by Jools Louise
“Hey there,” Sherman said gruffly, stroking a damp washcloth over Chaz’s face, kneeling beside Chaz on the floor. He ran a hand down Chaz’s back soothingly. Chaz shuddered, closing his eyes, the sickness dissipating slightly at his mate’s touch.
“I’m sorry,” he stammered, gulping back the tears that threatened. “It’s just that…”
“Feenan is one of the bastards that locked you up, isn’t he?” Sherman said intuitively. “And was involved with that cult, the Will and the Word. I read the stories about them, and know what they did. If Feenan had any part of what they were doing, it proves he was an evil son of a bitch.” Sherman turned Chaz’s face toward him and leaned in close. “That doesn’t mean that you are,” he said emphatically. “It means that despite his best efforts, you turned out to be the man he only wished he could have been.”
Chaz’s breath hitched in his throat, and bit back a sob. Feenan had done terrible things to him and David. Cal had been older, and Chaz had thought he’d escaped the horrors of what Feenan and the cult had done. To find out that Cal was also a product of their evil made Chaz want to hurt something. But all those who had been involved were all dead…only the fallout seemed never ending.
“Chaz? Are you okay, bro?” Cal asked, standing in the doorway, his eyes looking haunted. Chaz gave a low cry of despair and launched himself at his brother, holding him tightly. The pair of them held on, both trembling violently.
“I’ll let you two have a moment,” Sherman said quietly, leaving them alone.
Chaz trembled and felt the shudders running through his brother. He remembered how Cal had become a guard at Feenan’s facility to try to protect him. How Feenan must have laughed at them, knowing that he was their dad. Knowing that he had them both exactly where he wanted them…under his boot heel, at his mercy. David had been the one to kill Feenan, when the bastard had tried to go after them. David was a hero. Chaz only wished they’d let the monster suffer more before he’d died.
“We need to tell David,” Chaz said quietly, and felt Cal tense a little.
“I told him already,” he said, and eased back. He looked almost gaunt, as though he hadn’t slept in a while.
“When?” Chaz asked, startled. “Have you seen him? I thought he left town already.” David had sold his part of the auto-shop business to Aston, who was a qualified mechanic. He’d wanted to teach and had gone to college for extra training. Chaz hadn’t realized he was back.
“He did,” Cal replied, smiling slightly. “He came back a few days ago, and is out at the ranch.”
Chaz blinked, surprised that he hadn’t heard, and then felt sad that his relationship with David had gotten to the stage where they couldn’t even talk anymore. He’d thought they were okay…apparently there were still issues.
“He’s okay,” Cal said, hugging his brother again. “He just needed some time to himself, I guess. I don’t think things were going so well at the teacher training thing.”
Chaz frowned. “Really? What’s wrong? He’s been dreaming of doing that for ages.”
“He missed home,” Cal said, shrugging. “And I think there were some people there who weren’t being too kind to him.”
Chaz snarled angrily at that. “Who?”
“Bro, he’s fine. He’s deciding what to do next, that’s all. He already has an accreditation in education. He could still get involved with teaching kids, just not at a higher level, is all. I think he’s going to set up classes at the ranch, get the little ones started on a proper curriculum, especially the ones from the labs who need more structured learning. Right now, they’re driving everyone crazy.”
Chaz sagged, resting his forehead against Cal’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m reeling right now, trying to process what you told me.” He closed his eyes wearily, trying to comprehend what it all meant.
“It means that we’re still brothers,” Cal said succinctly. “The rest doesn’t matter, just like Feenan doesn’t matter.”
Chaz heard the words and relaxed suddenly. “Yeah it does,” he agreed, and then smiled. “I’m just glad I didn’t do the deed with David,” he added fervently, wrinkling his nose.
Just like that the tension dissolved, and despite what they’d just discovered, that their father was a monster, they both laughed at Chaz’s comment.
