Lycan Alpha Claim 3

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

Great… just great.

  The youngling, Jacky, turned at the torso and threw the ball to the other young one. The throw was executed perfectly, a spinning roll of air and stealth.

  The ball met its target, and the other youngling ran off to join a larger group. Jeb wondered if the day could possibly degrade further.

  Jacky of the Quadrant of Kent talked to the other Threes. “It's okay!” Jacky waved at his friends. “They're not pervs!”

  Jeb blanched. He'd forgotten the pervasive caution of this sector. The population seemed to suffer from an abundance of males who craved younglings’ flesh.

  His anger must have seeped through because Jacky said, “Whoa, dude, ya need to relax. My friends were gonna come wipe the ground up with your ass if you were one of those losers that gets off on kids.”

  Jeb surveyed the loose knot of mid-cycle younglings.

  “I doubt it very much.”

  “Which part?” Jasper asked, amused.

  “The ʻwiping the assʼ part.”

  Jacky stared at the two of them and shrugged. “Whatever. I thought you two looked different.” His eyes slid to the left, and Jeb's body tingled.

  He’s lying.

  Jeb didn't need to use his innate abilities to determine that. They needed to retreat from their current position to a less-populated locale or find out more from this boy.

  His green eyes met Jeb's. “Can I trust you?” For the first time during the strange exchange, Jeb sensed uncertainty from the youngling.

  Jeb nodded. “I am—we do not hurt…”

  “Children,” Jasper finished.

  Jacky's face scrunched up. “I am not a child. I'm almost thirteen. Check it.” He stood to his full height and lifted his arm, bunching the small muscle at the biceps.

  Jeb smiled. Yes—he certainly acts his cycle age.

  “So? Do we have a deal?”

  “I wasn't aware we'd made one.”

  “What do ya want?” Jasper asked.

  The kid shifted his weight, flinging a mop of stringy chestnut hair out of his eyes. He seemed to be measuring something, looking thoughtful.

  “I have this girlfriend.”

  Beth raised an eyebrow.

  “Not that kind, geez—duh.”

  “A friend that's a girl,” he clarified.

  Jeb and Jasper stared blankly back at him.

  “You two”—he let his finger swing between them—“need to trench some humor. You're a couple of joy suckers.”

  Jasper blinked.

  Jeb found it interesting to note that even Jasper could be stumped. He folded his thick arms across his chest, keeping one eye on the group, which was gravitating closer.

  “What do you propose?” Jeb asked, curious, despite the ruined mission, their obliterated timeline, and witnesses galore. He needed to know why a Sensitive youngling would identify them then ask for something. Of course, Jeb had never made acquaintance with a Sensitive youngling.

  If they didn't jump by the next morning, Rachett would send Kennet on a retrieval mission, and Jeb would never live it down.

  It would be worse for Jasper.

  Jeb couldn't allow that outcome. It would lessen her chances of a partner of quality.

  “I need you to help my friend escape.”

  That got Jeb's full attention, and he could tell Jasper was just as entranced, her body as still as a statue.

  “Who is your friend?” Jasper asked.

  Jeb moved behind her because the group of boys were almost to them.

  “Back off, bros… this is some private shit,” Jacky said and winked at Jeb, who hid a smile despite the circumstance.

  The boy had moxie.

  “We got your back, Jack,” one said while another snorted in the background.

  Jacky raised a middle finger casually.

  “Blow me.”

  They dispersed, muttering their discontent.

  “Here's the thing…” Jacky said, leaning forward.

  Jeb and Jasper gave each other a look then moved into a loose huddle as Jacky began to speak. Jasper had to stop him a few times and translate some of the odd slang because that was basically all he spoke.

  Jeb understood they would not be jumping the next day.

  He also understood their mission of political and future manipulation had turned into something else entirely—a rescue.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “You guys, follow me.” Jacky turned and cocked his head.

  “You know, conspicuous-much… don't look so pedophile-ish, ’kay?” He wandered off, tossing what he’d explained like it was a football.

