“Letters?” I asked again, still trying to catch my breath. In the three months I’d been in Enchanted Rock, Peter had never mentioned any letters. And Peter’s father had never told me about anything like that. Just that Peter had left and that he wasn’t ever coming back. That he’d turned his back on the old ways, and that was that.
“Is that what he told you? That I didn’t even wanted to be a wolf anymore?”
“Letters?” I asked again.
He’d finally calmed down enough to see what was happening to me. “Of course I sent you letters. I wrote to you for years, even after you never responded. I felt like I was in exile, completely cut off from my family. Cut off from you, Vanessa. I thought you were punishing me for leaving you.”
“I never received anything,” I said, my voice heavy. I took a deep breath, trying to fight back the tears I knew were threatening to come out. The last thing I wanted was for Peter to see me cry. I didn’t want him to think I was trying to manipulate him or trying to make him feel bad or twist the knife.
He looked away, licking his lips as if he was unsure of himself and choosing his words carefully. “It’s why I kept signing back up,” he said. “After the first four years of my contract, I re-upped because I figured you weren’t there waiting for me if I got out. Because, if you had been, I’d have gotten something back from you in the mail. A postcard or a picture, even.”
The tears did start to flow then. Fat, heavy tears like spring raindrops rolling down my cheeks. All these years wasted because of Peter’s bastard of a father.
“Vanessa,” he said, taking a step towards me.
I turned away, trying to hide my face. “No, don’t. Not like this.”
“Vanessa,” he said again, his voice softer as he put his arms around me, pulling me back against him.
I melted into him, my body wracked with tears. I could have had him back years ago. “I thought you’d somehow gotten over me,” I said as he kissed the top of my head. I turned and pressed my face into his chest, his smell filling my senses like he was the only thing in the whole wide world to smell—all greens and browns, the smell of forest, of exertion, of musky manliness.
“Is that why you never looked for me?” he asked, his big, rough hand soothing down my auburn hair as he cradled me against his chest. “Even after all these years?”
I nodded into his chest, his cotton tee drying my tears from my face before they could barely make their way down my cheeks.
“Why the fuck haven’t we talked about this yet?” he asked after a moment. “Why haven’t we actually started to put our cards on the table?”
I shook my head as I pulled away from him so I could look up into his eyes. “I don’t know, Peter. I don’t know why we haven’t. It just seemed like something that was going to happen, but never did.” I turned away from him and tried to wipe the tears from my eyes with the heel of my hand. “I thought your father had been telling the truth about you, but when I found your file I thought he’d been wrong. And then when I got here, I didn’t know. I just had no idea how to bring everything up. Especially since you had your own pack…”
“…And how I hadn’t come to look for you after I was out.”
“Yeah,” I said, sucking in a breath, “that too.”
“I told you about that,” he said. “They buried someone in that grave I found.”
“My sister.” I turned back to him. “I know you did. And I believe you.” I pointed to my head. “Up here. But it’s so much harder to believe it in here,” I finished, pointing to my heart.
He pressed his lips together into a thin line and shook his head. “I’m still sorry. I had no idea she’d come to join you in the pack. I couldn’t have known.”
“I know that now,” I said. “But listen, it’s just going to take time, okay?”
He nodded. “I know. Just like it’s going to take me some time to believe what you told me about Jaeger. It’s just too beyond reason, Vanessa.”
I bit my lower lip, looking away. “I know that now.” I brushed my hair back from my face, a little smile creeping onto my face. “This is all just ridiculous.”
“What is?” he asked.
“This,” I said, waving a hand around the cabin. “All of this. I feel like I’m living a goddamned soap opera, where I suddenly came back to life a season after I was killed off.”
“More like fifteen seasons,” Peter said, his own smile now growing. “And a few episodes in change.”
I laughed a little, wiping a stray tear from my eye. “Yeah. Fifteen seasons.”
Finally, we moved to the small kitchen table and talked for a long while as the rest of Peter’s pack continued to drill outside in the back.
We kept the talk small, non-combative. I needed him to trust me again. Now, more than ever, I needed him to believe in me and what I was trying to tell him about Jaeger-Tech and the abilities contained within him.
Otherwise, there was no hope for any of us.
Unfortunately, I had less time to convince Peter than I thought.
Chapter Three – The Hunters
Down a twisting and turning private road, high up in the Rocky Mountains, stood a castle.
Years and years ago, before the Great Recession, before the stock market collapse, an erstwhile billionaire had decided some years ago that he wanted to live like a true king. Not just the make-believe capitalist king that America created every now and then, but a genuine, honest-to-God king. The kind that Europe still lavished ceremonies and respect on. Not because they were richer than you or because they could make your life a living Hell, but because they were genuinely better than you.
