Deep inside his psyche Rick opened a door, with his smaller hands he had to wrestle it open with both. Surprised, he realized that he was a kid again. Behind the door was a bedroom he hadn’t seen in years, since before his mom’s house was torched. He smiled, remembering Diana’s old house. They’d loved that place.
Karen’s mom had always been nice to them, never realizing at the time that the kids her daughter dragged home desperately wanted Diana for their own. The damaged, wild wolven teenagers soaked up every scrap of decency she offered. They worshipped her as the ideal mother. Adam’s interest in the psychic divorcee played right into the boys’ plans. It wasn’t long after, that she accepted them as her own.
The lean young wolf lying on the bed flicked his ears at him before laying his nose back on the bedspread. Rick grinned. Brandon! How did you get here? Where is everyone?
The wolf wagged his tail a bit, a hesitant welcome. I’m hiding. I don’t know where everyone else is.
Rick nodded, coming into the room and closing the door behind him. No sense in leaving a way in for the bad guys to find him. I’m hiding too. He took comfort in crawling up onto his adopted mother’s bed to curl up with his packbrother. The scents of home and safety surrounded him. Diana’s citrus and vanilla scent soothed him. With Brandon here, he wouldn’t have to die alone. His packbrother understood what he had been through. The cold wolf’s nose touched him on the cheek as he tucked himself close. I hurt, brother, Rick told him. You won’t let him find me, will you? He did, every part of him ached as he held on to the soft fur. The worst of it a sharp pain in his chest. He’d be safe here.
Closing his eyes, Rick trusted his packbrother to keep him company while he slept. With a soft rattling exhale, Rick Weis let go, slipping not into darkness, but into a pleasant, peaceful light where no one could hurt him again.
Chapter Twenty Two
In the big den Adam paced, barefoot as always in the house. Every one of the adults watched his movements. The twin wardens moved restlessly, checking windows. Mack sat on the edge of the stone hearth, visibly sick. His scent full of guilt. His face buried in his hands. The pups were all in the playroom under the eldest’s, the Alpha’s adopted pup, Rice, watch. Safe in her mate’s arms, India watched Seth, a young dark skinned male she guessed to be barely out of his teens, sat far from the main area. His shoulders hunched, cowed by the ferocity of the Alpha’s anger. Seth wasn’t the only one unaccounted for.
“No one.” Adam glared around the assembled packmembers. His icy blue eyes were not anything to mess with. “No one will leave this house without my permission.” Quiet nods all around met his perceptive gaze. Seth shuddered and nodded, a middle wolf at best, he didn’t protest. The punishment for his brief disobedience was light in India’s opinion. The equivalent of using the Alpha’s bond to his packmembers to paddle a puppy with a rolled newspaper. The sensation embarrassed, frightened, and stung the recipient but didn’t leave any lasting hurt. That had been the first thing the Alpha had done after Calling his Pack to his presence. The second had been to dismiss the young ones. India had only felt the Call through her matebond. She’d responded out of respect, not compulsion.
Another pace around the room, Adam stopped in front of his mate. He and Diana shared some kind of inner understanding. He turned facing the group, looking determined. “Reggie, come here. India, you as well.” Without a glance in her direction, her packbrother darted forward, eager to please his new Alpha. Chase’s arms fell away as she stood. Without a glance backward, she followed, head held high to stand at Reggie’s side. Adam lifted his wrist. The fangs of a carefully controlled partial Change slipped into sight. “I’d like to have done this with more celebration, but it needs to be done. India Demos. Reggie Lowe.” Adam’s address noted her higher ranking position. “We of the Anderson Pack offer you a place among us. We offer you acceptance. The comfort and trust of the pack. Do you accept?”
India kneeled, Reggie following suit. “I accept, honored for the privilege of belonging to this pack. I offer my life, my loyalty to the Pater and Matra Canis, to the pack.” She smiled, ducking her head to glance backward. “And to my mate,” she whispered. Through the matebond, Chase’s appreciation touched her lightly.
“I give you everything,” Reggie stated. “I need a pack. Thank you.”
