Creature Comforts

by Creature Comforts (lit)

  “No. I’m not a monster.” Carter frowned, making him look more like the twins, giving Bradley’s statement about them being brothers some small credence. The hesitation and force in his tone told Chase just who he talking to. “I save people from the monsters.”

  “Yeah.” A short chirping whistle drew Chase’s attention away from the confused male. He didn’t have time to babysit the asshole through a twelve step program for recovering Hunters. Giving Carter his back, he flicked his fingers in acknowledgement of Wren’s arrival. He couldn’t keep the bite out of the final question thrown over his shoulder. The one question he’d wanted to know when he’d stood in that house filled with the stench of his dead family’s blood. “But who saves us from you?”

  * * * *

  Wren and his group flew in cautiously, coming to a hover in front of Chase. The little guys looked none the worse for wear, dimming his hope for being able to make the attack run today. That’s what happened when you put all your eggs in one basket. It aggravated him to no end. He had nothing. Tank was the one the Weres trusted, not him. Chase held his hand out anyway for the small blue-haired leader.

  Wren’s wings drooped as soon as he landed. The glowing purple orbs of his eyes were dimmed. “We have not found them yet, wolf.” The pixie put a small fist to his chest. “On my honor, we will keep looking.” He sent a concerned glance at Adam’s approach, then returned his gaze to Chase with a mix of chagrin and defeat. “Perhaps, I have overestimated my swarm’s abilities. We will keep looking, but we are not familiar with much of the area near your burned dwelling.”

  Trying not to let his disappointment show, Chase’s eyes wandered over the other pixies. They looked like hell. The pink haired one looked like he was having a hard time keeping aloft. “Hey there Pinky.” Chase held out his other hand. “Take a load off.” The other pixies had various bumps, bruises, and one’s hair was a choppy puff instead of the long locks fairies usually preferred. “You guys look like you’ve been through a minefield.”

  “You could say that, wolf.” Wren agreed on a sigh, though a glimmer of admiration lit his purple hued eyes. “No brownie has ever been so successful in deterring our kind.”

  “Damn. She booby-trapped the woods.” If their need wasn’t so great, Chase would have felt real bad sending them into what probably was a minefield for pixies. Ember was adamant about keeping the smaller fairy races away from what she considered her territory. “How bad is it?”

  Wren laughed. The clear sound was like the chime of bells, perking up a few of his men. “Let us say that you should have no worry of goblin infestation. Had your brownie been born a pixie, she would made a strong hive queen.” Wren’s smile turned downright calculating. “Were she a pixie, I would take her for my own.”

  “Something tells me, Ember would sooner dip you in honey and leave you for the ants.”

  Adam intoned, holding out a hand for more of the weary pixie troops. “She’s inventive.” The Alphas face closed down in thought. “I would imagine you’d have to be fairly sneaky yourselves to get past her traps.”

  Wren bobbed up and down as he rubbed his dragonfly wings together in an affirmative chirp. “And to keep our hives safe from human interlopers. Everyone wants a picture of the undiscovered. Human technology will force us all to show ourselves to the world one day soon.”

  “I promised Wren territory for a new hive if they found the ones who jumped me and Bradley with rockets.” Chase explained. “I don’t think Bradley would have made it without their help in getting him back to Morgan.”

  The last two pixies took advantage of Adam’s invitation, lighting with curious wonder on the Alpha’s hand. A couple of them stared at their own open palms, then down at the one they stood on. Adam watched the pixies with the same curious interest. His nose flared at the sweet exotic scent of pixie. “It was a good bargain.” He nodded at Wren, carefully keeping his hands steady. “I thank you for my son’s life. For that alone, you can have the territory you want.”

  Wren buzzed his wings uncomfortably at the grant. The emotion behind Adam’s words obviously affected the pixies. “We are all unmated drones, without young of our own.” He flitted up, maintained a hover. The expression on the pixie’s face was earnest. “Of all of fairy-kind, the smallest of us are also the shortest lived. It is why we are driven to establish new hives. To fill them with our future.” His hover dipped as his wings paused midbuzz. “To lose a promise of the future is to kill part of the garden of your soul.”

