Freya's Founding: Book 2 of the Winging It Series

by Sonja Bair

  “That’s a pretty big if.” Alrik joined the conversation.

  “Absolutely,” David said. “Therefore, we need to have a few good back-up plans.”

  “How about the little problem concerning a bunch of werewolves converging on San Luis? Are we bringing death and destruction to our town?” I asked.

  Sliding his arm down from my shoulders, David gently squeezed me around the waist. Alrik’s shoulders stiffened and he stepped toward me. Although I saw his eyes dart to Alrik briefly, David didn’t remove his hand. “That will be another good thing about the assembly—you can see that not all werewolves are terrifying beasts. You’ve had a rough introduction to our world.”

  Wiggling out of David’s embrace, I turned to Alrik. “How will this play out in the Alva world?”

  “Not well. The Elders wanted you out of the Alpha role, or at least as removed as possible from the werewolf world. All the leaders of the American packs descending on your doorstep is not lessening your involvement. It’s not clear how they will react, but we can assume that at least I will be at this meeting. I need to report back to the Elders. Freya, you need to be in on the call as well.”

  David appeared as if he were going to say something, but Alrik cut him off with a look that would have frozen antifreeze. “Even though you dragged Freya into your werewolf mess, you are not welcome in Alva business. Back off.”

  Alrik’s nasty tone immediately set me on edge and a sharp retort was a moment from bursting out, but David raised a hand toward me in a mollifying gesture, then turned to Alrik. “Do what needs to be done to ensure Freya’s safety. Take some time to call whoever you need; I believe I will take a stroll around the park. But please let me know what the Elders decide and how we can incorporate their support.”

  David tucked a loose piece of hair behind my ear and rested his hand on the back of my neck. “I may not be able to tell the future, but I have a good feeling about this meeting. If anyone can convince werewolves of the inconvincible, it’s you. In fact, I don’t think you’re a problem at all. I think you’re our secret weapon.” He kissed my forehead, smiled down at me, and turned to walk away. As he strolled down the gravel path, he stuck his hands into his jeans’ pockets and began to whistle a spirited tune. It took a couple of seconds to place it as the old gospel song, “Just a Closer Walk with Thee.” Cocking my head to the side, I pondered the choice for a moment, wondering if it had some deeper meaning.

  Alrik, on the other hand, didn’t bother contemplating any symbolism and immediately returned to the issue at hand. “If you don’t want the Elders to pull you back to Sweden, you are going to have to do some careful negotiation. I’ll run interference with them, but don’t expect a miracle. You have hard work ahead of you.”

  Feeling like Alrik might need a pep talk, I scrounged for something encouraging. “I understand. Without you, I would be up… an unpleasant creek… without a paddle. But with you, things will go much better. So tell me about how they will react.”

  “My guess? They will come to San Luis Obispo themselves. They trust me as a mediator for normal problems, but a whole country’s worth of werewolves meeting with you will probably bring the Elders themselves.”

  “So you are saying that not only will we have a werewolf convention, but we will have an Elder gathering as well?” The problems were multiplying, with no end in sight.

  “Yes. Probably not all of them, but a handful at least.”

  A handful of Elders and the Alphas of America meeting in the same town. San Luis Obispo was starting to sound like the second headquarters of the USN. Which, it occurred to me, could be used as a strategy. Losing focus of my surroundings, I turned inward; ideas tumbled madly around my brain. I templed my fingers together and brought them to my lips. Alrik watched me for a moment, a question in his eye, but I wasn’t ready to share my thoughts yet.

  After about a minute, he broke the silence. “By the gleam in your eye, it appears you have a plan. Should I be concerned?”

  Cackling softly, I turned to him. “I do, and it’s so crazy it just might work.”

  His shoulders dropped and he groaned, turning his face skyward. “Yes, I should be concerned.”

