by Bianca D’Arc
Actually, the families were the easiest to handle. As they came forward and the children met each other, the adults found common ground. When enough little ones had met Emma, an older woman everyone called Abuela took them all to a quiet corner that was set up for the children with padding on the hardwood floor and plush toys to play with. Tracy was convinced to let Emma join the other children in that area under the grandmotherly woman’s supervision, though Tracy made sure to keep Emma in sight at all times. Her inner wolf would’ve gone a little crazy in this house full of cats if it couldn’t see her baby.
The others seemed to understand, and a clear line of sight was left between the parents and the play area. The single cats came over to meet Tracy, once she had staked out her little area from which to watch Emma. Hank stayed by her side and introduced everyone. She wasn’t surprised by the way they treated him. Universally, Hank made everyone smile, but they also respected him. It was clear in the way the younger ones deferred to him and how those of his own generation spoke with him as an equal.
Hank might be an easygoing joker on the outside, but his Clan knew he was a capable man when it was necessary. They counted on him. Even Mark Pepard seemed to see Hank as a trusted aide, and Tracy wondered again about Hank’s exact place in the hierarchy. He was of an even higher rank than she’d thought, as she watched him interact with his Alpha. They were more like friends than Alpha and subordinate.
In fact, seeing Hank’s close relationship with the Clan and with Mark made her accept more of what he’d tried to tell her before about how much the Alpha and the Clan depended on him. It was easier to accept that he truly had been working hard for his people for the years they’d been apart. And, it made sense that loveable, affable, skilled Hank had been the go-to guy for whatever the Clan had needed of him. He just had a generous heart, a unique set of skills, and an easy-going disposition that made him a natural leader among his people.
Tracy was impressed with the way Mark dealt with everyone, too. They all respected him, it was clear to see, but they also seemed to genuinely love him. Alphas each had their own style of leadership. Her own father was more of a disciplinarian and a father figure to the entire Pack. Mark was more of a friend. He acted like everybody’s older brother. Make that everybody’s very protective older brother. She had no doubt he would come to the rescue of any one of these cats, when needed.
And it seemed like they would do the same for him. To be loved so well by one’s Clan was a gift, indeed. Most Alphas never quite achieved this kind of unity, though the good ones tried. At least, according to her father.
She had a good basis for comparison having grown up watching Joe Villalobos build his empire from the ground up. He’d done it with compassion and love, not intimidation. Though he was the baddest wolf in town, he never abused his power over the rest of the Pack. He’d created something for them all to share. He’d put the Big Wolf Pack on the map, both literally and figuratively. They had a town, an airport and countless businesses that now supported a growing and healthy Pack. All due to her father’s vision and the hard work of both him and the rest of the Pack.
It looked like Mark was trying to do something similar here. Only, being jaguars, they were doing it in a much more exotic way. Tracy had to shake her head. Who, other than a billionaire cat with extravagant spots, would buy an entire island? Mark didn’t seem to know the meaning of the word subtle.
Then again, that might just be part of his game. Cats were sneaky, and while he’d done something showy here, in buying a whole freaking island, he was also secretive enough to keep all but specifically invited guests from coming here. He wasn’t trying to rebuild his Clan on the mainland, where they would have to deal with the human world every day. No, he’d built a sanctuary where jaguars could be jaguars, in peace and with a high expectation of privacy.
Knowing that, and having met Mark and his mate, Tracy was growing a lot more curious to see the rest of the island—the inner sanctum Shelly had hinted at when describing her architectural designs. It sure sounded a lot different than the public façade presented by the old-style mansion.
By the time the party ended, after a light buffet had been served and consumed and the smaller children began to feel sleepy, Tracy was ready to see Hank’s home. She knew he’d been wanting to show her his place, and she had agreed already to go there after the party. Talking about the island and the different amenities already in place for families with children, Tracy was even more intrigued.
They left the mansion together, Hank carrying a sleepy Emma in his arms. Tracy had brought along a bag with essentials but had opted to leave their suitcases in the suite they’d been given in the mansion. Still, she always brought an extra set of clothing with her for Emma. If she shifted and destroyed what she was wearing, it was always good to have a backup.
Throwing an extra set of underwear in the bag for herself was something she didn’t want to think too much about. Perhaps she was already planning to stay the night in her subconscious mind. Maybe she just wanted to be prepared for anything. Either way, she wasn’t going to examine her motives too closely.
They took an all-terrain vehicle with big tires as far as they could, but all Tracy saw was jungle. The leafy canopy hid the trail from above, she realized, as the light grew dim. It wasn’t quite sundown in this part of the world yet, but it was coming on fast. Faster, under the cover of the giant trees all around.
“We have to walk from here,” Hank told Tracy as he parked the vehicle under a tree.
She noted several other similar vehicles parked all around, camouflaged by the greenery. They had driven steadily higher, but with all the foliage, she hadn’t really been able to get a sense of where they were in relation to the long-dormant volcano that was at the core of the island.
There were a few faint trails leading from the parking area that only her sharp wolf senses allowed her to pick out. These cats were crafty. They weren’t blazing any trails that could be seen from the air or easily followed even on the ground.