  Beth shook her head.

  A few other children flanked him as he walked, and Merrick lengthened his stride, catching up to the teen.

  “Back off. You're bouncing off my bubble, pal.”

  Merrick's jaw clenched. “Listen here, I thought this was a matter of great importance.”

  Jacky turned, and Beth stopped walking. “It is… but you gotta not have a rack attack, man.”

  Beth couldn’t contain her laughter. The great Jeb Merrick was getting his ass absolutely handed to him by a teen. Beth was thrilled for a memory to cherish.

  Merrick whirled, his light-gray eyes like a storm of darkening gray. She put up her hands defensively. “He has a point—you're so stiff.”

  “Yeah, bro, what she said.”

  “You said it would be you and you alone,” Merrick reiterated.

  “Listen,” Jacky said, eyeing him, “you kinda stand out. And any adult with half a brain”—he leaned forward and continued quietly—“and there aren't many with that much”—Jacky straightened—“is gonna think you're a creeper. So a group of us? No problem. I walk off with you and hottie over there…”

  “Hey!” Beth said, her laughter gone.

  Jacky rolled his eyes. “With Miss Hotness?” He gave Beth a knowing look, and she opened her mouth then closed it.

  Merrick shot her a glance that clearly said see my problem?

  She was beginning to see it quite clearly.

  “So that the perv alarms don't sound, my buds here will offer diffusion.”

  Beth remembered her assessment of the boy, who had an IQ of one hundred thirty. Beth knew from her study of the history of this sector that the boy was in the upper two percent of the Three population intellect.

  What that meant for them was they had a very bright, emotionally immature Three to deal with. Who was also a Sensitive.

  His eyebrows rose as he gave them an impatient glance. “Well, come on. Put some lead in it, guys.”

  They followed. There were not too many of the mixed gender Threes paying attention to a couple in a group of three. Maybe they could be older siblings.

  However, as point man, Merrick had an almost military bearing. And though Merrick’s coloring was unusual, it was still within Three norms—barely.

  Beth was aware Merrick stood out. His hard edge was difficult to erase, and it followed him to every sector. Beth had one, too, but no one searched for it in a female.

  She was having difficulty getting used to being inconspicuous in Sector Three when she was noticed for every breath she took in Papilio.

  The change was somewhat disconcerting.

  She walked behind the group and kept their back secure.

  *

  Beth and Merrick lay on their stomachs. Merrick thumbed his pulse viewers off.

  “Let me see those. They're righteous,” Jacky said.

  Beth could see that Merrick would not be ready for offspring any time soon. She’d thought their drills back home were strenuous, but an hour in the company of Jacky Caldera felt like a full workout.

  “These are not for…” Jeb looked at Beth. “Teens.”

  “Listen, you're a bad-ass dude, but you're about as useful as balls on a priest. Just sayinʼ.”

  “Am I?” Merrick asked. He grabbed Jacky by the arms and jerked him to within an inch of his face.

  “I have traipsed for over an hour to a female's
house whom you say is in imminent peril, yet we sit with the proverbial thumb up our collective asses while you wish for a show-and-tell.”

  “Okay!” Jacky squeaked. “Gawd!”

  Merrick dumped the boy, and Beth laughed.

  “You haven't lost your charm, Merrick. No matter where we travel, it follows you.”

  “Quiet,” Jeb said, suddenly serious.

  They hunkered down, their attention directed at the domicile’s front entrance.

  The door burst open, and a slip of a female ran out, a large Three male nearly on top of her.

  “That's her. That's Madeline.”

  “You sure she is a Dimensional?” Merrick asked, stumbling over the last word.

  “Yeah, bro—she hops around and comes back telling us all this crazy shit.”

  “Silence,” Merrick clipped.

  Beth knew he wanted to listen to the argument in front of the house as she did. It was escalating.

  Merrick stood, but didn't seem to realize he'd done so, and he appeared almost surprised to find himself on his feet.

