by Laura Taylor
“Holy shit!” John said from behind him, launching himself out of his seat to gawk out the window.
“My God, that’s amazing!” Kwan said, peering to see around John, while Aaron said simply, “Nice.”
Mark and Dee were the last two in their van, and neither of them could see anything past the young men, so Tank pulled on the handbrake. “Go on, hop out and have a look,” he told them, and none of them wasted any time in scrambling out of the vehicle.
A renaissance castle dropped straight out of a fairy tale stood before them, looking surprisingly at home among overgrown bushes and wandering vines. Three storeys high in elegant grey stone, it sat on a low rise above a small lake, arched windows lined up like soldiers on parade, autumn trees splashing colour about the landscape like an artist had thrown the very finest of tantrums. It had clearly been unattended for some time, but not for long enough to make it look rundown. Turrets at each corner lent solidity to a design that could otherwise have appeared fanciful, and the whole place had a defensible feel. A perfect spot to withstand the ever-encroaching tide of both the Noturatii and human civilisation.
After a few minutes, the dull drone of another vehicle approaching caught Tank’s attention. “Okay folks, we don’t have time to stand around all day,” he said, waving them back into the van. “Let’s get moving.” The road was narrow, and they would be blocking it for whoever arrived behind them.
It was another minute or two along a narrow but well maintained road until they reached the castle itself – or the manor, as the Council had called it when describing the property to them. The understated nature of the description made Tank wonder if they’d actually seen the property with their own eyes, or just relied on photographs and the real estate’s word.
Baron had already arrived with his van full of the Councillors and a minor security detail, but from the looks of it, they hadn’t been here long. Nothing had been unpacked as yet, and some of them were still gaping up at the building like they couldn’t quite believe it was real.
“No dramas on the way?” Baron greeted Tank as he got out of the van.
“Smooth sailing all the way,” Tank replied, just as the third van pulled up in the wide parking area. “What’s the plan?”
Baron did a quick survey of who had arrived, looked over the building again and then took a moment to study the map of the property that Eleanor had provided.
“Silas, Andre, Tank, I want a full security sweep,” he decided after a moment. “You cover the grounds, Caroline, Kwan and I will check out the interior. Simon, get that radio receiver set up and let Genna know what her range is.” Genna had come in the van with Baron; while she wasn’t being controlled by her electronic leash, he wasn’t willing to let her out of his sight, and it was no surprise that getting her secured again would be one of his top priorities. “Caroline, can you take care of room allocations? You and me will need to be near the Council. Raniesha, look around the cottages and see if there’s a good spot for Sempre and her pack to set up camp. The rest of you, be ready to unload the vans as soon as you get the all-clear.”
“What about us?” Eleanor asked, standing beside Paula and Feng. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a checkered shirt, looking surprisingly unofficial for someone in her position, and as Tank glanced over at her, he could see that she was rolling up the sleeves of her shirt, clearly ready to do some physical work.
Baron looked at her quizzically, not mistaking her intent, but clearly trying to indicate that he wasn’t about to try giving orders to the Council. “What did you have in mind?”
Eleanor smiled sweetly at him, and Tank fought not to grin. Eleanor could be tough and severe at times, but she also had a rather dry sense of humour – which was one of the reasons they all liked her so much, regardless of the fact that they might not always like her decrees. “How about the three of us go and give the kitchen a good scrubbing?” she offered, while Feng and Paula just shrugged. “The manor’s been empty for more than a month, and I’m sure it could do with the attention.”
“Whatever makes you happy,” Baron said, not willing to come down on either side of the line Eleanor had drawn. “Just let me and my team check everything’s secure before you head indoors.”
In the shifter’s spacious kitchen at Misty Hills, Sean watched as the two delivery men carefully manoeuvred the new fridge into place. They were taking the old one away to be reconditioned and sold second hand, and they’d already moved it outside, where it sat waiting to be lifted into the van.
“There you go,” one of the men said, handing the invoice to Sean. Baron had arranged for both the fridge and the delivery fee to be paid for before they’d left a little over a day ago, so there was nothing on that side of things for Sean to worry about.
“Thanks very much,” he said, taking the form and tucking it into his back pocket. “The boss’ll be very pleased with that one.”
“Not a bad place, as far as offices go,” the man said cheerfully, as he and his companion headed out the door again and began wheeling the old fridge back to their van. “Beats staring at a computer all day.” He took in the view of the gardens as they went, and Sean couldn’t help but admire the way the shifters maintained everything. A lot of the gardens were deliberately designed to be low maintenance, colourful groundcover or scented perennial herbs filling the garden beds, minimising weeds and keeping pests at bay. The fruit trees needed pruning, of course, and the lawns needed mowing, and there was the elegant indulgence of the rose gardens, but given that he knew they did all the gardening themselves, they managed to keep it all looking well attended to.
Once the fridge was loaded, he led the delivery van back down the drive, going at a fast trot so as not to delay them. At the gate, he entered the code, then waited until it had shut behind them before heading back up the drive. Baron had impressed upon him time and time again the importance of never, ever leaving the gate without being sure it was closed. And even if he hadn’t been an ex-cop and all too aware of the dangers that could strike the unwary without warning, the amount of money that he was paid for these little caretaking sessions was enough that if Baron had wanted him to sit and watch paint dry all day, he’d have willingly obliged.