“You all use different paths to get to your territory?” Tracy asked, trying to figure out how they worked it.
“We all have a slice of territory to call our own,” Hank told her gently. “Mark worked it out so each of us have our own home territory. It helps settle our cats to have a defined area to patrol.”
“Each wolf family has their own small territory around their homes, but it sounds like you’re talking about something a lot bigger than a backyard,” Tracy commented.
Hank chuckled. “Wolves like togetherness from what I’ve observed. We’re a bit different. We each need our own space. Not just a house or a yard, but a defined area that is ours alone.” He guided her through the undergrowth, politely holding back an overhanging limb for her as she carried Emma in her arms. “There’s a reason your people gather in Packs and we prefer a Clan structure. We’re not quite as social as wolves, but we’re learning to peacefully coexist here. Mark’s making it happen, and we’re all dedicated to the project, because we’ve lost so many of our kind by being stubborn lone operators. We’re rebuilding. Together.”
Tracy knew a bit of the history of the decline of the jaguar people. Her father had talked to her about what he knew while Hank was in Arizona. Her heart went out to all those lone jaguar families who had failed to defend their jungle homes from gangs of humans with guns and a thirst for drug dollars. It was a tragedy, but she was impressed all over again at the way Mark had rallied his remaining people to not only survive, but thrive, even if they had to adapt to a new way of living to do it.
“See this?” Hank paused by a large tree and pointed to a set of claw marks. “This is my mark,” he told her. “To us, the claw marks denote each jaguar’s territory. We choose our marks when we come of age. In my case, it’s four stripes, about four inches long. Of course, each set of claws makes a slightly different mark, and we all know each other’s prints, even without the chosen mark, but this is the official seal, if you will. The mark o
f my boundary line. Once we pass this point, we’re in my territory.”
“I’m guessing the depth of the marks and the pressure used is something you can differentiate as well?” Tracy asked, running her finger alongside the outermost gouge. She was familiar with paw prints and claw marks, but her people didn’t use them as extensively as the cats seemed to do.
Hank smiled at her. “You bet,” he replied. “Jaguars are creatures of subtlety. It’s good you realize that since you’re raising one. You might have to read between the lines with Emma once she gets older and starts growing into her jaguar spirit. She won’t always tell you what’s wrong. Jaguar parents often complain of having to be detectives to figure out what’s bugging their kids sometimes. But it’s a sort of game—even though the stakes are high—and we cats love games, as much as we love our children. Cats love figuring out puzzles.”
“Wolves are pretty good at puzzles too,” Tracy claimed, smiling as they moved on. She stepped over the invisible boundary into his territory, feeling as if she’d just taken a step into her future. One she might live to regret, but hoped and prayed would turn out all right for both her and her daughter.
“That’s good,” Hank told her, his demeanor changing now that they were in his territory. He seemed to examine every tree, every leaf, pride showing in his expression, but also alertness. “Nobody on the island would breach my territory without express invitation,” he told her as they walked deeper into the forest. “Except maybe Abuela. She goes where she wants, and something tells me she’s been through here recently.” A sort of puzzled smile lit his face as they moved forward.
“Whose grandmother is she?” Tracy asked, knowing the word was Spanish for grandmother.
“Nick’s, actually, but she’s more or less the entire Clan’s granny and guardian angel rolled into one. She’s a wise woman. She counsels us all when we need it, and she’s always there if we need to talk. She’s a treasure the entire Clan cherishes.”
“I can tell. Whenever she’s mentioned, it’s with love,” Tracy observed. She liked that this Clan of loners had a communal grandmother to nurture them.
“There were some little cats through here too, with her,” Hank said, pointing to little human footprints in a bare spot of dirt. Tiny sneakers with distinctive treads. More than one pair. “What in the world was she doing up here with the kids?”
They walked a little farther, and suddenly, the dense undergrowth opened into a small clearing where a structure was nestled against the side of the curved wall of the crater. It was hidden from above by the rock and the towering trees that had been left in strategic places. The structure was brown and green, made of materials that blended into the surroundings beautifully. And the front door was festooned with flowers. Somehow, Tracy didn’t think Hank had planted those on his own.
“I think you have your answer as to what Abuela and the children were doing up here. Unless you’re a fan of purple and pink pansies.” Tracy chuckled at the haphazardly planted flowers. She could just picture enthusiastic little hands patting the soil in the pots that had been put on either side of the doorway.
“That’s to welcome you and Emma,” Hank said, clearing his throat. “I certainly never planted any flowers around my house.
“That’s so sweet,” Tracy said, letting Emma down so she could take a closer look at the colorful display. Tracy stood and took a good look at the structure. “It’s a lovely house, Hank.”
“Thanks.” Was he blushing? He certainly seemed subdued for a man who usually shone so bright. “Shelly designed it,” he went on, but she suspected there was more to the construction that he wasn’t telling.
“You helped, didn’t you?” she prodded, wanting to know more.
