by Jools Louise
Cody nodded and dialed again. This time Joe answered, and he relayed the information, hearing Joe’s vicious cursing on the other end and his promise to get the names.
“This fucking cult just keeps on dropping bombshells, even though there is nothing left of their fucking club,” Cody growled, glaring at the phone in his hand. “What else will we find?”
“We can help you,” Rage said hesitantly, getting off the bed. “We will help you. They threatened to hurt our families, and we each have brothers and sisters who went missing before we were persuaded to join the cult. We thought we’d never see them again. We should have been braver and helped out more.”
Cody looked at the penitent wolverines and nodded curtly. He wasn’t quite ready to forgive them just yet, but he would accept whatever help they could give to track down missing shifters.
Suddenly the door opened and in walked Aaron, Joe’s husband. The man was beautiful, with long, straight black hair the color of a raven’s wing, vivid green eyes and a slim yet muscular build. He and Joe had found each other about four years ago, and their love was a joy to see.
Aaron’s eyes were swirling with a look that Cody had only seen a couple of times before. Aaron had a link to the spirit world, apparently, and he looked like he was on the line to them now.
“You wolverines, Lash, Charm, Rage and Slug, need to come to the ranch,” Aaron said firmly, giving no room for argument. “You are needed.” He gestured with one hand for them to follow him.
“What’s the deal?” Cody asked curiously, a little spooked by the swirling storm in Aaron’s eyes.
Aaron looked at him, blinked, and his eyes returned to normal. He looked around and sighed. “I had a vision, and I came here…not sure I remember getting into the truck.” He frowned thoughtfully and looked at the shifters in turn. “You four have much to share. You know where others are, even if you don’t realize that now. You need to come to the ranch. We have a clinic there so you will be able to heal further, away from a town that may turn on you when people find out who you are and who you worked for. We need to give them time before we reintroduce you to the world.” His voice commanded and the shifters obeyed, following Aaron out of the ward, dark shades protecting their eyes, even though the sunlight was dimmer now as dusk fell over the town. They had been as affected by their time underground as the prisoners.
Cody stood alone, contemplating what just happened. He didn’t know what Aaron intended, but from the look on the man’s face, he was sure the wolverines would be delivering vital information, whether they liked it or not. Maybe they’d further understand the harm they’d caused to his son. If not, Cody would be sure to remind them. He hadn’t been joking when he told them he would rip them apart if they hurt Ethan again. He planned to keep them as far away from his son as possible.
He left the ward, and returned to sit with his boys and find out a little more from the other patients. Maybe he’d be able to hook them up with family as well.
Chapter Nine:
A Second Living Tomb
Thomas walked confidently along the sidewalk, a few days after Ethan had been discovered, his new prosthetic comfortable enough that he forgot he wore it. A week after Ethan had been found, their geologist friends had now found the second entrance to the other part of that horrible living tomb, where thirteen men had been buried alive. Cody was battling with officials, trying to get the other tunnel filled in, so had asked Thomas to help with a new discovery—one that he hoped would prove to be less grim than the first.
He had begun tracking other missing persons, using data given by the wolverine gang, added to information supplied by people at the ranch, who were waiting for their loved ones, or at least waiting to hear if those people were alive or dead. He had heard word from Idaho, where Ryder Black was, the guy an ex-guard to President Edward Houston, who had been responsible for allowing the cult to continue their reign of evil for the price of his rise to office. They had found the bunker the wolverines had told them about, and found all twenty survivors half-starved but alive. He was about to inform two of the patients at the town’s clinic that their brothers were on the way home to Sage and would all be cared for here and at Two Spirit Ranch, if they were okay about being separated. Being together for so long, they might want some space.
He made his way to a vacant lot that was to be used for more apartments and would end up becoming a residential street, two back from the main drag. A ramp had been dug to gain access to the second living tomb beneath. He cautiously negotiated the slope and found himself beneath street level, the tunnel there sloping away steeply, with a series of shallow steps etched into the dirt.