Adam nodded, accepting the pledges intent. With one sharp thumbnail, he sliced the skin of his forearm. Blood welled up fast, pooling upward to run down his arm. He offered the Alpha’s lifeblood to India first. Reverently, she closed her eyes, lapped at the offering. Rich warm life coated her tongue, power flowing through her with a touch on her forehead finishing the bond. India gasped, accepting the rush. Behind her eyes, the lines of the Pack’s individual members flared into existence. Reggie’s line pulsed stronger for having a true Alpha.
Tears filled India’s eyes as she opened them. She stared up, feeling the protectiveness behind Adam’s stern expression. “Thank you for giving me a chance.” She swallowed, a shuddering sigh escaping as Chase’s arms went around her. Burying her face in her mate’s chest, she relished the life, the connection, of belonging again. Dimly in the background she heard the ring of the house telephone. Finally, the sound quit. Heavy silence made India look up.
Karen stood in the entry, one hand on her distended belly. The other held the cordless house phone limp. Tears tracked down her face as she stared at her mate. Brandon barely made it before she crumpled into his arms. Chase left India to pick up the handset his hand closing on the unit a fraction of a second faster than his Alpha’s.
Hand up to ward off potential followers, he backed away. For some reason, he wanted to be the one to hear what they already knew. He wanted to be the one to look into his Pack Father’s eyes and deliver the confirmation that would kill a part of his soul. No stranger had that right. He lifted the handset to his ear, backing out of the room, his eyes on the Karen, wrapped in her mate’s embrace.
“Hello?”
“Yes. May I ask who I am speaking with?” The strained official tone on the other end sounded familiar. Pressing a thumb to his temple, Chase dredged up a face to go with the voice.
“This is Chase, Officer Eisenwith.” A good cop and one of Morgan’s half-human subjects, Eisenwith was familiar with the pack. Hell, the cop and his family attended the wolven/fairy summer picnic every year. Because of the informal treaty, he and a few other officials related to Jared Morgan were almost always willing to work with the wolven. “Mind telling me what has my packsister so upset?”
Eisenwith paused, took a sad breath. “I’m sorry. It’s Rick. I know it’s him. We ID’d him using identification from his wallet, but I need for someone to come and make it official.”
Rocking back on his heels, Chase rubbed the spot on his forehead a little harder. Memories surfaced of the little shit and the trouble he always got into. How many times had they had to haul his skinny little brown butt home from school, usually in the wake of one of Mark’s schemes? “How bad?”
“Bad as it can get for one of ours. Restraint and torture. The official cause of death, a silver knife through the heart. There’s more, but I’d rather wait until in person to go over it.” Eisenwith’s voice scratched with emotion. “Tell your Alpha I’ve got this one for you. Stefan’s taking care of him now.” Mirac St.Stefan, the fairy blood coroner, had ways of claiming the cases he wanted without others realizing he’d done so.
“Yeah. Thank him for doing the wereraccoon too.” Closing his eyelid against the stabbing throb that started up against the back of his eyeballs. “We’ll come up as soon as possible.”
“Good.” Eisenwith cleared his throat again. It didn’t help the scratchy smoker’s quality that made Chase think better of him. The fairy cared. That meant one more hand in finding the Hunter and taking him out of the picture for good. “I also need to question Bradley and Brandon.” Chase’s silence made the fairy cop sigh. “It’s to officially clear them. Someone called in a suspicious character at the
dump site matching their description. Same basic height, lean muscular guy with dark hair, dark eyes, and a sharp nose, who’d just as soon kill as look at you.”
Feeling Adam’s presence, Chase met the other male’s pained stare. Just beneath the hard countenance, raged a parent who’d just lost one of his children. The packleader burned with vengeance. It fueled the righteous anger spreading among the pack. Someone had brutally taken one of their number. Brother, son, trusted friend, a self-appointed protector of human children, Rick Weis was an honorable wolven. He was loved. And he’d be avenged.
Remembering the conversation, he raised his eyebrows, waiting for Adam to take the phone. “Yeah. I’ll tell them.” Adam didn’t make a move to accept the receiver. Chase hit the end button to hang up and brought his gaze level with Adam’s. “You heard?” He nodded. Chase was at a loss. They were running after guesses, ghosts, and rumors. “So what now?”
