Lycan Alpha Claim 3

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  “What did you do to the perpetrators?” Rachett asked softly.

  “We subdued them, sir.”

  “I bet ya did,” Jacky said from his corner of the room, and Beth stifled a groan.

  Rachett's eyes narrowed on Jacky, and he grinned back at the commander.

  Jacky obviously had no sense of self-preservation.

  “How do you fall into the picture, young man?”

  Jacky rolled his expressive green eyes and tensed.

  Rachett hid a smile—poorly.

  “I'm with her.” He pointed a thumb toward where a reticent Madeline stood. “She's like you guys. Once I found out your dudes were Dimensionals, I knew she'd just keep getting beat-downs now that Chance isn't here to help her anymore. They couldn't stand that retard Chuck, either. Took her right outta there, and now she's safe. With her people.”

  Rachett paced out to where the group stood.

  “Is that right?”

  Jacky gave a look at Commander Rachett as though he were a little dumb around the edges.

  He wasn't. Beth knew him to be very bright, an astute observer of people from every sector.

  “Yeah, that's about all of it,” Jacky said to everyone. “And if anyone's flinging out free food, I'm totally on board for that.”

  He winked.

  Rachett flung his head back and laughed. He clapped then wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. Beth met Merrick's eyes and swept her gaze to the other three.

  Nope. No one knew why Rachett believed something was so funny here.

  Rachett clapped Jacky on the back. “You bet. We'll get you fixed up with something shortly. Just a little more patience.”

  Jacky's vision narrowed on Rachett but he said okay.

  “Younglings…” he mused aloud then turned to Madeline, his face falling into the neutral lines he usually wore.

  She held her ground but was a nervous, quaking mess.

  “Come here, female.”

  Madeline shook her head and scooted backward. “No... please.”

  Instead of approaching, Rachett leaned against his massive desk and stared at her, solid arms crossed across his chest.

  “Why are you afraid of me?”

  “It's not you, bud—it's all dudes.”

  Rachett leveled his eyes at Jacky. “This Chuck—I take it his assault wasn't an isolated incident.”

  Jacky sobered. “No—sir, it was pretty constant.”

  “Madeline DeVere, come to me.”

  “He won't hurt you, Madeline,” Beth said, and felt an abiding sadness that she had to qualify it.

  Madeline moved away from the Reflective, taking one tentative step after another.

  Finally she stood in front of Rachett, who towered over her.

  He put both his hands out and Beth watched her breathe. One-two-and a third.

  She put her hands in his and their eyes met.

  Rachett began his assessment.

  It took three minutes.

  When he was done, he put a hand on her shoulder. His face lowered to his chest, and it hung there for a minute while Beth and the others stood silently.

  Finally, he stood, wrapping his arm around Madeline's shoulders.

  “She won't be returning to the debauchery of that life.”

  Madeline swung to face him.

  “She has always been Reflective. The poisonous concoction administered by the Zondoraes only allowed it to come to fruition. They interfered with her body's natural path.”

  “Pricks,” Jacky muttered, and Rachett nodded in sage agreement.

  “My mom…” Madeline swept her arm to the wide lapel of his navy-colored uniform, the tip of her finger sweeping over the iridescent butterfly.

  “She's unprotected. She's naked without me.”

  “We will make that right. But first, several things need addressing.”

  “Merrick, Jasper, you two stay here.” Rachett's gaze locked on the other Reflectives. “Take the Three's to the chow hall.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  They began to walk away, and Rachett called out to Ryan, who turned.

  “I trust you and Jasper got on well.”

  Ryan said nothing.

  “Did you learn your lesson on Sector One, Reflective Ryan?”

  It was asked as a question but truly wasn't.

  “Yes, sir,” Ryan said then clamped his lips into a thin line.

  “Good,” Rachett replied, “because there won't be a repeat stay.”

  Beth watched Ryan's hate pour from his eyes before they turned in opposite directions.

