Creature Comforts

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Creature Comforts Page 20

by Creature Comforts (lit)


  The foot-stomping beat of We Will Rock You pounded furiously from Adam’s hip. Slowing the truck, he fished the cell phone from his front jeans pocket as it finished ringing, no doubt going to voice mail. Adam growled in aggravation. As if summoned, the phone began its concert again. He flipped the phone open.

  “Yes?”

  “I remembered something.” Mack’s exhausted, post-vision voice carried to all the wolven ears in the truck. “Meet me at the Lacey Street house.” A tremor of feeling followed the words. Everyone knew which burned down wreck that Mack referred. Who could forget? Chase closed his eyes against the brief shot of panic that raced through the wardens’ packbond. Part of him rejoiced and part of him grieved that he’d never seen the house in its’ gory glory before Adam’s bid for Alpha. Who knew, if he and Tank had ridden through a few years earlier, maybe they could have done something.

  “Are you sure?” Adam reluctance transmitted well. Brandon stared at his Alpha in angry silence. His jaw worked as he kept his temper. Meeting his adopted son’s glare, Adam spoke. “Okay. I’ll be there.” He flipped the phone shut. “I’m driving to the loop subdivision. I’ll take one of the work trucks from there. You boys take my truck back to the house. ”

  “No.” Brandon bit the words out. “We go with you.”

  “You shouldn’t have to go to Moser’s old place.” There, Chase thought with grim acceptance. He’d said what everyone danced around. “We should have bulldozed the property to the ground years ago.” But no, everyone, Adam included, treated the place as a monument to the defeat of a monster.

  The faint edge of the scared boy rescued from his Alpha’s abuse stared out of the man’s eyes. The little boy was replaced by old hate and rage. Brandon took a steady breath, a mask of hard determination falling over his features. “I am going. Drop me off and I’ll follow.”

  Eyes naturally fell on Bradley next. The twin shrugged, any feelings he felt already masked behind stiff readiness. “I’m in.”

  Ten minutes later, almost to Palestine, Brandon’s cell phone pounded out a newer song Chase had heard before but couldn’t place. Not surprising since Chase’s musical tastes were more of the older Rock and Roll songs with a smattering of Country ballads. Brandon’s hard edge softened as he opened his phone. “Everything is fine,” he said by way of greeting his mate. “We should be home in…” he glanced at Adam, gauging, frowning as he considered. “ a couple of hours. Do me a favor?”

  At Karen’s assent, Brandon continued, facing out the window to hide his face from the other men. “Do a head count. Keep the pups corralled. I still have that feeling.” There was no apology in his words. Brandon’s instincts kept him alive to claim his mate and have a family. If he felt something was amiss, Chase listened.

  There was a unity in the silence between them as Adam drove to the old Moser residence. The place had never been Packhome to any of the boys who survived the Alpha’s rule. It was the reason none of them enjoyed horrible Halloween flicks and haunted house amusements. They’d lived in a real house of horrors that made Hollywood’s attempts a cheap mockery of the real thing. Who wanted to subject themselves to that?

  Karen’s call back assured them that everyone was home. The children still sleeping off a late night Disney movie fest and a rampage through the playroom. The adults were more tired than anyone else of the forced confinement. Keeping young wolven distracted without letting them run their excess energy in the sun was difficult. Brandon passed his phone to Adam, allowing him to say a few words of reassurance to his mate.

  It was one of those moments that reminded Chase of the hero going off to war, his heartfelt goodbyes before getting on the boat. Maybe he’d survive. Maybe he’d get killed saving some green schmuck in the name of comradeship and duty. Instead of calling, Chase sent a wave of warm reassurance to India. He might not love her yet, but he didn’t want her to worry. She’d done enough of that. His tangled emotions were full of possessiveness and the urge to protect. Nurture even. God, he was becoming as sappy as the rest of them. He still didn’t think he was cut out to deal with babies. That thought gave him the willies.

