“You should see Mom and Dad,” Matthew finally said to Erica. He stepped up close to her. “They worry for you.”
“Yes,” agreed the white wolf. “Pay them your respect.”
Erica looked from one elder to the other, then slowly turned and went off down the trail toward the house she had grown up in.
“You have not failed with her,” Abel said to his brother. “The wild ways suit her perfectly. There have always been such wolves in each generation.”
“So there have,” Joseph said.
“Besides,” Abel resumed, moving his gaze to the silver-white. “Your favorite remains true to you.”
“I do not choose favorites.”
Abel shook his scruff, dispelling the rigid tension from his neck, and said, “As you say, good brother. Now, show me to my prize.”
The group moved off toward the southern pasture of the farm. Crossing it, they met the driveway and closed in on the lower barn.
Abel entered alone, padding silently on his wide paws. The animals reacted mildly. He crouched low and peered through the narrow space between the boards of the stall which held Rowan Merrill. She was huddled into a ball. Her eyes blinked when they realized what stood before her. She made no sound but held her breath, paralyzed with fear. In return he issued a barely perceptible growl as he bared his teeth.
“Maggot,” he growled, and though she could not understand the words, she understood the brunt of the message clearly. “Enjoy this comfort while it lasts. Soon, you will long for this stall and this hay and this smell. Your nightmare has only begun.”
Then he turned and crept from the barn and crossed the driveway to the opposing tree line. The others all stood looking at him, expectantly.
“One small, shivering woman has caused us ample trouble,” he said. “It pleases me to see her squirming like the maggot she is.”
“Her appearance is nothing,” replied his brother. “But her mind is devious.”
“Then, the more satisfying it will be to break down,” Abel said with a grumble in his throat.
The white wolf then looked to the three young wolves. He explained that because the day would be busy and stressful, they were granted permission to remain wolves through the daylight hours. They were barred from the farm house and all public areas of Ludlow until further notice. There would be no arguing tolerated.
“Do you expect a battle?” David asked.
“Not for the young,” the old white replied. “The battle is my own. I will manage it as I see fit.”
“Hold your voice,” Abel snarled at David. “You did not bleed in the battles of old. The Merrill’s belong to we who recall those times. You have no right to question the one who has labored so that you may live here in comfort.”
David looked from one Snow to the other. His belly protested with a faint rumble, but he held his voice.
“Now,” said the white. “Run to Moon Rock and behold those waiting there.”
“Who waits?” Evie said, her ears pricked.
“Great beings,” he replied, his tone relaxing. “Wondrous friends from the west. Go and enjoy their company, and be good hosts to them.”
Without further prodding, the three young wolves tore off at full speed. They crossed the pasture and turned right onto the trail to Moon Rock.
Now the two elders relaxed somewhat. Joseph Snow explained all that was unfolding in regard to the Merrill siblings. Abel did not comprehend the technology enveloped in the cases, but he understood the intent enough to scorn it.
“Make no deals,” he said. “Destroy it and let the younger Merrill perish.”
“He has use to me.”
“Use your gunman to hunt men of the world.”
“The gunman requires information to track the one who sends other such men.”
“How can a man not know who commands him?”
“You do not know the secrecy involved. A play of human power.”
“Do not lower yourself to completely rely on a man, brother. When will your sympathetic illusion finally break? They cannot be trusted. Ever.”
The white wolf snarled, saying, “The gunman has already killed men for my sake. He will kill more soon, sparing us from exposure and suspicion to outsiders.”
“Then I will oversee his work,” Abel snarled. “South of the town is not your land. Since you live half as a man, you may not lord over me beyond your human property borders.”
“Oversee, but do not interfere. The course of action is set in my mind. We cannot openly kill here, as you do in the wilds.”
“Cannot?” Abel said. “Or dare not?”
The two edged closer, their hackles rising, staring one another down. Teeth were bared. A scrap seemed inevitable.
Then the rumble of a v-8 met their ears. It was Eli Snow, on his way to begin the morning barn chores.
“Watch the gunman work,” Joseph said. “See for yourself.”
“So I will,” Abel replied.
Then the white wolf turned and darted up the driveway to the house. His teeth clicked together in his fury and his throat rumbled.
22
He stared out the window, watching the autumn colors streak by in the early light. Peak colors had just passed in southern New Hampshire. He knew the further north they drove, the less color would remain. It came and went so fast, followed by months of frigid days and nights. He loved New England in theory. Like seeing a postcard of peak foliage, or the snow on Mt. Washington in early autumn. But right then he was feeling ready to move on to a less dramatic climate. Someplace new and fresh where everyone and everything was strange.
“Can we trust Ludlow?” Jason asked, breaking the silence.
“More than we can trust Kraft,” Merrill answered. “I hope.”
“I remember very little from my youth,” Jason said. “A few scattered memories are all I have. The mention of him stirs something in me, but nothing is clear.”
“Rowan didn’t get you from Ludlow. I don’t know much, but I do know that much. Therefore you shouldn’t have any true memories from there.”
