by Leeda Vada
“Five Hounds of God troopers,” he informed her. “There is no question of your guilt, the massacre was caught on video.”
At his words, the color drained from Calli’s face and she lost all feeling in her legs. Sebastian reached to steady her, then pulled her into the shelter of his body.
The Inspector continued, “Do you deny these charges, Ms. Lakota?”
“Do not answer that, Calli,” Sebastian cut in. “The Inspector has forgotten to read you your rights. And he cannot question you without your lawyer present.”
“I may not be able to question her, Mr. Varul, but I can certainly arrest her.” Jamison glanced at the faces of the Varul guards. “Tell your men to stand down. I also do not want bloodshed, but my men will not hesitate to shoot if they need to,” he insisted. “We will make this arrest.”
Signaling his men to relax, Sebastian looked to Calli, whispering into her hair, “Listen, Calli. No one is going to take you from here,” he tried to reassure her. “Hold on to me.”
“I will accompany Ms. Lakota to police headquarters.”
One of his men signed to Sebastian that he had already put in a call to Canaan at Canid headquarters in Bakari, and Canaan was already en route.
“Call back and have him meet us at police headquarters,” directed Sebastian.
Seeing the sergeant approaching with a pair of handcuffs, Sebastian raised his hand to stop the young officer.
“Handcuffs will not be necessary, Inspector. I will be accompanying my client. As a respected Advocator and a citizen of Switzerland, I give you my pledge to deliver her to the magistrate. If you question my integrity, feel free to put in a call to Director Tartuffe at the capitol seat in Bern.”
#
The tension in the room was mounting as fear and rage began to overwhelm the father of the young operative the Stealth team had been sent to recover. The boy’s father had come to Canaan twenty-four hours after he had received notice that his son had been captured.
Despite Duncan’s resentment of his encroachment into Stealth territory, Canaan had agreed to the father’s request.
Canaan was presenting the schematic of the Hounds’ lab on the Yucatan Peninsula to the assembled Mestizo team. They needed to memorize it to extract the two stranded undercover Stealth Warriors and the young man they had rescued. With only an hour until execution, the clock was ticking.
The door opened. “Turn on the news, boss,” Largo directed, his voice tight.
“Not now, Largo,” Canaan said as he continued the presentation.
“Turn on the news, boss,” Largo repeated. The ominous tone in his voice drew the attention of everyone in the room. “It’s Calli.”
Canaan froze.
He signaled Hawk to turn off the mission tape. Then, using the button on the console in front of him, Canaan turned to the national news to find a breaking story alert.
“She-Wolf Slaughters Trooper,” read the flashing caption. The excited reporter was giving details of the violent deaths of five young Hounds of God troopers at the hands of a white she-wolf. He paused to play a video.
It began with the image of a young woman, her body barely covered by the bloody, shredded, and ripped remains of her clothing. Her identity was obscured by the blood, mud, and spittle covering her face and hair. But her eyes, her eyes pierced the carnage and were clear and direct. The light, pewter gray had morphed into the deep, impenetrable black that only existed in Hades, a darkness no light could penetrate.
In the cool, controlled, and methodical fashion she had been taught, Calli mowed down her attackers. And as she circled to search for more assailants, the camera caught flashes of her back.
The Troopers had branded her—three bone-deep trenches—triple sixes. The devil’s spawn.
The video ended with the head shot of a wolf, its sex identified by the size and shape of the muzzle and skull. Its features were dominated by rage-filled, dark sulfur cloud surrounding and orb of shooting emerald diamonds, so mesmerizing that one almost missed the blood and flesh dripping from its fangs.
#
It had been two years ago, after Nathan’s funeral, that he had last seen Calli in her wolf form.
The howl began in the bowels of his soul and rose through the bile filling his abdomen, building in strength and volume as it sought a valve to release the horror.
Grabbing the water cooler from its stand, Canaan launched it at the screen. The howl exploded from him, just as the large jar shattered. Liquid drenched the screen.
No one moved as Canaan exited the room.