  “Yes.” Adam agreed in a quiet rumble. “It is. The garden of your soul. Very apt, pixie.”

  Wren’s attention shifted suddenly back to Chase as if following a chain of command. “We will keep looking, wolf.” He glanced at the poor pixie in Chase’s left hand picking at his wings. The vibrant blues and greens of his wings were dull and splattered in some kind of goo. “Do you know how to remove ‘spray adhesive’? This is worse than any sticking spell I have encountered.”

  Chase winced at the glued pixie. “Ouch. I hope you’re not allergic to turpentine, Pinky.”

  “I am called Thorn, wolf.” The pink haired pixie said with as much dignity as could be had for someone in his condition. His small pointed chin raised high. “I am a warrior used to hardship. A sting of turpentine is no small price to pay for the honor of establishing a new hive.”

  “Okay, Thorn. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Chase turned to take the pixie inside. Inwardly he was shaking his head. Establishing a new hive. Ha! Pixies were the same as guys everywhere. Everyone worshiped all powerful goddess, Nookie. Her favors factored into just about every decision they made.

  * * * *

  An hour after sunset Chase’s phone rang. The vibration of it made Thorn jump from where he patiently stood while he carefully swabbed his wings down with turpentine. The smelly job made the other wolven complain and evict him to a card table in the carport. The poor pixie’s wings were in awful shape. The process was slow, out of fear of damaging the pixie’s wings. Like Wren, Thorn had two sets of dragon fly style wings, upper and lower but the pink haired fairy’s were powdered in a silky fine dust that reminded of a butterfly’s wing.

  All of the pretty colored dust that normally coated his wings smeared pieces of chamois cloth and cotton swabs, the softest things he could find to clean the pixie’s delicate wings. Chase hoped the combination of chemical and removing the powder didn’t damage his new ally overmuch. Thorn rubbed and picked at glue on his body. His pale, shimmery skin was now an angry reddish chemical rash, that made Chase’s skin itch in sympathy. He added a small pile of things that might come in handy in cleaning up his new pixie pal. A bowl of soapy water and bottle of aloe was ready for when they finished and Thorn could wash off.

  The phone rang again. Chase picked it up, flipping the top open even though he did not recognize the number. “Hello?”

  “Is this the wolf, Tank?” A rich female voice questioned. He didn’t recognize her, yet she sounded familiar. Entirely too much of that was going on lately.

  “No.” He considered not telling her who she’d reached. “No. This is Chase.”

  “The other wolf. Good.” Relief poured through the cell phone. “I am Kasi Stevens. You do not know me.”

  His mind ran in circles until he located the information with a bit of triumph. “Werecheetah. Sheeva Stevens’ daughter.” He couldn’t think of a reason for her to contact him. I’m sorry about the kits.”

  “Yes. I know.” her voice lowered into almost a whisper. Her breath came in a pant. “We—I need your help.”

  “Kasi, Tank’s gone. There’s not much more I can do.”

  “No, wolf. They have my mother.” A shiver touched Chase at the mysterious they. “I am watching them, but you must come.”

  “Who are they, cat? Where are you?”

  “Zealots,” she whispered. “The Church of the Clean. We heard they’ve been having tent revivals all over the country. Mama wanted to go and pray for the kits.” Her voice shook with emotio
n. “Mama loves a good revival. Happy events with good cheer.”

  “What happened, cat?”

  “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have come.”

  “Kasi, stay with me. What happened?”

  “I knew we shouldn’t go. The revival was, is, in Tucker. In your county. But Mama wanted to pray for the kits and I didn’t have the heart to say no. I thought you would understand.”

  “It’s okay, cat.”

  “Everything was fine at first. Preachin’ and singing, except the minister kept talking about making sure the church was ‘clean’ of spirit.” Kasi took a breath, then stayed silent for a moment. Chase kept quiet, waiting, hoping the werecheetah was in a safe place. Finally, her breath escaped in a slow hiss. “S’ okay now. Thought they was here. Where was I? Oh…Mama went to the front for prayer. Then left with one of those helpers. I thought it was strange, so I followed. I Changed so they wouldn’t see me.”