“Then why does his name stir me, sir?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“What if he kills us?”
“Then we’re dead, Jason. It’s a shorter drive to our death than to Maryland. It’s a nicer drive.”
“I don’t like hearing you speak that way.”
“I hope Mr. Ludlow will stick to his word,” Merrill said. “I believe he wants Kraft far more than he wants us. And that’s very good for us. But if he doesn’t hold true, I’m simply stating that we will be killed. One way or the other, we are not safe. Would you rather I pretend otherwise?”
“No,” Jason said. His large hands, tense with nerves, gripped the steering wheel with uncommon strength.
“Jason, I don’t expect you to defend me against a town full of super humans.”
“I’ll defend you to the death, sir.”
“Stop.”
“I mean it.”
Merrill looked at him. No matter how many times he’d instructed him not to refer to him as sir, Jason refused to comply. Not out of defiance. It was like he was incapable.
“You’ve been as cool as ice through everything,” he finally said. “Just hold steady for a few more hours.”
“I have nothing without you,” Jason said quietly. “I am no one.”
“Perhaps when there’s time, I can search through Rowan’s files. Perhaps a few traces of information have survived.”
“I don’t care where I came from,” Jason said. “I care only that you spared me from her. You took me in. Now I owe my life to you.”
“You could potentially be older than me,” Merrill said.
“I don’t care.”
“You might, someday.”
“I don’t care now.”
“When this is all over, I will look into it.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“I want to. Now that I have Rowan’s personal files, I’l
l be able to discover all the secrets she kept from me.”
Jason kept quiet. Driving. Gripping the wheel hard.
“I doubt she kept all her information,” Merrill resumed. “She was very good that way. She’d keep just enough to make sense to her and be indecipherable to others. Even if you don’t care, I do. I would like to know whatever I can know. Then, someday down the road, you might feel ready to ask me.”
Jason knew that he could not deny Raymond forever. For nearly a decade he’d watched Raymond age while observing virtually no changes in his own appearance. Day after day he remained healthy and strong, watching Raymond shrink and gray and become wrinkled. One day—one awful day—he knew that Raymond would pass and he would be left fatherless. No effort on his own part could change that. He could not deny him forever.
“Maybe someday I will be ready,” he said.
“I think so,” Merrill said. “And as for today, I need you to maintain your stoic composure. Not for yourself. I’m asking you to do it for me.”
“I will do my best, sir.”
23
“How’s my uncle?” Janie asked when her father entered the slider.
“The same,” Joseph muttered, his face hard with frustration.
Lars, sitting by the fireplace, could see the tension all through the old man, even if he hadn’t heard it in his voice. He looked down at his hands and pressed his thumbs together for distraction.
“Don’t let him get to you, Dad,” Janie said.
Better that she says it than anyone else, Lars thought. Anyone else might be wise to keep their comments to themselves right now.
“Yeah,” Joseph said to her. Then, “Come with me.” He said it with none of his usual manners. He was someone else now.
Lars looked up and saw him motion to him. He stood and followed him into the big study. The room seemed larger in the daylight. Very elaborate. Lots of technology for someone so old. He noticed that the old man himself looked less dignified when angry. And wearing the robe made him appear older. But he did not fall for the illusion for a second. Even at his worst, he was no one to be around should he slip into a temper fit.
“Can you shoot a tire on a moving car?” he asked. Zero friendliness.
“I can,” Lars answered. Zero hesitation. He would not test the elder’s patience with banter.
“All right, here’s my plan. I’ll have one of my granddaughters or nieces waiting in a car. Once Merrill enters town, she’ll block a part of the road with narrow shoulders, pop the hood and fake car trouble. That’s in case a state trooper happens along from the south. She’ll let Merrill pass south when the time comes. Kraft’s tail won’t be far behind. You take out the tires. Once the occupants get out of the car, let them know where you are and do your best to have them chase you. Don’t risk yourself. Just draw them back into the woods if you can. Then we can round them up.”
“They’ll be armed,” Lars said. “Probably more heavily than Rowan’s guards. If these cases are worth a bundle, the guys that come today won’t be packing water pistols.”
“My brother and my sons will handle them,” Joseph said. His face was hard, angry. His green eyes blazed in the reflected sunlight through the windows. The mention of arms seemingly did nothing to rattle his demeanor. “My goal is to prevent the road from being stained with blood. Broken headlights can be easily swept up. Blood takes time to mask.”
“Got it,” Lars said.
“Once they’re drawn away from the car, get back to your truck. One of my nephews or grandsons will come with a flatbed truck. Winch the car and drag it away as soon as possible. Get it off the road. Out of sight, out of mind. I’ll have traffic blocked to the north as well. If all goes smoothly, the whole thing shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”
Hesitantly, Lars said, “And what if they won’t take the bait and follow me?”
“Then shoot them where they stand.”
He nodded, thinking, I guess he’s officially done playing nice now. That’s the way it has to be, I suppose. So that’s that. I’ll shoot them where they stand or kneel or crouch. Begging or fighting, I’ll have to shoot them. It has to be done.
