by Meg Ripley
Charlie flicked his eyes to the rearview mirror of the van, pouring all of his energy into focusing his gaze on the two figures behind them. After a moment, he saw that Evan was right; a brown-skinned man with thick knuckles was piloting the car, and his small blonde friend was trying far too hard to look relaxed in the seat.
“Damn,” Charlie said under his breath. “They’re lions.”
“Thought so,” Evan said, and even though his words were slow and steady, Charlie knew his pulse had just accelerated. The city had somehow been closed down, their people were being terrorized, and now two strange lions were on their tail. After another second, the car dropped back and turned a corner, but both of the lions in the shuttle knew it was out of caution. Charlie had a horrible feeling in his gut about the likelihood of them meeting again. He sat back in his seat, willing the van to materialize at his and Evan’s homes. He could picture Natalie now, and the vision made his heart ache—her mane of soft, dark curls, caramel brown eyes, and the disarming smile he saw most nights in his dreams.
“We’re here,” the driver intoned a few minutes later. Charlie opened his eyes and saw that Evan was already unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding his door open.
Did I doze off? he wondered as he climbed out of the van. He slipped a twenty-dollar bill into the driver’s chubby palm and noted that he was twitchy and covered in sweat despite the air conditioning. He pulled off before Charlie could ask him if anything was alright, and he nearly called for him to come back. If the human could tell something was amiss, maybe he should just grab Natalie and pay him to keep driving until they hit the other side of the country.
Instead, Charlie nodded to Evan at the foot of his own driveway and turned to the Reynolds’ home, finally glancing at the burned-out husk his pride mate and neighbor’s garage had become. “Ariel really didn’t say anything about it?”
Evan shook his head, his dark eyes unreadable behind his lenses. “Not a thing. Mentioned having to move the car. And she never mentioned our niece getting…hurt.” Evan’s clipped tone hid the grief in that single word, and Charlie felt a wrench of pain deep inside his stomach.
“I’m sorry,” he said softy, holding one upturned palm toward his best friend’s jaw. For a moment, he was afraid the lion would turn away from the gesture, but then Evan stepped forward and bumped his cheek against Charlie’s palm, accepting the comfort he sorely needed.
“Thanks,” he said, his voice filled with pain. “I should get inside. I have a feeling I’ll see you soon?”
Charlie nodded, gazing toward the living room window of his house. “Yeah. We’ll all be seeing each other soon, I think. “
Evan flashed him a wide smile before he turned toward his house, and it was vicious, dark, and wrapped in a layer of red-hot shifter energy that Charlie would have flinched away from if he hadn’t been positive it wasn’t for him. A shiver rolled down his spine as he watched Evan’s slim, muscle-heavy form slink toward his front door; his best friend reminded him pretty often that he should be thankful he was one of the good guys.
Charlie’s heart was slamming against his ribcage as he walked swiftly up his driveway, noticing that the curtains had been pulled shut the whole time and hadn’t moved when the shuttle pulled up. The truck wasn’t outside at all, and Charlie worried briefly that Natalie wasn’t home—then the anxiety bled away, and he realized he was feeling relief at the possibility that Nat was already far away from the potentially dangerous storm brewing for them on the horizon. He hesitated as he slipped his key into the door, tension knotting his heavy bicep before turning the handle and pushing the thick oak door inward and stepping inside, closing it almost as quickly as he’d opened it.
“Nat?”
His voice echoed uncomfortably in the house, and the terse syllable hit his ears with the force of a gunshot. Something wasn’t right; as his eyes adjusted to the artificial darkness the blackout curtains provided, he realized that all the furniture in their wide living room was covered in a thick layer of dust. There were clear footprints crossing the dust on the wood floor, and some of the dirt seemed like it had been pushed around recently, but no weight had been put on the sofa, recliner, or coffee table for weeks. He called her name again and dropped his duffle bag as he crossed through the living room, shouldering through the swinging doors leading into the kitchen so fast he’d already zipped through the dining room by the time they swung closed again. The linoleum near the stove showed signs of foot traffic, and there was still a worn mat near the fridge, but otherwise, everything was bare and untouched. The chairs in the dining room were shoved under the table, and there was nothing in the cupboards. He spoke again, projecting his voice through the house without caring if any of the neighbors heard his panicked screech.