“Funny, that’s what David said,” Cal chuckled, grinning. Then he wrapped his arm around Chaz’s neck and gave him a noogie, the pair of them wrestling, laughing hysterically.
“I take it this means I don’t need to go and kill something,” Sherman drawled from the doorway.
Chaz laughed breathlessly, and lurched from Cal’s hold, stepping into Sherman’s embrace and hugging him tightly.
“Not today,” he said, sighing tremulously. The big lion shifter kissed the top of his head, purring a little. “I think I need to go and talk to David, though,” Chaz said softly.
“Clean up, then we’ll head up to the ranch,” Sherman replied. “I want to take a look at the new stadium anyway.”
“Oh, yeah, the place is coming along nicely,” Cal replied, smiling. “Most of the infrastructure is complete, just needs some cosmetic work done, and then we’re going to start the trials.”
Chaz blinked, and stared at his brother. “How do you know all that? You’ve been away for months, and you’re back a couple of weeks and have the low-down on everything. Where have I been, under a damned rock?” Chaz couldn’t believe his own ignorance.
“Sweetie, you have been a little busy getting used to having a mate, a business, and all the other shenanigans that have gone on in town in the last few months,” Sherman said drolly, yelping when Chaz pinched his nipple. He gave a low, sultry growl and kissed Chaz hungrily. “Keep that up, little mate, and we won’t get to the ranch for hours.” Then he waved good-bye to Cal, and carted Chaz off to their bedroom, a chorus of cheers following them.
Chaz panted when his mate finally released him, and had to hold onto the big lug since his legs were wobbly. He seriously considered staying in bed all day, and actually whimpered when Sherman squeezed his ass teasingly.
“Quit seducing me,” he protested, laughing helplessly when Sherman carried him through to the bathroom and lifted him into the shower, then turned the faucets on full.
“Clean up again, brush your teeth, then we’ll head on out,” was the reply, and then Chaz was left alone in the bathroom, feeling a strange mix of amusement, anger, and confusion remaining from the bombshell that had been delivered.
Sean Feenan had been his legitimate dad. The father he had always known had been a lab scientist at the facility. David was actually his cousin. Cal was his half-brother. And neither knew who their real mother was. It was barely ten in the morning, and already he was exhausted. Stripping off his sodden clothing, he allowed the hot water to soothe away some of his tension and then got ready for a ride out to Two Spirit Ranch.
Chapter Four
Sherman eyed the huge complex with interest as he ambled his bike along the road from the ranch. He’d dropped Chaz off to go and speak with David, thinking they needed to talk without him interfering. He knew enough about this area’s history to know what a bombshell it had been, to find out that the person who had been instrumental in some of the worst moments in Chaz’s younger years was actually related.
Sherman could barely remember his father, being so young when his dad had died, but he’d had his mom, and had loved her a great deal. His stepfather, Daniel, had been distant toward him, and when his mom had invited Cracker and Cracker’s sister, Squeaks, in after a fatal car crash, Daniel had become even less interested, having many rows because of it. Sherman had admired his mother for standing her ground, and wanting to help the two young teens. His stepbrother, Kaden, had been quiet, yet not unfriendly, and kind of shy. Sherman had looked out for the kid when their family had merged, knowing it must have been tough to go and live in a stranger’s house. Kaden and his father had moved in with Sherman and his mom after the marriage, and Sher
man had liked the kid.
Sherman shook himself from his thoughts of the past and returned to the present again, rolling the bike to a stop beside a tree for shade, and then dismounted.
Cal had said the sports complex was almost complete, and from what Sherman could see, there wasn’t much to finish off. He saw a crew of workers paving the walkways, others putting up signage, and another group of landscapers planting shrubs and perennials in raised planters. There was an air of anticipation about the place, and he was in awe of what had been achieved here.
