Wind Wolf

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  * * * *

  The Modartha didn't even look to see who had entered his cell the next morning. He had caught Patrick's scent closely followed by O'Rourke's as soon as the door opened.

  "Vannie?” Patrick asked as he came to stand over the bunk. “We've got your release order."

  "Get me the hell out of here,” Van said in a clipped voice.

  O'Rourke was already unbuckling the ankle restraints and Patrick quickly followed suit, undoing those that held Van's wrists to the metal bunk.

  "Can you walk?” O'Rourke asked.

  Van didn't reply but sat up, stamping down the pain that shot through the lower part of his body. He swung his legs over the side of the bunk. “Aye, I can fucking walk,” he growled.

  Patrick and O'Rourke looked at one another. They had expected Van to be angry but the poisonous look on the Modartha's face set their hackles up.

  "Senator Flynn had to pull in every chit owed to him to get your release this quickly,” Patrick told him. “General Brennan tried to block it but...."

  "Shut up, Paddy!” Van snapped. “I don't want to hear the details. All I want to hear is that I've still got my job."

  "Why wouldn't you?” O'Rourke asked. “Brennan couldn't find anyone to back him on having you court-martialed. I think he found out how important you are to the military."

  "I've still got my command?” Van wanted clarified.

  "Aye, you do,” O'Rourke agreed.

  "Patrick, assemble the men on the parade ground within the hour,” Van said as he headed for the door.

  Patrick nodded. “I'll see to it."

  "How can I help?” O'Rourke inquired. Technically he was under Brennan's command but at the moment he had less respect for the general than the Modartha did.

  Van turned to send a stony look O'Rourke's way. “I want every man in this prison—guard and inmate alike—in the yard. I want every man there. No excuses. Understood?"

  "Aye, I understand.” O'Rourke's brow furrowed. “May I ask why?"

  "Tell the Warden that I am looking for five men and when I find them, I want them taken to an isolation cell and held there. Is that understood?"

  Patrick's lips parted. “What happened, Van?"

  "Is that understood, Collin?” Van repeated.

  "Aye,” O'Rourke said. He saw death in the Modartha's eyes and didn't want to know what had put it there. He saluted and hurried out of the cell, wanting to get away from those dark gray orbs.

  "Van?” Patrick repeated.

  "Do your job, soldier,” Van said and brushed past his brother. “In one hour I want my men together."

  * * * *

  Four of the men who had attacked him in his cell were among the guards of the prison. The fifth man was a burly bastard from among the rank and file of detainees of the Doinsiún. Their odors were ripe with fear as the Modartha walked down row after row, pausing only long enough before the five men to have them arrested. Not a one of them did not attempt to flee or to struggle free of the brutal hands that grabbed them and carted them off to the cell into which they would be thrown.

  The Warden didn't need to ask why the Modartha wanted the men. And if any of the assembled guards and prisoners dared to speculate as to why the five men were dragged off kicking and screaming, they stamped down on their curiosity, for it was not a wise thing to contemplate a Modartha's motives. They merely looked the other way and pushed all thoughts of what would happen to the men taken to the isolation cell out of their minds.

  When Crevan Byrne stepped into that cell with the prisoners two days later, it was not the man they had so savagely raped who faced them but an enraged werewolf in full transition. Their howls of pain and terror were blotted out by the vicious growls of an unleashed beast, for in his slashing claws and sharp fangs was a vengeance that left the cell a bloodied mess less than an hour later. Only one being walked out of the cell once the full moon had waned and in his red glowing eyes was deep satisfaction.

  * * * *

  Declan Byrne clapped his brother on the back as they embraced. “It's good to see you, Lee,” he said.

  "I didn't think you'd really take a leave of absence from the monastery,” Liam commented.

  "He needed me,” Declan stated. “I came as soon as the moon waned."

  "Aye, he does need you,” Patrick said, smiling as Declan enfolded his youngest brother in his arms. “You've lost some weight, haven't you, Father Dek?"

  "Monastery food isn't the richest in the world,” Declan replied. “And you...” He shook his head as he reached up to tousle Patrick's hair. “You've grown, sprout."

