by Jessica Snow
"Don't concern yourself with things that you have no control over," the large man with the mirrored sunglasses said. "I suggest you get some sleep, actually. A woman in your condition needs it." Melanie found that her eyelids were getting heavy, and when another sharp jab from a needle went into her arm, she drifted off, the world going dark.
When she woke up, the first thing she noticed was how much warmer the air around her was. It had been chilly at the Lockwood Manor when she'd last been awake, but the air here was much warmer. She tried to open her eyes, but found she still couldn't move.
"How much longer is she going to be out?" a voice said below her, past her feet. Melanie assumed that meant she was lying down, although her sense of balance was still off, she couldn't be sure.
"It shouldn't be much longer. We had to inject her twice, the influence of her child on her physiology is greater than we'd anticipated. She should have dropped off immediately after the first shot. But a full blooded werewolf would have woken up by now." The answer came from another voice, a little bit to the left of the first one. She was definitely lying down, even if her body didn't detect it yet.
"Will the drugs have harmed her child? The Archbishop has approved my plan for it, and I don’t want it damaged. I need a healthy baby wolf for our cause."
"I don’t think so, Brother. The child comes from Alpha lines, and should be very strong. Honestly, if we had to we could probably perform a Cesarean now, and dispose of the woman. The child would have only a small chance of deformity."
"No, it is best if we make sure the child is born fully formed. Once it is, we have the best chance of developing the weapon that the Archbishop wants."
Melanie felt her fingers twitch, and in her belly, she felt a kick that was definitely the baby. Still, she tried to hold still, she wanted to hear what these men were saying about her.
"Brother, I know that the Archbishop is very wise, but I must give air to my concerns about this plan."
"Your concerns are noted, Brother, and have been overruled. Remember, understanding is not a prerequisite of obedience. Now, silence for now, it seems our guest is beginning to wake up. Good evening, Miss Richter."
Melanie gave up trying to pretend she was still sleeping and struggled to get her eyes open. The world was blurry, and she couldn't focus for a while, but when she could, she saw two men, one white, the other Hispanic, standing at the end of what looked like a standard queen sized bed. "Ah, there we are. I do hope you're feeling refreshed after your nap, you were out almost fifteen hours."
"Wh... where am I?" she said. She wanted to unleash a flood of questions but held back. She had been a cop for far too long to forget that such behavior was a sure sign of panic and a great way to get her questions ignored. It told her captors that she was scared and that she could be manipulated.
"You are in a secure facility, that is all you really need to know at this time," the white man said. "You are in the care of the Order of the Silver Bringers, or as your werewolf friends call us, the silberjagger. Welcome, and enjoy your stay."
"Why am I here?" she asked. "Why not just kill me?"
"Oh, that wouldn't be helpful to our cause at all, Miss Richter," the man answered, his lips playing with a smile. "Not at all."
"My name isn't Richter," she said, struggling to get up. She got halfway off the bed and sagged back, her arms still mostly Jell-O. "My name is Melanie Waldwyck."
"Eh, as you wish, although some of our order would say that since you never were properly married, the whole name thing doesn't work. I'm more of a pragmatist. Call yourself Richter, Waldwyck, Lockwood or Minnie Mouse, it doesn't change your situation. You are here, and you'll continue to be here for the next few months until your baby arrives."
"And then?"
The man shrugged. "That’s not for me to say. In the meantime, relax, and when you can sit up properly, please use the buzzer next to your bed. One of us will bring you some food, I'm sure you must be very hungry by now."
"Wait, I have more questions," Melanie began, stopping when both men turned and left the room. The door closed behind them, and she could hear the heavy clank as a deadbolt or something similar was shot. She was locked in.