  She and Merrick stood in front of the commander.

  His eyes pierced them to the marrow.

  “Now tell me what the fuck really happened.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Rachett had the telltale flutter in his jaw of about a hundred shades of pissed off.

  Jeb couldn't blame him.

  They'd fucked the mission on about a million different levels.

  However, the one redemption had been the plug against the scientists. Christopher and Amanda had put the placebo in place of the mass sterilizer.

  Without Jeb and Jasper's interference, there would have been zero children born in Sector Three for that generation. The faction of Zero Populationists on Three had some good points—in theory. But in actuality, their world would die out if their plan succeeded. Even though he and Jasper had accomplished their task during the last jump, the next one hundred years in Sector Three would not be ideal.

  Reflectives could jump time, too, though the ability was sparingly used for obvious reasons.

  Twelfth: disturb not the continuum.

  However, sometimes the whole Principle-damned thing needed to be fixed, like when two scientists try their hand at futuristic mass infanticide.

  “You know the caliber of the mess you've made?”

  Jeb could only nod his assent.

  “And you're telling me this group of bikers from Three broke up Jasper so badly you had to jump to heal her?”

  Jasper's eyes fell.

  “I appreciate that he did.”

  “Did he tell you how many kilometers he carried you?”

  Jasper's nearly black eyes swept to Jeb's. “No.”

  “Four,” Rachett said.

  Jasper's face fell farther, if that were possible.

  “Sir, I already feel like canine crap about it.”

  Rachett scrubbed his head in an irritated swipe.

  “Damn, damn—damn.”

  “Is it the Threes?” Jeb asked.

  “It's all of it.” Rachett swung his hand around, encompassing the general area. “I need a follow-up jump to make sure the scientists get eliminated. At least the one—”

  “Joe Zondorae.”

  Rachett nodded. “Threes will take him out of the equation.”

  Jasper put a finger to her lip, debating something. “If I remember my history, Gary Zondorae becomes a zombie, and brother dear…”

  “He gets eliminated by them?”

  “Sounds right,” Jasper commented.

  Rachett was grim. “You jump and fucking observe.”

  “Do either of you know what that means?” Disbelief at their abilities filled every line of his face.

  “Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

  “No more bringing back stray Threes. No more getting your asses handed to you and almost getting a fresh trainee killed. And no more killing Threes.”

  Jeb fought for composure. “They needed killing.” Jeb couldn't shake the image of their fists thundering into Jasper.

  Rachett gazed at Jeb for a heartbeat longer, then turned sharp attention to Jasper.

  “How did you like your first mission?”

  Jeb saw the emotions like a spinning kaleidoscope cover her face: shame, anxiety, fear, and determination.

  She really needed to learn how to school her emotions.

  “That good, eh?” Rachett asked, but he was grinning.

  “I want to go again, sir.�
�

  “And you will.” His gaze slid to Jeb. “And you'll do better at avoiding these Principle-damned Threes.”

  “Sir,” Jeb began.

  Jasper turned to him, the struggle for a blank face failing her.

  Jeb's request to change partners was on the tip of his tongue. Jasper even helped him, as was her way, by saying nothing—not a speck of a plea in her eyes.

  Jeb decided and it was based for the wrong reasons.

  Yet, they felt right.

  “Thanks for the opportunity, sir.”

  Jasper's face showed her surprise.

  “Welcome.” He jerked his jaw toward the door they'd entered an hour ago. “Go grab some food and babysit that smart-ass Three.”

  Jeb asked, “Yes, what about him? And the girl?”

  Rachett was thoughtful—pensive.

  “The girl remains.” His head dipped, and the stubble of hair at his temples showed silver. He cupped his chin.

  “Her assessment was disturbing.”

  His pale eyes never wavered.

  “She has many healing injuries,” Jeb conceded, sick to his stomach at the thought of what he'd sensed.

