by Laura Taylor
“I could,” Andre said, deliberately not committing to anything in particular. “What are you hoping to achieve by learning to meditate?”
“I want to learn to control my emotions,” John said, a statement so blunt and out of the blue that Andre had to work hard not to display any of the immediate triumph he felt. If he’d needed an excuse to spend time with the boy, to get to know him better and develop some sort of bond with him, John had just handed it to him on a silver platter.
“It’s a worthy goal,” Andre said, choosing his words carefully... and then he realised it was better to be direct. For all his lack of tact and confrontational ways, John could read other people like a book, and Andre made a mental note never to try and lie to the young man. “I’m actually glad you asked,” he said honestly. “Given that you’re not spending time with Baron anymore, I’ve been thinking maybe you could use a mentor.”
John gave him that unnerving once-over again. “Okay. You’re kind of cool.” He glanced over at the lawn again, then back at Andre. “Teach me to stand on my hands like you were doing before.”
It was lunchtime on the shifter estate, but just as Alistair was heading for the kitchen to make himself a sandwich, his phone vibrated, then let out a gentle chiming sound that had him cursing and reaching urgently into his pocket to drag the thing out. An alert came up on the screen, and with a curse, he suddenly turned on his heel, nearly crashing into Kwan who was coming down the hallway behind him, and raced for the stairs.
Upstairs in the IT office, he quickly pulled up a more comprehensive report on a computer – one of the three that were dedicated to scanning the news feeds for suspicious keywords – and then swore fluently. On a regular basis, he had to sort through reports that had a low-level alert attached to them, things that mentioned wolves, for example, or howling. An article might get a medium level alert if it contained multiple keywords or mentioned paranormal activity, and then there were high level alerts, the kind that meant seriously classified information had made it into the public sphere and all hell was about to break loose. The report in front of him was one of the latter.
“You mother-fucking pile of dog shit, I cannot believe you just did that,” he muttered to himself, and then yanked his phone out again, dialling Baron. “Come upstairs to the office,” he said, the instant Baron answered the phone. “And bring friends. We have a situation.”
Less than a minute later, Baron, Caroline, Skip and Andre piled into the room, and the sound of heavy boots on the stairs suggested a few more people on their way as well.
“What?” Baron asked curtly, and Alistair didn’t bother explaining. He just pulled up a video on the screen – one that had been aired only a few minutes before on a 24-hour news channel – and let it speak for itself.
“Police are appealing to the public for information on this man,” a serious and perfectly coiffed news presenter told the camera. A photograph of Miller appeared on the screen, and Alistair cringed as he heard a chorus of curses behind him. “Formerly an intelligence operative for MI6, Jack Miller has been missing for several months and is strongly suspected of having joined an international terrorist organisation. We must emphasise that if you see this man, do not approach him. He is to be considered armed and extremely dangerous. Police are urging anyone with information to call the number you can see at the bottom of the screen.”
When the video finished, there was a stunned silence in the room as everyone digested what they’d just seen.
“That’s awfully public for the Noturatii,” Andre said, after a heavy pause.
“You don’t think they’re changing their tactics, do you?” Kwan asked, having appeared in the doorway behind them. “They wouldn’t actually tell the public about us, would they?”
“He has a point,” Caroline said, a deep frown on her face. “As far as the public are concerned, right now Miller’s just another ordinary, human criminal.”
“They’ve never given the public either our names or our faces before,” Andre argued. “This is breaking into new territory.”
“I’m not disagreeing with you there,” Caroline said. “But nonetheless, there’s a big difference between naming Miller as a terrorist and outing him as a shape shifter. There are multiple lines in this scenario, and just because they’ve crossed one of them, doesn’t mean they’re going to cross all the others.”
“So what do we do?” Kwan asked. Alistair had heard his name whispered in a few quiet circles lately, and he seemed to have become something of a constant shadow to Baron. Nothing had been confirmed yet, but Alistair suspected that something important was in the works for the young man.
“Work this to our advantage,” Alistair answered the question, his bent for strategy and conspiracy kicking into gear now that the shock had worn off. “Let’s keep in mind that ever since he joined us, Miller’s been more or less confined to the estate. There’s an extremely slim chance that anyone’s laid eyes on him in the last six months. But this now gives us the chance to plant some information where we want it to be found. We take Miller, get him spotted somewhere in Lancaster – with a security team at his back, of course,” he added, as some of the faces looking back at him seemed rather alarmed by the idea, “and then some well-meaning member of the public calls him in, and he goes swiftly back into hiding. It confirms our position in the Lancaster area, it doesn’t tell the Noturatii anything they don’t already know, and if we’re careful about it, it doesn’t put Miller at any undue risk of harm.”
“Get Miller up here,” Baron instructed. “I’m not making any firm plans that are going to put him in danger without his input. But at the same time, if we’re going to put one over on the Noturatii, I think we all have to realise that we’re going to have to play the game their way for a little while.”