“Natalie!”
A solid thunk sounded below his feet, and Charlie froze, his breath coming hard and fast on the heels of a wave of anxiety. It sounded like someone slamming wood onto the earth beneath the floorboards. How?
“Nat?” He shouted again, feeling confusion start to mingle with the terror in his chest. Then the thunk came again, and this time, he saw a floorboard in the dining room fly a foot into the air near table before crashing back into place.
What the fuck?
Charlie dropped to his hands and knees and scrambled over to the section of floor, pressing his nose to the heavy piece of wood that he could now see was far cleaner than the rest of the space. He could smell chilly, stale air wafting up through the crack, and if he concentrated, he could hear the rattle of what had to be their old air conditioner pumping out a cool breeze. Charlie inhaled, filling his powerful lungs with as many particles as he could drag through his nose— and thought he caught a whiff of sharp, sweet smoke mixed in with the damp earth.
“Natalie,” Charlie murmured, and the board flew up again—but this time, he caught it with both hands and finally saw that it was a trapdoor with hinges buried in the wood. He propped it open and peered down as a dark brown ladder rose a few inches above the five-by-five-foot opening, trying to see down into the room that had to be twenty feet underground. His eyes adjusted quickly, and he finally saw her—bags under her warm brown eyes, lips cracked, arms skinnier than they should have been, but beaming that soul-cracking smile that was all for him. She stepped back as he launched himself down the ladder, swinging the door shut above them and plunging them into darkness as a consequence.
“Sorry!” Charlie yelped, and he felt his hands brush across his wife’s knuckles as she scrambled to turn on a lamp. His heart caught in his throat, and the startled look on Natalie’s face when the lamp flared to life told him he was already tearing up. One of her hands went to her round belly as she stepped forward and extended the other, and Charlie placed his large, callused hand on top of hers as he pressed his jaw against the warmth of her smaller palm. She smiled at him as he turned his face inward to kiss her hand, and it lit up her tired features. Natalie was a foot shorter than Charlie, so she had to crane her neck and stretch to reach his face, but when she kissed him, he felt every shred of anxiety and darkness melt away from his body at once. He slipped both of his hands to her hips as she rubbed the nape of his neck, and a crackle of warm electricity surrounded their bodies as the energy of their beasts mingled together. When he pulled back, her tawny cheeks were flushed pink, and she was breathing hard; he pulled one of her soft brown curls with his fingers as he looked around.
“So,” he said, feigning an air of detachment. “Do you come here often?”
The laughter that poured from Natalie’s lips went a long way to loosen the death grip that fear had around his throat, and he finally got a good look at the room they were standing in. It was much larger than he first realized, with several moth-eaten partitions blocking parts of the room from view. It was eight feet long at least, and about half as wide—most of the front of their house must be above them. Though the floor was purely made of earth, there were wide plastic circles covering much of its surface, and the walls had
been lined with a slick, shiny material.
“Steel,” Natalie explained. “We’re soundproof, fireproof and stormproof, and we could seal up that door as soon as we need to, easily, with the material left over.”
“Nat…how did you make this?” Charlie asked, his voice soft with wonder. He kept Natalie’s small hand in his as he walked over to the partitions to see a full-sized mattress and a small, hand-built end table holding an electric lamp and a jar of water. Further beyond, the other partition revealed a cement floor with a drain in its center and a wide shower head jutting from the wall, about six feet above it. A simple knob controlled the water, and a plain porcelain toilet was located uncomfortably close to a jet black sink made from a single chunk of onyx.
