?”

  “If he injures her, he’ll face the opprobrium of all Chosen. It’ll destroy his budding relationship with the First Wizard and prove him a liar before the world, for he’ll have savaged a vulnerable Chosen he’s publicly given his word to protect.”

  Anderson stayed silent, merely studying the ruthless Vampire before him.

  Bianchi pressed his point. “Also, if he harms her in any way, the Beast Lord will be personally brought low. He’s romantically entangled with her.”

  After an initial spurt of astonishment, Anderson burst out laughing.

  “Someone’s playing games with you, Vampire” he gasped out amidst his mirth. “Raoul Merceau will never entangle himself with any Wizard, romantic or otherwise.”

  “He told me so himself.” For the first time, the uber confident Vampire seemed a tad unsure.

  “He was pulling your leg, Vampire” Anderson said confidently. “Faoladh and the First Wizard have been cozying up for a while now. Merceau is only doing Faoladh’s bidding. Both Tasia Armstrong and Sienna McAlister enjoy his patronage at Faoladh’s request. It is because the First Wizard wants both these ladies protected by the Pack. That’s it. Merceau’s not comfortable with any of this — it is clear by the way he talks of Wizards. One of these days, Faoladh is going to push him too far, and he’ll have a mutiny on his hands.”

  Bianchi looked intrigued by the possibility, wondering if such a rift could be engineered. The Lady would be happy to disrupt the Shifters’ investigation and would be very grateful to Bianchi if he brought it about. A thought for a rainy day, he told himself.

  “Why come to me with this information?” Anderson interrupted the Vampire’s thoughts. “Why not use it yourself?”

  “A Guardian is much better placed to exploit information such as this.” The Vampire paused. “Of course, if you don’t intend to use it, then I will.”

  “Do you have a few minutes?” Tasia texted the Alpha later that night. He had been closeted all day in the Alpha’s Room with few opportunities for her to talk to him.

  “Can it wait till tomorrow?” came back the prompt response in five minutes. “I’m swamped.”

  Could it, she pondered silently. Yes, of course it could. But she’d have a hard time falling asleep with this on her mind.

  “Come up to the Alpha’s Room @ 11:30 if you’re still up. I’ll try wrap things up by then” he texted before Tasia could respond to his previous query.

  “Thank you, I will” she texted him back, appreciative of him taking the time to hear her out.

  At eleven thirty, Tasia made her way up the stairs, a spare blanket wrapped around her and a book in her hand. The door to the Pack Room stood ajar. Luis, Stefan Simeonov and two other Shifters were gathered in a huddle inside the room. Both Were-Alphas glanced up as she entered. Luis called out a greeting to her and Simeonov gave her a nod before they resumed their discussion. Tasia glanced at the door to the Alpha’s Room. It was closed. She plopped herself down on a chair to read her book.

  Fifteen minutes later, Duncan emerged from the Alpha’s Room to do a double take at her presence this late in the Pack Room. Tasia glanced at the door to the Alpha’s Room.

  “You’re here to see Raoul?” He had noted her discreet glance.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll check with him” Duncan offered immediately.

  She put her book aside to wait patiently. This time, Duncan was out in seconds.

  “He’ll see you now.” He held the door open for her.

  “Goodnight Duncan�
� she murmured as she passed him.

  “Goodnight.” He shut the door behind her discreetly.

  The Alpha sat behind the imposing desk, a pen in his hand and documents scattered on the usually pristine desk.

  “I need a few minutes” he said, glancing at his watch to shake his head. “Damn, it’s almost midnight. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting this late.”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I’ll wait until you’re done.” She made to turn towards the door.

  “You can wait here” he said from behind her.

  When she glanced at him, he gestured at the couch. “I’ll be done soon.”

  Tasia made her way to the couch. It was a good thing she’d come prepared, she mused. The book and the blanket would both come in handy.

  Hours later, Tasia blinked awake abruptly, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. She lay on a couch, with a pillow under her head and a blanket covering her snugly. The stark surroundings were dimly lit. For a moment, she stared at the ceiling in confusion, until a sudden surge of panic had her sitting up, gasping in alarm.

