“They talked to you?” Uriel asked, hackles raising.
“They did. Hesitantly at first, but the longer you were gone, the more they needed guidance. At least that’s how it came across. We’ve been working with the alpha of the Miles tribe primarily. We have held meetings with the three other alphas in attendance as well. We have made great progress, from an Ambassador’s perspective, but they refuse to sign anything without your input.”
That’s something, anyway, Uriel thought. It grated his soul that they would have gone this far without his permission, but he reminded himself that he had been gone a very long time and that he was making a conscious effort to ease off the controls.
“What is it you wanted them to sign?” he asked.
“I have a copy of it right here,” Wrigley said, pulling a thin stack of paper out of his desk. “It’s a bit long, but it’s as concise as my legal team will allow.”
Uriel took the packet and glared at the tiny print. He read through each line on each of thirty pages, and retained nearly none of it. “I will need to have my advisors look this over as well,” he said. “But first, give me the bullet points.”
“Right. Essentially it’s calling for a truce. We enact protection laws, and then reveal your existence to our people. Once that happens, we can negotiate building within the reservations, sharing resources, that sort of thing.”
“How, exactly, does that benefit us?”
“Simple,” Wrigley said with a mirthless grin. “If you volunteer yourselves for study in exchange for pay and humane conditions, people like Animus would have no reason to kidnap and torture your kind.”
“How do you know about Animus?” Uriel demanded, suddenly suspicious.
“We put two and two together when my men were found torn to shreds by some ‘unknown animal’ at a research facility we were investigating under suspicion of human genetic experiments.”
“Hmm. Right. And the five shifters you picked up a couple days ago didn’t clue you in at all?”
Wrigley started hard enough to spill his drink. Gotcha, Uriel thought.
“I’m sorry, sir, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit,” Uriel snapped. “Just how much shifter biology do you actually know, Mr. Ambassador? Our senses surpass yours by miles. Specifically, our sense of smell.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point? My point is that you had eggs for breakfast, your mistress has syphilis, and my missing people were held in this room!”
“Well held may be a little strong...”
Uriel launched from his seat and smashed his knuckles down onto Wrigley’s desk. He’d allowed his shifter form to soften as they talked, to put his host at ease, and now he snapped back, his vicious jaws mere inches from Wrigley’s soft, flat face.
“Where are they?” he shouted.
Wrigley fell out of his chair. “Please...please, don’t hurt me! You’re people are fine, just fine, if I could just—”
“Where?!”
“Medical trailer!”
Uriel burst out of the office trailer, ripping the door off its hinges. Soldiers stood at attention and saluted, though the sharp odor of piss suddenly accosted Uriel’s nostrils. He snarled at the offending soldier.
“Where’s the medical trailer?”
The kid pointed, and Uriel heard him hit the ground in a dead faint as he turned to follow the given direction. The medical trailer was twice as long as the office, and three times as wide. Uriel ripped that door off the hinges as well, figuring a strong entrance would hasten the process. A woman screamed, and he turned to her.
“Where are you keeping my people?” he demanded.
She pointed to a darkened hallway and he charged into it until he came to a thick glass window overlooking a row of five beds. Each bed contained a shifter, three in human form, and two in were-form. The heavy door was locked, and Uriel couldn’t get inside. He smashed his fist into the door over and over again, until he noticed the frightened woman standing at his elbow.
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I-I have the key, but I worry that if we move them now it will harm them.”
“Why?” he demanded. “What have you done?”
“I’m just the night nurse,” she clarified quickly. “But these five, they signed the agreement, and they came in here. The doctor is trying to reverse the effects of the bite.”
“Reverse the effects,” Uriel repeated. “That’s impossible.”
“Maybe,” she said nervously. “But what he’s trying, it’s...it’s a chemically induced coma. And taking them out of it without the proper procedure could kill them.”
Uriel glared through the window at the five idiotic turned humans.
“You said they signed the agreement? Did they read it through, ask questions?”
“Um...not...not really. I was on duty when they came in, and...they sort of scanned it, but then when Mr. Wrigley told them they could reverse everything, they signed in a heartbeat. I tried to tell them it was experimental, but...” She shrugged, looking pained and wracked with guilt.
“Fine,” Uriel said in disgust. “They signed, they can stay. Where are the rest of my people?”
“The shifters who live here? Just a mile or so down the hill. We would be closer, but they tend to get...snappy if we get too cozy.”
“We like our space,” Uriel said with a snarl. “And we like our freedom. You’ve read the agreement?”
“Yes.”
“In full?”
“I double as the typist around here, it was dictated to me.”
“Then you know what it says?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What exactly happens if all five alphas of the Astris tribe sign it?”
“You, um...you would be giving them permission to study you in whatever way they saw fit, in exchange for monetary compensation, free power and water to your land, a fully stocked hospital, and a school.”
“Selling our bodies to get civilized. Seems a little backwards, doesn’t it?”