  Nothing could distract from the moment they pulled in front of the overgrown lot. Twenty some-odd years of neglect hid the burnt ruin of the Moser family pre-Civil War two-story home. “You know, this was the first official wolven place in Texas.” Bradley muttered.

  “Yeah.” Brandon cocked his head, arms crossed protectively over his chest as they stared at the mess from the dubious safety of the far side of the truck. “Seth should keep his history research to himself. I don’t care about the Mosers in the Civil War, Mexican War, or the Great Wall of China.”

  “I don’t think the bastard’s line went back that far,” Bradley stated in a flat tone.

  Brandon snorted. “You didn’t listen to him preach about the glory days.” He broke rank, walking up the time shattered concrete drive as Mack drove up. Either they’d been closer than the human or it had taken him a while to pull himself together to make the trip. With one concerned glance at the Beta, Brandon disappeared into the vegetation. Bradley followed his brother’s lead while Adam and Chase waited for Mack to make it under his own steam. He looked like he’d gone a round with his psychic visions and lost.

  “What did you see?” Adam’s attention was split between the twins and his friend’s death vision, both a father’s and a leader’s worry. “Who was it?”

  Mack shook his head, though his eyes shifted to what was hidden behind the overgrowth. Mack had been a part of the fight to save the boys. Chase didn’t remember if the human had been nearly killed here or at the second fire. The abandoned gas station where they’d lured Moser and finally killed him had also been torched. Chase had visited that place too out of curiosity.

  Tank read the scene even after a fire and two years of time degrading the place. His dispassionate analysis of the events put Chase off horror movies as well. That crime scene reading ability would have come real handy lately, Chase thought bitterly as Mack tired and frustrated rubbed at his aching head. “Mostly the same as before. It changed some. Maybe our vigilance has affected part of the outcome. Even knowing the future changes it. Just showing up here could affect what happens. ”

  Chase shook his head and walked toward the ruins, not wanting to hear more. His nose brought the faintest trace of char. Birds, rabbits; even deer had made peace with this place and constantly roamed through. He didn’t care for the vagaries of the future. Every time this happened, it only proved that he made his own future. His choices determined if he lived or died. Someone else’s choice was causing this mess, not fate. He just had to find that person and turn it back on the murdering bastard.

  Beside the tumbled, burned, and broken solid wood columns, Bradley watched his brother carefully walk among the debris. “Other people have climbed all over this,” Chase observed. His nose brought countless human odors too him. Some recent, stopped, urinated on the once magnificent columns before leaving. “Do you remember anything about this place’s layout?”

  Bradley scowled, kicking at a rock. “The place was a warren. Small broken up rooms upstairs. Lot of them were padlocked from the outside.”

  “The ground floor?”

  Walking around the columns, Bradley carefully tested what once was a magnificent wraparound porch. When he didn’t fall through he picked his way to what may have been the entrance. Beyond that, the rubble of rotting wood, ancient brick, and the occasional pipe was bared to the world. One far wall made the attempt to remain standing and only because it was mortared brick reinforced with local rock. Chase figured over the years, people had poked around, trying to find something valuable. They might have, as far as he knew, none of the Pack had claimed anything from this place. This would be the first trip back for them.

  Brandon left the ruins to comb the acreage while Adam and Mack appeared. They circled the old place, looking for anything to indicate recent use. They found empty beer bottles, a few used condoms on the far side o
f the wall. Chase followed Bradley into the rubble, balancing on rotting timber and old iron and lead pipes. Leaning down, he pulled out a chipped statue of a very lean naked woman as long and not quite as wide as his forearm. The woman was pretty, her curves not lurid, but sensual. The heavy marble was in pretty good shape, looking like a real antique that might belong in a museum.

  “You must be over the library. That was on a table just inside.” Bradley curled a lip in disgust. “I think Marcus sodomized and killed Doby with it for something. I forget what.” Chase dropped the statue over a pipe, satisfied when it broke in half. He wanted to wash his hands over the casual brutality that haunted this place. Even a fairly innocent looking statue was tainted.

