by Laura Taylor
After what seemed like hours, Tank finally heard footsteps outside the front door, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Once Caroline was home, he could at least go to bed and sleep for a couple of hours, finding relief from the endless circling of thoughts in his mind.
The heavy door opened and Caroline, Andre, Raniesha and John came in, John coming last and hastily shutting the door against the blast of cold night air.
“What the hell is going on?” Caroline asked, with no preamble whatsoever.
“We’ve had something of an unexpected development-”
“Where’s Baron?”
“He’s gone to bed,” Tank said patiently, not at all put out by the fact that he hadn’t got to finish his sentence. He was expecting to be interrupted another seven or eight times before he got the whole story out.
Predictably, Caroline looked horrified at the news. “To bed? What the fuck does he-?”
“He got in very late, and there’s news from Italy,” Tank explained, Baron having filled him in on the reason for his having been called to Council Headquarters at short notice. “Big news.”
“He’s already told you about it?” Caroline asked abruptly. “He told you before me? That bloody arsehole-”
“Caroline!” Tank said, loudly, but a touch below what could really be called yelling. “Do you want me to explain this or not?”
Caroline stopped, lips pressed into a thin line, and then she glanced around at the others loitering behind her.
“How about you head off to bed,” she suggested to all three of them, and Tank put years of practice to good use as he preventing his facial muscles from revealing the slightest hint of amusement. If Andre hadn’t been among the group, they would instead have been issued a sharp command to get the hell out of the foyer. But for all that Caroline was female alpha of the Den, they both knew that Andre would not take kindly to being ordered about like a lowly pleb, and so all three observers were treated to a much more pleasant ‘request’ to make themselves scarce.
From the look on his face, Andre hadn’t missed the significance of Caroline’s words either, and he silently glided past her, running a gentle hand from her shoulder to her elbow before disappearing up the stairs. Raniesha followed, muttering a soft ‘goodnight’, while John thumped his way up the stairs, his loud footsteps a product of careless indifference, rather than any particular display of temper. Tank wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or amused by that. When he wanted to, John could be the most silent of predators. But the rest of the time, his behaviour was more like that of a typical teenager, careless of the impact his actions had on other people and favouring convenience over discretion.
Once all three of them had disappeared from the second floor landing, Caroline turned back to Tank, and he wasted no time in explaining what had happened in her absence. It was late, and she would be tired, and with his head full of worries and lacking sleep himself, Tank was in no mood to prolong the discussion any more than necessary.
“Baron wants to talk to you in the morning before he calls the Watch,” Tank said some minutes later as he rounded off the news he’d been asked to pass along. “Since Genna killed Feriur the situation is going to be complicated. And he’ll need to talk to you about the news from Italy as well, but he said it would be better for everyone to get some sleep first.”
“What’s the news from Italy?” Caroline demanded, completely ignoring his comment about sleep.
“If I tell you anything about it, it’s going to raise a hundred more questions,” he said carefully. “And keep in mind that I don’t have answers to any of them.”
“So give me the nutshell version, and I’ll leave it at that,” Caroline promised.
Tank shrugged, knowing she was about to regret her own words. “The Council has just purchased a one-thousand-acre estate in Scotland. Ostensibly to replace the estate we lost last summer during the Densmeet.”
He could see the cogs turning in her mind and knew the instant she reached the same conclusion that both he and Baron had already reached.
“Really?” she asked, her voice low and desolate, and Tank just shook his head.
“I don’t know. Baron will talk it through with you in the morning.”
“Damnit.” She looked around the foyer forlornly, like she’d just been told a close friend had died. Then she added, “I’m going to kill that girl.”
“No, you’re not,” Tank replied, knowing she was referring to Genna. “It wouldn’t solve anything, and there’s currently a serious possibility she’s worth more alive than dead.” Coming from anyone else, the threat of murder could be taken as mere hyperbole. But coming from Caroline, when the safety of her Den was at stake, there was a very real possibility she was serious. And Tank was duty-bound to point out the flaw in her line of reasoning.
Caroline made a sound of dissatisfaction, but made no further indication of violent intentions towards their prisoner. “Is that everything?” she asked finally, and Tank nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning then,” she said dismissively, before heading up the stairs, not waiting for a reply. Her footsteps faded away, and Tank was left standing alone in the foyer, the weighty silence of the house settling around him. It seemed quieter now that Caroline was home than it had been before she’d arrived. Earlier, he’d had the noise of his own thoughts and the restless anticipation of her arrival to distract him. Now, though, the old house seemed not only quiet, but also desolate, the silence empty, rather than peaceful. Nineteen people rested within its walls, and yet Tank had never felt more lonely than he did at this moment.
Crossing to the front door, he opened the heavy wooden panel and stepped outside into the frigid air. He shut the door carefully and inhaled, closing his eyes as he took in the scents of trees and earth and the impending tang of rain.
Moments later, soundless paws padded across the gravel drive, the large, white wolf a ghost against the darkness.
