"Which is?"
"You need to kill Steel."
Jeffery and Jordan let that bomb hang in the air for a few beats. Jeffery frantically motioned for Jordan to keep him talking; his phone had just vibrated with a message which contained the extraction team's ETA. They were fifteen minutes out. If Montague called his dogs to seek them, they wouldn't have fifteen minutes. Before Jordan could speak though, Darla had started to talk.
"Steel! Darla Steel! Darla Steel-Hacker!"
Montague flashed his toothy grin.
"Yes," he said, in a sing-song voice. "Darla Steel-Hacker. See, Jordan, that little boyfriend of yours was one arrogant son of a bitch. Slapping his name on her like that, thinking nobody would ever find her. He didn't even trust the Outreach, and his old man set them up! Now why do you think he hid her from them?"
"I... I don't..."
"I'll tell you why," Montague continued. "Because if they knew she was his, he would have two options. He could turn you, which would bond you until death; or he could let the Outreach kill you both and take the girl. You never thought it was suspicious that the heir to the throne didn't want to go home?"
"I didn't know..."
"Well, now you know. You gonna tell him different, Outreach scum?"
Jeffery glared at Montague, but couldn't think of anything to say. Witty comebacks were a luxury that his stressed brain couldn't afford. He didn't have to glare long; moments later the sound of whipping helicopter blades sent the wolves scattering into the woods.
"This isn't over, Hacker!" Montague bellowed, as he backed away. "I will get that girl!"
The trees pushed out in the wind from the blades, and Jeffery waited for the code word.
"Fumbling Moronis?" A voice bellowed above them.
Jeffery winced and stuck his arm out the window to wave at them. Of course Bates would choose that name.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Darla gripped her Wolfie tightly. Jordan held her just as close as they flew over the state of Washington, leaving their truck and home to rot in someone's orchard. Jeffery promised that, if they survived the next couple of days, they would go back and get it. The scattered lights of Washington spread out before them as they flew over, like stars on a velvety black map. Darla tried to ask a question, but the chopper blades were too loud. She curled against Jordan's chest and held on tight, trembling. Jordan patted her back reassuringly. He felt as if he should be frightened, but he couldn't seem to access that emotion, which frustrated him. The arrogant beast in his brain was wreaking havoc with his ability to judge the actual danger of the situation.
A particularly large square of blackness spread out before them, and they began their descent. Jordan wondered how they would land in the dark, then he saw the triangle of weakly blinking green lights. The helicopter set down in the center of it, and the blades above slowed to a stop. Someone yanked the door open and pulled him out by his elbow. He cradled Darla against him, cushioning her from the aggression in the gesture. Jeffery was pulled out next, then the three of them were led across the black asphalt toward a dimly glowing door in the hillside before them. Jordan wanted to ask where they were and where they were going, but he didn't dare. His escorts were large, silent, and appeared to be virtually vibrating with anger.
The glowing door led to a large, metal elevator. One of the shifters punched in a code to open the door, and another to make the elevator move. Jordan hadn't expected this level of security, and felt slightly guilty for making assumptions. Of course the shifters would have upgraded their security over the centuries. Technology was easy. It was updating society that was hard. It was also what Jordan was most worried about. He was terrified that some archaic rule or method would leave his daughter orphaned in a strange pack. From what Jeffery and Montague had... belatedly... told him, that wasn't outside the realm of possibility.
The door opened onto a wide, low chamber which was well-lit and windowless. Of course it's windowless, Jordan told himself impatiently. We're underground. The shifters who brought them pushed them forward, then stood in a solid line behind them with stiff, militaristic posture. Nothing happened for several seconds, and Jordan began to look around, wondering if there was something he was expected to do.
"Be still," Jeffery told him, in a low voice.
He was thanked for his warning with a billy club in the back. He winced, but didn't react beyond that. Jordan took his cue from the far more experienced shifter, and held his ground, tapping into his deep well of patience. Soon enough he was rewarded with the echoing sounds of multiple feet marching down an unseen hallway. They came closer and closer, finally approaching the chamber in a long line of shifters. Jordan's heart sank when he saw the beast at the head of the line. The massive, steel-grey wolf with blazing blue eyes walked slowly, but with an air of regal confidence which made Jordan want to fold into himself. A crimson velvet robe swept his back, rustling with the stiff sway of his tail at every step.