  Chapter 8

  Alrik took a direct flight to Chicago to meet with my mother on some Flock business. He was the lucky one, since the flight back to SLO got all screwed up because of a malfunctioning airplane engine. While I appreciated not flying on a broken airplane, I didn’t appreciate being bounced back and forth between airline podiums, scrounging to find an alternative route back to our minuscule airport. After an hour and some deep breathing sessions, I was booked on flights from Denver to San Francisco to Phoenix to San Luis Obispo. It was the best they could do—or so they said. David, a platinum frequent flier card in hand along with one flirty attendant, was able to get a one-layover flight and actually arrive in SLO earlier than our original tickets. To give him his due credit, David deployed all his charm trying to get me on his flights as well, but the ticket lady drew a firm line at helping the hot guy’s traveling partner.

  The one plus to the mess was that on my flight from Phoenix to SLO, I got bumped up to business class. I had never flown anything but cattle class in the past and I was planning on enjoying the extra luxuries to their fullest. While the lower caste passengers boarded, I leaned my big, cushy seat down and took a sip of my nicely chilled champagne. The aisle seat next to me remained empty, but there were still a few stragglers getting on. Pulling out a book from my carry-on, I prepared to enjoy a little peace and quiet before my problems caught back up to me at home. I made it through two paragraphs before my name, spoken raucously, snapped me back into the real world.

  “Well, I’ll be... Who should I be sittin’ next to than the beautiful and mysterious woman with the secret? What are the chances?” The guy I had met while exploring the alley was peering down at me, smiling broadly. Oh please, do not sit in the seat next to me, I thought. He plopped his battered leather satchel down on the seat next to me and then handed his sports coat to the flight attendant.

  “Thanks, darlin’,” he said, then, moving his bag to the floor, sat in the seat. “What are the chances, indeed? Now, I remember your name ‘cause it was such an unusual name. Freya. What is that, Scandinavian?”

  Nodding briefly, I pretended to be absorbed in my book. My instincts about people were usually pretty accurate, and my creep-o-meter was pegged out. There wasn’t anything specifically wrong; it was an overwhelming sense of off. I hoped that if I didn’t give a long answer, we could spend the next ninety minutes ignoring each other.

  “My name’s Nick, if you don’t remember. I don’t have a fancy name like you, so people don’t remember it very well.” He paused, but my silence didn’t deter him long. “So, what were you doin’ in Phoenix? Explorin’ more murder sites?” He chuckled at his own guess and then nudged me with his elbow. I detest getting nudged with elbows.

  “Business.” One word and my nose was back in the book.

  “I was here for business too. Business went well.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one side of his mouth turn up and his eyes half-close in pleasure. Despite my desire to keep clear of this guy, I was curious about what type of business he was in. His appearance in the alley led me to believe he worked outdoors, and his rough mannerisms only seemed to back up the guess. But there he was, sitting next to me in business class, wearing a neatly pressed button-up shirt and expensive-looking leather loafers. Other than the same over-large belt buckle he had worn when we’d previously met, he could have passed as any other traveling executive.

  “Whatcha readin’?” Unbelievable. This guy didn’t give up.

  I sighed audibly and turned to him. Maybe if I have a short conversation with him, we could get this over with.

  “It’s a crime novel that a friend gave me.”

  Nick leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, “A murder novel?”

  “No. Well, I guess it is, actually. I don’t know; I haven’
t gotten far in it.”

  “Do you like crime novels?”

  “Not usually, but my friend recommended it.”

  “I bet you’re the type of person who roots for the good guy.”

  His question surprised me and my eyebrows furrowed as I answered him. “Well, of course. That’s who you’re supposed to root for.”

  Nick laughed quietly. “But the good guy is generally the borin’ one. Where’s the adventure in always doin’ the right thing?”

  Irritated, I snapped my book closed and focused all my attention on him. “So I’m guessing that you want the bad guy to win?”

  “Sometimes. If the bad guy is interestin’, I’m going to be on his side. Or her side.” He winked at me. Creepy for sure. “But isn’t it all about the action of a story? Isn’t it disappointin’ to finish a good book?”