  A chair scraped loudly, the sound cutting through the silence. Then, the Alpha was striding up to her.

  “Witchling” he called softly to draw her attention.

  Tasia glanced up at him, her eyes holding a mix of confusion and anxiety.

  “I dimmed the light to let you sleep” he said calmly.

  Somewhat mollified by his presence and the prosaic words, she shook her head. “I …” She stopped, glancing around her.

  “You’re in the Alpha’s Room” he explained. “You fell asleep on the couch.”

  Tasia glanced down at the pillow in confusion. Vague memories of another time when she had fallen asleep on this very couch flashed at her, creating a jumbled mix of past and present. There had been a pillow involved then too.

  “Where’d the pillow come from?” she mumbled at him, clearly confused.

  “From the Pack Room.” There was an unusual note of hesitation in his voice.

  “You did that before, too.” She blinked up at him, attempting to see his expression in the semi-darkness.

  “What?”

  “Gave me a pillow from the Pack Room and put my blanket over me. Hawk found me the next morning. I asked him if he’d tucked me in, but he denied it.”

  There was a short silence. He knew which night she referred to. She’d come up here to escape the echoes of a nightmare. A night that had followed a particularly harrowing argument between them, one that had shaken both protagonists deeply, albeit for wildly differing reasons.

  “Yes, I did fetch you a pillow that night” he acknowledged.

  The admission seemed to satisfy her. A “why” trembled on her lips for an infinitesimally tiny moment. Then, it passed. Tasia realized that she didn’t want to hear his answer. Perhaps, he had been making amends for the argument earlier that day, she told herself.

  “You’re still working?” she asked instead.

  “No, I was done a while back.”

  “Then …?”

  He shrugged. “I let you sleep.”

  Tasia sat up straighter. “You should’ve woken me” she insisted. “I never meant to keep you at the Lair. I apologize.” Her voice was agitated, threaded by distress.

  You need your rest, as much as I do.

  It hadn’t escaped her notice how hard he worked, late into the night most evenings.

  He strode to the door to turn up the lights.

  “Now that you’re awake, why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind.” He slid into the chair across from her.

  Tasia hesitated, dismayed at having inconvenienced him.

  “I slipped up today” she confessed tautly. “In there.” She pointed her thumb at the Pack Room.

  “With your knowledge of the Ancient tongue?” he prompted. It had been easy to guess why she wanted to speak to him tonight.

  “Yes” Tasia sighed softly. “I just … I don’t know what happened. It slipped out, before I could stop myself. “

  “It happens” he assured her. “You’ll be more careful next time.”

  “Are you sure?” Tasia looked unconvinced. “I could tell Faoladh was suspicious.”

  “I’ve taken care of Faoladh. Don’t worry about it. Was that it?” he asked as she continued to stare at him uncertainly.

  She nodded. “I wanted to apologize to you. You have enough on your plate.” Her eyes flashed to the desk behind him. “I’m sorry for adding to it.”

  “My shoulders are wide enough, witchling.”

  “I’m sure they are” she said cautiously. “But your responsibility is to your Shifters. You shouldn’t have to worry about my mess ups.”

  His lips quivered, the expressionless gold eyes softening. “Some would argue that I asked for it by offering you Pack status, not once but twice.”

  He’s in a light-hearted mood tonight, Tasia realized. “Do you ever regret it?” she asked him curiously.

  One tawny eyebrow arched inquiringly.

  “Offering me Pack status” she explained. “Do you ever feel that it might have been better if my path had not crossed Hawk’s that night?”

  A strange expression flitted across his face. “Better for whom?” he asked.

  “For the Pack. The Shifters in general. And you.”

  “No.” This time, there was no hesitation. “You’ve been good for all three. And having a Pack to fall back on has been beneficial to you.”

  She couldn’t disagree with his latter comment. “The Pack has been the difference between life and death for me, on occasion” she confessed, her admissions flowing easier with him now. “But I’m not sure how my presence benefits it. And I’m not talking about my work on the investigation” she added hastily. “It might have taken you longer, but you’d eventually have found the answers without me.”