“I thought so,” she agreed. “But then I don’t know what kind of conditions you all live in. I mean, personally, a high infant mortality rate would have me negotiating the terms of the treaty with a very open mind. On the other hand, if you’re all surviving as well as you ever were, and nobody’s starving, and everybody knows everything they need to live the lives they want, then I’d tear it up. It literally gives them carte blanche to walk into your home and take your children whenever they please, all in the name of science.”
“If you feel this way about it, why do you work for them?” Uriel asked.
“Because I’m terrified that turning a blind eye and removing myself from the situation will only make things worse. If I’m right here in the thick of it, maybe I can help keep things from getting out of control.”
“I think you just did,” Uriel told her. “What’s your name?”
“Brandy,” she told him.
“Well, Brandy. You’re a fine girl, and I thank you. Keep your head down, it might get ugly around here.”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
He left, undisturbed, and walked through the human camp toward his traveling companions. None of the soldiers tried to stop him, and just before he disappeared into the trees, he caught sight of Wrigley outlined in the office doorway. He shook his head in disgust. He was going to need every creative thought the seven of them could come up with to figure out what to do about the human problem.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Uriel filled his group in on what the ambassador had told him, and each of them reacted with shock and disgust; everyone, that is, except Jezebel.
“They...they can turn us back?” she asked.
“Claims to be able to, but I doubt it,” Uriel said. “It’s not a disease to be cured.”
“Maybe not to you,” she pointed out. “But I can’t bear to live one more day in this body. I’m going.”
Uriel wanted to strangle her, but he k
ept his cool.
“Fine, go. You’ll have to sign your life away,” he warned her.
“That’s what Animus told me when I got the job as his secretary,” she sighed. “Oh, well. It is what it is.” She took off through the woods without another word.
“Aren’t you going to stop her?” Bianca hissed.
“Nope. Her life, her business. Astris is just on the other side of camp. While she has them distracted, we’ll go around. I’m not going to make any sweeping decisions without the other alphas, but that treaty is crap.”
They slipped through the woods around the now-illuminated boundary of the human camp. A mile down the hill, Uriel called them to a halt. The air buzzed with a familiar electricity. He stepped forward cautiously, and found a tall, nearly-invisible fence, coursing with electricity. He snarled in frustration, and lifted his snout to the sky, howling a command to his fellow alphas.
“What are you doing? I thought we were trying to be subtle,” Forest said nervously.
“The time for subtlety is over,” Uriel said darkly.
Four shifters, each as massive and intimidating as Uriel himself, suddenly materialized from the shadows on the other side of the fence.
“Uriel,” one of them said coldly. “We assumed you were dead.”
“Not dead, just trapped. Tell me what’s happening.”
“They have us locked in here,” an alpha named Gabriel snarled. “Cut off from food, water, and herbs. It’s been a week. They’re trying to starve us into submitting to that bullshit treaty.”
“They tried to corner me into signing it. They told me the rest of you were on board, and just waiting for me.”
“Humans lie,” Raguel, another alpha, snarled. “Nobody wants that goddamn treaty. Everything they’re offering we could do for ourselves if we could just stop moving around for a minute.”
“Right. Okay, then, here’s what I’m thinking.”
Uriel outlined his plan. His fellow alphas, Raguel, Gabriel, Barachiel, and Raphael debated the details briefly, but the five of them quickly came to a concrete agreement. Strella, Gomer, and Jason spoke for their packs and regions, and the shifters quickly hammered out a treaty that would offer actual protection for their people.
Uriel promised his alphas that they would return quickly, and led his group back up the hill. He drew them to a stop just behind the medical trailer.
“Right. Forest, you’re with me. The rest of you stay here. Watch our backs, keep eyes on the humans. We’re going in strong. Forest, get out of those pants and shift. Intimidation is our greatest asset.”
“Are you sure?” Forest asked. “If we’re going to be negotiating the terms of the treaty, shouldn’t we look at least a little bit approachable?”
“We aren’t negotiating anything,” Uriel said grimly. “We’re giving them an ultimatum.”
“Oh.”
Uriel led Forest around the side of the medical trailer. He tapped on the window, and Brandy opened it.
“Come with us,” Uriel ordered. “You have some dictation to take down.”
She grinned happily and closed the window, joining them outside as they rounded the front of the trailer. The three of them marched to the office, hesitantly saluted by uncertain soldiers as they walked. Uriel heard one of them radio the ambassador, and wasn’t surprised to find him armed and waiting when they arrived.
“What are you doing with my nurse?” Wrigley demanded.
“She’s going to take some notes,” Uriel told him. “Sit down.”
Wrigley moved to sit behind the desk, and Uriel stopped him. “No. Over there.”
Wrigley nervously took the center seat in front of the desk while Uriel sat behind it, propping his massive, clawed feet up on the desk.
“You’re holding my people prisoner,” he commented. “Doesn’t bode well for inter-species relations, does it?”
“That was simply a precaution,” Wrigley stuttered. “Until we could guarantee safety for both sides.”
“Right, because this,” Uriel picked up the treaty, “is all about mutual safety.” He tore the treaty in two and tossed the pieces at Wrigley.