The structures were large but were designed to fit in with their surroundings, complementing the environment rather than dominating it. Murals were painted on each one, depicting which sport they represented, tinted in earth tones and featuring Native American and animal themes. On the outside of the main arena was a scene, which showed three shifters racing against three humans. The shifters were shown in each stage of their transformation between animal and into human form. Another building depicted an aquatic scene, with an otter, a beaver, and an orca leaping out of the water just as a human diver did a swan dive off a high-board. Sherman eyed that painting curiously, and couldn’t remember ever hearing about any otters or beavers or whales that were shifters.
“Don’t strain yourself, buddy, it’s meant to represent the unity between animal and human kind, not a literal translation,” a dry voice said. Sherman turned and saw one of the wolverine shifters who ran the tattoo shop in Sage. The guy was of average height, kind of stocky, with a bald head, which had a short-ish ponytail sprouting from the back, dyed an iridescent purple and blue.
“Hey, Slug,” he greeted, then gave the mural another look. “You and your mates do this?” he asked, having a new respect for the wolverines. He’d met a few in the slammer, and they had a way about them…mean, usually. Slug and his mates were not that way, and were actually kind of cool…even if they had the gift of sarcasm down pat.
“Sherman, we surely did,” Slug replied, smirking slightly. He tilted his head a little, eyeing the lion shifter with a look that had Sherman tensing warily.
“What?” Sherman asked, frowning as he crossed his big arms across his chest. He felt as though he was being measured in some way.
“You haven’t entered any of the events yet, have you?” Slug drawled, his dark brown eyes glimmering with amusement.
“I’ve been a little busy since coming to town,” Sherman replied defensively, uncomfortable with the feeling.
“Yeah, having a mate can cut into your time, can’t it?” one of Slug’s mates said with a quick grin as he walked up. This guy had a long, blue plait down his back, his build slim and wiry, his head shaved on both sides to reveal a dragon tattoo on one side and a wolverine on the other.
“You’d know, Lash,” Sherman shot back, scowling a little. He absolutely knew he was about to be conned into something. “How’s that delightful little jaguar shifter?”
Lash and Slug both chuckled at the sharp, loaded question, and exchanged grins. “Ethan is just fine,” Slug retorted, tugging on his ponytail. “He keeps us…busy…too,” he added, high-fiving Lash when Sherman snorted.
“Have you met our friendly resident leopard shifter, Alfie, by any chance?” Lash asked innocently, the gleam in his amber eyes anything but.
“We’ve met, certainly,” Sherman said cautiously, preparing for the punchline he just knew was coming.
“We need another team for soccer,” Slug said, arching one eyebrow meaningfully. “I reckon, with your build, and the buddies you rode into town with, you’d be up for the challenge. We start the trials this week…if you think you won’t be too busy, that is.”
“Aston issued a challenge to the Two Spirit team, said something about needing to put some pussies in their place,” Lash chuckled, shaking his head in amused disdain.
“Yeah, what he doesn’t know is he should be worrying about more than just a bunch of washed-up old military types,” Slug added.
“Washed-up?” came an outraged voice, followed by a low growl of wounded pride.
They all turned to see Cody striding up with his mate, Thomas, in tow. Cody had a big scowl on his face, his hefty frame practically vibrating with anger. Thomas was grinning, and winked at the wolverine behind Cody’s back.
“He missed the part about the pussies,” Lash whispered, sotto voce, which had Sherman laughing aloud and Cody squaring up to him when he reached them.
“Oh, you boys are going down,” Cody snarled, cracking his knuckles. “Prison fodder and scrawny weasels against professionals…should be a short match, pipsqueaks.”
Sherman drew himself up to his full height, which matched the big jaguar shifter, and scowled at the insult. “Prison fodder?” he asked in a dangerously soft voice. “Pipsqueak?” This last was said in a roar. “Count me in, shorty,” he said, pounding his fist into his open palm menacingly. “I guess you don’t know much about survival if you think you’ll be taking me and my boys on and thinking you might win. Pussy.” He spat the last word at Cody, and heard muffled laughter from the wolverines.