#
Having been summoned to the conference room by Hawk, Apollo assured the distraught father that the rescue mission was still a ‘go’. He assigned two of his Shielders to replace Largo and Tamby.
He waited until everyone else had left the room. “You can come in now,” he called to Duncan, who had been waiting in the outer office.
“Where is Canaan?”
“Largo and Dakota were waiting for him at the airfield. They left immediately for London,” Duncan informed him.
“We need to get a team out there immediately to give them backup.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Duncan assured him.
“And call Saxe. Calli will need an attorney, and Chandler is the best.”
“Done.”
“And Duncan, tell Chandler that he has a blank check.”
“He won’t feel that is necessary. Canaan is family.”
“Yes, but Calli is not.”
“He won’t see it that way.”
“I can’t take that chance,” Apollo responded.
Opening the office door, Duncan paused. “How are we going to spin this?”
“I’ll meet with the other Alphas and all the pack leaders. It’s too late to kill the story. We’ll try to contain it as much as we can. But let there be no doubt, this is a public relations nightmare,” he concluded as Duncan opened the door.
“Is that your concern, Apollo?” an angry Odin asked as he entered the room. “My daughter is going through hell, and all you’re worried about is public relations.”
“You know better than that, Odin,” Duncan protested. “Apollo is sending help to her and Canaan as we speak.”
“All I know is that I have to get home to my mate and break this news to her before someone else does. All I know is that I am about to break her heart. Again.”
Chapter Eighteen
Switzerland, nine hours later
Canaan’s gaze went immediately to Calli’s taut form. Standing stock still, her back ramrod straight, she faced the large picture window overlooking the busy streets below. The sun was out, the temperature a moderate fifty-five degrees Fahrenheit, as the people below occasionally laughed and joked as they went about their daily tasks.
Canaan was full of so many emotions that he didn’t know what to do. The one threat to his controlling the rage reflected in the deep amber of his eyes was the desire to kill the bastard Sebastian who had been standing protectively in front of Calli, in front of his mate.
Reading the feral rage in Canaan’s eyes, Sebastian took two steps away from Calli. Inspector Jamison, sensing the potential for violence between the two men, took a step in Canaan’s direction, but was cut off by Khan and Dakota.
“You don’t want to do that, Inspector,” Dakota warned. “Mr. Powhatan is not in control right now. All he sees is his mate in pain. He smells her distress. And he interprets as a threat any male within close proximity to her. Step back and give him a chance to determine that she is safe. Then he will be able to interact with you.”
Not happy, but wary of not heeding Dakota’s warning to give Canaan some space, the Inspector retreated behind the large interrogation table positioned in the middle of the room.
“Mr. Varul, as Ms. Lakota’s attorney, I insist that you explain to Mr. Powhatan that he has no place in this interrogation,” the lieutenant demanded.
Canaan’s head whipped around, his gaze pinpointing Sebasti
an. “I assure you, Inspector, that Mr. Varul is not Ms. Lakota’s attorney.”
“I beg to differ, Mr. Powhatan. Ms. Lakota indicated at her arrest that Mr. Varul would represent her,” the Inspector countered, his voice tight.
“Well, you can just ‘un-indicate’ that, Sebastian. A team of Cumberland Nation attorneys are en route to conduct Ms. Lakota’s defense,” Canaan insisted.
“Again, I regret to tell you that selection of an attorney is the right of the accused, and until Ms. Lakota indicates otherwise, Mr. Varul will remain her attorney of record,” Jamison countered.
The Inspector turned, preparing to approach Calli, but froze when he heard the growl in Canaan’s throat.
At the sound, Calli, who had heretofore stood separate and silent, as if oblivious to the action in the room, turned to face Canaan. Her face showed no emotion as the men in the room waited for her to speak.
“Ms. Lakota, what is your wish?” the lieutenant queried. “Do you still wish for Mr. Varul to represent you in this matter?"
Calli nodded in affirmation then turned back to face the window.
