by Leia Stone
“So we blackmail them.” I had to say it aloud, because it was crazy.
Croft nodded. “We blackmail them. It won’t work in the bigger cities, but in Eugene, Oregon, we might just get away with it. For the time being, anyway.”
Brock stood and shook Croft’s hand. “Thank you for the consult. I’ll keep you apprised of the situation in the morning.”
Croft nodded. “And I will do the same.”
As Brock and I walked out to the car, I turned to him and he stopped. “What happens if they say no? If they … try to identify everyone and … tag them by force?”
The muscles in his jaw ticked. “We’re drawing a line in the sand. If they cross it, they’ll be declaring war with the supernaturals, and I don’t think they’ll want that.”
I gulped.
“I’ve been cleared by the council to use lethal force if necessary to get the point across,” he added. “The werewolves are half human, and we won’t be abiding by these archaic rules of theirs.”
Damn. He was right. But I had a really bad feeling about this.
13 Oh hell
We spent the rest of the night figuring out how to best prepare for the human agents scheduled to descend upon us the next day in a “surprise” registration visit. If it hadn’t been for my well-placed friends and colleagues, the registration squad might have caught us with our proverbial pants around our ankles. As it was, we were as ready as we’d get.
Willemena had been the first to take off. Her home in California was entirely off the grid, and so deep in the forest that nobody would be able to locate it without insider information. Since Willemena closely guarded her secrets, she was certain the human agents would never be able to find her, and even if they somehow managed it, they’d need to overcome her impenetrable wards. Preferring her odds alone than in the company of more than a hundred supes, the crone had laid rubber in her sleek back Porsche 911 Carrera, barely bothering with brief goodbyes. I couldn’t help but like her despite her gruff demeanor. When shit got rough, she had our backs, and that’s all that mattered.
Haru, Reo, Molly, and Tianna had left after her to spend the night with the Blacks out at Cottage Grove. Johnny had surprised me by calling and offering my friends sanctuary.
In the eyes of the human authorities, the only thing more dangerous than a supe was a lone, rogue supe, especially one who didn’t fit neatly into their boxes. Tianna wasn’t associated with a coven, so she’d fare better connected to the Black Clan, and Cho insisted that Haru and Reo would benefit from its protection as well. I’d long suspected that the Japanese warriors weren’t entirely human, and Cho more or less confirmed it. There was no way we could allow unfriendly witches to start prodding around what and who the brothers were. My identity as the last remaining kitsune on earth had to remain a secret at all costs.
When Haru and Reo had protested, not wanting to leave Molly behind, Brock had suggested she go with them. As a new wolf, Molly was a bit unstable, and it would be better to keep her from being too closely examined. Johnny was slick, and I had no doubt he’d come up with any necessary reasons to explain away their presence among them. We’d debated sending Cass with them as well, instead of into the underworld. It was possible the police might not bother with Cottage Grove at all since the Blacks were an established coven, but with the recent news that the Blacks were delving in dark magic, it was more likely the cops would be all over them.
My dad and Cho were tucked away in Gran’s cabin. When I asked Cho if she wasn’t worried about being pegged as a lone witch herself, and if it wouldn’t be better to go to Cottage Grove with the others, she’d said she couldn’t shirk her duty to care for my father. She’d insisted she could take care of herself, and after the displays I’d seen from her, I wasn’t inclined to argue. As far as witches went, she was the bee’s knees, and it touched me that she would choose to remain at my father’s side.
In the early morning hours, Cass slipped into the underworld and was now safely hidden away, though I wasn’t even close to feeling comfortable about his location. He’d enlisted the demon bartender, who worked at the bar where Brock and I’d first met, to go along with him. I couldn’t help but worry about the variety of things that could happen to Cass there, but at least this way he was guaranteed to escape the human agents. There was no way I’d stand by and allow them to take Cass away from me and put him in some all-demon concentration camp.
We’d been forced to reveal the existence of the gate to the demon bartender, but we’d had no choice. At least he didn’t know I was a kitsune and the guardian to the gate, and he’d appreciated a heads-up about the feds being after his kind. He and Cass seemed to have struck up a little friendship even though I thought he was a douchebag. After twenty minutes of searching for the crack in the gate that would allow Cass and the bartender entrance, Cass had given up and ferried the bartender away to the other side of the property while I‘d shifted to my kitsune form. Short of flooding Brock’s property the way Calista had, the only way to find the exact opening was with my kitsune sight.
Before I transformed, I’d only had to shift two more times to gain my nine tails so I could seal the gate for good. Now we were down to one more time. My shift to my fox form had come a bit easier, the transformation taking less time and forcing me to endure less pain. That was a big win. I’d also developed an eighth power. I could now tell the exact time just by looking at the sky, night or day. Yeah, I know, not super useful, but with how crazy my life was, there was always a chance the skill could get us out of a scrape—somehow—and now I’d never need a watch again.
When I’d signaled the location of the crack in the gate to Brock, he’d marked it with a construction flag. By the time Cass brought the demon bartender back, I was back to looking like a pregnant human. With repeated promises that I’d come for Cass the moment the agents were gone, my pink furry demon imp bestie jumped into the gate and vanished from sight.
