Raising Wolves

by Preston Walker

  "S.H.D.?" Bates exploded. "What the hell were they doing there?"

  "Didn't you send them?" Jeffery asked, confused.

  "No, I damn well didn't! I sent Angelica and Abby down; they made it there two hours ago and found the place stripped and sealed!"

  "Oh."

  "Yeah, oh! Who else did you tell about this?"

  "Nobody," Jeffery said. "I swear, I called it in. That's all."

  "Did you tell Sarah to call them?"

  "No, I didn't even tell her that we had a body. I followed protocol to the letter, sir."

  Bates inhaled sharply, and Jeffery could almost see the cigarette pinched between his fingers and the smoke curling out of his nostrils.

  "Right," Bates said, sharply. "This is need-to-know information, and apparently, you need to know. S.H.D. is leaking like a damn colander. It came to Steel's attention two weeks ago that people had been calling in bodies which don't make it into the record. Someone at S.H.D has been cleaning up messes and destroying the evidence."

  "Shit," Jeffery cursed, the word slipping out before he could edit it.

  "Yeah."

  Jeffery heard the excited babble of a child coming closer to his hiding spot.

  "Red," he said, shortly.

  Bates went silent at once. Jeffery knew he would stay that way until he gave him the green light. It was protocol; the word alone stopped all conversation in its tracks, allowing operatives to maintain their secrets or cover, whichever was necessary in the moment. The child's voice moved past him, then he heard the truck door open and close. He held his breath. If he were in the man's shoes, he would be checking the trailer next. To his relief, the truck started a moment later, and they were moving. He didn't worry about being heard over the sound of the engine, but the momentary rush of adrenaline had left him shaky.

  "Shit," Moranis said, rubbing a hand across his aching eyes.

  He missed his glasses already.

  "Did you give them everything?" Bates asked, sharply.

  Jeffery paused before answering. He didn't know who to trust anymore. April had been hiding shifters, the S.H.D. was working off the books and the head physician had been complicit in all of it; he'd worked with Bates for years, but how could he be sure that he was trustworthy?

  "Jeffery," Bates said, sounding desperate. "Tell me you kept something back. Please."

  It was that last word that did it. Bates rarely said please, and he never, ever begged. If he was begging now, the situation had to be as bad as he said.

  "I have the flash drive," he said. "I gave them the paper files, but I have the flash drive."

  "Thank God," Bates said, letting out a breath. "What's your situation right now?"

  "I'm hiding in a camper on the back of a pickup truck. Princess Darla and a man who might be her missing parent are in the cab. I don't know where we're heading, but we've been on the move for three... no, two hours and some. They just stopped for lunch, and we're on the road again."

  "Location?"

  "One moment."

  Jeffery pulled up a map on his phone and waited impatiently for the GPS to lock on to his location.

  "Heading North on I-5," he said. "Looks like we just left Willow Ridge."

  "Headed home?" Bates asked, hopefully.

  "Possibly," Jeffery said, but he doubted it. "I'm not sure this guy knows where 'home' is. I didn't have much time with him, but I didn't get an immediate scent marker from him."

  "He's not human," Bates said, authoritatively. "He would have killed her by now if he was. Or vice versa. He probably masked his scent."

  "Probably," Jeffery agreed. "How often would you like me to check in?"

  "Every hour if nothing changes. Immediately if something does."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Oh, and Moranis?"

  "Yes?"

  "Don't fuck this up."

  "No, sir."

  Bates hung up and Jeffery dug the heels of his hands into his tired eyes. He needed his damn glasses. Pulling the two halves from his pocket, where he'd shoved them after the man struck him, he tried to figure out how to make them function in that condition. There was plenty of stuff in the trailer, he noticed. One of these boxes might contain tape or super glue so he began rifling through them. The truck made two more stops, but each was less than five minutes, and the man didn't check the camper either time. Jeffery was beginning to wonder just what kind of dolt was watching over Princess Darla.

  "Daddy! Park!" Darla demanded from her car seat as Jordan duct-taped the new mirror in place.