“We’re going to write a new treaty. Brandy, take this down. From this moment forward, all land north of the transcontinental highway belongs to shifters. All land west of the Flint mountain range belongs to the shifters. All land south of the Snakeskin River belongs to the shifters.”
“Now hold on a second, we have cities west of Flint and south of Snakeskin,” Wrigley argued.
“You do. And those cities will fall under the rule of the alphas who control that land, up to and including mass eviction.”
“But...but those are booming industrial cities, you can’t just...”
“I can,” Uriel snapped. “Your booming industry comes at a cost, and it is up to the alphas of those territories to determine whether those industries are worth the cost.”
“But your kind doesn’t even need those industries, so—”
“So you will have to negotiate fairly and well if you want to keep them,” Uriel told him. “Second. Human visitation into shifter territories must be approved by the packs within those territories prior to arrival. Any unauthorized human in shifter territory is guilty of trespassing, and will be dealt with accordingly.”
“And by dealt with, you mean...?”
“That will be determined by the local alphas. For my tribe, the errant human will be escorted back across the border for the first offense; imprisoned for thirty days for the second offense; and will have a choice between turning or death for their third and final offense.”
Blood drained out of Wrigley’s face, and Uriel allowed himself a cocky grin.
“Third. Exchanging information. Your human scientists may, on occasion, work with shifters. Each collaboration will require an equal exchange of information as well as adequate compensation for the shifters involved.”
“And by adequate, you mean....?”
“Determined on a case-by-case basis by the shifter in question and their alpha.”
“Humans have no say?”
“None. You want the information, you pay the price. Fourth item. Any human altercations that spill over into shifter territory directly or indirectly will be decided by shifters. Which means if you all decide to have another civil war that poisons our land, prey, or water, we will step in and force a ceasefire... one way or another.”
“Well, you see, politics are complex things you know, and sometimes it’s unavoidable for—”
“No excuses. Keep your fighting to yourselves, or lose the right to fight. Fifth item. Any human who wishes to turn may apply for citizenship with their local alphas. If their application is denied, they may not apply again. Sixth item. Shifters living in human cities maintain all sovereign protections of their local pack. However, they will be bound by local human law. Shifters who break human laws will be sent back to their local pack to be handled by their own people.”
“So they’re protected no matter how badly they behave? You want us to just let shifters run around in our cities attacking people?”
“No,” Uriel snapped. “Shifters who live in human cities, as I said, are bound by human and shifter law alike. Shifters do not turn humans without prior authorization, and if they do, they are held accountable. Wolves who step outside the law will be dealt with by us, because humans are not equipped to dole out appropriate punishments. Item seven. Any human found at or beyond the border in possession of bombs, silver, or chemical mind-control agents will be executed immediately after interrogation.”
“That seems a little harsh.”
“So does genocide. Finally, item eight. Every shifter who is currently being confined anywhere on the continent must be released within the next twenty-four hours, or the treaty is forfeit and we declare war.”
“W...war?”
“War. On humanity. You will abide by the terms in this agreement, or my people will clear this continent of yours. It wouldn’t take long. Every hu
man we turn would be capable of killing six humans at a time. You would be witness to a wave of shifters, growing exponentially as they tore down your buildings and slaughtered your women. This treaty is your one chance to avoid extinction on this planet. I suggest you sign it.”
“Sign what, there’s nothing to—”
“Here you are, sir,” Brandy said, setting a typed two-page document on the desk.
Uriel looked it over. It was everything he had said, complete with stipulations.
“Very good,” he said approvingly. “You’re a quick one.”
He signed the treaty and slid it across the desk toward Wrigley, who eyed it with distaste.
“If we go to war,” Uriel said quietly. “You will be first on my list. I won’t kill you, not right away. I will carry you with me and force you to watch while everything you care about burns to the ground.”
Wrigley swallowed hard and signed the paper. Uriel snatched it back and handed it to Brandy.
“Make me a hundred copies of this, would you? Thanks, darlin’.”
Uriel glanced at Forest, who was beaming with pride, and winked. Wrigley stared at the desk mournfully, as though he had just lost everything.
“Now,” Uriel said. “Take down that fence around my people, and get off my land. You have exactly one hour.”
Wrigley sighed heavily and picked up his radio.
“Pack up and move out,” he ordered. “You have thirty minutes.”
“And the fence?”
“Within the hour,” Wrigley promised. “Tensions are high between my people and yours, I would prefer to be on our way before releasing them.”
“Fair enough,” Uriel said with a grin.
Gabriel had been practically salivating with the desire to tear the humans apart, so Uriel completely understood Wrigley’s hesitation. Brandy returned in short order with the copies. Uriel left one on the desk, and tucked the remainder under his arm.
“It’s been productive,” he said, extending his long, hairy claw to shake Wrigley’s soft, stubby hand. Wrigley shook unenthusiastically.
“And Brandy, always a pleasure,” Uriel said, taking her hand and bowing over it. “If there are more like you out there, peaceful cohabitation might just be possible.”
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