There was no dignity in pregnancy.
In a subdued mood, Victoria returned to the kitchen. The others had already finished eating so she sat down at the table and got straight to the serious business of attacking her food—they didn't call it wolfing for nothing.
"Cali, DNR. Head's up." Sawyer called the other two hunters to order. Once he had their attention, he continued, "I want the highway patrolled today. Yesterday, Cali and I saw some grungy-looking drifters over in Broken Bend—"
"Shit. Dems just hipsters," DNR interrupted. "Herds of 'em are passing through from San Francisco for that flower-child, free-love music festival."
"Capullo." Morena razed DNR, jabbing his side with her elbow. "Hippy. Hipster. Not the same thing."
"Dewey, watch your language." Sawyer's scowl cowed the lad into silence. "I told you. No swearing while we're guests here."
"Yeah, Dewey," Morena mocked, tongue in cheek. "Watch your language."
"Sorry, Sawyer. Sorry, Mrs. Thorton." DNR dropped his eyes, staring down at his hands. The posture made him look years younger, and so did the spiteful way he deliberately avoided looking at Morena.
"Humph." Sylvie offered no other commentary, but her silent approval shone through the empathetic bond like a sunbeam. Sawyer remained imperviously oblivious to the Skald's reaction. His aura hung over him like a little Charlie Brown storm cloud of doom and gloom.
"This is serious," Sawyer said. "Let's hold the jokes until later."
Finishing the last bite of her eggs, Victoria set her fork on the dirty plate. The food had been cold but tasty. She felt one hundred percent better. She found Sawyer's constant state of depression to be worrisome.
Through a complicated and convoluted series of events, both Jake and Sawyer were members of the Storm Pack. While the Hunter King remained at the periphery of their dynamic, Sawyer had slowly but surely integrated into the core. The hunter was an oddly-shaped peg amongst puzzled werewolves, but he was still, irrevocably, theirs.
Reaching over beneath the table, Victoria laid her hand over his and squeezed. "If Sawyer thinks these strangers are suspicious enough to warrant investigation, then we should look into it."
The weight of multiple gazes settled on her, including Sawyer's. His lips formed a reluctant smile and he mouthed a word—"Thanks."
She tipped her head.
"What was it about the drifters that bugged you?" DNR asked.
"What he's saying is that he figures you'd have a natural affinity for long-haired hippy-freaks..." Cali tilted her head back with a smirk that left much implied.
"Yeah, yeah." Sawyer waved his hand but then it curved into a corkscrew. "There was something... off about them."
"Off in what way?" Sylvia asked. "Were they shifters?"
"I don't know but something was off—" Sawyer bit off his words. "I don't know how to explain it."
"Would you like me to come down to Broken Bend? I have an appointment with my OB-GYN at eleven but I'm free until then." Sliding out her chair, Victoria rose and picked up her plate. She reached over to snag the dirty dish and empty coffee mug in front of Sylvie.
"Can I come?" Morena asked with an eager smile.
"No, you're babysitting the Stanton's boy again," Sylvie said.
"Aww..." The teenager's face fell.
"Yeah." Sawyer offered Victoria an easy smile. "That'd be helpful. Maybe you'll be able to pick up on something I missed."
"Maybe. At the least, I can scent them and check their auras. If they really are just..." She hesitated, debating over what to call regular old, non-supernatural humans in the presence of hunters. Once, she'd considered Jake and his people to be humans-with-magic. Now, she wasn't so sure. Morena made the distinction as 'hunter-monkeys' versus 'normal-monkeys' but Victoria doubted Sawyer and his people would appreciate the joke.
"Human?" Sawyer grinned as if reading her mind. From his intonation, Morena had already deployed her latest strategy in the on-going game of "Get Sawyer's Goat".
"Yeah, sure. That works." Hands full, she headed for the sink where she discovered stacks of dirty dishes and pots.
"Kinkaid, take Reilly here and patrol Route 50. I'll take Victoria over to check out Broken Bend again."
"Sure. From where to where?" Kinkaid asked.
Sawyer dwelled on the question for a moment before replying. "Full circuit—Strawberry to Tahoe."