  The Three's hand wrapped the female's windshield wiper of an arm.

  “Do something!” Jacky said.

  Merrick didn't move.

  “Jasper.”

  “Got it.”

  Beth walked out from behind the narrow hedge that bordered the houses, which were like rotten teeth of varying colors. The rows of depressing domiciles hadn't been touched in years. The patch of grass that the girl stood on wept with weeds that spiraled up around her thin legs.

  The male shook her, and a pulse began to pound in Beth's temple. Subdue, subdue, subdue.

  Seventh: no death is without consequence.

  She could barely remember the directive in the face of the domestic brutality she was witnessing.

  “What's going on here!” Beth yelled, startling the pair.

  Madeline didn't look as relieved as she should have, only as though she’d been granted a short respite from the violence.

  The man looked Beth up and down, clearly deciding he had the upper hand.

  He could not have been more wrong.

  “Looks like I got myself a little discipline with this bitch of a daughter, little lady.”

  Beth loathed monikers that mocked size.

  The beauty of the girl's voice, low and melodic, startled Beth.

  “I am not your daughter,” she seethed in an even tone.

  Beth liked her.

  “Close enough.” He shook her. “Who pays the bills in this house?” the horrible male ground out.

  More shaking, hair whipping back and forth.

  Beth stepped closer, and his eyes flicked to her position.

  “You want a piece of this, girlie? ’Cause none of what's going down here is your beeswax. You feel me?”

  Beth did.

  “I do… feel you,” she said slowly.

  The brand of his fingers remained on Madeline's arm after he released her, turning his attention to Beth.

  “You got something you think I need?” He grabbed his crotch.

  What is the obsession males of this sector have with their penises? Whatever it was, it was unhealthy.

  She decided it was unwarranted, as well.

  “Find out, vile scum.”

  His smile grew, filling out a face that might have been handsome at some point in the past but was tired and hard because of his life's decisions.

  “Lady,” Madeline whispered, “just go.”

  The man whipped around to her.

  “You shut your fucking mouth, Maddie, or I'll close it for you. Me and her are gonna have a nice little chat about puttinʼ our nose where it doesn't belong.”

  Beth and Madeline looked at each other.

  “I can take you from this,” Beth offered as if the horrible man didn't exist.

  Madeline's brows pulled together, and Beth was heartbroken to see the girl's fragile beauty spoiled by her environment. A gem sat among imposters, her subtle fire outshining those who wished to stifle it.

  No wonder the spitfire Jacky had wanted to defend her. The boy had worth, even though he was so young.

  “No, just go… he'll hurt you,” she warned Beth, to her own peril.

  The man bore down on Madeline, backhanding the girl so quickly that she had no time to defend herself. The girl sprawled on the ground.

  Beth reacted immediately. The man looked up in shock.

  “You're never going to hit her again.” Beth held tightly to his wrist, which he’d pulled back in preparation to deliver another blow to Madeline.

  Her words had rolled out before she could squelch them. She knew he was a hundred pounds heavier than her—and inches taller.

  But he was inebriated, and his self-destructive alcohol consumption and neglect had made him slow.

  “Then I'll use you as a punching bag.”

  Beth grinned, and a flash of fear flared in his eyes.

  He jerked his wrist, and without thinking, Beth crushed the bones together. He howled, kicking out.

  She blocked his leg and swept his large body to the ground, using his wrist as leverage as he fell like a tree without roots.

  She hopped on top of him.

  Her fists fell like a rain of flesh hammers.

  “Stop!” Madeline screamed.

  Beth paused.

  She asked the most logical question of the day. “Why?”

  “He takes care of my mom.”

  Beth met her eyes. After a few heartbeats of silent communication, Beth stood.

  She threw her instep out with precision, stomping the male’s crotch.

  He shrieked into the night. The sound cheered Beth.

  It felt almost as good as watching Merrick do the same to the corrupt cop—almost.