While she waited for her limbs to start working again, Melanie slowly looked around the room. She was in what looked like a hotel room crossed with a prison cell. The mirror on the wall above the sink wasn't glass, but a highly polished steel she was used to seeing in cells, in order to prevent it being broken and used as a weapon or a suicide tool. The walls were also solid, with no windows to the outside to tell her more about her surroundings. The only ventilation was in the ceiling, an air duct that was very firmly sealed in, with the grating behind what looked like concrete fittings. Turning her head, she noticed that her bed was held together with the sort of locking screws and bolts that resisted removal, making disassembly nearly impossible without a cutting blade or a power tool.
On the other hand, the room was furnished like a normal hotel room. The furniture she could see was of decent quality and looked like wood other than the unique fasteners. The floor was carpeted, and while the carpet was cheap, it wasn't dirty or torn. All in all, it looked like she was in something akin to a mental ward.
Melanie thought about what she had heard. They weren't going to kill her immediately, that was for sure. However, they didn't care about her, they wanted her baby. Why?
In any case, it didn't really matter at the moment. She knew that if either Keith or Kimberly had survived the attack, they would find her, and only God himself might be able to stop the twin Alpha Lycans. Although if she had to lay money on it, she'd put money on the Waldwycks.
Chapter 26
"And I thought the Manor was cold," Keith griped. His arm still hurt, a result of whatever mixture of metals and other materials the Silver Hunter had shot into him. The bullet had been dug out of his shoulder and sent off for analysis, to see if the enemy had found a new weapon to use in their war on lycanthrope kind. Even a shot from a silver bullet should have healed by now.
"Oh, it's not that bad," Kimberly said quietly from her seat. "It's colder in winter in the Manor than this."
Since waking up from her tumble down the stairs, Keith had worried about his sister. Always self controlled, she had still been vivacious in private, at least with him. Whereas most Lycans, even other Lockwood Clan members, saw Kimberly as the restrained ice queen, he had known the other side of her, the side that she only let her family see.
But after seeing her mother be killed, a light had gone dim inside Kim. In the three days since the attack, she hadn't smiled, and hadn't shown much emotion after the outburst in her quarters. At the quick memorial service, where all of the Lockwood dead, along with many other fallen whose Clans had elected that they stay where they fell, had been interred, he had only seen a single tear trickle down her cheek even as their mother was laid to rest. Even Lady Akiko Thornblood, whose leadership and poise had served as an anchor to the assembled group, had shown more emotion when her husband and her son were laid next to the other slain Alphas. Valeria Waldwyck had been buried next to her husband, only a stone's throw away from the others. Only Morrigan Thornblood had been left unhonored, Akiko Thornblood saying that her body would be taken back to the Clan for disposal.
"She died without honor, regardless of any last second apologies," she had told Keith as she climbed into the SUV that bore the surviving Thornbloods. The body had been double wrapped in plastic tarps and tied to the roof of the SUV like an animal carcass, and Keith had wondered exactly what would be done to the body. "Disposal is the correct word to use in this instance."
Now, as Keith piloted the helicopter, they came in low towards the Canadian woods. On the northern horizon, they could see the Hudson Bay area itself. "I miss the Airwolf," Keith said, fighting the controls as a gust of wind threatened to push them sideways. "These Russian jobs never fly well for me."
"You'll get us there in one piece," Kimberly said. She was sitting in
the co-pilot's seat of the customized Ka-62 helicopter, which was the fastest, longest range surviving helicopter in the Lockwood fleet. "Besides, we'll get the Airwolf back. It'll be repaired in a month or so."
"Not everything can be repaired so easily," Keith said. "I'm going to be blunt, Kim. I'm worried about you."
Kimberly shook her head. "Don't be. You have a Clan, a Mate, and the entire Council to worry about. I'll be fine."
Keith wanted to press the issue but didn't think that the time was right. Instead, he just glanced over at his sister. "You're my Alpha Female, Kim. But more importantly, you are my sister, and you are important to me being complete. To hell with the titles, to hell with the Clan. You are one of the two most important people in my life."
Kim looked over, her eyes filling with emotion that threatened to break through. "I know, Keith. And you are one of the two most important people in my life too. Now, let's go get her back, and then I can go have the damn cry that I know I need. But for now, I'm replacing that sadness with anger and hate. Okay?"