Grumbling ensued. The hunters traded another round of snarky jibes about cushy assignments and lazy asses. Tales of great fartery abounded. Smiling to herself, Victoria rinsed the dirty dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher. When she straightened, she found Cali at her elbow.
"You should get off your feet and relax," the female hunter said awkwardly. "We'll get the dishes."
"But—" Victoria began to protest. She'd just climbed out of bed an hour ago, and besides, her fortitude far exceeded that of a typical human, pregnant or not. After thinking about it for a second, she shrugged. She had plenty of battles to fight for things that mattered a whole lot more. Besides, she hated the drudgery of dishwashing so it was no great sacrifice to stand aside.
"DNR, get over here and wash these dishes." Cali turned on the most junior member of the hunter's unit, and with dynamics true of any social group, the shit rolled downhill until it hit the Omega. Grumbling, the lad rose and took up his appointed station as dishwasher.
"How long do you need to get ready?" Sawyer asked Victoria.
"I'm ready now." On cue, her cell phone rang. Her caller ID read "Alpha Finn".
Alertness jolted through Victoria. Alpha Finn was the leader of the White Mountains Tribe of Arizona, a powerful and influential group made up of smaller packs and war parties. The werewolves and their kinfolk, many of whom were of Native American descent, constituted a scattered population spread out over a wide territory.
"It's Finn. I need to take this." Reaching to answer, she flashed a wary grin by way of an apology.
Sawyer tipped his chin.
Victoria accepted the call and pressed the device to her ear. "Hello?"
"Victoria? It's Finn."
She cleared her throat. "Alpha Finn. What can I do for you?"
Sudden quiet fell across the room, the weight of all eyes upon her. She handled the unwanted attention with poise but conversations between Alphas required discretion.
"Do you have a moment?" Finn asked. "I have news regarding our pet project."
"Oh? Yes, of course. Just give me a moment to get to a place where we can speak privately." Ignoring her audience, she rounded the far side of the table and passed through the open French doors to where Sophia and two of her pups sprawled on the enclosed patio. Beyond, the landscaped area included an in-ground pool and an outdoor kitchen. No fences bordered the spacious back yard. Only a two-foot retaining wall constructed from rough river stones separated the plot from the surrounding woods.
Even though it wasn't yet past eight, the sun already shone with the intensity of what would certainly be a hot summer day. Light glittered off the surface of the lake, strikingly pretty and inviting. She'd have loved nothing more than to shed her clothing and go skinny-dipping, but it wasn't the right time. Maybe tonight...
"Are you alone?" Impatience sharpened Finn's tone, quite an uncharacteristic departure from his usual calculated deliberation. Oh, the male wolf always wore a sheep's cloak of coy smugness, but his disguise overlaid toothy cunning. She considered him the most dangerous of all Alphas.
"I am now.'' Approaching the shallow end, Victoria kicked off her flip-flops and dipped her foot in to the water. It lapped at her ankles, and a sigh of pleasure eased from her chest.
"Good. The Alphas of Yosemite and Roanoke have agreed to attend a gathering to discuss a new alliance with the hunters—"
"Roanoke? The Lost Tribe?"
"Apparently they were in New Jersey this whole time, of course it wasn’t New Jersey, then."
"Huhhh..." She stroked her chin. "Who'd've thunk it?"
"Not I." His snic
ker soared on a lyrical note, then cut short.
From behind Victoria, a high-pitched craaa accompanied the beating of wings. Foreboding, a great weight, pressed down upon her so she couldn't breathe. Her carefree mood of just moments before dissipated. She turned toward the sound as two large ravens landed on the roof of the single-story house. The mated pair had a nest constructed atop the master bedroom's unused fireplace.
"Odin is watching us, Finn," Victoria advised in a dark voice. "I've got ravens nesting on my roof." The duties and obligations assigned to her were more than she could bear.
A pause, and then the other Alpha inhaled. "Yes. I've observed unkindness seems to follow me around."
She managed a delicate snort. "An entire flock of ravens? Impressive. I only warrant a pair."