  Her voice dropped to a painful whisper. “I watched from the trees. They put her in the back of a van, wolf. Those men put my mama in silver chains without her even puttin’ up a fight. I smelled silver, gunpowder, and all sorts of stuff. They had trucks like the Nation’l Guard uses. Camouflaged with tarps over the back. Who else can force one of us against our will, but Hunters?”

  Who indeed? Chase opened a folder, setting it like a privacy screen around the bowl and sundries for the pixie to wash behind. He barely registered Thorn’s surprised thanks before the pixie ducked behind the screen. “Kasi, where are you now?”

  “I’m at the as station in downtown Tucker. I wanted to be in the middle of everyone just in case those psychic monsters followed me. I can take you to the revival. It’s in a lot between the industrial area and Tucker.” Kasi’s words struck a chord of irony in him. Supernaturals and psychic monsters. You couldn’t put a face on the ‘good guys’ anymore.

  “Got it.” Standing, Chase rubbed at his neck. After a short glance at the folder he decided to leave Thorn to his business while he got the boss on board. “Sit tight, cat. It’s going to be at least a half hour before we can get there.”

  * * * *

  “Tell me about the Church of the Clean.” Chase asked as he shut the door behind him. He didn’t stop walking until he stood in front of the ex-Hunter, arms crossed over his chest. His cell phone clutched comfortably into the palm of his hand. Carter smirked, then rubbed his hand over his face as his new reality hit home again. “You’re nothing to them now but another monster. All your kills in the past isn’t going to count one damn bit in your favor. So who are they?”

  Carter held out a hand. “Give me your phone.”

  “Do I look like an idiot?”

  “No. You want information. If you want accurate information, I need a phone.”

  Without glancing at Adam, he waited for the Alpha’s approval. It came along the packbond, unmistakable, but laced with wary caution. Slowly, Chase unfolded his arms. He held his cell phone out.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Carter’s hand closed over the phone. What he was about to do went against everything his father had ever taught him. If captured, he should have made sure he died as soon as possible after being bitten. Never help the enemy. They were all manipulating creatures at heart intent on humanity’s destruction. Unfortunately, he couldn’t make himself believe that when looking at the children. Tamara…his chest tightened with an unfamiliar ache. He stopped the thought before going further and punched in the number with his thumb.

  “Carter.” Victoria’s sad voice answered before the first ring finished. “What have you done?”

  Aware of all the listening ears, Carter tried to think before he spoke. Against his will, his eyes tracked to where the twins sat against the wall. Lean flip sides of the same coin, one still recovering from silver poisoning. The other naturally lean and mean. The one who’d bitten him, made Carter the same as them. “I’ve done what’s necessary. I need to know if my assistant is working with Deacon Gabriel and the Church of the Clean.”

  Victoria’s quick inhaled breath told him what he needed to know. Respect for his mother kept his angry curse unspoken. “Is he here?” He meant Chowder, not the damned deacon.

  “I don’t know.” His mother voice was hesitant as she too battled what she was supposed to do versus the help she wanted to give. “I…cannot. I have to go.”

  Carter turned his back, silently begging to his father to understand what he was about to do. For throwing his lot in with the werewolves. “He’s killing innocents. Look it up. That werewolf Weis was a schoolteacher, not a murderer. I would never have bothered with that one. But Chow—Chuck is somehow hooked up with that Isaiah Gabriel you warned me about. The Church of the Clean is here. Chuck is here somewhere and using that knife or a decent copy of it to kill with.”

  “They’ve got a werecheetah female who only wanted to pray for her dead grandchildren.” Chase’s voice was loud enough for Victoria to pick up on her end. Damn meddling werewolf, Carter wanted to push him away. He growled in warning before he could stop himself.

