by Natalie Grey
Karliman Zukanov crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. Since Irina and Stoyan left, the latter taking four strong fighters with him, Karliman’s grip on the pack had been tenuous. Even with the false stories he’d put out, six members leaving was a sign that he could no longer maintain control of the pack.
He resented that. He’d done the only sensible thing to keep his packmates safe. Did they really think it was wise to throw themselves against a much stronger enemy? Did they possibly think they could win? He knew they could not. The best they could do was try to stay safe.
Every few decades, there was someone who tried to enslave Wechselbalg. Every one of them tripped up and died.
They just had to wait, goddammit.
To be honest, he’d been hoping that word would reach them of their former packmates’ gruesome deaths. That would illustrate his point nicely. He’d been hoping for it right up until the moment they strode back into the camp, looking hardly the worse for wear, and with another Wechselbalg who made Karliman’s hackles go up.
This man, this Nathan, had an aura about him that Karliman had cultivated for years. He realized now that he had failed. Nathan was a man you did not want to cross, that much was clear. He had taken the attention of the pack without even raising his voice, and something about him made you pray that he never raised his voice.
“I am Nathan Lowell, originally from New York.” Nathan folded his arms over his chest. “I will skip my personal history—what you need to know is that I now serve Queen Bethany Anne of TQB.”
There was a murmur from the group. There had been rumors about TQB, but few in the pack had given any thought to them. With video surveillance and social media, governments were more of a concern than ever for the Wechselbalg packs.
Anything that distracted the governments, therefore, was considered a bonus. The pack hadn’t cared much about TQB beyond hoping that they continued to be a thorn in the side of governments everywhere.
Nathan smiled grimly as he continued, “My Queen is more powerful than you can imagine. She is, as it seems few of you are aware, the Matriarch. She has taken Michael’s place.”
The camp went dead silent.
“Yes,” Nathan said quietly. “Now you see. You may be accustomed to Michael’s brand of honor. Hers is different, but believe me when I say that it is just as uncompromising.”
The pack looked wary now, and Nathan couldn’t blame them. Michael’s rigid sense of honor had been the stuff of legend.
He wondered what they would say about Bethany Anne.
“A few weeks ago, my Queen learned of the abductions of Wechselbalg families across Europe. She sent Stephen, her deputy in Europe, to investigate. By now, you may have heard what happened in Velingrad—the bulk of the Wechselbalg there were rescued. In Sofia, the Wechselbalg staged an uprising.” Nathan hesitated. “Almost all of them were killed.”
All eyes went to Irina, who was looking down at the ground.
She had feared this moment, but now that it was here, she found purpose in it. She looked around at her former packmates, and met Karliman’s eyes and spoke. “The man who runs these facilities is called Hugo Marcari,” she told them, “and he wants to rule the world with us as his enforcers. In his facilities, we were tortured. They did anything they could to hurt us, to make us say that we would be his servants. They have developed techniques to force us to change forms, and attack—often, I believe, they forced us to attack family who were not shifters. You see, Hugo abducted whole families, because he knew that the ability was passed down.”
They stared at her in horror.
“There are more facilities,” Irina said, “and Hugo is still alive. We need him dead. We need every one of those facilities shut down, and his allies dead as well. They have done things for which there can be no forgiveness. Stand with me, and we will make him pay for what he has done. Stand back, and you will know that you turned your face away from the slaughter of our kind.”
Nathan could understand her passion, but he knew that Irina might be pushing too far, and too fast.
“We do not ask you to act alone,” he told them. “My Queen has sent supplies and fighters. You would not be walking into this fight blind. In truth, we could take these facilities out on our own.”
“Why aren’t you?” Karliman challenged him.
Nathan smiled. The man had given him the perfect opening. “Because you have been wronged,” he said. “Someone has taken your packmates and tortured them, forced them to kill. My Queen will not tolerate such things, but she also knows that she should not deny you your own justice, meted out by your own pack.”
There was a long silence. Karliman was silent, and Nathan watched him closely. It was obvious to Nathan that the pack’s Alpha had been hoping that Bethany Anne would be issuing orders. Orders that he could then contest. Nathan, instead, had portrayed the situation as an opportunity—and one the rest of the pack looked eager to take.
“We will talk about this alone,” Karliman said abruptly. “You three, go to the overlook. I will join you there to tell you the pack’s decision.”
Stoyan tried not to flinch. The words were a reminder that he and Irina had given up their place in this pack. But it would do no good to protest. He nodded silently, and followed Nathan and Irina from the grove.
Catalonia, Spain
Stephen’s footsteps crunched slightly on the rocky path as he climbed toward the castle.
He shouldn’t be here. It was a temptation he didn’t need.
>>Stephen, do you need anything from me?<<
He should have known ADAM would be watching. Although, in the case of an AI, “watching” wasn’t exactly accurate. It was simply difficult to do something without one noticing.
“No, ADAM. I just wanted to see the place before attacking it.”
>>I can send you more blueprints.<<
Stephen smiled. “Are you worried? I won’t be seen.”