It had been ten years since anyone had seen Steel in any other form. Those closest to him knew why; his bones and joints had frozen arthritically in this form, rendering him incapable of any other. The common shifter, however, took it as a sign of rebellion against human standards, and applauded him for it. He wouldn't correct them and, when he died in his half-form, his devoted people would interpret his frozen snarl as a symbol of strength for his people. Aging in this way had given him the edge of mythos, making him a legend in his own time. He stopped six feet away from the three shifters, glaring at them severely from beneath his bushy brows.
"Bring me the girl," he ordered the subordinate to his right.
Jordan clutched her tighter.
"Daddy?"
"You aren't taking her anywhere without me," Jordan said.
The shifter approaching him didn't respond. He pulled a weapon from his belt and jabbed it into Jordan's neck before he could react, making him seize and flail as electricity coursed through his body. He willed himself to hold on to her, but it was useless. He collapsed in a twitching heap on the floor as the shifter scooped Darla out of his arms. From his sideways position on the cold floor, he saw her Wolfie fall. The white-hot buzz in his ears receded, replaced by her terrified shrieks.
"Daddy! Daddy no! Wolfie! Let me go!"
She shifted, biting and scratching at the man who held her, but couldn't make a dent in his thin, metallic armor. Jordan crawled shakily to his knees, then shifted. He bounded across the floor on all fours, aiming for the man's legs.
"Jordan, no!" Jeffery shouted.
Jordan ignored him. The bastard was taking his baby. He was an inch from impact when a blinding blow struck him between his shoulders, sending him sprawling to the floor, unconscious.
"Take her to the nursery," Steel ordered. "Have them put her to bed."
Jeffery risked his life to kneel down and pick up her little stuffed doll.
"She won't sleep without this," he said, holding it up.
"Get the doll," Steel said, gesturing stiffly with his head.
"She's also allergic to strawberries," Jeffery informed Steel as the subordinate walked over.
"Make a note," Steel ordered a second subordinate. The man nodded, and scribbled the information down on a notebook, then tore the page off and handed it to the man carrying Darla. Darla was still sobbing and fighting, but calmed when Jeffery set Wolfie in her arms. She looked up at him with those big brown eyes, so like Alex's, silently begging him for reassurance. He touched her head gently.
"It's okay, darlin'," he told her, but he wasn't even convinced by his own words. "They'll take care of you."
"Daddy hurt!" she wailed.
"Daddy will be okay. You go to sleep and we'll see you in the morning, okay?"
"No, come with me!"
The subordinate turned then to walk her away, and she screamed.
"Jeffery! Jeffy! Come with me! Let me go! Daddy... Daddy!"
Her cries echoed down the hallway and Jeffery's heart broke. He glared across the ope
n space to meet Steel's eyes head-on.
"You're terrifying her," he snarled. "What's the point of ripping her out of her dad's arms like that? Hitting him in front of her? What's your game, Steel?"
"You are in no position to ask questions of me, Upsilon," he said, spitting the last word like a curse. "Take these... insubordinate pups to the interrogation chamber."
With that order, Steel turned creakily on his elongated heel and walked away down a different hall than he'd entered from. Jeffery was instantly surrounded by pushing, prodding shifters who herded him into a second elevator. They were joined moments later by two more shifters who carried Jordan's unconscious canine body. Jeffery swallowed hard at the rage rising in his throat. He couldn't take them all on and, even if he could, they would kill the girl before he got to her. Uprisings were not tolerated, ever. The only way to get out of this alive was to follow the rules.
They were put in separate rooms with a glass wall between them. There were no tables or chairs, no recording equipment, no observation booths. This was werewolf interrogation. Jeffery wished he had given Jordan more than a vague warning before they made it this far. If he tried to fight to win, he would lose. They both would, and Darla by extension. Jordan needed to roll over, show his belly, both literally and metaphorically. Jeffery hoped he'd have a chance to relay that information before the interrogation team arrived. His hopes were dashed by the sound of heavy footfalls in the hallway outside.