Cody grinned, slapping Sherman’s shoulder. “Prepare to have your ass handed to you, stud,” he said, then stalked off with his husband. “Trials start in a week. We’ll send details to the apartment. Just make sure you have enough players…you need eleven for soccer, and if you fancy basketball or football…well, you know how that goes.”
Sherman blinked, and realized he’d just been had.
“Crap,” he said.
The wolverines laughed in delight at his reaction. “That’s exactly how we felt when they bamboozled us,” Slug said, grinning. “Cody was the same, too. None of us have escaped the trials. Should be fun.” Then the pair sauntered off, holding hands, heading toward the main arena. Sherman shook his head and followed, wondering what he was letting himself in for.
* * * *
Chaz and David sat in one of the new structures near the main ranch house. It had been converted from one of the old outbuildings that used to be a small jail. Razed to the ground, the original building had been replaced by a state of the art education center and crèche for the kids who had come to the ranch from the labs in Idaho and other facilities. Operated by the cult, the labs had created test tube shifters using DNA from all kinds of creatures. There had been infants and toddlers who had been rescued. Many had been adopted, but because of their unique heritage, people, even shifters, had been wary of taking on youngsters who were an unknown entity. The ones who remained at the ranch were those who had lingering psychological issues and needed to be monitored.
“This place is amazing,” Chaz said, in awe of the equipment that was being used here. Sensory stimulus included interactive mats on the floor, which the youngsters could lie on and create pictures if they wanted, or simply enjoy the changing colors from making different sounds. There were bubble tubes, lighted cylinders with bubbles displayed inside. Activity boards allowed the kids to play with shapes, games, and music. Sand and water equipment were placed in a separate room to keep the mess to a minimum and not interfere with other activities. Scattered around were comfy cushions and couches made of memory foam, where the little ones could rest or simply have some quiet time when they needed it. The walls were painted with brightly colored animals and birds, depicting scenes with rivers, forests, and mountains. The artwork was skillfully done, and Chaz had the feeling it was the work of the wolverines at Spirit Ink.
“I did some research into children with PTSD and other psychological problems,” David said quietly, his eyes on the hive of activity around them. “These guys had been brought up in a completely sterile environment, experimented on many times, and have never learned how to play. They were punished for any misdemeanors and have lasting deep-seated mental trauma as a result. All this stuff,” he waved a hand at the toys and educational displays, “is so that they can learn and play at the same time, and we can try to help them get over what happened to them, make them feel safe and secure. They get to socialize an
d have fun at the same time.”
One little boy ran up, a big smile on his face.
“Hey, Blue,” Chaz greeted, ruffling the kid’s hair. Blue was one of Aiden and Murphy’s brood, and looked to be having a whale of a time, judging by the amount of sand and paint in his hair.
“Chaz, come play with me,” Blue pleaded, tugging on Chaz’s hand. “You haven’t been here for ages,” he said. Chaz grinned at the boy, and allowed himself to be led toward a table which had a well in the center containing sand and various scoops and buckets.
Chaz kneeled beside the small chair and watched as Blue began to carefully construct a castle with a moat around it. The four-year-old showed surprising dexterity, using the shovel to scoop out the sand, wetting it with water, and then building rough turrets.
“That’s fantastic, Blue,” Chaz praised, impressed. Blue gave him a brilliant smile in return, happy with the praise.
Chaz remembered that Blue had been one of the first to speak, and had only been given a number and not a name. Blue had chosen his own name, because it was his favorite color. It made Chaz’s heart ache to think that these little ones had only ever been considered some kind of macabre project, stem cells put together in test tubes and then reared like battery hens, in the stark confines of their cots. Chaz had seen photos of the facility in Idaho, and there had been some cots which had chicken wire across the top in case the infants tried to escape. It had been sickening to see.
“Papa Aiden says I can help him to build our new extension,” Blue said, his tongue peeping out as he concentrated on drawing some windows on his castle.