“Well, while we’re at it, there are a couple of other things we should think about,” Alistair said, pulling up a file he’d been putting together on the subject. “Skip’s been doing a little digging for me since our last meeting. We know the Noturatii have some of us on file. Mark, for example, Caroline, Tank, Miller. But thanks to Skip’s various hacking jobs,” he said, giving her a wink, “we also have a number of them on file. And Sean, your cop friend,” he said, nodding to Baron, “confirmed that one of them is the same man who was wandering around the Lakes District with that picture of Tank.” He scrolled down the screen, then opened a photograph. “Steven Chu. His real name, strangely enough. I’d have thought the Noturatii would go to a little more effort to give their staff code names or something. But anyway... A few of our contacts have confirmed seeing him loitering around Lancaster, asking the locals about us. So if we’re setting out to make ourselves seen, there would be nothing terribly difficult about arranging a little meet and greet...” He gave them a wolfish grin.
Melissa looked up from her computer screen as Leon came into the room. “So what’s the story?” she asked.
Leon crossed over to her desk and placed a set of keys in front of her. “Dr Evans has gone missing,” he said succinctly. “I found those near the lift in the carpark of her apartment building. Her car was still there. Checked her apartment.” He sat down at his own desk, leaning back in his chair and resting his ankle over his knee. “There’s mail in her letterbox, dirty dishes in the sink, no sign of anything being disturbed or removed. As far as I can tell, she left work on Wednesday afternoon and hasn’t been seen since.”
Melissa swore softly under her breath. “Have you checked her phone?” she asked, more out of desperation than because she thought it would do any good.
“I left three messages yesterday and tried it again this morning. It’s switched off and going straight to voicemail. She hasn’t logged into her email account, either.”
“God damn… Those bloody shifters. They took her, didn’t they? Because of the… no, wait a minute,” Melissa interrupted herself. “You don’t think… she wouldn’t have faked her own kidnapping and run off, would she? She was never particularly b
rilliant in the lab, but… I don’t know. I’d never have picked Evans for the deserting type.”
Leon shook his head. “Most people who decide to desert the Noturatii try to make it look like a kidnapping, but there’s always something they can’t quite bear to let go of. A family photo, a laptop, a diary. Even though they’re trying to make things look normal, there’s a natural compulsion to try and leave things neat and tidy; they close bank accounts, or delete old emails. But there’s no sign of anything having been disturbed in her apartment, and no suspicious activity on her work files. If she planned this herself, she did a far better job of it than ninety-nine per cent of people ever do. But aside from that, we have to remember that until recently she was working on the shifter captive, who is now M.I.A., so to speak. So if he started telling his rescuers what he knew, Evans would have been at the top of the list for some revenge.”
“Great,” Melissa snapped angrily, glancing around for something to throw. Unfortunately, her computer was the only thing immediately within reach, and she wasn’t foolish enough to destroy it over one scientist. “So, if they’re smart, then they’ll start interrogating Evans, and god knows what she’ll end up telling them.”
“It’s not the first time one of our members has gone missing,” Leon reminded her, far too calmly for her liking. “I’ve already sent orders for all the access systems to be updated. Her passwords, fingerprints or iris scans won’t be able to access anything in any of our systems. We have a number of fail-safes in place for this very situation. And I’ll set up traces on Evans’ phone, credit card and bank accounts. Standard protocol. If anything moves, we’ll know about it. Do you want to tell her team the news, or shall I?”
“I’ll come down and let them know,” Melissa said, curling her lip in distaste at the task. “But probably best if you come along. If Evans is leaking information about her team, they could do with a few pointers to make sure they’re maintaining their own security protocols. I don’t want any more breaches!”
CHAPTER TEN
Sitting on the carpet in the television lounge on the lower floor of the manor, Dee hopefully danced the doll in her hands up and down in front of Taya. It was coming up to twenty-four hours since the conversion ceremony, and she’d still shown no signs whatsoever of attempting to shift.
“And babies have legs,” Dee said slowly, waving one of the doll legs up and down. “And arms,” she added, clapping the doll’s two hands together, “and beautiful hair on their heads.” She picked up a brush, brushing the doll’s hair a couple of times.
Sitting on a nearby sofa, Heron let out a discreet sigh as she watched Dee’s efforts, and that made Dee sigh as well. “I know it’s not what you want to hear right now,” Heron said gently, “but maybe we should look at the possibility that the conversion didn’t take.”
Dee set the doll down and picked up Taya instead, nuzzling her fur. “Caroline said that now you’ve got the machine, there was a ninety-nine per cent success rate.”
Heron nodded, the unspoken one per cent failure hanging in the air between them.
“If it didn’t work, can we try it again?” Dee asked softly, wincing as Taya chewed on her thumb with razor-sharp puppy teeth.
“No,” Heron replied, after a pause. “Unfortunately not. If her physiology didn’t accept the conversion, then a second try would only make her go rogue. But on the bright side,” she added, as Dee looked horrified by the idea, “she’s showing no signs of that happening so far. She slept well last night, she’s eating. She’s been a little restless, but no more than I’d expect, given all the new sights and sounds- Oh. Hello,” she said suddenly, her attention fixed on something behind Dee’s back. She turned around and was startled to see John standing in the doorway.