  *

  “Maddie!” Jacky called as the girl tried to pick herself off the ground. Twice.

  She was shaking so badly that Beth went and hauled her to her feet, but Madeline shrank from her.

  “I won't hurt you.”

  Madeline nodded a little too quickly.

  “Remind me never to piss you off,” Merrick said coolly, a smile ghosting his lips.

  The male rolled around the weedy lawn, grabbing his privates while moaning about retribution.

  “Shut your pie hole, or I shall kick that, too.”

  “Syntax, Jasper.”

  Beth glowered at him.

  “Piss off, Merrick.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Yes!” He raised his fist.

  Beth glared at him.

  The teens were speaking quietly. Jacky had his hands on Madeline's shoulders, and even at his young cycles, he was taller than she was.

  Beth thought Madeline’s eyes were ancient, though her assessment told her that the girl was only nearing full maturity.

  “They can help ya, Maddie… give it a chance—please!”

  Hearing a Three plead was something to behold.

  The light grew dim.

  Night had sunk its teeth into the day, shaking it like a dog with a bone. The light gave in and evening slid into the shadows and spilled toward them.

  Beth walked to the teens.

  Principle they are young. Still, she recognized that without her stylized training, she would not feel so much older. The girl was only a few years younger.

  Madeline's lower lip trembled. “Who are you?”

  Beth shook her head. “Is there somewhere we can go?”

  “I know just the place,” Jacky said.

  Merrick toed the writhing male on the ground. “This one will remain incapacitated for a time.”

  Beth's eyes went to Merrick's.

  “Where?” Jeb asked.

  “An abandoned dump. There's a sort of fort there that these teenagers use—”

  “Let's go,” Merrick said, cutting him off.

  The girl tried to pull away, but Merrick held her fast by the shoulders.

  She seemed positively frail next to Merrick, probably how Beth looked next t
o him. The thought made Beth frown.

  “Please… don't hurt me,” Madeline begged.

  “I would never hurt a female,” Merrick said with a disdainful grunt.

  “What?” Beth asked, lurching forward from the grim tone of his voice alone.

  Merrick closed his eyes and recited the part of the assessment, which made Beth feel ill.

  “Multiple fractures in various states of healing. Deep contusions, old and new.”

  Merrick bared his teeth, popping open his eyes, which appeared eerie in the low light of the fading day. “I'm not asking now.”

  “Okay,” she said in a meek voice.

  Jacky Caldera took her hand and led them to their next jumping point, or so Beth hoped.

  *

  The dump was the strangest place Beth had ever visited. The assortment of Sector Three trash was utterly fascinating.

  It had been a long walk from the far eastern Quadrant of Kent to the lip of the valley below.

  Beth doubted that any of the people of this quadrant knew that their valley of cement structures and highways, which would become obsolete in a hundred years, had once held a great river. The valley had held trees with trunks wider than some of the domiciles they'd just rescued Madeline DeVere from.

  Beth looked at Madeline, feeling a pity that was uncomfortable to bear. The girl’s frail beauty made feelings of protection an almost automatic reaction.

  “You don't have to take care of me, Jacky,” Madeline said.

  “Chase would've wanted it.”

  She hung her head.

  Merrick raised his palm.

  “I want explanations, and I want them now.”

  “People in hell want ice water, I bet,” Jacky said.

  “No—Jacky, don't. They helped us.”

  Jacky swung his gaze from a pissed-off Merrick to Madeline.

  “Ya can't go back. Ya gotta know that. He'll beat you til he kills ya.”

  “No one's beating anyone,” Merrick said in a bald voice.

  Beth nodded. Truth.

  “You don't know Chuck, guys. He's got no built-in stopping point.”

  “I know the kind of male you're referring to.”

  Beth didn't expound on Merrick's comment. She knew he was thinking of Lance Ryan, languishing on Sector One because of stopping points or his lack thereof.

  Merrick went to Madeline first, ducking below the strange subterranean building of crushed antique cars, squished like rotting corpses of metal above his head.