  I thought the question was rhetorical, but after a moment of silence and his unrelenting stare, I figured he wanted an answer. “Sure. If the book was really compelling, then it’s disappointing when it ends, but all stories have to end.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” He shrugged. “What if the story didn’t end; what if the compellin’ part kept going? Who cares about the good guy or even the bad guy when the plot keeps going? Wouldn’t that be the best story of them all?”

  Where was this guy going with this conversation? I felt like we were talking on two levels, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out the subplot. “I think it would get tiring to have an unending story. The same elements repeated over and over, no matter how exciting they were, would get old in time.”

  “Hmm, good point.” First one side of his mouth turned up in a smile, then the other side until he was smiling widely. Leaning forward, he grabbed a magazine from the seat pocket in front of him. Sensing the conversation might end at last, I picked up my book again.

  “Okay, how about this scenario…” Oh sweet Jesus, he wasn’t finished. My shoulders rose in frustration. “What if the main theme of the story continued, but those elements you were talking about kept changin’? So the setting of the story changed and the supportin’ characters changed, but the excitin’ parts of the story kept goin’ and goin’? Wouldn’t it stay excitin’? Wouldn’t that be something to root for?”

  Sighing, I admitted it would be entertaining.

  “So what kind of plot would stay excitin’ for you?” he asked. “I’ve seen you dealin’ with crimes now twice. Is that excitin’? A little risky? Gets the heart beatin’?”

  “Crimes are good on paper, but in real life, they are only terrifying and heartbreaking. I try to avoid crimes.”

  “You speak as if you have firsthand experience.” He held a hand up to fend off my denial. “No, no, a lady is allowed her secrets. Tell you what: I’ll share what draws me into a story and makes life interestin’.” Pausing, he widened his eyes for effect. “Chaos.”

  “Chaos?”

  “Yes. Disorder, discord, you know, ‘kill a butterfly in Peking and it rains in Central Park.’”

  “I think the saying is ‘a butterfly flaps its wings in Peking and it rains in Central Park.’”

  “Yeah, well I don’t really care about butterflies anyway.” He shrugged. “People, on the other hand, they’re fascinatin’. Pull a string here, push a little there, and see the chaos that unfolds.”

  “You like messing with people.” Based on our two encounters so far, I wasn’t surprised.

  Patting my hand condescendingly, he shook his head. “Oh, no, no, no, Freya. I think you misunderstood our conversation. We’re talkin’ books, aren’t we? You know, words on paper. That’s all.”

  “Right, books. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to mine.” I didn’t wait for his answer; I was done talking to this creep.

  He nodded briskly, as if satisfied with our conversation, and started to flip through his magazine.

  Bracing myself against an interruption at any second, I dropped my eyes back to my book. After a minute of silence, I started to read again. A couple minutes later, I was totally immersed in my paperback. And at that moment, Nick started humming tunelessly. Instantly losing my place on the page, my jaw clenched down hard and my neck muscles spasmed. I really detest when people hum tunelessly.

  Grabbing a pair of earbuds and my phone, I resolved to just block him out. But as I was plugging in the headphones, I couldn’t help myself—I didn’t push the jack completely into the receiver. To others, it would appeared as if it were plugged in, but from previous experience I knew the music would still be playing out loud, not through my earbuds. Then I selected my most experimental jazz music and hit play.

  After about five minutes of seemingly random screeching and wailing from a cacophony of brass instruments, Nick broke. He tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I could plug in my headphones all the way. Hiding a smug smile, I apologized primly and fixed the situation. Feeling better, I switched my music to Mozart and ignored him the rest of the flight.

  Chapter 9

  By the time we touched down in San Luis, I had two voicemails waiting for me. The first was from my mother—I was to call her back immediately. Alrik had already filled her in on the meeting and she used her “Ambassador Holm Disapproves” voice, so I figured I was in some sort of trouble. The second message was from Alrik. I was to call him back immediately. He had talked to the Elders, and they were not pleased. And as he predicted, a few of them would be flying to San Luis in two weeks’ time. I ignored both messages and treated myself to some mocha ice cream.