  "You just went to the play place," he reminded her.

  "Not play place! Park!"

  "They're the same, Darla. The play place is an inside park."

  "Inside park?"

  "Yeah!"

  "No inside park! Outside park!"

  "Alright, tell you what," Jordan said, testing the mirror's sturdiness. "You be good and listen to music in your car seat for a little while longer, and I'll let you play in the park until you fall asleep."

  "Dino park?" she asked, excitedly.

  Jordan winced.

  "No, baby. No dino park anymore. We're gonna find a brand new park!"

  "Not new!" she wailed. "Dino park! Dino park!"

  Jordan sighed against the guilt bubbling in his chest. She was tired, hot and bored. Her whole routine had been turned on its head, and she was one hundred percent over it. She wanted something familiar. She needed it. He wasn't sure what else to do for her though; he'd bought her water, juice and an ice cream at the gas station, which had helped for a little while. He'd picked up a mobile hot spot at the store when he purchased the mirror and the duct tape, and had been streaming cartoons for her on his laptop for the last forty-five minutes. She simply wasn't set up to handle so many hours on the road. Not counting the night before, she'd been strapped into her seat for six solid hours. The afternoon sun was beating down brutally, making everything a little too bright and much too hot. She needed shade and fresh air and security. She needed to go home.

  He glanced back at the camper. She is home, he reminded himself. He needed a plan before he went any further. Rush hour would be starting soon, and it would take anywhere from five to eight hours to get out of California. She couldn't wait that long. She was wailing wordlessly in her car seat, mourning the loss of her beloved dino park, and he couldn't bear to put her through any more of this today.

  "Alright baby, I'm gonna find us a park, okay? And you'll get to sleep in your new princess bed tonight. How does that sound?"

  "Good," she wailed through the tears, drool and snot.

  He wiped her face and kissed her head, then slid into the driver's seat. He pulled the GPS up on his phone, then attached it to the small square of Velcro on his dashboard.

  "Nearest RV park with playground," he said.

  "Nearest RV park. 18865 Beachwater Road, Moorside Washington. You are on the fastest route. You should reach your destination..."

  "Washington?" Jordan said, in disbelief. "The heck is wrong with this thing?"

  He pulled it off the dash and typed his query in manually. It worked this time, and he was given an address two blocks away. It was in the middle of the city though, and he didn't know how well she was going to behave after a day like this. He expanded the search and found a rest stop outside of city limits, nestled against the hills. It was a couple hours away, but it would be safer. He could take her for a walk in the woods and let her howl at the moon to her heart's content out there.

  "Alright baby, I found us a place," he told her. "Just hang on for a little bit longer, okay?"

  "Daddy?" she said.

  "Yes, sweetie?"

  "My butt itchy."

  "Wiggle around."

  "Still itchy!"

  "Right," he sighed. "We're about to get on the freeway, okay? Can you hold on for just a little while longer? I'll get you a treat when we stop."

  "Ice cream?"

  "You just had ice cream," he reminded her.

  "More i
ce cream!"

  It wasn't worth the battle; not today. She would be spoiled rotten after this trip, but if it meant they made it out of danger in one piece, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. In the grand scheme of things, this was just a blip on the reel. He'd die on this hill some other day.

  "Ice cream it is," he said, with a tired smile.

  She grinned back at him and wiggled uncomfortably in her seat. She must be sweaty, he realized. He turned the air conditioner up as much as he could afford to, and reached over his shoulder to spritz her with water from a spray bottle he kept in a cooler for this very reason. She giggled and sighed, then gave her Wolfie an eye-bulging squeeze. As she was sucking on her lower lip before he had managed to maneuver the truck onto the freeway, he glanced at her after he'd made it into the lane he needed, and she was blinking slowly. It wasn't long before his precious princess had drifted off to sleep. He breathed a sigh of relief and made tracks for the rest stop. He was as done with this day as she was.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Darla woke up crying, pulling at her straps and thrashing her feet.