The door opened, and Jeffery was shocked to see Steel. He expected the professional team. Steel stood, tall and strong, as he unhooked his crimson robe and handed it backward to his subordinate, never once taking his eyes off of Jeffery. Jeffery's stomach knotted anxiously as Steel stepped through the doorway. His subordinate closed it behind him and, as soon as it was closed, Steel slumped against the wall.
"Steel!" Jeffery rushed to him and supported his elbow.
"Help me down, son," Steel said, his usually booming voice raspy with effort.
Jeffery slowly lowered the alpha to the floor, then kept a hand on his shoulder as the old wolf caught his breath.
"Forgive me, Steel, but if you're doing the interrogation I might have to throw the fight," Jeffery said, wryly.
Steel coughed a raspy laugh, then slapped his hand over Jeffery's, patting it shakily.
"Been a while, Jeffery."
"Almost five years," Jeffery agreed.
Steel nodded, his blue eyes clouding over with memories.
"I'm dying, Jeffery."
Jeffery said nothing. He'd known the alpha was ailing five years ago, when Alex spilled the secret in a babbling moment of anxiety. He hadn't felt ready to take his father's place, and Jeffery had been more than willing to give him a pep talk. It had seemed to aggravate Alex more than help him; a fact which Jeffery had chalked up to his own incompetence.
"Montague knows."
The two words shot ice through Jeffery's veins.
"He knows?"
Steel nodded. "He discovered my secret the month after Alex's disappearance. He demanded that I give the pack over to him. If I refused, he swore he would build an army and take it from me in my weakest last days. I replied that Alex was as fit and capable an alpha as our people had ever had; a year later, he was dead. They said it was a drunk driver; hit and run." Steel shook his head, his brow furrowing in pain at the memory. "I saw his body when they brought it back. ’MD' was carved into his flesh. It wasn't a drunk driver, it was a message. Montague pulled the earth out from under me, and I've spent the last four years trying to piece it back together."
Steel was interrupted by a coughing fit, and Jeffery waited patiently.
"Our allies are gone," Steel growled, when he'd recovered. "Montague took the heir and the allies. All of our support. The last thing standing between him and victory is that little girl. It will be decades before she is prepared to lead. I won't be around that long. That's why... I need to know, Jeffery. I know it's painful for you. Trust, it pains me as well. The shifter in the next cell; did he carry Darla, or did he sire her?"
"He sired her, Steel. He is the next shifter in line."
"Is he a natural alpha?" Steel asked, in a whisper.
"I believe he is."
Steel nodded, swallowing again and again against another coughing fit.
"If we lose to Montague," he croaked. "The humans will begin to fall at an unprecedented rate. It will be chaos. They won't be able to overlook our activities forever. They have technology, Jeffery. Biological weaponry. Nuclear warheads. Machine guns. Bombs. Our colony will be routed out and turned to glass, stained with the blood of our people. He must be stopped."
"How?" Jeffery asked.
"He needs to die," Steel said, gasping for breath now. "Publicly. His subordinates need to watch."
"An alpha battle," Jeffery realized aloud, his heart sinking.
Steel nodded.
"I'm too weak," he said. "Montague will win. But he... Darla's father... is he capable?"
"He will be," Jeffery said, grimly. "Give me two weeks, and you'll get your Alpha."
Steel nodded once more. He caught his breath, then whispered secrets to Jeffery which steeled his watery gut, bracing him for the challenges to come. Jeffery was going to have to rely on skills that he hadn't practiced for decades, but he was ready. The fate of the world was on the line.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jordan slowly regained consciousness to find himself lying on a hard dirt floor in a dimly lit room. He looked around blinking, and noticed that one wall was fully glass. Jeffery was crouched on the other side, talking to a shifter in half-form. Is that an interrogation?, he wondered. It didn't look like the violent ordeal that Jeffery had warned him about. It looked more like a man comforting a sick parent. Jordan stood and stretched, rolling the knot out from between his shoulders. Jeffery stood then, lifting the shifter to its feet. Jordan's heart stopped. It was Steel. The old shifter embraced the younger, patted his shoulder, then turned to knock on the door. It opened for him and he stepped away, leaving Jeffery to rub his hands over his face and knock his glasses to the floor.