CHAPTER SIX
“Genna can wait,” Caroline snapped at Baron, some seven hours later as they both dug around for breakfast in the Den’s kitchen. It was mid morning, the kitchen deserted apart from the two of them, and they’d both been late waking up. “Tell me about Italy.”
Baron sighed, taking a swig of coffee and then shoving a bite of toast in his mouth, swallowing quickly. He glanced around, though they both knew they were alone for the moment.
“The Council has bought an estate in Scotland,” he said, wary bitterness evident in his tone. “They’ve been looking for one ever since the Densmeet last summer-”
“Why didn’t they tell us?” Caroline demanded. Even if her other fears didn’t eventuate, then acquiring a new location for a Densmeet was news weighty enough that they should have at least been consulted.
“I’m getting to that bit,” Baron said blithely, shoving another bite of toast in his mouth. “They found one a couple of weeks ago and signed the contract last week. It’s all been a bit hush-hush because they paid… well, quite a lot of money for it.” The Council, and by extension, the whole of Il Trosa, owned a large amount of real estate right across Europe. Houses, apartments, business premises, from England right through to Russia. The income from leasing the properties out was pooled to fund the not insignificant costs of running Il Trosa, and while they were by no means short of money, everyone was also aware that there wasn’t an endless supply of it. Each Den was expected to generate fifty percent of their own expenses as independent income, and the balance was paid out by the Council.
So purchasing a couple of hundred acres of prime real estate was no small task, and with that simple pronouncement, Caroline’s heart sank all the further. There was no way the Council would have done so merely because they needed a meeting place once every three years.
“They’re moving us,” Caroline stated flatly, the only other reasonable conclusion she could come to, and when Baron didn’t deny it, she swore blackly.
“They haven’t decided yet,” Baron said finally. “But you and I both kn
ow the score. This estate has been compromised. The Noturatii are going to find it sooner or later, and in the first instance, the Council were concerned with creating a contingency plan, in case we have to pull an emergency evacuation. But longer term, there are other serious considerations to think about.”
The kitchen door opened then, Skip wandering into the room in search of food. She stopped when she saw Baron and Caroline standing there, the palpable silence between them telling, and she looked around awkwardly. “Sorry,” she said, when neither of them spoke, and she retreated from the kitchen again, walking backwards in a way that would have been comical if Caroline’s mind wasn’t so thoroughly occupied elsewhere.
“What other considerations?” she asked, when the door had swung shut again.
“They wanted something large enough to host a Densmeet. Which means the manor is significantly larger than what we’ve got here, and there are a number of secondary buildings that can serve as temporary accommodation. But they’re…” Baron stopped and glanced around uneasily. “Come outside,” he instructed, heading out through the back door with his cup of coffee, and Caroline followed. He didn’t stop again until they were on the far side of the lawn, away from any potential eavesdroppers; at this distance, even the superior ears of a wolf wouldn’t be able to overhear them.
“They’ve been considering the idea of going public,” Baron said, once they were quite thoroughly alone. “Feng mentioned that a while back, when we needed to take Skip to the vet. The Council hadn’t made any firm decisions at that point, but they were heading in that direction.”
Caroline nodded, saying nothing. Rumours of a bold plan to go public, to reveal the existence of the wolf shifters to society at large had been circulating for months, though no one had ever solidly confirmed the idea. But if they had actually discussed it with Baron…
“Before we out ourselves to the public, Il Trosa would need to dramatically increase our numbers,” Baron explained, looking deceptively calm about it. Caroline knew him well enough to know he was shitting bricks over the idea. “This estate couldn’t house more than about thirty shifters at full capacity. So they wanted somewhere where we’d have room to expand.”
“We’re actually doing this, then?” Caroline asked, referring to the plan to go public, rather than the one to move their Den. “They’re serious?”
“Officially, no,” Baron replied. “Officially,” he said again, emphasising the word. “But we are rapidly running out of viable alternatives when it comes to ending the Endless War. We can’t defeat the Noturatii. We can’t out-man them, we can’t out-gun them, and every year, we’re losing more and more ground to them as they weed us out and cut us down. If we’re going to survive, we have to start thinking outside the box. And you are absolutely forbidden from mentioning this to anyone, Andre included,” he added, with a warning tone in his voice, “by order of the Council.”
Caroline wasn’t exactly happy with that, but she didn’t waste time arguing. Baron was only the messenger in this case, and even she had to admit that the Council had good reasons for wanting to keep it secret for a while longer.
She turned and looked back over the lawn at the manor, standing regally amid the gardens and statues like a queen overlooking her kingdom. Grey stone rose tall and proud, a home in cheerful times, a haven in darker ones.
“They’re going to move us,” Caroline said again. It was all but inevitable.
“Yes,” Baron agreed, his voice low.
Caroline waited a moment longer, allowing the idea to settle, for the sharp stab of sorrow she felt to recede, and then she turned back to Baron. “What about Genna? From what Tank said last night, she admitted to meeting with Miller and breaking the Treaty, but she claims it was arranged by Sempre. What the hell are we supposed to do with that?”