>>I am simply unsure why seeing the castle makes a difference.<<
Stephen crested the hill and knelt, so as not to catch the eye of any guards watching from the facility or the castle. The two buildings sat a scant distance apart, one up on the hill and traditionally defensible, the other at the outskirts of town, hidden by trees and walls.
His eyes lingered on the facility. Jennifer was there, and even knowing that he would see her in a day or so, Stephen still fought the urge to fight his way into the facility, kill anyone and everyone standing in his way, and get to her side.
Patience.
He remembered that ADAM had expressed confusion. “Think of it as a way of focusing emotions. While I wait for the attack, seeing this place reminds me of what I fight for.”
>>Do you forget?<<
“No.” Stephen smiled slightly. “It’s difficult to explain. A sense of purpose in a battle can turn the tide, ADAM. I have seen it over the centuries countless times. When soldiers—”
He broke off and drew further into the shadows.
A group of guards were making their way up the hill from the town, singing drunkenly. Their uniforms had the logo of Hugo’s operations, and they were oblivious to anything but their own enjoyment.
Stephen’s anger rose until it choked him, and his hands curled into fists. These guards knew what happened in that facility, and they were returning willingly to their work at the castle. He wanted to appear from the darkness like their worst nightmare and fill them with terror before he tore them limb from limb.
Patience. He forced himself to stand still as they passed. None of them looked into the shadows to see the glint of his eyes—red, now, with his fury.
They would know his face tomorrow. He promised himself that.
The screech of tires sounded from somewhere in the valley and Stephen turned to look in interest. There was no sound after that for a long moment.
And then a single gunshot echoed out.
Stephen started running.
QBBS Meredith Reynolds
“My Q
ueen?”
Bethany Anne, presently in the middle of examining a new green space on the Meredith Reynolds, noticed the note of worry in Stephen’s voice immediately. “What is it? Is everyone alright?”
“All of our people, yes. But someone has been assassinated near Hugo’s estate. I believe he was visiting before he was killed. I heard the gunshot.”
“You’re there now?”
“Yes, but I can’t get closer. There are a lot of police already.”
“That’s odd, for somewhere so remote.”
“Not really.” There was anger growing in Stephen’s voice. “They’re from one of the bigger cities. They must already have been on their way when the assassination was carried out. They aren’t upset, though, as if they had been trying to stop it and failed—so they must be in on it.”
“Let me guess.” Bethany Anne strode away into the trees, trying to keep her voice down so as not to alarm the children who were running through the undergrowth with delighted shrieks. “They’ve got someone in mind to blame for this.”
“Yes,” Stephen said simply. “From what I’ve heard, we’ve apparently released a statement taking responsibility for his death.”
“That’s fucking ridiculous. Why the hell would I execute one of Hugo’s associates on the side of the road?”
>>I believe I may have the answer,<< ADAM chimed in. >>This man, Diego Garza, was a known moderate, and did not agree with EU policies that condemned you. It seems to be a pattern in human history that moderates are assassinated as a prelude to war, in an attempt to vilify the other side.<<
Bethany Anne managed a small smile. “Ah, ADAM, what would we do without you? I think you’re correct. Someone is trying to frame us. The question is, is it the EU or someone else?”
“It could be anyone,” Stephen said quietly. “Hugo had the easiest means—and so close to his castle, it could point to him. But he could also say he’s being framed.”
Bethany Anne closed her eyes a second. I swear to god, if these scrotum-trailing, cum wiping bastards think they’re going to pin this on me, I am going to—
No. She’d said she would stay out of it. Son of a bitch. Her patience was getting more frayed by the moment. “What are you going to do?”
“Kill him,” Stephen said. “I’m not going to try sucking up to the media. That’s a loser’s game. I’m going to make sure justice gets that bastard, and then we’re coming home.”
Bethany Anne grinned. “That’s the spirit. Good luck, and tell Jennifer I said hello.”
“Will do.”
On the Meredith Reynolds, Bethany Anne stared through the tiny forest with narrowed eyes.
“Retail therapy,” she said finally.
Are you actually going to wear all of these shoes? TOM questioned.
“TOM, it’s either buy shoes, or go back to Earth and do something. Possibly involving firebombing.”
Right. Shoes it is.
France
The phone buzzed on the seat next to him and Maurice gave it an annoyed look. He didn’t want to talk to Henri.
But Henri, he knew from experience, would just keep calling.
“Quoi?”
“There will be two more trucks joining you,” Henri told him. “Wait at the border until they arrive. Our client has extended the deadline to sundown.”
Maurice hung up without saying a word. If they were extending the deadline, why had he had to get up and start driving now?
And what the hell was in these trucks?
Catalonia, Spain
“Sir?” A uniformed guard was waiting for Hugo at the door of the courtyard.
“What is it?” Hugo continued walking.
The guard fell in behind him, at his shoulder. “I was looking over police reports, and found one about a truck inbound to Spain. At the time, they did not specify where in Spain they were going, but a sizable sum was paid from a protected account to keep the police from looking inside the truck. Since then—”
Hugo turned to look at the guard.
The man’s voice broke off. He swallowed and ducked his head.
