The Caitlin Chronicles Boxed Set

by Michael Anderle

  “That’s about the size of it,” he said truthfully and glanced at the crowd to sense their reaction.

  “Bryce is the logical successor,” Cynthia added and raised her voice so that even the Weres at the back could hear. “He’s the last of the Weres with the ability to transform. It only makes sense that he leads the pack.”

  He straightened but underestimated the weight he put on his injured leg. His knee quaked and he buckled slightly, but it was enough for Roger to notice.

  “As far as I was aware, we live by the old rules. The Alpha needs to prove his mettle. And mettle is what I have—”

  It happened so quickly that Bryce almost missed it. In a brief second, Roger’s eyes flashed. He launched forward and kicked the werebear hard where the bandage covered his leg. Bryce roared in pain, and his eyes flashed a fierce amber as he transformed into the great black bear and batted his assailant away.

  Bryce had barely a moment to allow the pain to subside before he saw several other figures race through the crowd. More suitors to the throne of Alpha.

  More imbeciles.

  The shape of a great gray wolf hurtled forward and aimed for Bryce’s jugular. Instinctively, he raised a paw and slashed at the wolf’s face. His attacker recoiled in a spray of blood.

  Roger turned and attacked again. He jumped onto Bryce’s back and pulled at the hair, then bared his teeth and bit into his neck as he clawed at his side for his small blade hidden within its sheath.

  “He’s got a knife!” Cynthia shouted.

  Bryce roared and fell backward to crush Roger against the floor.

  The aggressor narrowly avoided having his spine crushed, and his knife slipped from his grasp and vanished somewhere into the crowd.

  Two more shapes leapt onto the Werebear's stomach. They had moved so fast he barely registered who or what they were. He found it strange that the Weres caught in animal form would want to be Alpha when they couldn’t communicate to the pack and so wouldn’t be able to lead or steer.

  Unless they are backing up the others?

  He didn’t question their motives for too long but grabbed their heads and knocked them together like coconuts. They went limp in his hands.

  It was life and death now, and Bryce definitely wanted life.

  The gathered Weres watched with great excitement and cleared a space in the center of the room for the fight. Every time a competitor found themselves near the edge of the circle, they were prodded eagerly back into the fray.

  Calls of excitement mingled with cries of pain, and still Bryce fought. This was a rare occurrence—a fight amongst several Weres who all vied for the chance to call themselves the leader. These were people whom he had known for years and some he had called friends. Now, they stared balefully at one another with bloodlust in their eyes.

  Despite their courage and determination, none of them held a candle to his prowess. He had been the only one to use his powers effectively over the years. While Geralt had hidden in the sewers, using his abilities as nothing more than fear tactics for his own gain, Bryce had flexed his muscles. He had fought the occasional human and done the dirty work as he fought and scrapped with Mad and human alike in the open air.

  And now, it paid off.

  There was no rust to shake off and no hinges to grease. Bryce was a Were in top form and, although most of the competition for Alpha was aimed at himself, before too long, half a dozen bodies littered the floor, still and lifeless.

  One Were, however, was determined to fight to the death to claim his place.

  “It’s over, bear,” Rog said breathlessly. His chest rose and fell with each breath. His eyes were dark and malevolent. Blood dripped down his face from a broken nose, and every step forward appeared labored.

  “Concede,” the bear said and shifted back to his human form. “Concede, and you may live. This is your last warning.”

  A shape flung out of the crowd, a thin lad with little more muscle than Rog had brains. He roared as he sprinted at Bryce. The man turned and flashed his amber eyes, and the boy froze in place.

  Without a word, Bryce nodded at the crowd. The boy lowered his head and retreated, much to the pleasure and giggles of his friends.

  “Concede,” he said once more to Rog.

  His opponent grinned, and the smile turned to a laugh as he shook his head. “You’ll have to kill me first.”

  “So be it.”

  Rog lunged at his adversary, hoping to catch him before he shifted back to Were form. But Bryce was one step ahead and instantly took bear shape once more.