Canaan reached for her but was blocked by Sebastian. A howl of rage erupted as Canaan grabbed Sebastian. He slammed his head and shoulders against the two-way bulletproof mirror with enough force to propel Sebastian through it and into the arms of the police commissioner on the other side.
Gendarme filled both rooms and surrounded Canaan and Sebastian with weapons drawn, targeting their heads.
“Stop it!” Calli screamed, hands over ears. “Stop it! Stop it!”
Canaan crossed the room and encircled her shaking frame. “Get out,” he growled. “Get out. All of you. Now.”
Into the room walked Saxe Chandler, accompanied by his human law student, Luna Che. Luna’s drop-dead gorgeous blonde Scandinavian features were in stark contrast to the rugged, swarthy complexion of Saxe’s Eskimo forebears, skin weathered by centuries of harsh winds and the smoke-filled lodges his people built to temper the harshness of the Alaskan winters.
The two barristers made a good team. Saxe was eloquent, suave, charming, and sophisticated in speech, dress, and decorum. Males and females of all classes, ages, and ethnicities responded to him. He never raised his voice. Juries were comfortable trusting him.
Luna, on the other hand, dismissed as Saxe’s latest ingénue, had platinum-blond locks that teased the tops of her buttocks as she sashayed into a room. She wore her suits short and tight, accented by white shirt blouses with the top three buttons open. Though the unbuttoned tops revealed no parts of her breasts, they threatened to do so at any moment, which was a sight so arresting that every male and female in the room had to look, just in case gravity sent them a blessing. She had endless legs ensconced in flesh-tone translucent hose. They invited spectators to imagine themselves positioned underneath a set of stairs as she ascended just to see how far up her legs actually went.
Some questioned her intelligence, seeing her more as a Girl Friday whose job was to do research and provide clerical as well as physical assistance when Saxe needed it, rather than as a fellow attorney with skills on par with those of Saxe. Little did they suspect the powerful and influential role that this “wisp of a lass” played in the law practice.
A master manipulator, Saxe knew human nature well. His philosophy was that man was ruled by two things: power and sex. All the other necessities for life—food, drink, rest, work, love, hate, and growth—would fall before Mammon and Aphrodite.
The subtlety of his use of Luna’s sexuality and his own latent charm to influence a jury was genius. They were an unbeatable team, as their portfolio of successful cases proved repeatedly.
Contrary to speculation, Saxe never bedded his law partners. Working in close proximity over time bred emotions, and sex mixed with emotions was a virulent combination, and emotions had no place in a partnership or in the prosecution of a case.
Emotion was a weapon to use against the opposition. In the video, the prosecution was using the average Joe’s fear of Canid to brand Calli a bloodthirsty, out-of-control berserker. It was going to be a challenge to nullify that video, to wipe from their minds the image of bloodied fangs over a torn human neck.
But then Saxe loved a challenge. Wielding that kind of power was a mighty fine aphrodisiac. Until he dared claim his life mate, the aphrodisiac would have to give him the muted satisfaction a good madam had not been able to provide during his fifty-year existence.
In addition, he was bringing passion and outrage to this fight. He had been friends with Canaan for years, and Calli was Canaan’s destined life mate. The abominations committed against her person deserved much more than the bullets that had riveted the bodies of her assailants. He only wished he had been there to tear apart their remains and incinerate them in the way of his people, but he had to contain his rage, and the rage of all the Canid people on the planet.
This incident could ignite an all-out global war between Were descendants and humans, a war that neither species could afford. He had to put his personal feelings aside and do the job Alpha Apollo had assigned him.
#
Luna walked over to stand with Calli. Saxe’s eyes locked on Canaan’s fury-filled gaze, and indicated with a slight slant of his head for Canaan to follow him to a corner far enough away for privacy.
“According to international law, the only way you can be here is if you’re Calli’s husband,” he quietly informed him. “International law does not recognize Canid mating as a legal union in their courts. In civil courts in some countries, but not in criminal cases. Switzerland does have an extradition treaty with the United States where the killings took place, so Calli will have to go there.”
“Then we’ll get married,” responded Canaan.