  Reflectives’ assessments were normally constrained to the superficial. But like so much, touch deepened it to a sort of tactile telepathy.

  Rachett shook his head in reluctant denial. “In good conscience, I can't return her to that environment.”

  “Sir.”

  Rachett lifted his chin. “Reflective Jasper.”

  “Is she…” Jasper was struggling to spit it out. “Is she too broken to be saved?”

  They were quiet, and their silence had substance, standing between them thickly.

  “I don't know,” Rachett finally said.

  Jeb nodded. “Where will you—keep her?”

  Rachett and Jeb looked at Jasper.

  “Oh, for Principle's sake!” Jasper said, exasperated.

  “Because I'm female? It sucks to be me, unless somehow that gender thing pans out?”

  Rachett's brows lowered. “Reflective Jasper.”

  Jasper stiffened her spine.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jeb thought she still looked mighty pissed.

  “You have a unique historic perspective, do you not?”

  Jeb knew how much Jasper had suffered and how unfairly she had been treated. Who knew the small abuses she'd suffered over the years. Jeb had not been oblivious to the defensive wounds that had healed faster because of their jumps, though some of the marks were scars.

  Jeb thought of Ryan and wanted to punch him back to Sector One.

  Rachett knew Jasper’s history—he'd watch her develop since her fifth cycle. They both understood that her Sector One blood aided her survival in the hostile environment of the Reflectives.

  A combative Reflective that was also female had a hard row to hoe.

  Jasper pegged her hands on her hips and stood quietly.

  She and Rachett seemed to exchange words without speaking.

  “I guess,” she finally admitted.

  “Excellent,” Rachett said. “Madeline DeVere can be your ward.”

  There was a lengthy pause.

  “When you execute your return jump, I would order that the Three male—Chuck?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jeb said.

  “He must be eliminated.”

  Sixth: take life only in defense of another.

  “Don't be so shocked, Merrick.” Rachett's icy gaze landed on them both. “It isn't the first time the directive has been modified.”

  Modified.

  He stood, indicating they should go.

  “You're dismissed.”

  Jeb and Jasper began to walk out.

  “Reflectives,” Rachett said in a low voice.

  They turned with yes sirs on their tongues.

  “It shall not be the last,” he said, switching to Latin and dumping the Three slang in one fell swoop.

  *

  Beth transferred the pack to her left shoulder out of habit. Unlike Merrick, she was right-hand dominant, and even a rookie Reflectives knew not to encumber their fighting arms with anything other than a weapon.

  “I can't tell you how much I appreciate you… putting me up,” Madeline said.

  Beth gave her a sideways look, still shocked by the metamorphosis. Rachett hadn't seen how Madeline had looked before, but to Beth and Merrick, the change in her appearance had been like night and day.

  It was as though her body simply knew what sector she belonged in.

  “You're welcome,” Beth replied, feeling as if her space were being invaded. Of course, she had never really had a female friend before. The other Reflective females treated her like a pariah because she’d chosen to be a warrior.

  They simply didn't understand that it hadn't been about choice but about calling. She could no more work in a clerical capacity than Merrick could.

  She smiled, thinking about that big warrior's body being folded behind a desk.

  “What's so funny?”

  Beth's grin widened as she drew closer to her small domicile.

  She lived in the suburbs of Barringer, which she liked better than town. She received fewer dirty looks and had less shunning to avoid. What the elite Papiliones did not see, they could not look down upon.

  “Sorry, my mind is wandering.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that what you're thinkinʼ is all over your face?” Madeline asked.

  Yes, with their fists.

  “Some,” Beth answered.

  “Wow…” Madeline breathed. “This is amazing.”

  Madeline spun in a slow circle, taking in the antique building with a thatched roof at a fourteen-twelve pitch. Two apartments had been carved out of the interior, and a wrought-iron stairwell guarded a medieval-period arched door. Studs of hand-forged metal held together the wood tongue- and-groove planks of the seven-foot door.