“Ariel made that,” Natalie said nervously, answering Charlie’s unspoken question. “And you can probably see the kitchen sink is made of the same material.” She put a hand on her lower back as she gestured to the end of the room, where a small electric stove stood opposite another square-ish black sink, though this one was larger than its partner. Each part of the room had at least one lamp, and there was a set of cabinets at either side. The end with the trap door also had a huge green chest against one wall that he knew normally sat in their garage and held emergency supplies; he walked over to it and lifted the heavy lid, confirming that it was filled with gauze, emergency blankets, medicine, and smaller bundles of first aid materials. Charlie was impressed that Natalie got it down here alone. Then something she’d said earlier stirred in his mind, and he turned to his wife, whose heart-shaped face was pinched with apprehension and a hint of impatience.
“You said Ariel made these sinks?” Charlie asked, and his voice was as dumbfounded as he felt. When did this happen? How could she hide this from me? What the fuck is going on?
Natalie nodded, and her brown eyes were guarded. “For her side, too,” she said slowly, and Charlie could tell she wasn’t happy with his decidedly mixed reaction.
“Her side?” he repeated numbly. “So…Ariel has a secret fallout bunker dug out underneath her house, as well? Just something you lionesses cooked up?” Charlie couldn’t keep the anger and condescension out of his tone, and his wife took note.
Natalie laughed, but it was dry and biting; Charlie hated it, but he hated feeling like a prisoner even more. “I wouldn’t call it that,” she admitted. “But yes, the Reynolds have a safe house as well, and so do the Doyles and the Li family.” Her voice was soft, but her words were steady, and when Charlie looked in her eyes, a cautionary sort of heat was waiting there. “I wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t necessary, Charles.”
Charlie straightened his back, unable to stop himself from becoming defensive. “I just wish you would have told me just what the hell was going on when this stuff started being planned, and why such drastic tactics were so necessary, Natalie.” He stepped back from her. “I come home, you look tired and beaten down, my city is deserted and looks like it’s under siege…and you expect me to be okay with all of this?”
“No,” Natalie said, though her voice was nearing a shout. She started to close the space between them, her words urgent and laced with pain. “I expect you to let me explain before you start getting all territorial in the house that we share! Did it ever occur to you, maybe while you looked at those empty streets and all that broken glass, that while you were manning a war over there I was doing the same, right here at home? That our people are under attack, and that I have been trying to stay safe while doing something about it? I’m the Matriarch of this pride, did you expect me to pussyfoot around while you were overseas and just do nothing?” She was right under his nose now, stretching to push her angry gaze against his lowered eyes. “I’m carrying our child; do you think I’m just going to sit here and stay a target?”
Charlie dropped to his knees, the back of his eyes burning with shame. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, digging his knuckles into the plastic mat beneath them. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to imply any of that. I know you were busy here. I’m just scared, but I shouldn’t put that before the issue. Please, Nat…tell me what’s going on.” He raised his eyes to hers, and was relieved to see that her expression has softened dramatically. She held her hand out to him, and he pressed his cheek into the warmth of her palm, grateful for the comfort her contact always gave him.
“Rise, love,” she said softly. “Now that you’re here, we can’t waste words. It’s time I catch you up.”
****
“One more time,” Charlie said ten minutes later. They were sitting on the soft mattress hand in hand, and Natalie had just given him a condensed rundown for the third time. After being in the marines for so long, Charlie liked having things drilled into his memory like this, and today was no different. He understood now that this was literally life and death for everyone involved.
Natalie, fortunately, was every bit the soldier he was after standing as Matriarch for ten years, since she was eighteen. She nodded patiently at his request, happy to have someone new to share this with after all these months. “After the first rash of attacks, Ariel started doing research. She noticed a pattern, and sent out requests to other prides around the country about a month after they started, once things were clearly getting worse. Most of the prides said the same thing: she was crazy for thinking there was somebody targeting lions that wasn’t already in the news, or at least known to the council. They said it was just a gang. But a handful of prides came forward, and then a few more. All in all, a couple prides in each state reported that their membership had been invaded and systematically culled until almost no one was around to breed. In addition to mutilations, they got rid of the young and tried to leave women pregnant with their own seed. Infants were smothered, toddlers kidnapped, and pregnant women had their pregnancies…forcefully terminated.” Her breath hitched in her throat, and Charlie squeezed her hand encouragingly, sending her a soothing wave of his energy that brought a rush of color to her cheeks. My brave lioness, he thought in wonder.