Getting everyone organized yesterday had made for an incredibly long day, and today Brock and I were up at the butt crack of dawn so the agents couldn’t get the jump on us. Even so, we’d barely made it out to the lawn when we noticed the first signs of their approach.
I checked my supernatural bounty hunter badge, clipped at my waist, and my Glock, to make sure they were in place. Though Brock had begged me to hide out with the Blacks, or even in the house or Gran’s cabin, I’d refused. There was no way in hell I was going to allow Brock to face a horde of humans on his own. Besides, the human authorities respected supernatural bounty hunters. When they needed help bringing down a supe, we were the ones they called. My presence would ensure they wouldn’t take things too far with Brock.
Or so I hoped.
There weren’t many laws in place that protected paranormals. I intended to make the most of the few that did. The humans were within their lawful right to identify and register all supernaturals, but they couldn’t force us to do anything beyond that unless they could prove we were somehow an imminent threat to a human. Being fond of rule bending myself, I didn’t trust these agents for a second. Once humans started looking at us as outsiders and a potential threat to their existence, there was no telling what they’d do.
“Can you tell if the potion worked?” Brock asked, cracking his neck and knuckles while narrowing his eyes at the caravan of military-grade armored vehicles steadily making their way down the road to our house.
Was that level of military presence really necessary?
“I don’t feel any different,” I said. “But I trust Cho. If she says it’ll make me appear nothing more than a weak witch to any other supes, it should be enough for them not to pay attention to me. And she said the potion definitely took effect. She didn’t pick up on my shifter side at all.”
Brock didn’t say anything, clenching his jaw at the approaching convoy.
“Don’t you trust Cho?” I pressed.
“I trust Cho. It’s the assholes driving over-equipped Hummers onto my residential property that I’m i
nclined to distrust.”
He was right. Hummers, especially armored and reinforced ones like the ones headed our way, were way over the top for an innocent registration assignment. I took a step closer to Brock and he immediately wrapped a protective arm around my waist.
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to wait inside?” he asked.
“Not a chance.”
He growled under his breath but didn’t press the issue. We waited in silence until the first of the vehicles slid to a stop at the edge of our driveway. The large Hummers were definitely military grade, machines of war disguised in quasi-civilian shells.
Brock stood tall, pinning a searing gaze on the man approaching us. The soldier was dressed in black army fatigues, with enough weapons strapped to his body to make me jealous. Two men and a witch hopped out of the vehicle after him and flanked him.
“You’d better have a damn good reason to come onto my property like this,” Brock snarled.
“I do.” The lead agent offered Brock some ID. “I’m Field Agent Maler, and my team and I are here to do a routine inspection of the premises, including any supernaturals you might have living here.”
“Routine? Bullshit,” Brock growled. “I know exactly why you’re here.”
Agent Maler cocked a brow at that and ignored Brock. “Due to the new law passed late last night, I am now required to register every supernatural on the premises.”
“I didn’t hear about a new law,” Brock said coolly. The White House press release just said they were drafting a law that would address the issue.
The man gave a sinister grin. “We kept it under wraps so as to prevent panic among supernaturals.”
More like to prevent supes from escaping before the agents arrived. I barely held back my own growl, and I only managed it because I knew I couldn’t do anything to suggest I was anything but an innocuous witch growing a baby.
A witch stepped forward, a clipboard in her hands. “State your name for the record.” She was all business. And powerful. I could feel it.
“I’m Brock Adams,” Brock said. “I’m the owner of this land, and alpha of the local werewolf pack.”
Brock wasn’t the owner of Gran’s cabin and her property, but now wasn’t the time to make that point.
“I demand to know why you’ve brought such a military show of force,” Brock pressed. “Your entourage doesn’t exactly look gentle and innocent. My pack has done nothing wrong.”
Four more Hummers had pulled in behind the first, and from each descended another team of soldiers accompanied by one witch. The soldiers all wore identical army fatigues, an admirable array of weapons, buzz cuts, and impassive expressions. The only women among them were the witches, and even they seemed hard as steel. Witches tended to be a colorful lot with boisterous personalities, but not this crew. If looks could cut me down, I’d be rolling on the ground.
“We’re here to perform a census of all supernaturals on the premises,” Agent Maler said.
“And by ‘census,’ do you mean tag us so you can track our every movement?” Brock asked, his arm squeezing around my back at his building anger.
The agent met Brock’s challenging stare without blinking. “Yes. Our orders are to install a nano tracking device in every supernatural on the premises. Like I said, it’s the new law, and every supernatural must comply.”
Brock’s jaw twitched as pissed-off nervous flutters raced through me. This dude was talking about us like we were cattle!
“I refuse,” Brock said, his voice deadly calm.
Shit was about to hit the fan.
“If you refuse, then my orders are to proceed with force.” For the first time, Agent Maler directed his attention at me. “And who are you?” He trailed his eyes across my badge and weapon.
I held my head high. “I’m Evie Black, licensed supernatural bounty hunter. I’m here in an official capacity to make sure you adhere to the law.”