  He caught his assailant in mid-air with ease. With a lazy smile and a last almighty effort, he coiled his body back and threw the man across the room.

  The Were’s body seemed to hold no weight and soared over the others to impact the hard surface of the wall. A sickening crack resounded as something broke and Roger slid lifelessly to the floor.

  Bryce stood in the center of the room and turned in all directions. He stumbled slightly each time he put the weight on his injured leg but his arms were raised and his teeth bared. Despite his injury, he was ready to meet any final rivals.

  When no one else ran forward, his hair receded, his form shrank, and he stood amongst them as a naked human. The wound had opened again and bled through his bandage.

  He held his arms wide. “Have I earned the title? Have I passed the test? Is there another suitor who feels they should prove their place as Alpha or are we ready to get the fuck over ourselves and move forward as a pack?”

  No one dared make eye contact. Bryce was aware of his own breathing. He could hear himself pant as he sucked oxygen into his body, ready to take on anyone who dared another challenge but hoping it wouldn’t come to that. His leg would heal, but that didn’t ease the pain.

  “You…you killed him…” He turned toward the whimper from his left and saw Frank, Roger’s oh-so-faithful sidekick, stare in disbelief. “I can’t believe you killed him.”

  Bryce’s adrenaline subsided. He pawed at his tired eyes and approached Frank. The Weres gathered around him shrank backward, but he placed a hand on the man’s shoulder.

  “Your friend battled valiantly. There is no shame in his defeat. But such things are the way of the Were.”

  “Oh, quit with the regal talk,” Cynthia piped up. “He would’ve ripped your throat out before he even shook your hand.” She stepped into the space in the center of the room. “Bryce has proven himself victorious. He has shown us his prowess as leader and I, for one, am willing to stand beside him for the good of the pack.”

  “Me too.”

  Bryce’s ears pricked up at a familiar voice he hadn’t expected to hear. He located the man who entered the circle and blinked away his surprise.

  Just when I’d given up on you, Sudeikis.

  Kain moved against his better instincts, knowing the risk he ran by revealing himself to Bryce now. He hadn’t followed the other Weres earlier and had stayed with Caitlin and Mary-Anne for far too long. Was now the right time to step back into the Weres’ good books and help direct the leadership?

  He was sure as hell about to find out.

  Heads turned to watch him. Some shuffled a little as he entered the circle before them. He looked as haggard as Bryce and Cynthia but held his head high before the Weres.

  There was a moment of silent communication as Bryce and Kain’s eyes met.

  “Good timing,” Cynthia whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

  “Shut up,” he mumbled back and glanced away from Bryce’s eyes to address the Weres. “Let’s be honest, guys. Geralt was a bit of a fucker—”

  A jolt of murmurs issued from the crowd. Cynthia tutted but grinned.

  “What? I’m honest. He was a controlling, sociopathic dictator with nothing better to do than to experiment on kiddies and try to bring us all into the new order. Is that fair enough to say?”

  This garnered a mixed reaction. There were several outbursts of disgust and protest as if nothing Geralt could
have done would have been terrible on any level. Those who had kept themselves to the shadows and chose to ignore the monstrosity that he had rapidly become had little knowledge of the true horrors he had perpetrated.

  Other heads seemed to lift as if ready to nod agreement. Those had secretly hated Geralt’s ways and prayed for a new dawn.

  These were all quickly subdued as those in the room tried to read one another. A hesitancy hung in the air as the Weres, for the first time in as long as they could remember, were forced to come face to face with where their allegiances lay. For years, they had no choice but to obey orders and obey the regime. Now, they were forced to truly test their moral compass to decide if Geralt had truly been great or evil.

  “Let me put it this way,” Kain said, refusing to make eye contact with Bryce as he continued. He already knew he was dangerously close to overstepping his mark. “There’s a change coming. We will no longer experiment on innocents or search tirelessly for a way to continue our legacy beyond what natural remedies can provide. We are Weres and will die with grace or continue with dignity. The Age of Madness has taken enough from us without us resorting to mockeries of what our great predecessors once were.”