With that in mind, he’d gone to Colorado and purchased land. Then he spent millions of dollars developing that land, making it a small fiefdom of his own. More money and time poured into the project. Slowly, so slowly, the mason walls and stone began to rise from the flattened and straightened peak until the towers of the castle seemed to stretch upwards and brush across the very vault of the heavens.
Because any king can have a crown and any queen can have a tiara. And any man can wield a scepter and pronounce himself better than the peasantry. But none of these things speak in a louder volume than the ultimate truth of royalty. A king needs a castle.
Of course, then the Great Recession happened, and everything came tumbling down. The stock market, that is. Not the walls of the great castle. Never those. Because they’d been built with real care, dedication, and craftsmanship.
Burton’s Folly, they called it. The castle in the clouds that had weakened its owner so much that the gusts of the failing economy blew him over like a feather.
Now, as the stranger looked up at the twenty-foot walls surrounding the stone keep, he simply clucked his tongue. “Silly yanks. Don’t they know it takes more than a castle to make you a king?” He looked around at the view, taking it all in—the sun drifting over the mountains, the clouds racing each other across the sky. And, just below that azure and white sky, the small burg of Enchanted Rock. Home to the shifters of Frost Security. “Nice view, though. Certainly better than the queen’s at Old B.”
The stranger could still remember the queen’s coronation, too. Not that he’d been there, of course, but he’d seen the headlines in the news at the time. The casual observer wouldn’t have thought that possible, though, from his apparent youthfulness as he strode from the Mercedes to the front gate, two black clad soldiers marching alongside him, submachine guns hanging across their chest from tactical slings.
As he approached the gate, the heavy oaken doors swung open with a groan and a creak, revealing the interior courtyard. The whole place seemed fresh and new by castle standards. But, in the stranger’s experience, anything younger than at least three decades seemed to stink of nouveau. He had to admit, though, there was still something comforting and solid about the high, stonework walls as he walked through the gatehouse. The structure could have done with a portcullis or some such, but as his eyes swept over the beauty
of the summer garden, he couldn’t help but suck in a breath at the marble sculptures of Greek gods and goddesses that were arrayed, ivy and moss and other alpine plants crawling across every surface possible.
“I assume the transmitter tower has been constructed in the rear of the facility?” the stranger asked the soldier on his left, a war-weary looking veteran with a chiseled jaw and shrapnel scars across his chin and neck.
“Jammer’s nearly finished, sir. Techs are giving us an ETA of around twenty-four hours, give or take a few.”
“Twenty-four?” the stranger asked, clucking his tongue again. He slapped his hand against his thigh, tapping out the simple beat of waltz. “That gives us one more day for preparations, then. I assume Klaus has already arrived?”
“Yes, sir, you are correct. He’s moved into the carriage house on the side of the garden.”
“Difficult even for him to find accommodations in such a place, I take it?” He gestured behind him to the gate. “Too bad they didn’t make all the doors that big.”
“Yes, sir,” the veteran replied, shifting uneasily on his feet, glancing away from the stranger’s searching eyes. “Too bad.”
“Something the matter, soldier?” the stranger asked, craning his face to the side and searching the man’s face.
“Nothing, sir.”
“Oh, come now. You can tell me. Is it about Klaus? Does he make you uneasy? Is that it?”
The soldier swallowed hard, shaking his head. “No, sir.”
“Now, now. Don’t lie. It’s all right if you’re a tad off-kilter because of Klaus. He isn’t human, after all. Well, not entirely.”
The soldier’s unease at the mention of Klaus didn’t surprise the stranger in the least. Everyone seemed to be marginally put on edge by his presence in their general vicinity. A nine-foot-tall man tended to do that to your average person. Even ones as battle-hardened as the soldiers that Jaeger-Tech employed.
The soldier swallowed hard again, opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but thought better of it.
The stranger clucked his tongue again, tapping out the beat from the waltz on his thigh.
“It’s just,” the soldier finally said, “well, sir, he’s just so huge.”
“Well, this is America. You yanks do seem to prefer everything bigger on this side of the pond.”
“But he’s German, sir.”
The stranger laughed a little, smiling broadly.
The other man withered under that smile. He may have seen war and violence, but he’d never seen a man so like death himself before.
“Don’t let Klaus hear you call him that,” the stranger said. “As far as he’s concerned, he’s the last of the Prussians. A different beast altogether. And certainly don’t call him a Nazi.”
“A Nazi, sir?”
The stranger shook his head. “He’ll rip your head right from your shoulders, soldier.” And with that, the strange, ageless man turned on his heel and walked up the stonework steps to the keep, a spritely spring in each footfall. “Now,” he said almost cheerily, “let’s see if they’ve got the examination rooms set up and ready to go.”
Behind him, both men shuddered as they watched him go, then glanced at each other. They followed the stranger up the steps and into the great stone keep of Burton’s Folly, Jaeger-Tech’s new headquarters during this operation.