Confusion gave way to rage, and Jordan threw himself at the glass. Jeffery turned at the sound and waved, oblivious to Jordan's temper.
"You son of a bitch!" Jordan shouted.
Jeffery shook his head and held a hand to his ear, his expression changing from vague distress to acute worry. Jordan slammed his fist on the glass and fumed. The door opened in his cell and Jeffery's simultaneously, and one of the subordinate shifters gestured for him to come with him. Jordan bolted out of the cell and turned, lunging himself at Jeffery as he stepped into the hallway.
"You sold my baby! You son of a bitch, you betrayed me!" He threw punches, and Jeffery grabbed his fists, spinning him away, but Jordan wasn't done. He turned back, snarling, ready to rip Jeffery's head off. "You're working with that baby stealing bastard!" Jordan shouted, accusingly.
The subordinates grabbed him and pinned him to the wall. He stopped fighting, choosing a deadly glare instead.
"Look," Jeffery said, panting for breath. "I get it. I can't tell you what's going on yet..."
"You have three seconds, then I rip your fucking head off."
"Jordan! Relax! I didn't sell Darla to Steel. I know how to get her back. I know how to fix all of this. I just need you to trust me for five minutes. As soon as we get to our quarters..."
"Our quarters?" Jordan interrupted, raising an eyebrow.
"...I'll explain everything. Just... shit, quit hitting me for a minute. Alright?"
Jordan was suspicious, furious even, but he went along. The subordinates kept them separated as they led them through the earthen corridor. Sensing tons of earth over his head, Jordan fought off his claustrophobia. They wound through the anthill colony until they came to a plain, wooden door. One subordinate opened it and gestured for them to go inside. Jordan was beginning to wonder if these shifters even knew how to speak.
The room was plain, but functional.
Two double beds filled most of the space, one pressed against each wall. An irregular, natural-looking window trailed across the far wall. The earth was thick here, and the sill stretched two feet wide on either side of the glass pane. The other side of the window was dark, but he assumed that it overlooked another internal chamber of the hive. An equally sparse, functional bathroom opened from the back left corner of the room, and two chests squatted at the ends of the beds. It felt almost militaristic, but was just a touch too comfortable for that. After a moment he realized that the double beds would be as small and cramped as single beds to a half-form shifter. He was definitely looking at a werewolf barracks. The only question was why.
"Alright, talk," he said, crossing his arms as the subordinates closed the door behind him.
"Give it a second," Jeffery said. "They don't talk much, but there's nothing wrong with their ears."
Jeffery crept over to the door and opened it, checking to see if the subordinates had disappeared. Satisfied, he closed the door again and locked it. He sighed heavily, then sat on the bed.
"Right," Jeffery said. "Sit down, you're making me nervous."
"Be nervous."
"Yeah, okay. Look, Steel took Darla to protect her. She's the last bloodline heir to the throne. If you want to get her back, you're going to have to prove to Steel and the rest of the pack that you are a worthy guardian."
"I'm her father!" Jordan exploded.
"It doesn't matter," Jeffery said, shaking his head. "Rather, it matters a lot. Since you sired her, and she is not yet of age, that puts you in line to rule if the position happens to open up."
"Rule? What do you mean, rule?"
"You'll be Alpha Prime. You'll have the whole of North America to run, via sub-alphas. You'll be in charge of protecting the shifters, come hell, high water, or humans."
"I'm not ruling a bunch of shifters. I can barely keep Darla in line."
"Darla's a child," Jeffery pointed out. "Raising wolves is a lot different than leading them. But the point is moot. If you want Darla back, you have to perform the same tasks that you would to earn the Alpha title. One inevitably leads to the other."
Raising Wolves Page 17