He trudged back up the driveway, thinking he should mention to Baron that it might be worth getting a quad bike for these trips up and down to the gate. It was a couple of hundred metres uphill, and at Sean’s age, it would be a lot easier with a little mechanical help. He didn’t have to do it very often, but when it was raining, or in the middle of winter, it was a far cry from what he would call pleasant.
Back at the house, he carried out a thorough check of the fridge for any illicit monitoring devices, as Simon had shown him before the shifters had left, and then checked the security cameras around the estate. All was well.
Okay, time for a little excursion. While the shifters had left the estate well stocked with food, he needed to go into town to refill the jerry can with petrol. The back lawn needed mowing, and when he’d checked the ride-on mower this morning, he’d found it almost out of fuel. Aside from that, he wanted to pick up a bottle of gin for the long evenings in front of the telly. The shifters seemed to have a marked preference for whiskey, which Sean had never been fond of.
On his way out of the estate, he waited until the gate swung shut behind him, then got out of the car to double check. With no one at all left on the estate for the hour or so he would be gone, it was worth being extra careful.
Then he hopped back into his car and headed off down the road, admiring the scenery as he went. The shifters were damn lucky to have such a beautiful estate, in such a peaceful part of the country. Small pockets of paradise like this were getting harder and harder to come by.
When he got into town, Sean headed for a petrol station first, filling up his own car as well as the jerry can. Then he cruised around the back streets for a little while until he found a parking space and set off on foot. He wasn’t particularly familiar with this tow
n, but it seemed well stocked, and it couldn’t be too far to go before he would find a liquor shop.
Steven Chu carefully parked his car and stepped out, surveying the streets around him. It was a little after midday, the shops busy with people and parking spaces hard to come by. He’d set out from London very early that morning and had just arrived in this small town, and now that he had, a small whirlwind of nerves had set up camp in his belly.
He’d been working for the Noturatii for only six months, stationed in the mundane post of patrolling one of their lesser bases, until serious losses within their security team had led to his promotion to an active field agent. His new assignment was a terrifically exciting one: he was to scout the towns around the Lakes District and attempt to locate any sign of the shifter pack.
In general, the Noturatii didn’t like to send its employees on solo missions, so Chu had been a little surprised at the decision to send him out alone. If anyone ran into trouble, there was safety in numbers, and they’d lost too many staff to the shifters in recent months already. But after Jacob’s death and the loss of funding they’d suffered as a result, money was tight, and the shortage of manpower they were experiencing could not be easily remedied by hiring more staff when there were other, more important projects to fund.
But Melissa, their new leader, had a bright vision for the future, ambitious plans to make the British division of the Noturatii a noteworthy one, and so Chu and four other men had all been sent out to scour the Lakes District, each of them assigned a different location to cover, each of them working alone. But this time, instead of careful and covert investigations into individual properties, they were doing things a little more directly.
Heading off down the street, Chu took out the photograph of the shifter they’d captured at the beginning of the year – before Chu himself had joined the Noturatii. He’d heard all about the man, though, and the subsequent raid on their lab, and he still felt a righteous rage at the damage the shifters had caused.
For this assignment, Chu had been given strict orders to remain in public places. He could approach people in towns, shop keepers, tourists, but was to keep his distance from anywhere more secluded. The shifters, after all, valued their secrecy as much as the Noturatii did, and even if he ran into one in person, there was no risk of them starting a fire fight in the middle of a crowded street.
A man in a business suit was coming towards him, so Chu stepped deliberately into his path and made eye contact. “Excuse me, sir? I was wondering if you’ve seen this man anywhere?” He showed him the photograph, and the man took a cursory look.
“No, sorry,” he said, and kept walking.
“Excuse me. Do you recognise this man?” he asked the next passerby, with the same result.
A woman with a baby in a pushchair was next, and she shook her head, muttered a soft, “No, sorry,” and kept going.
The game went on for a while, some people taking a close look at the photograph, others dismissing him with hardly a glance in his direction, but Chu was undeterred. Even if he failed to find the man, there were four other operatives in the area conducting the same search, and one of them was bound to come up with something useful sooner or later. But a private sense of pride and a desire to prove himself useful to the Noturatii kept urging him on, hopeful each new time he asked the question that he would finally find someone with information on the escaped captive.
He tried to aim his questions at people who looked like locals, ducking into shops to ask the staff, avoiding the obvious tourist types, and after a while, he spotted a likely candidate – a man who looked to be in his late sixties, with grey hair and a relaxed air about him.
“Excuse me. Could I have a moment of your time?”
The man stopped and looked back at him with the usual caution of one being approached by a stranger, but with no open hostility. “What can I do for you?” he asked.
“Have you seen this man?” Chu asked, holding up the picture of the former captive.