He smelled a musky, earthy scent, but his human nose was too inefficient for anything more specific. Probably Cody, with his shifter senses, would identify every grub and root and odor down there, but Thomas would have to remain ignorant. He turned as he heard the scrape of claws on the concrete and watched as a small jaguar came padding down the ramp after him. It nuzzled his thigh with its hard head and licked his hand, then carried on down the steps, leaving him to stare after it. He figured it must be Douglas and called out.
“Your dad will not be happy if you get hurt,” he warned, and the jaguar turned, curling his lip. Thomas bit back a laugh at the almost human expression. “You should stay behind me, in case there’s something bad down there. I don’t want you getting scared again.”
The feline rolled his eyes, then sighed and jerked his whiskered face downward, before continuing his journey, leaving Thomas to follow more slowly. Thomas smiled widely. The kid was developing an attitude, but then he figured it was about time. Besides, a jaguar was probably a little scarier than a one-legged, middle-aged ex-police detective.
He shook his head and made his way carefully down the long trail of steps.
His nostrils quivered at the smell of death, and he felt an uneasy premonition that this tunnel would reveal a darker secret than its other half. There was electric lighting rigged via a generator topside, and his eyes picked out the slight curvature of the tunnel, the damp walls and the rock fall at the far end. Two rooms were situated on one side, a third a little farther, close to the cave-in.
He heard a whimper, a snarl, and then Douglas began talking softly, having obviously shifted to human form. Thomas made his way to where the sounds were coming from, peering carefully around the open doorway and felt his heart break.
Two thin, very small felines with spotted coats lay together in a huddle in one corner, looking terrified. Douglas crouched beside them, speaking softly. In another corner were two more felines, but they were not alive, their furry coats just that, hanging off their skeletal remains, milky eyes staring lifelessly. Death had found them sooner than the living. Thomas swallowed hard and went onto one knee. He didn’t want to scare these little felines, who were terrified enough already, traumatized by their experience.
“They’re called servals,” Douglas said in the same calm, soothing tones he was using to speak to the shifters. “They won’t shift to human form, they’re probably too weak, but I’m hoping they’ll follow me out to the surface. They’ll need specialist care. Their brothers died a week ago.” He sounded achingly sad, and tears trickled down his face. “We got here too late.”
“I’m so sorry we didn’t find you sooner,” Thomas said, keeping his voice low and unruffled. “We failed you, and for that I’m incredibly sorry.” He paused and looked over at the remains in the other corner. “We can help you bury your brothers,” he said soothingly. “If you’d like us to. If you just want us to leave you alone, let you grieve, that’s okay, too. But can we get you out of here? This is no place for the living.”
One of the small felines gave a low, questioning yowl and sniffed delicately. “That’s it, little cat, we’re here to help you. We have food and water for you, and a safe place you can stay to get well.” Thomas watched, holding his breath when the cats moved cautiously, one small paw at a time, from their corner. “We’ll put you
r brothers somewhere safe, too, and place them in the cemetery if you like, so you can visit them whenever you like. Unless you have someone you’d like us to call and let them know where you are.”
The felines yowled again, nudging each other, and moved past Douglas, sniffing at Thomas delicately.
“This is my other dad,” Douglas said. “I have two dads, now, Thomas and Cody. This is Thomas. He’s pretty cool.”
Thomas sent him a smile, winking. “I am, aren’t I?” he said, laughing a little, despite the serious situation. He was trying to take everyone’s mind off the sadness that pervaded the air and the scent of death clogging their nostrils. “Douglas here was lost, too,” he said to the little shifters. “He was taken to a facility when he was just five years old, and his dad didn’t even know about him. We just found out a couple of weeks ago that he was rescued from Idaho and has been living at the ranch up the road, for nearly a year.” He winked at Douglas again. “He’s pretty cool, too.”