  “Doby looked at Mark that way.” Brandon filled in as he lightly leapt from beam to beam, adding to the general creepiness of the moment. He crouched, staring down at the pieces of statue. “Marcus always did have plans of taking over and Mark being his second. Very Darth Vaderish.”

  “Well, now Darth Marcus is dead for real.” Bradley tried to wipe the moment away, to bury the past again by bringing up the trip to Georgia to save Mark’s ass. “You ripped his heart out while Chase tried to make steak tartar out of him.”

  Brandon’s eyes flashed, dark and emotional, his features remained calm and controlled. “My therapist says that you have to make peace with the past to move on with the future.” He straightened, staring down into the hole in the rubble as if looking into hell. “Killing Marcus helped, but it doesn’t make what happened go away. Whipping yourself for what you can’t change solves nothing.”

  “Does your therapist know that you Change into a furry seven and a half foot tall monster?” Bradley sneered. “Bet that would make the ratings on Dr. Phil.” Chase tensed, expecting the worst. Brandon wasn’t one to hold his temper for long before lashing out. He didn’t allow anyone to make the mistake of taking one ounce of dignity from him.

  Brandon stood up, his emotions locked behind a bland, remote facade. He turned around on his beam. “It’s a good show. You should watch it sometime.” With liquid grace, he left the rubble, jumping to the ground near their Alpha. He faced Mack. “If someone’s been here planning something, I don’t see it. Do you think we’re just too early? That not enough has happened yet?”

  Brandon looked as if he felt something was going to happen. Soon. He glanced back over the ruins. “Why here? Because Garrick liked to do his torture here? He had other places, but this was where he liked to showcase his trophies.” His eyes narrowed, his agile mind sorting through the nightmares of his past and the monster who reigned here. “It’s all still here. The basement, it’s still there under the garbage.”

  “Buried under the garbage. Why would anyone want to dig it up?” Bradley interrupted, not looking at his brother even as his gruff tone implied regret for his earlier words. “Plus, no one’s been here but transients and kids looking for a thrill.”

  Brandon cocked his head, thinking as he warmed up to the idea. “There were exits. Like you said, it was a warren. Garrick had escape routes. Emergency stashes and hideouts. I’d bet that’s how Marcus survived.” He took a couple of steps toward the ruins, his eyes scanning it with renewed fervor.

  “We could search for months and never find all of them. They were hidden damn good and no one but Garrick knew them all.” He snorted. “If that. It was an old place. He wouldn’t know of all exits his ancestors built. We need a couple of dozers, a dumpster…no dozers, a backhoe, and a dump truck.” He glanced back at Adam for approval. “Uncover the basement, clear it out, and fill in with dirt. That would keep it out of use.”

  “If it’s even in use.” Adam’s reluctance filtered through the packbond. Chase understood not wanting to put his people through the agony of resurrecting what was below the surface of the house. No one but pack would be able to do it. Law enforcement and animal rights would be all over it if they let outsiders in. Dirty laundry the supernatural world didn’t want aired. “That project would take time too. And you could be right about showing up and scaring off the Hunter so that he changes locations before he even begins.”

  Mack sighed, his big shoulders slumped as the knowledge weighed him down. “I don’t know where. It’s one of us.” Chase felt renewed pity for the psychic’s curse. No one could call this gift. The responsibility was horrible. If Adam hadn’t forbidden it, Chase would bite Mack himself to Change him and get rid of the visions. The chance of death seemed preferable to the living hell Mack lived in. “I’d feel it if the vision was cancelled out. It’s dark. Painful.” Staring around the remains of the old house, he shook his head, defeat closing in. “I thought this might be the place, but now…. I just don’t know.”

  Yeah, Chase decided it was time to bring up the discussion of Mack staying human. Someone was going to die and Mack would never forgive himself for not figuring out the details in time. Fuck preserving Mack Spencer’s humanity. This was killing the man from the inside out.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Rick Weis pulled into the middle school parking lot. He checked his watch against his internal time clock. He figured he had maybe twenty minutes to gather up papers and brief his sub on the rest of the week’s lessons. He’d be fast and hope he got back home before Dad did.