  To Kain’s surprise, several claps rippled through the crowd. He chanced a glance at Bryce and saw his nostrils flare. The large Were remained silent for now, his curiosity clearly in control.

  “Why can’t now be the time that we restore our stature? Why can’t now be the time we fill our hearts with strength and become what we once were?”

  A round of cheers ensued. Kain felt his heart warm as he looked at the pack. His pack. His family. Despite their temperaments and shortcomings, they had once been there for him and could be there once again in this dark new world.

  Kain thought of Caitlin and how it must have felt for her to have defeated the governor’s henchman, saved her town, and liberated the folks of Silver Creek. This was what she must have felt as she rallied the crowd and won their attention.

  “Kain’s right,” Bryce growled and stepped to his side to tower over him. He stood proudly with a determined expression on his face. “We take back the glory of the Weres.”

  Kain looked at him with a crooked grin and held his stare.

  “By killing the humans and taking back the city they stole from us,” Bryce added.

  “Wait… What…no—” Kain blustered but was immediately drowned out as cheers filled the room.

  A large portion of the Weres jumped up and down excitedly, almost rabid in their joy. Kain felt ice shoot through his body and unhappiness surged at the way Bryce had used his words. He had intended to steer away from violence, but would he have the chance, now, to calm the pack and convince the new Alpha to choose words over actions?

  Kain scanned the crowd in horror as they cheered and clapped and noticed a handful of Weres who seemed much less enthusiastic. Cynthia was one. Several elder Weres near the back stood quietly with their faces cast in shadow. A few younger Weres near the front seemed wary and withdrawn.

  “Bryce…we can’t. There’s an easier way,” Kain said, barely audible to the new Alpha over the cheering.

  The werebear stared darkly at him once more and Kain was shocked by the anger on his face. He’d never seen Bryce look more like Geralt in his life.

  “You saw them yourself, Sudeikis. They slaughtered our leader. They’ve partnered with vampires. The time has come to rise up before we’re flushed out and destroyed. That is unless you’ve developed a soft spot for the humans and want to join their side?”

  Kain opened his mouth to reply but thought better of it. Instead, he plastered on a fake smile and shook his head, thinking somewhere deep down how close he had been to resolving everything there and then.

  It could have been so easy, he thought as he met Cynthia’s tired eyes. Why is it never easy?

  Chapter Three

  The Broken City, Old Ontario

  Caitlin awoke to a fuzzy sense of disorientation she had never experienced before.

  She opened her eyes and half-expected to see the glow of the sun through her little window in Silver Creek, the wooden cabin she and Dylan had spent most of their growing life in with their mother and father. She could almost hear Dylan move about in the living quarters as he sizzled some eggs or fussed over Jaxon.

  Instead, she saw white plaster walls and cracked ceilings yellowing with age and neglect. The room was so high she wouldn’t scrape her head even if she stood on Kain’s shoulders.

  Caitlin raised her head, saw Mary-Anne and the Revolutionaries huddled in piles of blankets around her, and sighed. She stretched her fingers and found Jaxon’s fur, his ears already raised at the sound of many muffled voices from the main atrium of the city library below.

  “Morning, pooch.” She chuckled, but her smile slipped at the nickname ordinarily reserved for Kain. Her mind flashed to images of the Were in the sewers. She wondered how he had fared after he’d eventually followed Bryce and the others into the tunnels.

  Jaxon shuffled closer, his eyes dark and filled with an intelligence Caitlin had never seen in other dogs. He nuzzled his wet nose into the cleft beneath her chin and sniffed. His tongue lapped and smothered her in kisses.

  A warmth spread inside her. In all the madness and excitement of chasing after Kain and getting to grips with this new city, she’d hardly had the time to think about her brother and the others in Silver Creek and wonder how they were doing.

  They’re fine, she reassured herself. They’re all fine. They have a Harrison at the helm.

  She had never imagined that she would ever truly feel homesick. For as long as she could remember, she had wanted to be free. Her single desire had been to explore the wilds and travel the world, to see something more than wooden walls, campfires, and the people she’d been trapped with day in and day out.

