Thrown to the Wolves (A Black Treaty Novel Book 1)

by Pixie Unger

  She watched him for a long moment. He wasn’t sure if she knew that the eye contact was rude, but he ducked his head politely anyway. She got up and inched forward and sat on the mattress. That’s when he realized her problem. In the corner, she could sleep leaning against the wall. Here she had to lay down. He wasn’t sure what to do about that.

  Mac was. The boy flopped over and wiggled around like he was scratching his back. Belly up, tongue lolling, he looked ridiculous. Sarah fought the smile and lost. Then she curled up on her side and called Molly over. Dog at her feet, Sarah relaxed into the mattress. She was almost asleep when Marv came in. He looked at her for a long moment before pushing the door closed and settling in so that he was between her and the rest of the pack. Gus grinned a doggy smile and curled up, nose to tail, waiting to fall asleep.

  Chapter 10

  1932 - Red Monsters

  The Holodomor led to the discovery of Lupers by the USSR. After several failed attempts to create their own strain of Dogs, Russia starts Project Wolfhound to raise women capable of withstanding infection with recovered teeth. It has been discovered that the males are very territorial, unpredictable, unwilling to follow orders and very hard to kill. By 1942, they successfully created 37 Ulfurinn, who promptly defected into local packs on their first deployment. It is discovered that this can be prevented if the subjects are spayed at the time of infection.

  September 24th

  Marv woke up when Molly got up and wandered around smelling everyone before settling in her preferred spot near the unlit fireplace. He watched her for a moment to see what she was going to do. Nothing apparently. But Sarah was fussing a bit, her arms ducking out from under her blanket to try to find her dog. Marv crept over on his belly to watch her.

  Her fingers brushed his fur. He froze, eyes going wide. Then she slid over and spooned him in her sleep. Her fingers were like ice. God, this was awkward. He remembered advice Craig had given him when he was first building his pack. “It’s only awkward if you make it awkward.” This was where he wanted to end up. If he acted like she was doing something wrong, she wouldn’t do it again.

  Marv forced himself to relax and go back to sleep.

  ----

  Sarah woke up, hugging a very large pitbull. She blinked in confusion and sat up. The dog got up, stretched and had a shake. Then it padded toward the door. Sarah looked around the room. “Marv?” she asked.

  The dog stopped and turned to look at her.

  “I’m sorry I drooled on you.”

  He just sort of huffed, then continued out of the room. Sarah flopped back onto the mattress and sighed. Fuck. Every single thing about her life was embarrassing these days. She should have just sucked it up and slept in her own bed last night.

  October 2nd

  Marv stood behind Sarah’s chair and waited for her to come for dinner. He frowned at the table. Tonight it was chicken legs in some sort of sauce, roast root veg, garlic bread and salad. Fuck. Salad was the most useless food invention yet. They were definitely catering to their Ulfurinn.

  He was about to comment, when she walked in, fresh scrubbed and smelling good. OK, there were some benefits to keeping her happy. Hell, the smell of her made his knees go weak, never mind that happy, slightly mischievous look on her face.

  She gave him a big grin as he sat her for dinner. Said thank you, just as she always did. He sat down. The chicken weren’t finger food, he carefully cut off a piece and hesitantly tried it. “This is damn good!” he said, completely surprised.

  Sarah grinned at him. “Thank you! It’s one of my favourite recipes.”

  She was beaming, everyone else at the table was tense. She noticed and the smile slowly melted from her face.

  “Hmm. You mad you gotta cook for all of us?”

  “No. I like taking my turn, as long as people eat what I cook.”

  “Hmm.” Marv took another bite of the chicken.

  “The sauce is really good on the garlic bread.” Sarah suggested. “Usually, I serve it with fusilli, but I thought I should work up to that one.”

  “Fusilli, huh? Yeah, I’d try that.”

  She smelled surprised but pleased. “Really? I wasn’t sure you would be a pasta guy.”

  “Ya know why it’s called fusilli?” She shook her head. “It’s ‘cuz it’s a spiral, like the fuse on an antique gun. I learned that when Craig and I were stationed in Italy.”