“My brother, Ethan, he was in the other half of this tunnel,” Douglas told the serval shifters, and they paused to look at him. “He was nearly dead, along with twelve others, four of them wolverine shifters.”
Both felines hissed at the last bit, looking unhappy.
“Yes, that’s how my brother feels about them,” Douglas said with a light chuckle. “They were victims, too, though, and they didn’t understand that their ways are not like ours. They’re used to being aggressive toward one another and didn’t think what they were doing was really hurting anyone, since they didn’t physically hit anybody.” Douglas smirked. “My dad told them how wrong they were, and so did I. You should have seen their faces when I shifted into my jaguar right in front of them and roared right in their faces.” He brushed his knuckles across his chest, as though dusting off a medal, the smirk still there.
Thomas smiled at him, having heard the story from Cody.
“They knew no better,” he told the servals, who were sitting quietly on their narrow haunches, listening intently. “They were victims themselves, their families all being held, apparently prisoners, to ensure their cooperation. I think maybe they were a little too good at their job and got carried away with their newfound power over someone else. Power is a pretty potent drug. If you’ve never had it, and then you’re given autonomy over someone, it can go to your head.” He glanced at the dead shifters again and ducked his head. It was always a terrible thing to learn you were too late to save someone, for the sake of a few seconds, minutes, or hours. The “what ifs” and “if onlys” were useless as recriminations. What was done was done. They had to make amends by helping these little feline shifters find their families, or at least give them a safe place to live and lots of love.
Suddenly one of the little felines shifted to human form, remaining on hands and knees, his thin body resembling survivors of Auschwitz or Belsen during the Second World War. Thomas felt sick at what had been done to these poor men.
“We have two more sisters. We think they stayed in Idaho,” the young man said hoarsely, trembling like a leaf. Thomas removed his thick, fleecy jacket and draped it over the small man, who looked only about five and a half feet from toes to the tip of his head.
“Then we’ll find them,” Thomas said. “We have a lot of girls and boys who are at the ranch, who were in Idaho. What are their names?”
“Ruth and Sian,” the young man said. “They’re younger than us and would be about fifteen or so now. We’re five years older, quads. I’m Luther and this is Lomax.” Luther huddled into the coat, draping it over his sibling and sharing the warmth. “There’s others down here, but we haven’t heard a sound from them in a while.” Luther closed his eyes wearily. “Ernest and his brothers. Please, will you check on them, too?”
Lomax shifted a minute later, his dark gold eyes and shaggy dark blond hair gleaming under the dim lighting. “We’d like it if you buried our brothers,” he said, looking at his dead siblings sadly. “We heard the work going on above and prayed you’d find us. We nearly gave up hope you would. Our brothers were weaker than us and had been abused by our captors before we were brought here. They gave them horrible drugs that weakened them. I don’t blame anyone but the bastards who kidnapped us and tortured our whole family.” He had tears in his eyes, and his eyes glittered with rage mixed with sorrow.
“Gentlemen, let’s get you up to a nice, warm bed and get some food into you,” Thomas invited. “Our sheriff, Pace, will help get your brothers to the cemetery, then we’ll let you bury them properly.”
The young men nodded and tried to stand, falling when their weakened legs refused to support their slight bodies. Thomas gently picked up Lomax, with Douglas using his shifter strength to carry Luther. Together they walked back to the stairs, meeting Sheriff Pace who was coming from the next room.
“Glad you managed to talk them into shifting and talking,” Pace said, keeping his distance. “I scared them when I burst in and had to let them be. That’s when I called for you and Douglas. You’re better at talking to terrified young men than I am,” he said ruefully.
“Is anyone else down here?” Thomas asked, jerking his chin at the other rooms.
Pace looked grim and nodded. “There are two others in there, barely alive, in comas. One more survivor, but four more bodies.” He sent a sympathetic look to the man in Thomas’s arms. “Get them out of here, Thomas, this is no place for the living. I’ve called Lex to come see to the two survivors who are left. They need urgent attention.”