  Patrick playfully batted his brother's hand away. “I'm not a kid anymore."

  "Well, that's a matter of opinion,” Liam said dryly.

  "Where is he?” Declan asked as one of Van's men brought in the priest's bag from the runabout.

  "Going over surveillance maps of Sionnach,” Liam replied.

  "He doesn't really think that stupid were-fox would go to ground on his home turf, does he?” Declan inquired.

  "No,” Liam answered. “I'm not sure what it is he's hoping to find. He ordered fly-overs of every planet in our galaxy. He's looking for something only he knows about. You know Vannie. He plays it close to the vest."

  "What kind of mood is our little brother in?” Declan queried.

  "He's as evil as an old wolf with the mange and an abscessed fang,” Liam told him.

  Declan chuckled “That bad, huh?"

  "Worse,” Patrick put in. “He killed five men about a week ago."

  "I heard about that,” Declan said. “Need I ask why he tore them apart?"

  "He hasn't said a word about it, but I don't guess we have to wonder, huh?” Liam asked.

  "What of the wench?” Declan inquired. “What's she like?"

  "Sweet,” Patrick said. He was the only one of the Modartha's brothers to have met the human. “Shy. Totally in love with Van."

  "So she'll do whatever is necessary if she thinks he might be in danger,” Liam said. “She went willingly into Doyle's hands so you can imagine they must have threatened Vannie."

  "And that would be a massive blow to his ego,” Declan said. “Must be eating at him to know he couldn't protect her."

  "It is,” Liam agreed. “I've never seen him like this before, and I hope to the gods I never see him like this again."

  "He hasn't slept in days and what little bit of food we can get him to eat is miniscule,” Patrick said.

  "I don't need fucking food,” Van snarled as he came out of the library of his estate. “I need my woman.” He swept a fleeting look over his second eldest brother. “Where's your gods-be-damned robe, Priest?"

  "Where's your gods-be-damned uniform, Modartha?” Declan countered.

  "Same place your robe is, I guess,” Van grumbled. He flopped down in a chair and raked a hand through his hair. “Well, her Fiach didn't land in Sionnach."

  "Who?” Liam questioned. “Bailey's?"

  "How would Bailey have gotten her hands on a Fiach, you ass?” Van snapped.

  "Doyle might have one at his disposal, although that takes more money than I would have thought he had,” Liam said. “Is the Fiach you're looking for his?"

  Declan folded his arms over his wide chest. “No,” he answered for his brother. “Are you talking about Tara?"

  "She married Bailey's uncle,” Van said. “Now, she's missing and he's frantic.” He glanced up at Declan. “I'll give you one guess where the bitch is."

  "With Doyle,” Declan stated.

  "You know Lady Tara?” Liam inquired, surprised.

  "I fucked her,” Van replied with a look of disgust. “My only excuse for having done so was that I was bored and she smelled good."

  "She smelled good to a lot of men,” Declan said. “Myself included before I decided to take the vows."

  That surprised Liam and Patrick both and they stared at their brother as though Declan had suddenly sprouted two heads.

  "Did you think I was a v
irgin?” Declan laughed.

  "No, but.... “Liam shook his head. “You two never fail to scare me, you know that?"

  "I've got two more planets to investigate,” Van said, ignoring Liam's disgusted look. “Leon and Tiogar. I seriously doubt they would have gone beyond our quadrant."

  "You think she'd been pay-rolling the Resistance all along?” Declan asked.

  "It never crossed my mind that she was involved until she came up missing. Now, things are all pointing at her bawdy head,” Van replied.

  "You know she and Doyle owned that nightclub on Béar,” Declan said. “That was where I met her."

  "Like I said, I didn't put the two of them together or I'd have had men on her long ago,” Van told him. “I've got to find that Fiach. My guess is that's how they got Bailey off-world."

  "What about flight plans?” Declan asked. “Any way to trace the runabout through them?"

  "The Portal Police have no record of her Fiach ever leaving Faolchú during that week. Of course, with the money she has at her disposal, tampering with records wouldn't be hard to do. A thousand pialstra slipped here, another there, and the cover up is in place,” Van replied.