  Sarah thought about that, “Huh.”

  “I ain’t letting you do the dishes though.”

  October 11

  Sean was waving Sarah and her little green car into the service bay. Marv put down his welding torch and wandered over. “What ya doing now?”

  “Time for winter tires, boss.”

  “Yeah. Fine. Good idea.”

  “How’s that frame coming?”

  “Slowly. The client has some weird ideas about shape that ain’t gonna be as stable as he would like without some pain in the arse reinforcement.”

  “Anything I can help with?”

  “Nah. Just make sure the tires get put on that POS. Why won’t she just drive the god damn truck?”

  “She built this car with her granddad. It has sentimental value.”

  That just made Marv uncomfortable, so he went back to welding.

  When he came over to call Sean for lunch, the hoist was lower than Sean liked. “What the hell?”

  “Oh! Hi, Marv!” Sarah said, putting down the torque wrench. “Sean taught me how to pull tires and rebalance them! It’s a total pain in the ass. I think I need to buy a second set of rims with my next paycheck. I don’t suppose we have a shop discount for staff, do we?”

  He glared at Sean who just shrugged. “You shouldn’t be doing that.” Marv said, firmly.

  “Oh. Ok. I’m sorry. You’re right. This should be an ‘on my own time’ project. I’ll get it off the hoist and just do this on my jack stands after work. Sorry, boss.”

  “That weren’t what I meant.”

  She gave him a look of genuine confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  Sean cleared his throat. “Marv is just worried about you getting hurt.”

  “I got Sean to help me take the bracelet off so I wouldn’t catch it on anything. I’m not using the impact wrench. That didn’t go so well the last time. I made sure to set the hoist at a good height so I don’t hurt my back. I am being really careful, I promise.”

  Marv realized he was staring. Hell. She was going to do this without supervision if he weren’t careful. “Fine. Good to hear. Just be safe… uh… time for lunch.”

  October 13th

  Sarah was playing Mario Kart with Sean when she heard the howl and ran off the road. She dropped her controller and looked around in alarm. Sean won the race. “It’s fine,” he said, “It’s just Craig. He’s a screamer.”

  Sarah relaxed and picked up her controller. “Huh, and here I thought he was the straight one.” She became aware that everyone was staring at her. “What? I’m not passing judgement. I am totally OK living with a pack of gay werewolves.”

  “We are not gay!” Sean said, indignantly.

  Sarah waved a hand, “Fine. Men who have sex with men. Or wolves. Or whatever you want to call it. I mean, you aren’t subtle about it. You wear the rainbow patch on your jackets. You are all a LOT more physical with each other than me. And it may have taken me awhile to figure out the smells, but once I did it’s kind of hard to miss that I’m the only one here who isn’t getting any.”

  There was a long moment of silence, then Gus said, “You haven’t really shown any interest, lass.”

  Sarah looked at him. “I’m not stupid, Gus. I know I’m not going to ‘fix your gayness.’ It’s the way you are and I can totally accept that.”

  “Not gay!” Sean repeated.

  Sarah just gave him a patient look. “OK. Look, I’m not sure what you -” she stopped talking as Mac finally lost it and howled with laughter. Tears streaming down his face, he pounded the floor and wheezed.
r />   “This isn’t funny, Mac.” Sean said.

  “Yeah. Yeah, it is.” Mac gasped. “We’ve all been working so hard on being respectful, that she completely missed that -”

  “We’ve been courting you.” Gus interrupted, firmly.

  Sarah looked at him, “Courting?”

  Gus was watching her intently, his shoulders tense. He cracked his knuckles as he spoke, “Females who get infected and not just killed are rare. The number that survive the infection to become Ulfurinn is even smaller. Sex with Humies is not an option. Human cultures really don’t have a relationship model where one female keeps a harem of males. There isn’t even a word for it in english. The closest are words with negative connotations. Like gang bang, or slut. And neither of those is anywhere close to how a well balanced pack works.”

  Sarah was staring at him. “And how does a well balanced pack work then?”