“I came up with some of the ideas, and I did a lot of the labor myself, in between assignments. We changed a few things from the original design as we were working, but Shelly approved everything,” he was quick to point out. “It’s all safe and structurally sound. We have a building team here on the island that has lots of experience on the mainland. They know their trades inside and out, and they work on, or supervise, every structure we put up, so we’re sure everything we build is completely safe.”
“That’s impressive,” she told him, wanting to reassure him that she wasn’t questioning his abilities or the safety of his home. “My dad does something similar, but of course, we all help each other with everything anyway. If something needs repair or building from the ground up, all the folks who have experience always chip in, so there’s no question things get done the right way.”
“Pack life sounds kind of nice, though a bit intrusive,” he observed.
She chuckled. “To tell you the truth, all the togetherness can get to me sometimes. You wouldn’t believe the busybodies who came out of the woodwork when Emma started shifting. I actually told everybody off at a Pack meeting and was later chastised by my dad for hurting their feelings when they were only trying to be neighborly.” She gave a long sigh. “Pack is great, but it can get on my nerves occasionally.”
“Maybe your feline daughter is rubbing off on you,” Hank mused with a grin.
“Or her feline father,” she agreed, bumping his arm gently with her shoulder.
“I wouldn’t mind rubbing off on you at all,” he said, deviltry in his dancing eyes.
She laughed outright at his innuendo. Hank was fun to be around. Emma looked away from her intense scrutiny of the pretty flowers, laughing along with her mother, though she had no idea what was so funny.
Tracy reached out and picked Emma up, swinging her around to her delighted giggles. When she came back to where she’d started, she noticed that Hank had already opened the front door. He came over to her and picked her up in his arms, lifting both her and Emma, still clutched tight in Tracy’s arms, and walked easily with them over the threshold.
He let Tracy’s legs drift easily down to the floor once they were inside, but he kept one arm around her back. Tracy looked up into his eyes, and her breath caught. His gaze was smoldering, but he immediately banked the fire. Out of breath for no discernable reason, Tracy moved her gaze off him and looked around the house.
And quickly realized that the word house was a wholly inadequate term. The outer façade might look like a pretty little cottage in the forest, but the door opened into something quite different. The entry was open to the top of what Tracy now realized was a really large cave-like structure that went back into the rock of the volcanic rim.
“This is amazing,” she breathed, nearly overcome by the imaginative design of something that was more like a den than a human house, yet had all the comforts of modern life. She could see gleaming countertops and a kitchen area in the open-concept front space. Comfy furniture in rich earth tones and jewel colors were up front in what would have been the living room in her house.
There was a big screen TV that was probably the largest she’d ever seen, and off to one side, there was a computer setup that looked like something out of a science fiction movie. A dining table was adjacent to the kitchen and looked out through the front windows she’d seen from outside. The wall at the back of the public area of the house had a couple of doors, beyond which she imagined were at least one bedroom and a bathroom, but judging by the proportions of what she could see so far, it might contain a lot more than that.
“I’ve been adding on as time allows,” Hank said, coming up behind her. She’d moved into the large open space without thinking about it. “The private areas of the house can be locked down.” He nodded toward the doorway on the right. “The left door is a bathroom for this part of the house. Once you go through the right door, you’re fully inside the rock wall of the mountain.”
“Don’t you mean the caldera? This is the inside curve of the volcano, isn’t it?” She felt a little note of concern at being inside something that had blown up a million years ago.
“Dormant volcano,” he told her. “And besides, Mark would know if the volcano was going to be a problem.
He’s…sort of…connected to it, in a way. We all are, to some degree, but he’s the Big Kahuna. He’d know if it was going to turn on us.” Hank fell silent for a moment as she walked deeper into the living room area. “It’s not, by the way. It nurtures us, not…the other thing.”
Tracy looked at him, and he was gesturing with his glance toward Emma, who was watching everything with wide eyes. Tracy hugged her baby, offering reassurance in this strange place, but Emma seemed fine. Thanks in part, she was sure, to Hank’s careful wording. Emma was very empathic. She always picked up on the mood of those around her, and if Tracy was afraid, Emma would be too.
“So, this is the more or less public part of the house. I sometimes have friends over to watch games, though I haven’t been home much in recent years.” He pointed toward the giant TV as he led the way toward the doorway that led to the back of the house. “This partition is steel plate. Nothing gets through here without some serious effort,” he said with a grin as he unlocked and opened the large doorway.
Tracy could see that the door wasn’t just a wooden panel. No, this door was made of metal, and it was really thick. Likewise, the lock looked heavy duty. More like a bank vault lock than a door lock.
“You expecting a siege?” she asked, only half joking. This was some serious defensive stuff. Wolves didn’t build like this. Then again, werewolves, as a species, hadn’t been decimated, almost to extinction.
“Not expecting,” he told her, shrugging a bit self-consciously. “I just like to be prepared.”
“How far does this preparation go?” she asked, half challenging, half joking.
He smiled in response. “Come in and see.” He pushed the door open wide.
“Said the spider to the fly,” she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, earning a short masculine chuckle in return.