  Warm windows of amber, each with four divided lights were separated like two sets of kind eyes sunk into the stone façade.

  “It's gorgeous,” she said.

  Beth agreed, giving critical attention to her shared domicile and nodded. It was as close to the remembered childhood home as she could come.

  Madeline turned away from the house and took in the solar-powered lights flickering on with twilight's descent.

  The town of Barringer lay beneath them; stone cottages and cobblestoned roads flowed in ribbons of chaos as they migrated down the hill to the center that housed the judicial, medicinal and The Cause headquarters.

  Beyond that, vineyards rose like reminders of the spring that would yield plump grapes.

  “The view is incredible.”

  Beth was pleased that the Three was so grateful for their world. Each minute she was there, Madeline seemed to thrive a bit more. It was as though Sector Three had poisoned her. Or, at the very least, hadn’t allowed her to flourish as she was meant to.

  “Come,” Beth said, putting her thumb to the pulse pad at the right of the thick entrance door. The old-fashioned surface-mount rim lock remained, but it had fallen out of use long ago. When brain impulse technology—or just “pulse” for short—had been introduced, the number of thefts had taken a big dip. It had improved the quality of Papiliones’ daily life, as most advancements should.

  A thumbprint was unique to the individual, so it was completely secure. Of course, that had not been the case with the fraudulent prints they'd sold on the black market of Three.

  It had been for The Cause.

  The door swung wide, the bronze handle pull cool to the touch, reminding Beth that autumn was quickly approaching. Her one-month absence had unnaturally sped up her sense of reality, and she hadn't caught up yet.

  The two women climbed the steps, and Beth repeated the pulse security routine for her personal dwelling.

  The number at the door simply read,2.

  There was only one other that entered here and Beth was relieved when her butterflies floated toward her when she swung the h
eavy door wide.

  “Butterflies!” Madeline chimed behind Beth and the women raised their arms to receive the greeting from butterfly to Reflective.

  As ancient as Papilio itself, the butterflies came and landed.

  One large specimen stroked its velvet wings against Beth's cheek. “Yes, yes Sampson.”

  Beth petted his wide wings.

  Sampson was her favorite. He was a great beauty. His body was decorated in periwinkle, with striking electric blue spots and stripped antenna that alternated between the two colors.

  “He's so pretty,” Madeline said quietly.

  “Handsome,” Beth said automatically.

  “How do you know he's male?”

  She smiled at Madeline.

  The girl cocked her head. “Besides the clue in the name?”

  Beth nodded, her smile becoming a grin.

  “I don't know—just do.”

  She knew. The male Reflectives could never tell, but Beth could. She always attracted the papiliones wherever she went. Sometimes one or two followed the male Reflectives, but never the flock that trailed Beth as if she were the Pied Piper.

  Madeline made her way deeper inside Beth's domicile.

  Her eyes touched on everything, and Beth was suddenly self-conscious. She wasn't known for her housekeeping.

  It was a very good thing the women who straightened residences for Reflectives while they were on jumps visited frequently.

  Beth knew the women had been there because the butterflies’ small salt perch was fresh, and their sugar dropper was full. She sighed in relief. No one had anticipated the break in the continuum. However, every Reflective’s contract stated that their domicile would be maintained in their Cause-sanctioned absence—until their death or break in service.

  Beth had never anticipated an absence so long when she’d blithely signed the contract.

  She was glad for the contingency.

  Rows of small lights hung from solid wood beams buried in the stone walls and flush against the solid four-meter-tall rock ceiling.

  The butterflies lit on the wires that traveled between the bulbs.

  White lights twinkled at the women like stars.

  “Thank you,” Madeline said softly.

  Tears like crystal rain fell from her face, dripping from her delicate jawbone to land on the wood floor.

  Beth wasn't good at consoling. She had no practice.