Keith nodded and turned his attention back to the front of the helicopter. "Okay. For now. But after this is over, I want my sister back."
"You'll have her. The coordinates that Kenai gave us are just ahead, maybe five minutes. Should I make radio contact?"
"Yes, they'll be expecting us to. Peter said he'll take us to meet them from there."
Kim reached forward for the radio button, her finger pausing before hitting the transmit button. "Are you sure about this, Keith? While I want to get to Melanie as much as you do, can we trust these Bears?"
"We need their manpower and resources, Kimberly," Keith said. "As for trust, the Kenai trust them, and they are an honorable Clan. If they say the Bears are trustworthy, we'll give them the benefit of the doubt for now."
"Okay," Kim said, a bit unsure still. Pressing the button, she spoke in a clearer, stronger voice than she did with Keith. "Kenai Control, this is Lockwood One. Requesting permission to land, over."
"Lockwood One, this is Kenai Control. Permission granted, the field is clear in all directions."
"Understood Kenai Control. Lockwood One out."
Keith swung the Ka-62 around, circling the landing site once before settling down. Shutting off the engines, Keith could see the now unbandaged face of Peter Alces. The older man had a long scar running down his face, and had lost vision in his left eye, but other than that had recovered well from his wounds.
"Lord Lockwood, Lady Lockwood, it is good to see you again," Peter said, extending his hand for a shake. "I wish I could have given you the proper reception, but things are not normal, are they?"
Keith clasped hands with Peter, careful not to jostle his aching left arm. "Not at all Peter. Tell me, has your Clan had any problems so far?"
"None. It seems that for now, they are willing to accept the idea of the Gathering, and accept my temporary leadership. After the crisis is over, they have agreed to a formal election of our next Alpha. We are quite the democrats around here." Peter gestured with his hand inside the small building he had come from. "Please, come inside. I have two men who will tie down and refuel your helicopter, and you both look chilled. I have never understood the Russian obsession with not putting strong enough heaters in their helicopters myself. Then again, with the weather up here, we rarely use them outside of summer. You two were lucky, we've had a bit of a break in the weather. Quite often by this time of year, you have to stop nearly a hundred miles south, then proceed on snowmobiles. Every family around here has one."
Kimberly looked around at the ground, which was already frosted over with light snow. Her boots crunched in the icy grass of the field, and she shivered herself, wishing she had worn her warmer flight boots. "I'm sure. But that must be saved for happier times. Lead on please, Peter."
Inside, Peter had hot drinks available for both of them. "Someone told me that you don’t like coffee, Keith," Peter said as he handed them each a tall Thermos, "so I prepared hot chocolate for you. For you, Lady Lockwood, your affinity for health is known far and wide, so an herbal tea I thought would be best."
"Thank you. And please, just call me Kimberly. This isn't Gathering business, after all," Kimberly said. She opened the top and smelled, nodding in appreciation. "Very nice. Is it local?"
"Yes, in fact, it is made by a Bear woman who has a shop nearby. If you have a moment after the meeting, I can take you by. She makes delicious health food snacks as well."
Kimberly put the top on her Thermos and nodded. "If there is time. I doubt it, though. This is not exactly a social visit."
“It’s not, but I would encourage it," Peter said as he led them through the building and outside to a gray Chevy Suburban. He started up and put the SUV in reverse, pulling out and driving towards the west. "The Bears, while loyal to each other and peaceful, have kept a lot of their old ways. As the world has modernized, they have taken on a bit of what you might call a hippie vibe, although don't let that fool you, their leader is quite the shrewd politician. Because of that, and because of the old animosities, we've found that a bit of what you might call country diplomacy goes a long way towards good relations."
"Then we shall make the time," Keith said. "Fifteen minutes is not going to matter much, and I'm sure your men would enjoy the extra time making sure the Ka-62 is flight worthy. Tell me, do they have experience on that helicopter?"