  "I'm assuming the Portal Police inserted a tracking chip in your lady,” Declan said, “and that it was turned off?"

  "As soon as she was taken,” Van answered. “She wasn't away from the Rialtas Complex before it was shut down. All they know is that she was put in a glider but then it disappeared in the rush hour traffic. There's no telling where it took her."

  "The only good thing to come out of this is that General Brennan was relieved of duty,” Liam told Declan. “If Senator Flynn has his way the bastard will be reduced in rank and cashiered out of the service altogether."

  "If and when that happens, he's mine,” Van stated with a steely glint in his gray eyes.

  "You remember that prissy little half-man who was Brennan's secretary?” Patrick asked, lips twitching.

  "Faison?” Declan inquired.

  "Came up missing a few days ago,” Patrick said and cut his eyes over to Van. “No one knows what happened to the rank bugger."

  "I imagine someone does,” Liam said, also looking at Van.

  Van had brought his bare foot up onto the chair seat and was resting his wrist on his knee. He paid no attention to his brothers or their speculation as to what had happened to Timothy Faison.

  "So tell me how I can help, Vannie,” Declan said.

  "Has it ever occurred to any of you that the Resistance might be regrouping?” Van queried. “That they might be gearing up to stage a coup?"

  "A coup?” Liam asked, blinking. “You can't be serious!"

  "Why would Tara Cowart with all her billions in gold suddenly up and disappear along with Doyle? Doesn't that make you just a bit suspicious?"

  "I must admit it concerns me,” Declan said. “You think they're somewhere gathering fighters?"

  "The Resistance has been a thorn in the side of the Slándáil Phoiblí for nearly five years. This push for parity for humans and equal rights for women has gained strength with the populace,” Van stated. “The Have Nots want what the Haves possess and the dissatisfaction with the way the government is being run has been garnering opposition for quite some time. If you look to the history of every civilization either in our universe or in others, you'll find that eventually there will be an uprising, an overthrowing of the elite by the ordinary citizen."

  "And you think that is what is about to happen here?” Liam asked.

  "I think we may well be on our way to a revolution,” Van answered. “The rabble—as General Brennan was always so fond of labeling them—is starting to grumble about low pay and being forced into jobs they didn't choose or just plain having to do jobs our kind won't do."

  "Don't lump us in with the elite, little bro,” Liam cautioned. “The Byrnes have never been of that ilk."

  "Haven't we?” Van challenged. “I know I have. I've been just as guilty as the next wolf of using my status as a Modartha to get what I want."

  "Aye, but that's because you are a Modartha,” Patrick pointed out. “It is expected of you but Liam and Dek and I don't push our status around. At least, I don't."

  "I've no status to push around,” Declan admitted. “Not anymore."

  "Perhaps, but we're still among the elite, each of us,” Van reminded them. “We are the Haves and the humans are the Have Nots. They want what we take for granted."

  "I doubt Senator Flynn would call himself a Have Not,” Patrick commented.

  "No, but his niece was before she became my wife,” Van said. “She was a cróinéi."

  "Ugh,” Declan said with a wince. “Now that's just wrong, Vannie."

  "She was good at it,” Van said of his lady. “And it was an honorable job."

  "But touching dead things and then touching you?” Declan shuddered. “That is revolting.” His face scrunched up. “Did she smell of embalming oils?"

  "Just shut the fuck up, Dek,” Van growled and thrust himself out of the chair to pad about the room. He was keyed up and worry over Bailey was starting to get to him.

  "They are out there gathering a large force together,” the Modartha told his brothers. “I know it as surely as I'm standing here."

  "So that would rule out Tiogar,” Declan suggested. “It's mostly jungle and marshes with little ground on which to train anything."

  "True, but Madra is primarily open prairie, but there are hundreds of caves where men and equipment could be hidden, even attack ships,” Liam said. “If I was going to train an army, that's where I'd do it."

  "I've gone over the surveillance shots of Madra and didn't pick up anything out of the ordinary,” Van told him.

  "Aye, but if the personnel and ships are inside the caves, how would you know?” Patrick queried.