“We move everyone to a different location.” Mack walked heavily into the room. Gilt, grief, and anger shimmered in his bearded face along with more that he wasn’t telling. “It’s safer.”
“No.” Adam ran his fingers through his hair. “We go talk to Eisenwith. Find out what we can from the coroner.” He let go of the platinum strands to make a vague gesture. “Make arrangements.” He faced the stricken room. “This is our territory. It’s time to take it back.”
Seth moved forward. Tall, dark skinned, with the long muscles of a runner, he was the youngest and often, quietest, of the survivors of Moser’s pack. “I want to go with you.”
Adam shook his head. “No, son. I need you here.” There was no rebuke from his earlier abandonment of duty.
“I have to go. Rick…he was my brother.” He didn’t flinch or move when Mark’s hand gripped his shoulder. Serious for a change, the shorter wolven looked grim, harder than Chase had ever seen the boy. Even after facing the nightmare of reuniting with his sadistic biological father in Georgia, Mark had retained an easy gentleness in his nature. A live and let live attitude. Some of that chipped away, leaving a bitter harshness in his eyes that had not been there before.
“He was my brother too,” Mark said. Looking down from a half-head more height, Seth noticed the new edge to his packbrother too. Mark’s bright blue gaze turned to that of Adam, the wolf he considered his real father. “That’s why we’re going to stay here. It’s time to grow up and take responsibility for protecting what’s ours.”
“But…” Seth’s protest was lost in his packbrother’s growl.
“Seth, Ham, and I will take the outside. We’ll roust Ember and get whatever fairies are on the property to pitch in.” Walking tall, he pushed his packbrother before him. Mark stopped briefly to touch his mate. He pulled away before she could lean in for a kiss, practically marching out of the room. “Eddie! Reggie!” Mark barked at the shy Omega and the newcomer. “Stay with the pups.” Both left the room without a complaint, ready to be cannon fodder if it meant pleasing the stronger ones and protecting the little ones.
India watched, her arms wrapped around her middle as the pack mobilized. Quietly, the females left to make preparations in case they had to vacate Packhome with the children. Keenly, she felt the intent through the new packbond she now shared with them, but didn’t feel the urge to follow. “Not Alpha. But Alpha enough for today.” She barely murmured the words., an homage for Mark, the yellow-haired average packwolf. It was in his eyes. His stance. India remembered that moment she’d found it in herself, then lost it again in the grueling hide and seek game with the Hunter.
She jumped when Chase’s arms came around her from behind. His nose buried in the black silk of her hair. Aching for the pack’s loss, she held on to his arms. She hadn’t met the one who’d fallen, but she’d been in this place before. It started with one, the Hunter’s challenge. She closed her eyes, remembering. Then they’d become sick.
Somehow the Hunters were responsible. She didn’t know how, but they were. It had been awful. Like that human phrase, it must be in the water.
“The water!” India twisted, grasping her mate. “Where does the water come from?”
He frowned, not understanding. “What?” Most of the other packmembers had left the room. All save for the wardens. India forgot her fear of the twins, disengaging herself from Chase’s embrace, she grasped at the closer of the two’s t-shirt.
“Where does the water for Packhome come from?” With distaste, he grasped her wrist, pulling her hand away from his body. His lip curled, but he didn’t bite her head off. Encouraged, moved into his space, looking up into his dark eyes. “It started with one. Then people became sick. What if they poisoned the water?”
“Supernaturals do not get sick.” Bradley stated. He tried to put space between them.
“Yes they do. Reggie was ill. I thought it was silver poisoning at first.” India took a breath as her mind raced. “What else would make us sick? It was different. It was like a plague. Elevated temperature, coughing, a weakness that ran through the pack.”
“We don’t get sick.” Bradley turned, dismissing her as Chase pulled her back into his embrace.
“The Weres have been.” Her mate spoke, tightening his arms around her. “They’ve been catching some type of super flu virus.” He glanced down at her. “We have our own well and water purifier here on the property. Why?”
India rubbed her face against his chest. “Stupid. I was thinking about my pack.” His arms tightened and she smiled. “My old pack. So many got sick at the same time. Like it was in the water or something.” The hair on the back of her neck stirred, looking up, she saw the wardens seriously contemplating her comment. Something silent seemed to pass between them all, a faint tingle along the packbond, as if they were more connected than the rest of the pack.