"Don't assume more to be a favorable portent," Finn replied with a perfect blend of self-deprecating humor and cynicism. "He watches me more closely because he mistrusts my loyalty."
"Maybe." Thanks to a certain prophecy, Victoria doubted the White Mountains Alpha was right, but she preferred to let him hold onto his misconceptions. Still, she wondered... On the verge of asking forbidden questions, Victoria bit her tongue. A dozen times, she and Finn had flirted with the prohibited topic, exchanging verbal thrusts and parries. She was 95% confident he knew Jake Barrett's secret but retained enough doubt that she didn't dare take the risk.
Sawyer appeared at the entryway to the patio. He stopped just inside the house and stood with his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest. The intensity of his gaze stroked her; as palpable as a touch. Victoria lifted her open hand, reaching for him. He returned the salute but didn't come any closer. The hunter's presence offered her real comfort. Sawyer wasn't another watchman sent by his father to monitor her activities, but rather a protector. He belonged to her pack—to her—an odd outlier within their mostly female family, but theirs nonetheless. She didn't count on many people but she had increasingly come to depend on him to have her back.
"My unkindness of ravens aside..." Finn grumbled.
She snickered. "We got off topic. As you were saying?"
Finn's tone took a dour turn. "Yosemite and Roanoke bring our total to thirty packs who have agreed to a moot. Of those, only twenty are able to attend a gathering. Three will vote by proxy."
She greeted the numbers with silence, mentally calculating the average strength of the packs. Even with the impressive might of the White Mountains Tribe which boasted four war parties—
"It's not nearly enough."
"I know it's not enough." Finn bit off his words with thinly veiled impatience. "But it’s what we have so we will have to make do."
"You're right." She softened her tone, not wanting to alienate her only real ally amongst the packs. "What of your scouts? Have they had any luck locating any of the other missing packs?"
"San Diego and most of Southern California has been overrun by vampires, and according to rumor, Los Angeles won't last much longer. It would already have fallen, except the Governor declared martial law, implemented a curfew—for all the good it does against these so-called Daywalkers—and brought in the National Guard—"
"I saw that on the news."
"Every scout I have sent into those areas hasn't returned. It is too dangerous to send more."
"What of the hunters?" Victoria asked, even though she had the reports both Jake Barrett and Sawyer had given. Her robust sense of caution, however, thought it wise to do some fact checking.
Finn paused, and she could practically hear the wheels in his crafty head turning. No doubt he understood her reason for asking. She imagined him calculating, weighing odds, deciding what to disclose. Advantages gained or lost by keeping her in the dark. Or he might acquire useful new information...
She heaved a heavy sigh. "I'm profoundly tired of guessing games. Tell me what you know and I'll confirm or deny what I know. No holding anything back."
"I have your word?'
"You have my word. On my honor and my pack's honor, and I'll swear on a stack of Bibles too, if that will help."
Finn snorted. "That's not necessary. What I know is this. The hunters made their last stand four nights ago on Tumamoc Hill. Jake called out the Necromancer to appear and face him in a personal duel, but the coward ordered an assault on the city instead. Thousands of vampires descended upon the civilian population. The roads leading into Tucson are closed and thousands have fled by whatever means is available, including crossing the desert on foot. The city is still on fire. A great black cloud hangs over it."
"That matches what I know," Victoria admitted. "Jake has ordered his people to fall back to Phoenix. They've dug in and are preparing for an assault on the city's civilian population."
"They're defending their asses."
"They're defending their families. You can't blame them."
"Yet, just months ago, Barrett chastised me for doing the same." Finn's tone provided new dimensions to the term sarcasm. "Ironically, the Phoenix area hasn't been attacked in weeks."
"Finn..." She hesitated, reluctant to divulge, but she had promised. Gathering her resolve, she took the plunge. "Barrett lost almost nine hundred men in Tucson."
"Thor's Hammer. Nine hundred..." His shocked disbelief stretched.
"Convene the gathering, Finn," Victoria urged. "I'll host it in my territory—Desolation Wilderness. Our numbers are low and it may already be too late, but our people cannot be allowed to sit out the fight any longer. Perhaps if we join the war as a united force, the others will hear and come out of hiding."