"No, but a lot of the miners and other folks headed for the Hudson Bay or farther north use old Soviet equipment, so they are familiar enough with the basics that they can give you a good once over. We assume if it is tough enough for Siberia, it's tough enough for Canada too. Also, they’re familiar with the General Electric engines you told me you had replaced the original ones with, so you'll be fully checked out. The drive should only take us another fifteen minutes, the meeting place where we and the Bears hold our negotiations is very close."
"So you have a formal meeting space with them?" Kimberly asked. "It doesn't sound very casual."
"You'll see, Kimberly," Peter said. "Up here in the Great White North, things are.... different."
Peter wasn't joking, pulling into the parking lot of what looked like a diner made from old shipping containers exactly seventeen minutes later. "They are what they look like," Peter said, getting out. "My Alpha had a series of containers delivered up here years ago to outfit a scientific expedition and some oil company's attempt for finding oil in the Bay, and afterward nobody quite knew what to do with them. The trucking company wanted nothing to do with them, they cost more to transport back to Toronto than anyone was willing to pay. It was dangerous enough getting the damn things up here with the local roads. Eventually, the Bear leader at the time asked to take them off our hands, which we were more than happy to do. They turned them into this place and about a dozen little houses in the area. The locals call it Container Village, although it's more like a housing development or a trailer park."
"So this is owned by the Bears?" Keith said, pausing. "I'm not exactly secure going totally onto their territory for our initial meeting."
"No, actually it's mutually owned. It's just what it looks like, a diner. The head chef is a Bear, but the rest of the staff are either Kenai or humans who have no clue about us. But we're clear to talk freely today, they all have the afternoon off."
Keith nodded and opened the door, immediately hit with the unmistakable smell of venison along with a blast of warm air. His mouth watered, and he could see the knowing smile on the large, black-haired man who was sitting at the long counter that ran most of the length of the diner. "Well met, stranger," he said getting off the stool.
Keith, at six foot four, was tall for a Lycan, although his father had been a bit taller. It had been a very long time since he had been forced to look up at someone, but this man was massive, easily six foot seven and weighing over three hundred pounds. He had a bit of middle-aged paunch on him, but still looked massively strong. "I'm Keith Waldwyck," he said, extending his hand. "This is my t
win sister, Kimberly. I assume you are the man that Peter brought us to see?"
"I am. I'm Ben Stormstout, Chief Father of the Aklark Clan. Peter says that you wished to discuss the recent problems that the Lycanthropes have faced. Peter has given me the details, at least some of them." Ben shook Keith's hand, almost swallowing the hand inside his own huge grip. Still, despite the obvious massive power, he shook with only a firm grip, restraining himself. Keith wondered just how strong Ben was in human form, and how much stronger he was in Bear form.
"I see," Keith said. "And what has he told you?"
"That we have a common enemy, which I agree with. My People have encountered these misguided fanatics before. It was, in fact, the first link of the chain that formed a truce between my People and the Kenai Clan after the two Peacemakers encountered a fanatic on their way through Europe. Come, have a seat. Let's enjoy a bowl of our local venison stew, I promise one bite and you'll want to come back here on a regular basis."
Keith sat down in one of the booths, Kimberly next to him, watching as Ben quickly adjusted the booth seat he chose to accommodate his massive frame. "And I thought I had problems fitting in normal places."
Ben chuckled in good humor, nodding. "It helps to have this place, although some of our members have enjoyed careers outside of our land. Right now there are four Aklark playing in either the NFL or CFL."
"I bet," Kimberly said, sounding more animated than she had in the helicopter. "Knowing our capabilities, I assume you have an advantage when they play?"
“Of course. But that’s not why you came. We can discuss that later. First, let us share some stew and break bread as brothers."
The stew came in huge bowls, rich, thick and spicy. Keith noticed from the corner of his eye Peter sit down at the counter with his own huge bowl, and dug in. It was as good as promised, and he quickly found that he had devoured half the bowl. Looking up and wiping his mouth, he realized it was the first real full meal he'd eaten since the attack.