“You’ve done well,” Hugo said finally.
“Sir?” The relief was palpable in the man’s voice.
“Was there more?”
“Yes, sir. The truck appears to be waiting at the border. I’m not sure for what, but its crossing documents appear to have been edited while it waits.” The man held out a piece of paper—a scan of a form. MADRID had been written in the location field, crossed out, and replaced with CATALONIA.
Hugo made sure to keep his face calm. In times of crisis, when anticipating attack, his father had told him that lesser men would panic and give in to anxiety. It was a lord’s job to convince them that the defenses were equal to an attack, and that each servant’s talents were vital to the defense of the castle. Feeling as if they were valued and necessary increased loyalty.
“Thank you for bringing this information to me,” Hugo said gravely. “Dominguez, is it?”
“Yes, sir. Jacobo Dominguez.”
“Good. I think you will rise in this organization, Dominguez. I want you to keep monitoring this personally. With this advance warning, we will have plenty of time to make sure that no unsavory elements are able to make their way into our town.”
Jacobo ducked his head again. “Should I pass along any instructions to the guard captain, sir?”
“Yes. Tell him to call in reinforcements and alert Mr. Cordova that this has happened.” Hugo’s lip curled. Why had Gerard not been the one to bring him this information? He had not seen the man since that useless meeting with the scientist. “Furthermore, I expect regular updates on this situation. I expect them from you, Dominguez.”
“Yes, sir.” The man nodded with a renewed sense of purpose and hurried away to the guard barracks.
Hugo watched him go, frowning. He was certain of one thing: no one would deliver anything so secretive and important to this town unless it was damaging to him. There was no other purpose—no big factories, no other rich inhabitants.
Someone was moving against him at last. Was it TQB, or some other element in Europe?
When those trucks arrived, he meant to have them surrounded, and seized.
For now, he would have to keep his eyes open. If these were weapons—and what else could they be?—then there would surely be mercenaries arriving as well. He picked up his phone.
“Message for Dominguez,” he said shortly. “Tell him to watch the town as well. I want reports on anyone suspicious.”
QBBS Meredith Reynolds
A ding sounded from the computer terminal, and Bethany Anne refreshed the page on her email, idly. She smiled when she saw the title:
Confirmation: Your Order Has Shipped
CHAPTER NINE
Catalonia, Spain
“You’re sure it will be here by tomorrow evening?” The hooded figure kept his voice low. “We have a very tight timeframe for getting it out of here.”
“It will be here in time, don’t worry.” The other man leaned forward into the shadows of the alleyway.
Pressed up against the wall around the corner, Jacobo Dominguez struggled to hear the words. English, which almost certainly meant foreigners, and they were talking about a secret shipment.
He’d been looking for Gerard when he saw the two conspirators hurry into an alley. His heart was beating very fast now as he tried to spy on them. The darkness made him jump at every little sound, and he was afraid that if they came out and he couldn’t hide, he would have to fight.
But he had to get this information. If someone was bringing weapons into the valley to assault the facility, it was imperative that Jacobo find out everything he could. Only then could he make sure the facility and the castle were safe.
He thought of the new, brown-haired scientist. He didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.
“And you’ll get it across town?” the hooded figure asked urgently. “Remember, it has to be done with complete secre
cy. None of the others can know.”
Jacobo’s eyebrows rose. Perhaps some of the weapons smugglers were planning to betray the others. That would thin their ranks before they could attack. That was good.
“No one will know,” the other one assured him. “Seven crates, like we agreed. I’ll deliver them whenever the road is clear.”
“Good. I’ll be in contact with payment.”
As footsteps sounded, Jacobo smushed himself into a doorway and prayed not to be seen. He only dared turn his head slightly as the two figures left the alley, one crossing immediately into another alleyway, and the hooded figure heading up toward the center of town.
That was all he could do now, on his own. Jacobo waited until the street was empty, and then he pulled out his phone and dialed with shaking fingers.
“Mr. Marcari? It’s Jacobo Dominguez. The crates will be delivered across town somewhere, and there might be some divisions we can exploit between the members.”
—
William looked over as Bobcat came back into the apartment, “Where the hell were you?”
“I had to run out for a few.” Bobcat pulled the hood off his head and smiled. “Making sure everything was set for tomorrow.”
“You didn’t want us to come with you?” Marcus asked.
“You two were chilling out, no need to get you off the couch.” Bobcat looked at the TV. “How the hell did you get NASCAR in the middle of Spain?”
“For an engineer,” William said loftily, “anything is possible.”
“We repurposed some of the equipment we didn’t need for the signal blockers,” Marcus explained. “Want to watch?”
Bobcat frowned, “I was never much of a NASCAR guy… ah, hell, it’s good to relax, right?” He chose a chair and kicked off his shoes. “Where’s Lance?”
“Back on the Archangel. Says not to get into any trouble.” Marcus tossed Bobcat a beer.
“Cool.” Bobcat settled back in his chair and allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. As of tomorrow evening, he was going to be the owner of seven crates of very rare hops.
It was going to give him just the edge he needed in the competition.