  “I don’t agree with that assessment of your contributions” he remarked after a short pause. “But let us discard that for the sake of argument. Regardless, your presence amidst us has been good for my Shifters, my Pack, and even me. I might not always be the most enthusiastic proponent of Faoladh’s goal of Chosen amity, but I’ve always believed in it. He’s right — therein lies our best chance of survival. If we Shifters cannot handle one Wizard in our midst, what hope have we to greater co-operation with other Chosen?”

  Tasia was taken aback by his blunt comment. “But you’ve always had good relations with other Chosen in San Francisco, even the Blutsauger Mistress. That cannot be a coincidence.”

  “It is not” he agreed. “I worked damned hard to build those relationships.”

  “Then, it seems to me that you’ve always been a proponent of Faoladh’s goal” she pointed out.

  “No, I have not. Because the relationships I cultivated were not to foster co-operation, but to reduce conflict. I realized early on that the only way for the Pack to prosper is if we’re not held back by petty disputes and constant bickering with everyone. Where I could not resolve a conflict, I’ve pushed back with aggression. But where a reasonable compromise could be reached, I’ve facilitated that.”

  His way had been very successful for his Pack, she mused. Hawk had told her that the Pack was an affluent one.

  “Your stewardship of the Pack seems to have paid rich dividends, in more ways than one” she remarked.

  Most Chosen would always underestimate this man, Tasia realized in that instant. As she had done in the beginning. Underneath that uber, authoritarian and testosterone-fueled Shifter Alpha façade, was a shrewd, intelligent and calculating man who never let dogma stand in the way of doing things the smart way. He was a Shifter to his core, more perhaps than even the average Shifter, since in his case, it had been a choice to embrace his Wyr and ignore his Wizard heritage. But he was no blind adherent to the old traditions of his forefathers. He had been truthful when he’d declared that he was not traditionalist. He ran his Pack like a Shifter throwback because that was the way to keep his Shifters ruthlessly in line, to
rule by fear and raw power as the Alphas had always done. Yet, his decisions on other aspects of his Pack were more pragmatic and smart, never about blindly following Shifter norms. Perhaps, this is why his success had been so phenomenal, she realized. Other Chosen would always see a Shifter Alpha when they looked at him, not realizing that underneath that persona lay an intelligent and thinking man.

  “It has” he agreed easily, no false pride in him. “That’s precisely why I was in danger of succumbing to my natural instincts. The taste of success can be a heady experience — it can make you feel more powerful than you really are.” His words were brutally honest.

  Tasia waited, confident that he was not done yet. The man was in an unexpectedly sharing mood tonight.

  “My natural instinct is to isolate us; secure and prosper my Pack but isolate us from everyone else” he admitted. “Your admission into my Pack forced me to question that approach on many levels. Faoladh is right. No individual or Chosen community can remain isolated and removed from Chosen affairs. We’re connected and linked together in ways hard to fathom sometimes. You could never have remained isolated and on the fringes all your life, and neither can the Pack or I.”

  “I … I don’t know what to say” she stammered. These were very unShifter-like views to hold. That it came from a quintessential Shifter Alpha astonished Tasia no end.

  He continues to surprise me, more and more.

  “Your meeting Hawk was a fortuitous event in that sense. Your life was headed in a direction that would have, sooner or later, placed you in great danger. And my views on isolation deserved to be challenged, no matter how much of a success I made of my Pack. The timing of your entry was impeccable — my views were rife for challenge.”

  Tasia, who had thought long on the matter, realized that she could not disagree with him when it came to the direction of her life. Despite her best attempts to stay in the shadows, she had attracted trouble all the same. Had she not had the Pack to fall back on, she might very well have had to use her power to defend herself, thus opening a bigger can of worms.

  “Yet, your first offer of Pack protection to me was under duress, Alpha.” As the words poured out of her, it struck Tasia forcibly how a few weeks ago, she would never have dared to state that to him. Now, she felt confident that it would not be taken amiss.