  Thusly fortified, I returned my mother’s call. While she lectured on the familiar topic of making poor choices, I pulled out my well-worn notebook, flipped to a new page, and started a list labeled it:

  “How to turn Werewolf/Alva Assembly into a Mutually Beneficial Meeting “

  1. Get werewolves to appreciate Alva and Alva to appreciate werewolves

  2. ?

  I paused and thought for a few moments, then shook my head. My plan needed some work. Recapping the pen, I tuned back into my mother’s harangue. She was now going on about how she and my father worried about me more than any parents should have to. Since she had moved from concrete reasoning to emotional manipulation, I figured her speech was coming to an end. In actuality, I didn’t mind her fretting. I agreed with her that somehow, I ended up in more trouble than an average offspring. On the other hand, I generally landed on my feet, no matter how bad it seemed at first. But she was my mother and she loved me, so she was allowed to lecture.

  After I promised to be safe and keep her informed, I hung up and called Alrik back. Alrik, on the other hand, was not allowed to lecture me. I cut him off at the beginning and informed him of my plan to try to instill cooperation between the two species. He wasn’t convinced and labeled me a hopeless optimist. My counter to his accusation was that the glass was never half empty or half full—it was always full. You merely had to define if it was full of a liquid or gas (science wins yet again). We could make this meeting work to everyone’s benefit, I insisted. Werewolves were in trouble, and one thing that Elders prided themselves on was an ability to solve problems. We only needed to convince the Elders that they should help and then convince the werewolves to accept the help. No problem. Alrik still wasn’t convinced. I promised I would provide further details if he gave me some time. Not responding to my promise, he told me to expect him back in SLO soon to help me prepare for the meeting. Our good-byes were curt and we were about to hang up when he stopped mid-sentence and I could feel a loaded pause on his end of the line.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “There is no one like you, Freya.” I couldn’t quite interpret his tone of voice.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

  “Yeah, I know. But you drive me crazy too,” I replied. “You’re bossy beyond reason.”

  “You try to solve everyone else’s problems, even if they don’t concern you. And here’s the part that really drives me c
razy. You make me care about other people’s problems, too.”

  “Oh. Well. You’re welcome?” I replied.

  “You keep me on my toes. You make me laugh. I’m a better person around you.”

  “Um. Thanks.” I winced at my terribly lame replies, but I felt cornered by his kindness. Alrik had recently revealed that he wanted to start a relationship, but I hadn’t given him an answer yet. And a few weeks ago, in a moment of weakness, I had kissed him. I never meant to lead him on and I still didn’t know what to think of him.

  He continued, undeterred by my lack of social skills. “Stay safe, okay? I’ll be there in a week, but try not to get in too much trouble until then.”

  I had trouble convincing others, as well, about the potential good outcome of the meetings— Gina especially. The first time I saw her after returning from Denver was Sunday afternoon—she told me that she had spent the last twenty-four hours at a new friend’s house. Part of me was pleased that she was making new friends, but the wait to tell her about her parents and the rest of the Alphas descending on our town made me nearly cuticle-less. I was right to be nervous. After I told her, she clenched the plate she was holding until her knuckles turned white, and then hurled it at the wall. Previously, I thought throwing dishes was a Hollywood creation, but it appeared I was mistaken. Luckily, all the dishes near her during her throwing fit were plastic, so I just dodged their rebounds and waited for her rage to abate. When plates stopped bouncing, Gina sank to her knees, tears streaming down her face.

  “Why can’t my life be normal? Why can’t I worry about boys and grades and get angry at my parents for setting my curfew too early? Why do I have to worry about people killing me and killing the people around me? Why do all the packs have to be falling apart and there is nothing I can do?”