“I’ll dig the water kit out that we use to test the pool. Maybe Stefan will be willing to take a look at it.” Chase told Adam.
The Alpha nodded, his grief and anger were tempered with control. “Take a sample down the road too for comparison.” Attention centered on India, he gave the faintest of approving smiles. A pull of the lips at the edge. Still, the approval mattered, sending a spool of warmth through her. “Okay, boys. Let’s get this over with.”
Watching the wardens leave, India hugged her arms to herself. She had a pack. She belonged.
“We have a pool kit?” Bradley asked. “What for?”
“It’s to check the chemicals in the pool, dumb-ass.” Brandon replied.
“I think it’s still in the box in the pool house.” Chase walked with the warden’s through the kitchen. “Tank used his own stuff to do that with.”
“Well, if Tank did it before, who checks the pool now?” Bradley wanted to know.
“Well, there’s a reason it looks a little green.” Chase’s laughter drifted back to her, sending tingles through her body. “Looks like you just got volunteered for that. Better read the directions on the back of the box.”
“That’s not fair,” Bradley’s acquiescence, in a tone that said he knew life often wasn’t fair. He sounded a little odd to her, considering the warden intimidated her. He smelled of prime wolven male and other, and twice as dangerous. God help the Hunter when her pack got hold of him. They’d been overly cautious before, keeping an eye out for the Hunter. But now? The wolven wanted blood for the death of their packbrother.
* * * *
On his Harley, Chase followed Bradley’s black truck to the ‘water tower’, a silo-looking structure that managed the area’s public water supply. They already had a sample from the outside water faucet at Packhome. India’s theory was a good one. Remembering a few historical facts from too many years of helping pups with World Geography made the plausibility of a contaminated water supply believable. Didn’t the Huns fling plague victims over village or castle walls under siege? Biological warfare in its earliest form.
He watched Bradley scale the eight-foot chain link fence in seconds, landing lightly on his feet in a bed of crushed white rock. St
raightening the warden assessed the small enclosure. They were a pack of mostly carpenters. Plumbing and wiring a house was no problem. This was somewhat out of their experience and Chase could sense the other male’s caution.
Once again, this far out in the boonies, they had no fears of being caught unless one of the water company people came by to maintenance the equipment. He had no idea how they took care of the vast network of water meters these small facilities serviced. The tidy one-hundred by one-hundred foot area was enclosed with a fence. He figured the company checked on the property frequently. No cameras witnessed their trespassing, not an entirely smart move or non-move in these post Nine-Eleven days.
Bradley worked his way around the bottom of the silo, looking for a spigot. Tension curled at the base of his neck as he moved out of Chase’s line of sight. Instead of toughing it out, he gave in, kicked the stand down and dismounted the bike. Removing his helmet he hooked the edge over the rim of the rear passenger seat. Chase shoved his keys in his hip pocket, irked at the urge to keep Bradley in sight. Preferably, locked in the truck or at his back where Chase could be sure of the younger wolven’s safety. Picking a quiet path around the outside of the fence, he remembered the last time the pack had trespassed here. Chase threaded his fingers through the chain link. His gaze followed Bradley’s to the smudge of off color paint miserly covering the letters MWRW.
“You know, most of those schemes were Rick’s.” Bradley pulled his eyes away from the evidence of his packbrothers’ escapades. “I think he liked seeing how far Mark would go. Then he couldn’t stand being left out of the fun or letting Mark taking the fall by himself. So they both wound up in trouble.” Bradley set the sealed little plastic test tube back inside the case and snapped it shut. “Catch.” He tossed the case over the fence and into Chase’s waiting hand.
By mutual consent, they let matter die. Neither was ready to meet the others at the morgue. Between them, the packbond was subdued. Rick’s absence was a different feeling than Tank not being near. The wolven doctor’s thread was still intact in the packbond. His presence distant, but not gone. Rick’s absence was a raw empty fissure in the fabric of the their whole. There was an empty space where his sometimes serious, sometimes outrageous presence was supposed to be. A wound in the pack’s soul.
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