Sean froze as the man in front of him held out the photograph of Tank – a scowling and very angry Tank by the looks of it – and he had to wonder when and how the Noturatii had got close enough to take it. “He seems kind of familiar,” he said slowly, buying himself a few precious seconds to work out what the hell he should do next. He could just deny knowing anything and walk away, but that wouldn’t achieve anything as far as assisting the shifters went. There had to be something more proactive he could do. “Where did I see him?” he muttered, glancing up at the man, making rapid mental notes about what he looked like. “Just let me think for a minute…”
It wasn’t the first time he’d ever come face to face with a Noturatii member, but it carried the same sharp thrill as it had last time – much like how one would feel if suddenly confronted by a rattlesnake hiding in their wardrobe. And his response was the same: move slowly and carefully, never take your eyes off them, then get the hell out of there. Baron had made it abundantly clear in the past that this was not Sean’s battle. He could do the shifters a few favours, pass on any relevant intel, but he was absolutely forbidden from engaging the Noturatii in any kind of fight. It was guaranteed he’d be outnumbered and outgunned, and getting himself killed over someone else’s war was pure stupidity, Baron had insisted. And while Sean didn’t completely agree that this wasn’t his fight – he’d never been one to just let the bad guys walk away, after all – he did agree that he was outclassed with this particular enemy. Where there was one, there were often more, and with the crowds of shoppers drifting past, they could be lurking just about anywhere.
An idea came to mind, so he dropped his pretence and looked the man up and down. “I’m sorry, are you with the police?” he asked. “You’re not in uniform.”
“I’m sorry,” the man said. “Detective Lee.” He pulled a badge out of his pocket and held it out – and Sean could instantly tell it was a fake. He filed the information away in the back of his mind, ready to report to Baron later on. The shifters had a young woman in their group who was a computer expert, and there was a chance she might be able to track down something on the name, or where he’d got the counterfeit badge made. “This gentleman is wanted for questioning over the disappearance of another man,” the ‘Detective’ told him. “Anything you can tell us would be a great help.”
“I saw someone who looked like him a couple of weeks back,” Sean said, tapping the photo. “In a hardware store in Lancaster.” The town was a good hour to the south, and while it wasn’t technically in the Lakes District, it was not so far south that it would raise any significant doubts. “Huge fellow. That’s why I remember him. He was up here somewhere…” He held his hand up above his head, estimating Tank’s height. “I was doing some shopping for the missus. She wants all these indoor plants to liven up the house. Bleeding hassle, if you ask me, needing watering all the time, dropping leaves everywhere… but he was there, in the queue behind us. That’s where I saw him.” He nodded sagely while the Noturatii man scribbled in a notebook.
“That’s very helpful,” the man said, and Sean could tell that he was having trouble keeping up his ‘professional’ demeanour. No doubt the man thought he’d hit the jackpot with that little pile of dog’s droppings Sean had just fed him. “Anything else you remember about him?”
Sean shrugged. “No. I mean, I wasn’t really paying all that much attention. I just noticed how damn tall he was. Now, you’ll have to excuse me, I’m sorry. I have a few things I need to be doing.” He headed off, wanting to be well away from here before the man started asking any more awkward questions, or Sean let something slip in his facial expression or body language that gave himself away. He walked straight past the liquor shop and turned down the next alley, working his way back to his car in a wide circle, checking every so often that no one was following him. When he reached the car, he loitered there for a minute or two, fiddling with his phone, then, when he was convinced that no one was paying him any undue attention, got in the car and dro
ve away.
He watched the road in his rear vision mirror all the way back to the estate and felt his phone burning a hole in his pocket the whole way there. When he finally arrived, he was going to have to make a very interesting phone call to Baron.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Baron stood on the manor’s wide driveway, watching as the gathered shifters organised themselves into a number of loose groups. On one side were his own pack, minus a handful of their number. On the other side, nearer the cottages where they were staying, were Sempre and her pack. They had arrived yesterday, claiming a small woodland as their own, adjacent to one of the cottages which they were using for its supply of running water and its cooking facilities, and many of them had been more than a little alarmed when the Council had explained the details of the situation. Sempre had repeatedly denied the charges in front of her pack, interrupting Eleanor’s explanation several times, but in the end Eleanor had succeeded in telling everyone that they were all to be interviewed at various times throughout the proceedings and emphasised that the future of their species may well depend on their cooperation.
No pressure, or anything.
And finally, in the centre of the driveway, the Council waited to meet the three white vans which were slowly approaching the manor from across the rolling fields, with Baron and Caroline by their side. Tank, Silas and Raniesha had been sent to meet the Council’s plane in Edinburgh, less than an hour’s drive from their new estate. Twenty delegates had been flown in from right across Europe, representatives of ten different packs, and there was a distinct tension in the air, as no one knew quite what to expect from their visitors. Despite Eleanor’s assurances that most of the Grey Watch were more cooperative than Sempre’s pack, there were still vast cultural and philosophical differences between them that would be hard to accommodate with so many people crammed onto one property. Aside from anything else, everyone was going to have to be discreet when in wolf form. The members of the Den were used to the rules about no howling and staying away from the front gate as wolves, but for wild shifters who were used to living in remote forests, very often with natural wolf neighbours, it was going to be a big adjustment.