  "Heat signatures,” Declan spoke up.

  "And there weren't any,” Van said, still pacing.

  "Well, that's an easy thing to camouflage, little bro,” Liam said. “If they are, indeed, amassing troops and vehicles, they would have erected heat deflectors. Tappas Industries came up with a shield that when a probe scans over it, it reads cool yet there might be a hundred pulsing hearts behind the shield."

  Van stopped pacing and turned to look at his oldest brother. “You know that for a fact?"

  Liam nodded. “Remember when I flew to Gearmánach a few months ago on that press junket for Admiral Bowman? I took a tour of T.I. and one of the things I saw was the heat deflector shield."

  "Is there any way to detect where those shields might be placed?” Patrick asked.

  Liam shrugged. “Not that they mentioned, but.... “He sat forward in his chair. “What if you used a sound detector to scan the caves? There is one on the market that can pick up a fart from five miles up and not only that, it will pick up individual heart beats."

  "Sound detectors,” Van said. “Why the fuck didn't I think of that?” He hurried to the Vid-Com, shouting ‘on’ as he walked.

  "Aye, Commander?” the Vid-Com answered.

  "Get me Colonel Collin O'Rourke at the Portal Police command,” Van ordered.

  "Collin is a colonel now?” Declan asked.

  "Took over Brennan's job,” Liam explained.

  When O'Rourke's face appeared on the Vid-Com screen, Van didn't give the man a chance to greet him.

  "I need a sound scan of every inch of Madra's surface,” he declared.

  "And a merry hello to you, too, Van,” O'Rourke quipped. His eyes widened. “Is that Declan I see lurking in the background?"

  "Did you hear me?” Van asked at the same time Declan called out a greeting.

  "May I ask why?” O'Rourke asked. “Hey, Dek."

  Van waved an angry hand at his brother to shut him up. “Liam thinks they have heat deflector shields from Tappas Industries installed in the caves. I haven't found anything on the scans you sent me but if we use sound...."

  "I'm on it,” O'Rourke said and the screen went black.

  "
Nice to have friends in seats of power,” Declan commented.

  "How are you going to find your lady among hundreds, perhaps thousands in those caves, little bro?” Declan asked.

  "I'll find her,” Van said, his eyes hard. “If it's the last thing I do, I'll find her!"

  Chapter Five

  She could not force the rigidity from her body as Kona Doyle bid. He lay beside her with his fingertip tracing a slow circle around the areola of her left breast. Bare to him, she felt the heat of shame washing over her as his gaze moved over her naked body. Legally and lovingly, she belonged to Crevan Byrne—and always would. The thought of having Kona Doyle inside her was a living nightmare.

  "You aren't trying to relax, Bailey,” Kona complained. “The first few times have not been as enjoyable as they could be, and I am fast losing my patience with you. Tonight, I will have you return my advances with ones of your own."

  His words made Bailey sick to her stomach and she pushed his hand away, tried to sit up only to have him jerk her back down and cover her with his body.

  "No, milady,” he snarled. “There will be no running from me this time!"

  Before she could stop him, he had slanted his mouth over hers and though she pressed her lips tightly together to keep his tongue from penetrating, he kept stabbing it at her until she nipped at him, fully intending to bite the offensive muscle off at the root if she could. He drew back, his eyes wide, the tip of his tongue bleeding.

  "Don't!” she hissed at him.

  Kona reacted to her denial, to her rejection of him, by circling her wrists and pulling them roughly over her head. His lips skinned back over his teeth as he loomed over her.

  "He might be out of jail but my people can still get to him!” he yelled at her, his spittle spraying in her face. “By the gods, I swear to you, wench, I will have him dead before the new day dawns if you do not hold to your bargain and be more receptive of me this time!"

  "You can't force me to want you, Kona,” she said. “There is only one man I want and he will come after me."

  He was on her like a rabid dog, attempting to push his shaft into her with no regard to her lack of moisture or her willingness to take him. She fought him, bucking and twisting, but he was stronger and determined. She shrieked when he managed to penetrate her, shrieked again when he settled deep inside her.