“They’re called Max and Harley, caracal shifters,” Luther whispered, fading in and out. “We were calling to one another for a while, then they went quiet.” He sobbed quietly. “The others are from another family, ocelots. They were in a bad way when they put us down here. I’m glad they aren’t suffering anymore. I just hope Ernest survives—he’s lost too much. It may be enough to finish him.” He slumped again, exhausted.
Thomas nodded and took his precious cargo to the foot of the stairs, then began the arduous walk back to street level. With his prosthetic limb, it took a lot longer than he would have wished, but he was loathe to ask for help. Lomax and Luther had fallen asleep, exhausted by their shift to human form, and he felt their trembling even in sleep.
Lex passed them on the way up, carrying a black medical bag, Leo following behind.
“I’ve got the small ward ready for them,” Lex said, “and we have two new nurses who just started working at the clinic, who’ll tell you what you need to know. Gemma and Lucy,” he said, then hurried on to see to the other two survivors below.
Leo nodded to Thomas and Douglas, but didn’t speak, his eyes hard to read. Thomas thought the hardest part of finding these poor people was that there was nobody left to punish. Marissa had killed herself rather than face justice for her actions. The others who had been behind the cult’s evil machinations were dead. It was frustrating that there was nobody left of the cult. Everyone was pissed that they couldn’t find someone suitable to pummel into a wall over and over.
“Now then, gentlemen, let’s get you somewhere warm,” Thomas whispered as he finally reached the top ramp and walked outside. He stood for a moment, listening to Douglas behind him, and just inhaled the fresh, spring air. He looked over at Douglas, seeing the young man return the look, and they shared a silent thought. It was all about the living now and finding and helping the surviving victims. This town of Sage would be a refuge, a safe haven and a place of healing. If anyone wanted to argue with that they’d have a few hundred fanged and clawed shifters who’d show them the error of their argument.
The pair walked with their two charges to the clinic, two streets over.
* * * *
Cody was on a mission. He and David had just finished discussing the garage’s blueprints, and he needed Pace’s permission to continue with the build. He wanted to bury the fucking tunnel beneath that lot, and Pace was dragging his heels, needing more forensic evidence. Cody was about to punch the man.
His ange
r deflated like a ruptured lung when he strode forcefully to the vacant site and practically ran down the ramp to the hatch that led to the sublevel. Ethan was there, sitting in a wheelchair and covered in blankets, an IV attached to his arm. Pace was with him as was Murphy. A team of demolition experts were standing by, who had studied the tunnel and decided it was risky to use explosives, so they would simply fill in the vertical entrance with concrete, blocking this end up forever. It would take a lot of concrete, but the symbolism mattered so bollocks to the cost. If they blew the sub-strata, there was a risk of destabilizing the ground above. Instead heavy-duty supporting steel had been placed along the tunnel, to hold up the ceiling for when the building started. Then it would be left to the worms and grubs.
He took a deep breath and saw them all look over, Pace arching a brow, apparently reading him perfectly. “Ethan, are you okay?” he asked gruffly, glaring at the sheriff, still not convinced he wouldn’t punch the irritating man. Despite him being married to Zack, one of Cody’s best friends, the connection wouldn’t prevent Pace receiving a bloody nose if he pushed Cody too far. Where his sons’ well-being was concerned, Cody would punch the fucking devil himself if he messed with those boys.
“Dad, you sound a little breathless,” Ethan said, a note of teasing in his voice, along with a healthy dose of fear. He looked like he was holding on to his self-control by a thin thread.
“Are we ready to bury those ghosts once and for all?” Cody asked, placing a gentle hand on Ethan’s too-thin shoulder. The young man was putting on some weight now and able to manage small meals of broth, mushed vegetables. He had a long way to go until he was fully back to his ideal size.
Ethan smiled, a trembling one that barely turned up the corners of his mouth. “I’m scared,” he said, beginning to shake.