  Gus set down his knitting and rubbed his face. “Ulfurinn are different. There are different rules for you. We aren’t allowed to ask you. But for the other pack members, if you get… needy, you ask someone to help with that. Or better yet, you keep an eye on your pack mates and offer when you notice they are getting lonely. Same as you would help a friend scratch an itch in the middle of their back.

  “The Black Treaty was put in place because no one can pretend Ulfurinn could fight off an unwanted advance. So, to keep the description of gang rape from applying, you have to pick someone and ask. Each and every time. In the meantime, we’ve been trying to demonstrate that we aren’t threatening. We were all a bit worried about Craig, because he was turned before The Treaty and he lived alone for a long time before he heard of it. Still, you haven’t asked Marv to run him off yet, so...”

  Sarah narrowed her eyes, “You’re telling me that I’m supposed to just walk up to one of you and say, ‘hey, buddy, throw me a bone -” Mac started laughing again. “- we have sex and then just continue on like nothing happened?”

  Gus shrugged, “If you like. I would like to be more… What was it you called it? Physical with you, the way I am with the others, but, frankly lass, I will take whatever affection you are willing to give me. And I’ll give you whatever affection you are willing to accept.”

  “Huh.” Sarah thought some more. “You guys are always touching each other. Hugs, pats, back slapping.”

  “Still not gay.” Sean insisted.

  Sarah looked at him. “Why does that bother you so much?”

  Gus answered that one. “He’s a product of his time. He served in the military when homosexuality was an excuse to be kicked out. Plus, he’s still young. You live long enough, you start to realize that everyone has a preference, but if most people get really lonely, pansexuality becomes an option.”

  Sarah slept in her own room that night. In the morning, when Marv held her chair as she sat for breakfast, she put her hand on his arm when she said, “Thank you, Marv.”

  Instead of just nodding and heading to his own seat, he looked at her and said, “You are welcome, Sarah.” Then he just stood there, a little awkwardly, until she removed her hand.

  He sat. The rest of the pack sat. Breakfast was passed around. “I’m not complaining, mind, but what was that?”

  “Gus said -”

  “Oh Lord.”

  Sarah glared at Sean for a moment, then continued, ”- that he wouldn’t mind having a bit of physical contact with me.” Marv turned to look at Gus and narrowed his eyes. “Whoa! Wrong idea Marv! I wasn’t offended or anything. I just wanted to say… ah hell! I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Look, you guys touch each other all the time - shut it, Sean! - and I’m feeling… left out. I would like to be part of that too. Maybe with less punching. Ok, so now I’m babbling, but my point is…” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I thought I was being excluded because-” she stopped and looked at Sean for a moment, “- because of reasons. But it turns out, it might be because I haven’t said it’s ok. So… yeah.”

  She looked around the table and they were all staring at her. Marv and Craig just looked confused. Mac was trying not to grin. Sean looked slightly offended. Gus looked pleased. Sarah ducked her head and concentrated on her mini-wheats.

  Chapter 11

  1939 -1945 Discovery by Nazi Germany

  During mass killings it is easier to detect creatures who can survive gassing, firing squads, starvation, and poisonings. Samples of Lupers and, eventually, an Ulfurinn, were collected in Nazi Germany. Mary Cherny’s tissue would form the basis of the N-strain Wolves. Bigger, stronger, but unable to create Ulfurinn themselves, they are extensively hunted by the Dogs of War to this day. It may be worth noting that they sometimes make a point of limiting their diet exclusively to Humie. This makes it harder to detect them by smell in an urban population.

  October 14th

  Sarah was humming to herself as she got ready that morning. Marv was a little surprised. “What’s going on?”

  She looked surprised. “Oh! I found a junk yard on the internet that has rims for my car. Since the shop isn’t open for appointments today, I’m going to go pick them up.”

  “Take someone with you.”

  “I’ll be fine! Besides, Mac and Gus have that delivery today, Craig is… doing whatever you boys do out in the woods and Sean has just left on a tow run, so he’ll be busy all morning.”

  Marv considered this. “I’ll take you. You can try out the truck.”

  Sarah stared at him. “I’ll go. I’ll take my car. The rims can fit in the roof rack. That’s why I have it.” Marv frowned, so she added, “I’m taking Molly. This is the sort of thing I would have done before I met you.”