“Sorry, did you want to watch something?” she asked automatically. There was rarely anyone in the TV lounge during the day, and she hadn’t thought they’d be disturbing anyone by using the room as a temporary play area.
“No,” John said, in his usual straight-forward manner. “Has she shifted yet?”
“Not yet,” Heron replied, Dee happy to let her field the questions. Aside from the fact that she wasn’t particularly in the mood to talk right now, she’d never really figured out how to relate to John. Heron, though, had always been steadfastly gentle and patient with him, even on the odd occasions when she’d had to tell him off for something.
John looked around the room, taking in the scattering of baby toys and books, and Taya’s somewhat baffled look as she tried to bite the doll’s arm. “And you’ve been playing with dolls with her?”
“We’re trying to get her to understand what a human baby is,” Heron began, but John quickly shook his head.
“I get it. I have an idea,” he announced, not waiting for Heron to finish, then he turned back to Dee. “There’s a fallen tree in the forest with a kind of natural den under the roots. You know the place?”
Dee nodded. “Faeydir’s slept there before, when she wanted to spend the night outside.”
“Cool. Get Faeydir to bring Taya. I have a theory about why she won’t shift.”
“What do you have in mind?” Heron asked, a simple question, but it was the odd note of caution in her voice that had Dee sitting up and paying attention. If Heron thought there was something to be concerned about here, then there was no way Dee was going anywhere with -
Stop expecting the worst of him, Faeydir snarled at her suddenly. As far as her wolf was concerned, John was a loyal member of the pack, and with his unique perspective on life, it was entirely possible he’d thought of something the rest of them had missed.
“I think maybe Taya needs to spend a bit more time being a wolf,” John said. “A real wolf, I mean, with less humans around and no buildings and vans and plastic toys and shit.”
Dee opened her mouth to ask how that was supposed to help. They were trying to convince Taya to be less wolfish and more human, after all. But Faeydir once again interrupted her, a swift and forceful sense of agreement that left Dee baffled. “I’m not sure how that’s going to help,” she said honestly, “but Faeydir thinks it’s a reasonable idea. Do you want Heron to come too?” She glanced over at the older woman, hoping John would say yes.
“No. I think we can cover it by ourselves.”
Damn it. “Okay,” Dee agreed, letting Faeydir know she was not happy about the current arrangement. If there was even the slightest hint that John was going to harm Taya, Dee wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate. “Lead the way.” She shifted, picked up a surprisingly compliant Taya in her mouth and trotted off after John, down the hall, out the front door, and then around the back of the manor and up the hill.
It didn’t take long to get to their destination, and when they arrived at the fallen tree, Faeydir set Taya down on the ground, looking quizzically at John to see what he had in mind. He gave a cursory examination of the makeshift den beneath the roots, then shifted. “I’ve got no guarantees here,” he said. “I’m just going on a hunch, but don’t turn into a human unless it’s absolutely necessary. Just let Taya check things out and see what happens.” He shifted again and crawled into the small space. Seeing what he had in mind, Faeydir picked Taya up again and followed.
Inside the den, the air was cool and damp, and the whole place smelled of earth and wolf. The logic of John’s choice was immediately obvious. Taya had been born a wolf pup and a den very similar to this had been her entire world until Nikolai and his pack had taken her out of it and thrust her into a place full of light and human sounds and smells. Somewhere like this would be safe and familiar for her, but Dee had to wonder how that was going to help them work out whether she was capable of shifting or not.
The den was small, and Dee was once again grateful that Faeydir was steering the ship for the moment. She simply crawled in, snuggled up to John so that her head was resting on his flank and set Taya on the ground between them. Dee would have been entirely too reluctant to get that close to John. She’d never had any particu
lar gripe with him, nor he with her, but at the same time, they’d never been particular friends either, and after having seen him go through a couple of his periodic fits of anger, Dee had developed a wary caution around him.
Faeydir, however, had no such qualms. In her eyes, John was a fierce wolf, a strong member of the pack, and he was currently trying to help them with their new daughter, so she was a little irritated at Dee’s reluctance to accept his assistance.
Taya wobbled around a bit and sniffed the air. Faeydir was just able to see her in the dim light, and she watched as Taya stumbled over and sniffed her fur... and then seemed to favour John instead. She sat down and snuggled up to his shoulder, and to Dee’s astonishment, John reached over and licked the pup on the head. He sniffed her all over, then apparently decided she needed a bath, as he proceeded to lick her from head to tail, Taya seeming to thoroughly enjoy the attention. It was so uncharacteristic that Dee didn’t have a clue what to make of it. Caroline had pointed out when they’d first got the call from Ukraine that wolves loved puppies, but to see even John letting his guard down and allowing his nurturing side out... Hell, she hadn’t even known he had a nurturing side.
The three of them lay in the dark for the better part of half an hour. Taya, for the most part, simply slept, while Faeydir lay contentedly in the cool earth, and John just watched. At length, Taya sat up and yawned, an impossibly long tongue snaking out of her mouth, disappearing again like a magician’s trick. She sniffed the air, looked around, nuzzled John’s fur...