  "Hey, Darla! We're here!" Jordan told her, raising his voice just loud enough to be heard over her wails.

  "Here?"

  "We sure are! Look at that playground!"

  He put more excitement in his voice than he felt. The playground was an old steel model with chipped paint and hard corners. If she had been an average kid, he wouldn't let her near it. He suppressed his overprotective urges though, reminding himself that her skin didn't break easily and when it did it healed at super human speeds. The sketchy playground was no match for her natural defenses. She panted and grunted, straining to free herself from her straps. If he didn't park soon, she'd shift and completely wreck the seat.

  "Give me one second, sweetie, I just need to park and then I'll let you out."

  "Hurry!"

  He pulled in beside the water and waste pumps, which were conveniently placed just across from the playground. Leaping out of the cab, he hurried around to her side, releasing her before she could do any damage. She bolted the instant her feet hit the ground, and made a beeline for the slide. He watched her carefully as he emptied one tank and filled the other. Her excess energy could have boiled the air around her. She ran and climbed and jumped and slid with more speed than should have been possible for a person her size, and he quickly scanned the rest stop to check for witnesses. There were none. This place was far enough away from cities and attractions that it wouldn't get much business, and it was far enough away from the freeway to be inconvenient for travelers. It was absolutely perfect.

  "Hey Darla!"

  "What Daddy?"

  "I'm gonna walk around and see what's here, do you want to come?"

  "No Daddy, play time," she said firmly, as she hung upside down over the swings.

  "Alright. I'll be right here, okay?"

  "'Kay Daddy."

  He walked to the end of his truck and scanned the area. No traffic, no businesses, no nothing. He walked around the edges of the parking lot, keeping half an eye on Darla as he did so. She was crawling along the monkey bars upside-down, and he had a flash of anxiety. It was silly, he knew. She was practically invincible. Still, watching her tiny little body defy gravity was enough to give him a watery stomach. He glanced away for just a second to watch a hawk dive, then turned with a smile to point it out to her but, opening his mouth to say her name, his heart stopped.

  His camper door stood wide open, and someone was running at lightning speed across the asphalt, directly at Darla.

  "Hey!" he shouted, as his feet moved.

  The person didn't respond. Darla saw him then, and screamed.

  "Stop!" Jordan bellowed.

  He wasn't stopping. Darla stood wide-eyed as the unknown man bore down on her.

  "Darla! Werewolf!"

  She cast a confused glance at him. His heart was beating fit to burst as his legs pumped across the asphalt.

  "Darla!" he shouted again, harsh and loud. "Shift!"

  Understanding lit her brown eyes, and she instantly morphed into a tiny, furious beast and snarled at the man. The man's pace faltered and slowed, and Jordan pushed himself to move faster. Before his eyes, his worst nightmare played out. The man had slowed in order to shift. A full-grown werewolf now stood between him and his daughter.

  "Not today, motherfucker," he gasped, under his breath.

  His feet left the ground as he launched his body at the beast's back, seconds before its claws closed over Darla. He tackled it to the ground, smashing its snout into the hard dirt, then yanked its arms back, rotating its shoulders as far as they would go and pinning them there with his body weight, digging his knee into the thing's lower back. He was glad for the wrestling and self-defense classes he'd taken when Darla started getting too big and vicious to manage with his Daddy skills alone. The werewolf below him yelped and writhed, and he pressed harder against its wrists.

  "Okay, okay! Uncle!" The werewolf shimmered and shifted beneath him, revealing the man he'd punched in the face that morning.

  "What the hell?!"

  "What da...."

  "Darla don't say that."

  She shut her mouth and gazed up at him. She didn't wail or cry, though he'd used a harsh tone. He looked at himself in a new light, seeing himself the way she would. Her loving, pushover Daddy, beating up someone who was just like her. He saw fear in her eyes. He pulled back just a little, just enough for the man under him to breathe freely.

  "Who are you?" he demanded.

  "My name is Nero Hunt," the man said, and Jordan pushed his arms back up and slammed his knee into the man's spine.