  “Oh, Carter.” Watery tears made Victoria’s voice shake. Not for the captive werecheetah, but for herself. “I warned you to take care.”

  Sensing he was losing her, he grasped for the only straw he had left. “I’m not dead yet. Don’t hang up. Tell me about Chuck and the Church of the Clean. That’s why you wanted me to look into it. To see what he was doing.”

  “I have to go. I have nothing left.”

  “Don’t you dare hang up on me.” Carter did the unthinkable. He felt the energy course through him in sync with his desperate anger. “Don’t you dare turn your back on me. Is that what you did before? Did you know? Turn your back on your own because they weren’t like you anymore?”

  “How dare you!” His mother’s response was hot and fast, filled with maternal fury. “I would never. A part of me died when I found out my children had been carried off and killed. I couldn’t even go to view their bodies.”

  “I know.” His father had gone to tend to his little brothers’ remains before making his last stand to take out Garrick Moser. Everyone had taken Tracker at his word. He tried to ease the revelation, but nothing could take away the reality of it. “He lied.”

  “No.” The one grief filled whisper hurt. He’d have done almost anything to spare his mother anymore grief.

  Carter sighed. “He lied and I have the living proof. I don’t know what Chuck was into with this group, but he’s using Tracker’s old gear and he was diverting some of mine to his cause. Nearly half my tranqs were faulty. Watered down doses or something else entirely. Some of my silver shot didn’t have enough gunpowder in the casing.” That didn’t even count the Hummer that never made it to its reported destination. Numerous other small things that made Chowder look incompetent. But it had been far worse that his just being a bumbling idiot. His cousin was a traitor. “That teacher was tortured to death. What if it had been one of the children?” What if it had been one of your grandchildren? Carter didn’t say it. He just hoped his mother would pick up on the inference and go from there.

  “Why would he lie to me?” Fixed on her husband’s duplicity, she asked the only question a grieving mother and widow could. “He wouldn’t have told me that unless it was true.”

  Carter pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. He was losing her again. Victoria was hiding in her New York condo. She’d grieve for her dead sons, him included, and never come out again. When she hung up, he wasn’t surprised. Just angry. He didn’t want to turn around and look at the family that had been ripped apart. Their home burned. Men who would not claim relation to him.

  He stared at the cell phone and had a sudden idea. Flipping through the menu, he found the pictures. For a supposed hard-ass, the werewolf took a lot of pictures of his friends and family. Choosing the one that would say the most to his mother, he sent it to her phone. He waited, feeling the burning stare of the werewolves on his back. Minutes crawled by. He shook his head, held tight
to the cell phone when Chase nudged him for the device.

  The phone sang out a rock and roll tune. Carter opened it, holding off the werewolf. Victoria’s voice was barely a whisper on the other end. “Let me talk to their leader.” He handed the phone to Adam Weis and stayed where he was.

  “This is between you and I, werewolf. One parent to another.” Detached and remote, his mother severed the last thread to Carter’s family.

  He was done. Carter Hunter was no more. He leaned against the wall and studied his feet while the Alpha walked outside to keep the conversation private. The werewolves' silent effort not to stare at him meant nothing. He’d done his best to get the information needed and didn’t care to ingratiate himself with them. When this was finished and Chowder was dead by his hand, Carter was leaving.

  * * * *

  Adam returned. He handed the phone to Chase. “Okay. This should be easier than taking out a compound in Waco.”

  “How much?” Mack asked at the same time Chase did.

  “Well, they don’t have the compound.” Adam leaned against the wall. Chase figured if they were going to keep using his and Tank’s medical crash pad, he was going to have to get some real furniture. “It will be like attacking a military convoy manned by religious zealots.”

  “Which is exactly what it is.” Chase pointed out. “Except that they’re psychic religious zealots.”

  “Who are mostly overweight and untrained in physical combat,” Supplied Carter.

  “It is what it is.” Bradley stood and held a hand out to help his brother up. Brandon ignored the hand, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. “I’ll notify Morgan and meet you at that supply place we buy pipe from in the industrial area in forty-five minutes.”