  “Hey, Mr. Weis!” A couple of boys waved, their maroon hair showing their school pride. “We missed you.”

  “Yeah, the sub sucks.” the other kids called. “When you comin’ back?”

  Giving an absent wave, “Later.” He called back and hurried on to his classroom using the shortcut up the back stairs and the dumpster area. He didn’t have the time to give the kids the attention they deserved. Maybe give them a reason to understand and respect the sub. Rick and his packbrothers had given Palestine school system hell during their growing up. He liked to think that by giving back, he was doing something with his life. Balancing the scales. Proving that he was the kind of wolf his dad could be proud of.

  “Hey, Mr. Weis!”

  The adult’s voice made Rick pause. He flicked an appraising glance over the man, shifting his briefcase to the less dominant hand in preparation of opening the steel fire door that was the quickest way to his classroom. “Yes?” Frowning, he thought the man might be one of the new subs, though up until this Hunter mess, he’d always kept track of who was supposed to be on school grounds. Rick Weis took protecting his students very seriously. He made a mental note to look into this guy later.

  The man held up a file and closed the distance between them. “I’m having a problem with one of the students you had last year. I was hoping you could give me a little insight.”

  Rick shook his head. Adam was going to be royally pissed if he wasn’t at Packhome when he and the Wardens got back. “I’m sorry. I’ve don’t have the time. Shoot me an email from the school website and I’ll get back with you later.” He turned his back and reached for the knob.

  “Yeah. I’ll do that.” The man’s voice came from right behind him. Because he didn’t like people behind him, the hair prickled at the nape of Rick’s neck. A sharp pain in his side made him half turn, a snarl already in place. He stumbled, shook his head as the world tilted sideways. The blurred face of the man smiled, familiar in its evil anticipation. “Time to die werewolf.” Rick snarled, lunged and the world tilted sideways, slamming him face first into the sidewalk. Darkness descended.

  Consciousness came back in degrees. Rick felt cold, then sick, then horrifyingly vulnerable when he couldn’t move. Biting his tongue before he called out, he took fast inventory of his situation. He was naked too. In his experience, cold and sick meant drugged. His head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. The packbond was a like a dead phone line, there but connected to nothing. His throat ached with thirst. His senses dulled. Naked and tied down were worse. A stinging burn ate the skin on his back, shoulders, butt, and legs. Everywhere he touched the metal table felt like standing in a fire ant mound. He struggled against the bonds, pushing back memories that threa
tened to surface. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Fear filled him, making him sweat. The stinging worsened on his back.

  “Hello werewolf.” Turning his head, Rick saw the human who’d stopped him on his way to his classroom. He relaxed, pacing his breath so that he could find the moment of escape. “Ready to start?” The human smiled again, the eagerness in his face made him suppress a shudder of revulsion. “I swear, by the time I finish with you. Your pack will be ready to come out of the woodwork. Then they’ll die too.” He lifted a knife, tested the edge, and walked to the table. He held the knife up for Rick to see. “It’s pure silver. Your manacles are made from an alloy intended to withstand moving industrial equipment extreme temperatures. They will not break. The burn you feel is from the table. It has a low percentage of silver mixed into the metal.”

  With more excitement than finesse, the man pressed the tip of the knife to the top of Rick’s breastbone, drawing it down in one shallow burning line. Locking his jaw, staring at the ceiling, Rick refused to respond. As a child, he’d witnessed worse done by far more inventive sadists than this human. His captor wouldn’t get so much as a whimper out of him.

  Hours later, the human’s faint buzzing voice ranted at him. Rick barely felt the slaps on his cheeks, attempts to bring him back to awareness. His entire body, every organ was on fire from the silver powder sprinkled on the uncountable cuts. The toxic metal moved in his bloodstream burning, killing him from the inside out. He didn’t care. His torturer hadn’t realized how the mind could accept the pain and close itself off. Rick knew. He’d witnessed the truth of it more than once. Now he appreciated the ability to slip away from reality.

 

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