“Thanks, babe,” she said, shooting him a weak smile. “Anyway, after we got that information back, we only had one other usable piece from everyone: the name “Golden Claws,” and we used that to try to find out more. We knew they were trying to hit us while we were out, but not in ways that attracted too much human attention, so we started staying inside. Then they started hitting us at home. They destroyed our truck’s motor and axle, tried to burn down Ariel’s house, and broke every window they could at least once. Anyone who tried to leave town was either taken or killed, so I could only go out short distances. Ariel stopped going out at all. But as soon as we heard back from the other prides—right around the second month—we started building our safe houses because we knew they wouldn’t let us stay safe for long. Then we started sending out undercover people—individuals from other prides—to try to catch some of the gang.” Natalie sighed heavily, and her next words were laced with a bitter sort of triumph.
“We lost a lot of people, but we got more of theirs. I got one that tried to break into the house, sent a message back with him, minus a limb. The attacks slowed down. Then Ariel heard one talking on his phone behind her pottery shop, after he got sloppy on a tail, and it turned out they only had three left in the city: their leader and two other people, and we know what those two look like. One’s a short muscular man with blonde hair, and a Native guy, who must have tailed you on the way over. The one other thing we learned is that they’re targeting prides that are still matriarchal, the ones like us. They’re trying to stop us from, and I quote, ‘discovering something in ourselves.’ They also said they were waiting for you to return before they made their last move.” Natalie swallowed the lump in her throat and looked toward the end of the room holding the kitchen sink. A dark curtain was thrown over a part of the wall, and Charlie knew now that it covered a steel door that the hid the connecting tunnels between their house and the Reynolds’. “Ariel is telling Evan right now, then they’re heading over for the last leg of the plan
.”
“Which you know I don’t approve of,” Charlie said, barely containing the anger in his voice. “I don’t see why we need bait.”
“Because it will make them come to us more quickly,” Natalie said for the fourth time. “But I’ll be safe. You’re all here, and there’s only three of them. I’ll leave you all at least one.” The rage in her expression matched the viciousness of Evan’s smile earlier, and Charlie shivered at the same time he felt his heart swell. My queen.
“So, we’ll go into the main house and wait for them to realize we’re out in the open,” Charlie finished. “And they’ve always made a move each time you’re in the main house?”
“Starting two months ago, every time I open the curtains,” Natalie said. She tried to hide the fear in her eyes with a smile. “Gave me quite a workout, going up there to show myself so they wouldn’t be suspicious.”
A knock sounded at the door, and they both jumped. Natalie’s eyebrows raised, and Charlie caught the scent of fear briefly before she reigned in her pulse.
“They’re early,” she muttered as she stood up from the mattress. Her red tunic dress hid a great deal of her stomach, but she held the bottom of her bump and outlined it as she walked to pull open the door. Charlie felt love sweep over him, and his heart was suddenly very happy to be witnessing this moment. I’m a lucky man.
As the door opened, the black partition to his left side blocked part of the view, but Charlie could tell immediately that whoever had arrived wasn’t Evan or Ariel. Natalie’s face contorted with rage, and she gasped and threw one hand in front of her defensively. Charlie saw thick, razor sharp claws slide from her partially-shifted hands as she swung her other arm in a graceful, powerful upward arc, and the sound of her claws slicing through flesh rung out through the room. A spray of warm blood rained down from the body, and Charlie tried to stand, but his legs felt strangely like they were filled with lead; he couldn’t move a single muscle below his waist, now that he was actually trying to move.