  But now, she had opened an emotional door she didn’t know she had closed. She smiled, remembering the goofy games Dylan had once played. Her mother and father would spend dark winter nights huddled next to the fire with a board game and wine which Caitlin had been too young to drink at the time. She had tried some anyway and hiccupped and giggled with the others.

  The memories fueled Caitlin and filled her spirit. She looped her arm around Jaxon’s neck and pulled him as close as she could.

  “I love you, Jax,” she said and planted a wet kiss on his head. She wasn’t sure at that point if her words were restricted only to Jaxon or for Dylan as well, but the canine received the direct measure of her affection.

  He yipped and wriggled excitedly as he tried to lick her ears.

  “Even if you are a dopey shit,” she grinned.

  When her face was almost entirely damp with Jaxon’s kisses, Caitlin sat up, stretched, and looked at her motley crew.

  Light had begun to sneak through the heavy, moth-eaten curtains. It was morning. Or even late morning. It was hard to tell.

  “How shall I wake them all up, Jax?” Caitlin whispered, feeling mischievous as she searched the room.

  And there, in the corner of the room, was a small pot crusted with remnants of last night’s food. At an angle on the floor was a metal spoon.

  She crept toward the pot, treading carefully over the others as they snoozed and snored. With it turned so the back waited to greet the spoon, she stretched her arms, ready to crash metal on metal.

  Mary-Anne’s eyes snapped open. Without moving, the vampire whispered, “Don’t you even think about it.”

  Caitlin winked and smacked the items together.

  After their rude awakening—and after Mary-Anne had found a moment to don her all-in-one before Joe had leapt up madly and pulled the curtains down in a fit of panic—the Revolutionaries headed downstairs to join the residents of The Broken City in the atrium.

  Caitlin’s eyes lit up as she passed through the large oak doors. She still couldn’t understand how the operation worked. One minute, the floor was covered with sleeping bags and blankets with hardly enough room to move b
etween them. In the next, rows of benches appeared as if from nowhere and the whole damn city sat and enjoyed their meals.

  “Whoever coordinates this shit must have been great at Tetris,” Mary-Anne mumbled.

  “What’s Tetris?” Caitlin asked and waved to Izzy on the other side of the hall who made a beeline for them. “Sounds like an STD.”

  “Is that something you know a lot about?” Belle smirked.

  Tom sniggered as he hobbled along, his hand pressed to his lower back. Caitlin had noticed the large, yellowing bruise as he had dressed that morning, the result of when he had been tossed across the street by the Weres in the previous night’s battle.

  “It’s an old game,” Mary-Anne continued. “You are given different sets of blocks and have to slot them into each other.”

  “Wow,” Caitlin said dryly. “Sounds real imaginative.”

  “Hey, you never got caught up spending hours upon hours staring at a screen and hoping to make a line.”

  “Now it simply sounds like drugs.” Vex shuffled past the group and took his seat beside a large bowl. A sweet smell wafted from inside. “Man, that smells incredible.”

  Izzy finished her own mouthful, bright-eyed and pleased to see them all. “It is. Apples, pears, oats and some other shit that the chefs never tell us. All homegrown on the roofs of the city.”

  Caitlin thought back to her tour and still marveled at the livestock and vegetation established on the roofs of the large city skyscrapers. Those were the only locations where gardening and farming could safely be undertaken with no intrusion from the Mad who often broke through the gates or appeared from hidden pockets in the city.

  She took a seat beside Izzy and felt her heart rate quicken. The last time they had been together had been when trapped in a lockable cupboard within the library, so close they could feel each other’s breath. They had locked their lips and felt the warmth rush to their cheeks.

  It was at that point that Caitlin had told her she would hunt for Kain, even if it took all night to find him. Izzy had leaked to Caitlin that although regular search parties were looking for the hidden entrance to the Weres’ lair, the effort was more of a halfhearted sham for those who ran the city to appear as if they were doing something.