  Marv stopped himself from telling her that then she was an idiot. Tiny little girls should not be driving off to junk yards by themselves. But he was alpha and there was an easy answer to this one. “No.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “No. You are not going alone and the dog doesn’t count.”

  Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “You absolutely are going to insist on coming along?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine, but I’m driving my car. You can either ride shotgun with me or you can take the truck.” And with that she headed into the breakfast nook and sat down. The rest of the pack stared at her, then at him. Marv gritted his teeth and sat at the head of the table. They could talk about this on the road.

  By the time Sarah got into the car, however, whatever residual anger she had at Marv had melted. Sarah loading the car was a bigger production than Marv would have guessed. She made sure she had a travel mug of coffee, a bag of “road food” which turned out to be pre peeled and cut up fruit and vegetables, and a box of baby wipes. She made sure her cell phone was charged and the GPS was programmed to give directions. She brought a gizmo that charged her phone and played sounds through the radio. She checked to make sure she had tie down straps for the rims. She used the bathroom, then phoned the junkyard to confirm she was on her way.

  “Yeah,” she said, “It turns out my dad has the day off and is coming with me. Just as a heads up, you are still selling to me, though, so warn your guys that they need to be talking to the woman. If you ignore me in favour of the old white dude, I will get back in my car and come home without buying a damn thing.” She said, opening the car door and waving Molly into the back seat.

  The guy on the other end of the phone laughed, “You have your dad talk to my dad and we can actually do business without either of them in our hair, deal?”

  “Sounds good,” she said as she climbed into the driver’s seat. “I’ll see you in about an hour and a half.”

  Then she did up her seat belt and started the car. Marv got in and glared at her. “Your dad?”

  Sarah shrugged. “Like you don’t try to parent me.”

  Marv leaned back and did up his seat belt as his mind raced. He was not expecting that. He was in charge, that was his job, but it wasn’t the same as parenting. The car was small, but not the worst he had been in.

  Afte
r a moment, as they were pulling out onto the highway, Sarah said, “Look, I get it. Pack alpha. I bet we are all like your kids…” she thought for a moment. “Nope. I completely take back that analogy.” She fell silent for a few moments, then said, “Wow, Gus was right, there aren’t any human equivalents to how the pack works, are there?”

  “Not really no.” Marv was trying to find the least offensive way of asking the next question. He went with, “You think I’m trying to parent you?”

  Sarah shrugged. “That or patronize me. It’s consistent, so I’m going to go with ‘well intentioned but badly executed parenting,’ since I’m reasonably sure you aren’t trying to be offensive.”

  “How am I being offensive?”

  Sarah took a deep breath and blew it out. “I didn’t buy this car and fix it up. I spent a bunch of summers driving around to junkyards with my grandad, buying parts and building a car from scraps. My parents couldn’t afford to buy me a car and my Grandad had no idea what to do with a teenage girl, so we built a car. I know how every single piece of this machine works. You own a garage. I wanted a job. You said no, it was your decision. When I found a job somewhere else, you grudgingly allowed me to answer the phones. Nevermind that I might actually be able or want to help with real jobs. No. You got mad that I was changing my own tires. The token female in the pack becomes the telephone operator and that’s all I’m allowed to do. I understand that you are older than dirt, but these days, that’s pretty offensive.”

  “It’s my job to take care of you.”

  Sarah just shook her head. “What about taking care of my mental health? People need to be useful.”

  Marv considered all of that. “Your grandad built this car?”

  “Argh! No! I built this car! He gave me some directions, but we learned together from the Haynes manual and other books. I did all the work! The only things we outsourced was the paint job and the upholstery. The reason we built a small car is that I can manage all the parts in her with as much equipment as will fit in a single car garage. I can even run the rental engine hoist we used. Once again, antique attitude assuming my grandad built it and I am just… what? Taking the credit? This car has a 1.6 litre, air-cooled, four cylinder boxer engine that I rebuilt. It weighs 220 pounds, which means I could use a floor engine hoist to work on it. The truck you keep trying to stick me in, I won’t ever be able to work on that engine.”