Victoria's territory extended for miles to the north, including all of Desolation Wilderness, and to the east, encompassing the whole of Echo Lake. The most familiar areas were those close to the town. Primal magic resided within the pristine wilderness, hers to command. The entire area had once belonged to Arik Koenig, her mate. A few months before, in February of that year, a Norse winter witch had killed Arik during a blizzard battle.
"I will do so, but be aware—you will face opposition." Finn's voice rumbled deep in his throat, reverberating on a stifled growl, a wolf's innate response to threat. He softened his voice before he continued. "There are a great many who do not want to listen to the so-called 'Female Alpha'... Especially one in your delicate condition, whose reasoning is addled by hormones and grief over the loss of her mate..."
Anger surging, Victoria snarled. She stepped out of the pool and stalked barefoot about the perimeter. Her disgust and rage at such rigid machoism fed her determination to crush those who opposed her. As a rule, she respected tradition but not when it led to stagnation. She yoked her anger; rage was exactly what Finn wanted to prove his point, so she imposed icy self-control on her hot temper.
"I will strike dead anyone who dares repeat such rubbish to my face," Victoria said in a low, dangerous voice. "Male chauvinists are morons."
"Ah, they may be morons, but they are the morons that we need fighting with us." Maddeningly smug, Finn played at the devil's advocate.
"Let me worry about it. I can handle myself and them. I'll teach them a lesson they won't soon forget, so help me..." She ground to an abrupt stop, on the verge of vowing in Odin's name—an unwise choice, at best. Such oaths were not made casually, and the gods had been known to become downright persnickety when promises weren't kept.
"I'll convene the gathering. If nothing else, it will be worth it to watch you reduce my idiot Beta to a quivering pile of—"
"Call me as soon as it's done," Victoria interrupted, not wanting to listen to another word about Tarak, Finn's second. "Tell them we're meeting in seven days on the night of the full moon. I expect every last one of them to be here by moonrise."
Finn's hesitation was profound. "That's a tall order."
"Odin wants this." Victoria used the All Father's name as a hammer, driving her point home. "I brought you in on this because I thought you were capable and wielded authority among the packs. Was I wrong?"
Finn exhaled, the fuming heat so
palpable it scalded her through the phone. "Consider it done. We'll convene the moot on the full moon in Desolation Wilderness."
"Good." She bared her teeth in a wolf's smile. If she had offended Finn, she didn't care. His annoyance was worth the satisfaction derived to finally be doing something after long, frustrating months of nothing.
They said their goodbyes and ended the call. Victoria's restless pacing had brought her to the pool's deep end. She turned, intending to head back inside.
Yelling arose from within the house—multiple voices elevated in anger. It sounded like every single hunter must be shouting at the top of their lungs.
And a familiar presence, as disruptive as a rogue lightning bolt, lanced through the pack bond, turning it inside-out and upside down. She recognized the signature chaos—and an involuntary grin lit her face. She enjoyed a heartbeat of stunned pleasure because Logan had finally come home.
A gun fired.
"Logan!" Victoria sprinted for the kitchen, praying to whatever god would listen that she made it in time to prevent a slaughter.
Chapter Five
Sessrúmnir, Freya's hall in Fólkvangr
Freya dropped her gaze to Arik's lap where Tregul sprawled belly up, an enviable position, to say the least, for any woman or beast. The enormous cat weighed a ton but Arik showed no sign of discomfort. While Arik Koenig had been a lawyer in life, he was also an Alpha werewolf—an extraordinarily powerful one at that. Now, he served and serviced Freya, a general to her army, a position of vast influence and authority.
"You mean their affection is given freely? Are these sweet kitties promiscuous?" He placed a definitive emphasis on the final word. Arik stroked his finger along Bygul's arched back and lingered at the base of her tail, rubbing her lick spot.
Freya's chest tightened. Odd, she'd never heard him sound so...judgmental. She wasn't sure what disturbed her more—the hint of disapproval or that she cared what he thought of her.
Delicately, she cleared her throat. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Arik? I thought you would be in the field with the troops."
Wolf's Cross: Book 4 (Loki's Wolves) Page 6