“An official capacity? Really?” He pointedly looked at the way Brock held on to me like his efforts alone could keep me safe.
“Yes,” I said, deadpan.
Fuck you, agent man.
“She’s also my fiancée,” Brock said. “Which means you keep your hands off her or you’ll have me to deal with.”
I’d never been frightened of Brock, but right then, if I were the agent, I’d be terrified. Menace dripped off of Brock’s every word.
But Agent Maler didn’t so much as wince. “I have a job to do, and I intend to do it.” He signaled for his people to move forward, and they all started to walk at once, crowding around him. Even the witches appeared to be waiting for him to give the next order.
“Listen to me very, very carefully,” Brock grit out. “I’m not going to allow you to tag everyone in my pack. There’s no way in hell. We’re not animals.”
Agent Maler opened his mouth to protest, but Brock continued before he could. “But I understand you need to follow orders, so I’ll offer you a compromise. I’ll allow you to tag me and I’ll be personally responsible for the actions of every single member of my pack. I can sign whatever papers you want legally binding me to take the fall for anything my pack members do.”
My heart was thumping somewhere up in my throat. I got that Brock trusted his wolves and had faith in them, but putting himself on the line for anything they might do … that was nuts. What if one of his wolves lost control? Even the most well behaved wolf went wild on the full moon.
“I can’t accept your offer,” Agent Maler said. “I have to tag every wolf on the property. Are there any other supernaturals on the premises? Besides your pack?”
The witches looked at me with suspicion. Brock ignored his question. “I have more than a hundred wolves in my pack. They hold important positions in the community. Most of the town don’t even know they’re supes because they appear human. If you push me on this, not only will we fight you, but I’ll order every one of my wolves to go on strike. A town like this will shut down without my wolves. I have everything from doctors and teachers to librarians and mechanics and firefighters. My wolves are hard workers, and they’re involved in almost everything that goes on in this town.”
“No one cares about what happens in a town like this,” Agent Maler said.
“I highly doubt that,” Brock said. “Especially when I have the approval of the National Werewolf Council. They’ve agreed to abide by this strike with me. How will your superiors feel about a nationwide strike by the wolves? That will mean thousands of critical employees absent from daily human life. A wolf strike will send dominoes crashing on all sides. Oh, and did I mention? I’m also friends with the vampires, the supernaturals that line your government’s politician’s pockets. They have agreed to go on strike with us. Seems to me you didn’t think this out very well.”
I wasn’t sure Croft would consider Brock a friend, but whatever. This Agent Maler needed to back the fuck off, and I could see hesitation in his face.
“With that much momentum,” Brock continued, “the entire supernatural community would go on strike in protest of these unconstitutional measures. Not to mention it would start a civil war.”
“Even the bounty hunters would,” I piped up. “And then you’d have nobody to call on to help you subdue supes.”
The lead agent huffed, frustration sweeping across his steely features. “My superiors won’t approve this. My orders are clear!”
“Your orders are bullshit. Do you want to start a war?” I asked. “Call your superiors.”
Brock nodded. “Tell them I’ll cooperate and allow them to track me, but that’s it. If they press the issue, they’ll have a war with supes on their hands.”
The soldiers behind Agent Maler shot furtive looks between Brock, me, and their leader. Finally, Agent Maler pulled a cell phone from one of the many pockets on his fatigues. “Watch them,” he barked to his team while walking out of hearing range. Every soldier there, including the witches, moved closer, making me feel like my skin was crawling.
A couple of the witches started sniffing the air, directing pointed looks at me. I plastered what I hoped was a look of complete innocence across my face. They only narrowed their eyes at me.
Shit. Cho’s potion had better work.
Just as one of the witches was inching closer, Agent Maler returned, his phone still held to his ear. “I have to at least take down the names of everyone on the property,” he called out to Brock.
“But I’m the only one who gets tagged?” Brock asked.
Maler gave a curt, displeased nod.
“Agreed.”
“He’s agreed, sir,” Maler spoke into the cell phone. He listened for a few more seconds before disconnecting. When his gaze traveled between Brock and me, I knew without a doubt that this man would have loved to install tracking devices in every single one of us.
“My supervising officer has agreed,” Maler said, “but only for now. We’ll be revisiting the issue at a later date.”
“Then let’s get this over with,” Brock growled. “I have far better things to do with my morning.”
Maler tipped his head to a soldier behind him, and a man with sandy blond hair growing low on his forehead went to retrieve a metal briefcase from the nearest vehicle. He pulled out a scary-ass contraption with a huge, long needle attached to it.
“You can’t let him inject you with that,” I whispered urgently to Brock.
“I have to,” he said, extracting his arm from my side. He approached the soldier while pulling his shirt over his head and offering him his bare shoulder. “I take it that it doesn’t matter where you inject the tracker?”
“No, sir,” the soldier said.
“Good. Then let’s get it done.”
An alcohol swab and thirty seconds later, my future husband could be tracked by the US government anywhere, at any time. Not a single aspect of this was sitting well with me.
The three witches stepped forward then and clasped hands. “We’ve been ordered to do a quick spell to hunt out any demons you may have on the property. This is non-negotiable.”