“Try to leave one alive,” Joseph said after a moment. “They’ll be dragged quite easily from the roadside by those I’m sending to cover you. It would be useful to get one to talk.”
“Yes,” he said, though he was thinking, they don’t know Kraft any better than I do. But you’re the boss around here. I can shoot an arm or two and keep them alive. Then someone else can finish them later. But it would be easier to just kill them quick. They know very little. By design. That’s what keeps their employer thriving.
“I assume that you take great care with your spent casings.” Joseph said next.
“I do. Wipe everything down before loading my magazines. Pick up as many of them as I can find before bugging out.”
“Well, with the leaves coming down, and chaos all around you, that might be difficult today.”
“No one has ever found my prints,” Lars stated with confidence. “No worries there.”
“Yes,” Joseph said. “You’re a tough man to gather information on. My computer expert found out little more about you than he did about Kraft. Very few paper trails.”
“By design,” he confirmed.
“I know what you mean.”
Lars nodded. After that, he didn’t know what to say. He just stood there and tried to look sure of himself. Waiting to be told to leave.
“Have you any reservations about the plan?” the old man asked. His voice had softened somewhat.
“None,” Lars said. “I’ll do what needs to be done.”
“Good. Now go to McCall’s and get yourself prepared. Charge your phone. I’ll contact you with further details.”
Lars nodded and stepped out of the study. He crossed the great room and was met by Evelyn before the door. She handed him a brown lunch bag, packed full. Like he was a kid heading off to school.
“Can’t have you hungry while you’re working,” she said. She produced a forced smile.
“That’s thoughtful of you,” he said.
“Take care of yourself.”
“I always do.”
She nodded and he turned and let himself out the door.
***
He went to his truck. Got in, cranked it and backed it around. So here we go, he thought, letting the truck idle slowly down the long driveway. He had his arm out the window in the fresh air. Today has been a long time coming for the old man. There’s bound to be some tension. And when we go for Kraft—whether it’s tonight or the next night—that will be a long time coming for us all. Keep your head now. Just like any other job. Don’t let it be too personal. Keep your head cold and focused on the work. You’re a machine, not a person. You can be a person again after the work is done. Maybe this will be the last job of all. Maybe it’s clear sailing after this.
He looked at the barn to his right which contained Rowan Merrill. Drawing near, he reminded himself that no matter how tense things got, no matter how uncomfortable, he was a lot better off than she was. He was on the right side. Things might get a little ugly, but he was on the right side.
Then something drew his gaze away from the barn, around to the left. It was a tingling sort of feeling—the sensation of being watched. He saw nothing but shadows along the tree line at first. His eyes adjusted for a second and then he saw that one of those shadows was more than a shadow. It had a definite shape. It was sitting upright. Sitting tall enough to make a Great Dane look small. Heavy, strong, pointed ears and amber eyes blazing right at him. The old man’s brother. The stalker. The killer. The one who could apparently rattle even the old man.
For lack of any better ideas, Lars gave a sort of hard-faced but friendly nod to the wolf as he drew alongside. Maybe twenty or twenty-five feet separated them. His window was down and he felt exposed, even behind the truck’s heavy door. He nudged the gas pedal with his big toe and moved on past. He felt the wo
lf watching him every inch of the way. He saw him sitting tall, proud and fixed like a statue. Saw his head turning slowly, following the truck with his eyes. He saw him in the rearview mirror, still watching. Glaring.
He took a deep breath when he neared the lower driveway—the part shaded by trees on both sides. He nudged the gas a little more, exhaled heavily and thought, I can’t let him get to me that way later. Not when I’ve got work to do. Can’t let him intimidate me like that. He might not even be trying, but damn it, he’s a mean old bastard. It just radiates from him. Invisible but loud, like a radio signal. He’d just as soon kill me as look at me. I can feel it. And now I’m supposed to work with him creeping around the woods behind me. I’m supposed to draw Kraft’s men back to him. God, It might be kinder of me to shoot them all between the eyes before letting that old boy get to them. I’d be doing them a favor. A kindness.
But you have your orders. You’ll do what you must and those men will wish they never did what they felt they must. You’ve picked your side and now you must defend it. That’s all there is to it now.
24
The three young wolves broke from the cover of the trees. Looking up the sheer face of Oak Hill, they saw the two majestic visitors near the peak of Moon Rock. Their dark feathers appeared ruffled, their frames lowered so that their legs were obscured. Lacking only white tails and heads, otherwise they looked like two massive eagles might look in a nest, but now lacking the nest.
“Amazing,” Evie said.
“Someone you can’t outrun,” Matthew teased.
The eagles regarded the wolves with intense eyes as the three climbed the hill. They stood up at attention, tilting their heads in jerky, birdlike movements.
“Offspring of the elder Snow,” said the first eagle.
“His granddaughter,” replied the silver-white.
“And these others?”
Introductions were made all around and all stood at ease. The eagles were accustomed to seeing such wolves. Yet these young wolves had never beheld such eagles. Their awed expressions made that clear.
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