  "Shit, shit, what?!"

  "You're Nero Hunt? The guy who chased me out of my home is Nero Hunt? Just exactly how many Nero Hunts are there, and what the hell do you want with my daughter?"

  The man was silent for a moment and Jordan shifted his weight.

  "Ow! Shit! Let me up and we'll talk!"

  "Quit cussing! She's three!"

  "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Sh... sheesh. Get off of me."

  Jordan let him up, but put himself between the man and Darla, who immediately clung to him, hooking her tiny fist through his belt loop. The man stood and stretched, popping his spine and neck as he twisted this way and that. Jordan crossed his arms and glared, even as he watched his wiry muscles move with an appreciative eye.

  "Okay, look," the man said. "My name..."

  "If you say Nero Hunt again I swear to God I'll put you down so hard you won't get up."

  "Understood," the man said, ruefully. "No, my real name is Jeffery. Jeffery Moranis. I'm with the shifter outreach division."

  Jordan clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. The man suddenly reeked of danger, which excited the rebellious, adventurous part of Jordan's mind, while simultaneously putting his Papa Bear brain on edge.

  "I've heard of the outreach," he said. "And you'd better get the hell out of here."

  "What? Why is... what the hell is happening here?" Moranis muttered, gesturing helplessly and rubbing his hands over his face.

  Jordan watched him warily. That was not the reaction he was expecting.

  "Where did you hear about the outreach?" Moranis asked. "From Alex?"

  The name shocked Jordan, vibrating him to his core.

  "Alex who?" he asked, as neutrally as he could manage.

  "Alex Steel. Alex, the man responsible for the girl's eyes. Alex!"

  The man appeared to be in real distress. Jordan recognized that look. It was the look he'd had when he'd created a firewall that didn't seem to work no matter what he did. He eventually discovered that his client had been feeding a hacker every bit of information in order to get out of paying his bill. It was that helpless frustration that kept Jordan from pushing past the man, getting in his truck and leaving. That, and the fact that he wanted to watch him talk some more. His expressive face drew Jordan's attention in spite of himself.

  "No," Jordan said, finally
. "Alex didn't tell me anything about the outreach."

  "Who did?"

  "The man who sold me the camper," Jordan said. "He told me to put as much distance between me and your organization as I could."

  "That doesn't make any sense," Moranis groaned, shoving his hands through his hair. "Where is that coming from?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "The outreach, it's not... I don't know, whatever everybody's afraid it is, it's exactly what it sounds like. We reach out to stray shifters and give them the support they need to live their best post-turn life. Whether they want to join a pack outside human civilization or integrate into human civilization, we help them do that. Lately though, everybody's been running. Our allies are hiding records and turning up dead. You... why didn't you shift?"

  "What?"

  "When you tackled me, why didn't you shift?"

  "I'm not a shifter," Jordan said, with a disbelieving little cough.

  "You have to be," Jeffery said.

  "Why?"

  "You mated... sorry, Darla... with Alex, didn't you?"

  "Obviously."

  "Then you should have turned."

  Jordan raised an inquisitive eyebrow, and Jeffery sighed.

  "Specific bodily fluids cause the shift. Internalizing... you know... stuff? Would cause you to turn, and so would saliva in your blood stream. You should have turned."

  Jordan shifted uncomfortably. He didn't exactly feel like regaling this stranger with the specifics of his long-dead sex life; though, honestly, he wouldn't mind if the man decided to perform some necromancy on it.

  "Neither thing happened," Jordan finally said.

  "What?"

  "He was very particular."

  "No, he... wait, he was?"

  "Yes?" Jordan was growing more confused by the minute. He vividly remembered every moment he spent naked with Alex. He couldn't imagine why this guy would be arguing about it, unless... Jordan pushed the rest of that thought away. It would be too weird. The other man seemed equally confused, as if Jordan had just told him that monkeys actually evolved on shooting stars and were just dumped on earth later.

  "Daddy," Darla stage-whispered.