Before Baron could answer, a faint rustle caught their attention, and they both turned sharply to see a large white wolf meandering out of the undergrowth fifty or so metres away. Tank saw them as he stepped onto the grass and changed direction, coming over to speak to them, shifting as he arrived.
“What have we got?” he asked, and Caroline supposed he had the right to ask.
“Were you out all night?” Baron asked, instead of answering the question, and Caroline realised there was a day’s worth of stubble on Tank’s chin – an unusual thing for him – and that he was wearing the same clothes he had been last night.
“Couldn’t stand being confined indoors,” Tank answered, looking uncomfortable.
“We’ve got nothing yet,” Baron said next, answering Tank’s original question. “Too many questions and not enough answers.”
“Does Sempre really hate us enough to sell us out to the Noturatii?” Tank asked suspiciously.
“I’m not convinced on that count,” Caroline replied. “But I’m wondering how Lita died and how that affected the structure of the pack as a whole.”
“And since Genna’s already lied to you about not being involved in the meeting with the Noturatii,” Baron said, looking at Tank, “how far should we trust anything else she’s telling us?”
“Genna said no one else has contacted the Noturatii a second time,” Tank added, “but we have no guarantee that that’s true.”
“We know that the Noturatii still don’t know exactly where we are,” Caroline said. “They know we’re in the Lakes District, but that’s as far as they’ve got. So if Sempre organised the meeting, why wouldn’t she just give them our address and be done with it?”
“There are plenty of things that don’t add up,” Baron agreed. “Getting to the truth of all of it is going to take a long time, but right now we have another problem. In her attempt to leave the Watch, Genna killed Feriur.”
Caroline nodded. “Tank mentioned it last night. And that’s odd all by itself. I didn’t know Feriur well, but she was a high ranking wolf with some serious experience under her belt. For a pup like Genna to have beaten her in a fight is… well, it’s ridiculous, really.”
“Genna claims it happened by accident,” Tank spoke up. “I’m not sure how you ‘accidentally’ stick a knife through someone’s throat.”
“But whatever the circumstances,” Baron said, cutting off this newest tangent, “by law, if she killed a member of the Watch, we’re required to hand her back to them for judgement. We can’t keep her here, or put her on trial for any other crime until that one is dealt with.”
“But the law that says we have to hand her back is written in the Treaty,” Tank said, his frustration showing clearly. “She broke the Treaty, with or without help from other people, so isn’t that more important? Wouldn’t that negate the need to hand her over?”
Caroline shrugged helplessly. “There are no provisions in the Treaty for what to do if someone ever breaks it. It was simply assumed that no one would ever be that stupid.”
There was silence as the three of them looked at each other, the weight of far more than their own Den on their shoulders. And then Tank asked the sixty-four million dollar question. “So what do we do?”
“Call the Council,” Baron said grimly, after a long moment. “This is beyond us. It’s not just about Sempre and Genna, it’s about preventing war breaking out between Il Trosa and the Watch right across Europe.”
“And in the meantime, we need to stall the Watch,” Caroline said. “We’re going to have to tell them Genna’s here. They’re going to be looking for her, and right at the moment, none of us can afford to draw any more attention to ourselves, so we can’t have them out combing the countryside looking for something that’s not there. The Council are going to want to speak to Sempre anyway, so it would speed things up to get her here in preparation for that. But we’ll need some story to give her as to why she can’t just pick up Genna and leave.”
“I think the first step needs to be to call the Council,” Baron said, his voice firm, but his expression apprehensive. “See what they want to do, and maybe they’ll have a few ideas about what we do in the meantim
e. Ten more minutes shouldn’t make much difference one way or another, as far as the Watch is concerned.”
Genna woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed before she’d quite figured out where she was. The blue light of the exit sign over the door gave the room an eerie feel, nothing at all like the natural, comforting shadows of the forest. There, the trees would sway and moan, the shadows constantly moving, the world alive around her. Here, the shadows were still and empty; dead and somehow disturbing because of it. Her dreams had been troubled – no surprises there – and they’d left her with a lingering sense of disconnection. Her life had taken a dramatic and unexpected turn, and she had yet to work out quite how to process that.
She glanced at the clock, surprised to find that it was already nine o’clock in the morning. No one had disturbed her yet, either with questions or breakfast, and she wondered whether that was because they had wanted to let her sleep, or because they were ignoring her. Tank had brought her food last night, but so far he seemed to be the only one here bothering to worry about her.
She got up, turned on the light and splashed water on her face. She had slept in her grey cloak, and she glanced down with a momentary dismay as she realised it was still splattered with mud from her desperate escape last night. But with no other clothes to change into, there was little she could do about it.
Besides, she was a wild wolf, she reminded herself. If Baron and his Den thought she was going to worry about not having the right clothes, then they needed to adjust their expectations.