“That would be fine, Canaan. For you,” Saxe replied. “What about Calli? She has refused all these years to accept the mating bond. How will you be able to change her mind and persuade her to accept it now? If my memory serves, your last time together was not a very loving one. In fact, it was the exact opposite. You rejected her for the second time, if the rumors are correct.”
“I had no choice, Saxe,” Canaan countered, “And you know it. Calli was only eighteen. There was no way she could have handled Etrus.”
Canaan gazed at Calli’s still form in front of the large picture window, seemingly absorbed in the daily meanderings of citizens going about their daily lives.
“A mother at eighteen, tied to a husband and children, having to give up her dreams of adventure and freedom.” Canaan raked his fingers through his hair. “Was I to sentence her to that? To kill her spirit? Her passion? Her independence? All the things I love about her? No,” he said firmly. “If I had forced her, I would have destroyed her.”
Reaching up and squeezing Canaan’s right shoulder, Saxe advised, “Let me approach her, Canaan. Leave me alone with her for a minute.”
“I’m not leaving her, Saxe,” Canaan insisted. “Never again.”
“I’m not asking you to step outside, Canaan. Just give me a minute.”
He walked over to Jamison. “Inspector, I wish to speak to my client. Alone.”
“Mr. Chandler,” replied Inspector Jamison, “as I told Mr. Powhatan, Sebastian Varul is Ms. Lakota’s attorney. Unless she tells me otherwise, he is the only one who has the right to be alone with her.”
A series of growls erupted from Canaan’s throat.
Calli turned from the window and stared at Canaan as if remembering he was in the room.
Sebastian stepped up to Saxe. “Mr. Chandler, since I am only licensed to practice law in Switzerland, I am requesting that you and Ms. Che consider joining my legal team in the defense of Ms. Lakota.”
The inspector looked in Calli’s direction. She nodded her head.
“We accept,” Saxe replied quickly, extending his hand.
Sebastian shook his hand and said, “Now, Inspector, if you will excuse me?”
“Okay,” Jamison replied reluctantly. “But lawy
ers only.” Turning to Canaan, “Mr. Powhatan, I must ask you to leave.”
Canaan’s face was unyielding, his eyes boring into Jamison’s, “No way in hell am I leaving this room, Inspector.”
“Inspector Jamison,” Luna interrupted, quickly approaching the men and stepping between Canaan and the inspector. “Ms. Lakota and Mr. Powhatan are betrothed and will be taking their vows within the hour,” Luna implored, touching Jamison’s forearm to focus his attention on her. “Surely, you can allow them time to prepare.”
“Using this marriage to circumvent our laws is not a good idea, Mr. Chandler,” replied Jamison with disdain. “Our courts are not circuses for flamboyant attorneys to flaunt and repudiate our laws,” he asserted. “You will treat our legal system with respect.”
“Lieutenant, my intention is to protect my client. That is my only objective and my right under your justice system,” insisted Saxe.
There was an abrupt knock on the door. Sticking his head in, Sergeant Davidson quipped, “There’s a minister here asking for Mr. Chandler.”
“Send him right in, Sergeant,” Saxe responded, turning back to Jamison. “If you will excuse me, Lieutenant, I have business with my client and her fiancé,” he said, standing back to allow Lieutenant Jamison to pass.
#
Reverend Dirk Chandler stepped into the room. Uncle to Saxe and himself wed to a Canid, the minister had been a longtime supporter of the Cumberland Nation.
Scanning the group, his eyes arrested at the blank expression on Calli’s face. Having been apprised of the situation on the flight over with Calli’s brother Rand, the minister approached her. “Ms. Lakota, do you wish this union?” he asked softly.
“We don’t have time for this, Reverend,” Sebastian interrupted. “We can’t allow Calli to be alone. She would not survive being locked up in a cell.”
“I understand, Mr. Varul. My nephew has explained the situation to me. But I will not marry any woman against her will,” he stated emphatically.
Approaching Calli, Saxe tipped her chin and looked into her eyes. “Calli, do you love Canaan?”