Neither said another word, preferring to keep their counsel. Secretly, though, they were both just thankful that Jaeger-Tech had a great 401K and healthcare plan. Of course, nothing was really enough to put up with the crazy Brit or the gigantic German hiding in the garage.
Chapter Four – Peter
“Who wants cheese on theirs?” Richard asked, packets of cheese singles in hand as he stood next to the grill.
A resounding chorus of “me!” and “I do!” permeated the air as every member of the crowd shouted out their appreciation of cheeseburgers.
The sun had rolled down behind the mountains, plunging my little piece of the valley into darkness, but my cabin’s back deck was just coming to life with the agents of Frost Security, and their wives and significant others. And, of course, my own newly found mate, adopted daughter, and our den mother and IT girl, Genevieve and Lacy Richter.
The deck nearly sagged under the weight of all thirteen people as we crowded in around the picnic table and the small table we’d moved out from my dining room, but I knew the solid construction would stand the test of time. It would take more than all of us assembled to shake its foundations.
And, as I looked around at the assembled group, all of us laughing, smiling, and passing piles of burger patties back and forth, I knew it would take more than Jaeger-Tech to shake ours.
Beside me, Rebecca Stokes was lecturing my adopted daughter Mary Waynescott about how she needed to get on the ball with her reading assignments, that there was still a big research paper due at the end of the semester.
“And you don’t want to get behind, kiddo,” Lacy said, bumping her with her shoulder. “Believe me, I had Becks for my senior English class, and she’s tough.”
Rebecca paused just before taking another bite of her burger. “Oh come on, Lacy, you’re making me sound like a dragon lady!”
“I didn’t say you’re a dragon lady,” Lacy clarified. “I’m just saying you’re tough but fair, that’s all.”
Meanwhile, I watched Elise Moon, Jessica Long, and Ashley Maxwell talking to Vanessa about the art gallery, the Curious Turtle. Vanessa was trying to stay pleasantly engaged and give them as much of her attention as she could, but I could tell that internally her eyes were glazing over. She had the same look on her face when we were younger and I’d start to talk about football. She could nod in all the right spots and appeared interested, but I knew that deep down, she was stifling some world-class yawns.
While it was true that Vanessa was an art lover, I think she loved the theft of it more, not necessarily the sale or craft. She’d spent the last fifteen years as a cat burglar, trying to stay as below the radar as possible, moving from one country to the next as she did her own research on Jaeger-Tech and their affiliates.
At least, that’s what she’d told me when she’d first arrived in town three months ago at the wedding. Even after our heart-to-heart earlier today, I still wasn’t sure how much of what she told me I could actually trust. Everything just seemed too strange but also too neat and perfect at the same time.
Nearest to the grill, Gen Richter sat with the other three guys, telling them about some of her wild child days out in the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood of San Francisco. Young, carefree, without a care in the world. She told them about how she’d met Ken Kesey and Timothy Leary one time.
“But boys,” Gen said, smiling that warm, grandmotherly smile of hers, “those days are long behind me. Half of my stories would make your hair go white, anyways.”
I looked around, smiling a little to myself. This was the way it was supposed to be. All of us together, all of us part of a family. It’s what I’d wanted since I decided to start Frost Security with Richard. It’s what I’d wanted since the day I left the military—just a chance to rebuild a sane piece of the world for myself, something that didn’t make me cringe every time I thought of it.
Of course, it hadn’t always been like this. Instead, most weeks, one or two of us were out of town on business. Frost Security did more work than just helping out the locals of Enchanted Rock. At the prices we charged them for our assistance, we, quite frankly, had to find work elsewhere. There wasn’t enough money in the coffers to more or less give our services away each time we were needed.
That was, of course, until Vanessa came back into my life, and Jake had narrowed down that Jaeger-Tech had begun to scout us more heavily. When that happened, I put the agency on a freeze to outside contracts. As much as it might have hurt to do it, I couldn’t have my men running around all over Colorado when there was an imminent threat of attack.
And, yeah, we felt the sting. Of course we
did. But there was enough operating capital set aside in the rainy day fund to keep the lights on and keep everyone paid. Excluding myself, of course. I was living off savings for the time being while we continued to run our drills up at the safe house.
But what good would it do any of us to even have jobs if Jaeger-Tech could strike us at our weakest? When we were running around on extraneous jobs, just trying to bring in money? I still had enough money set aside from the inheritance of the Frost estate to last me and Mary a while. And, if I had to, I could foot the bill on my men’s lifestyles for a few months, too.
If it came to that, of course.
The fact that I had somehow found Vanessa along the way—or rather, that she’d found me—was just icing on the cake. Even if, right now, we weren’t seeing eye to eye. Just having her here gave me some hope that maybe, just maybe, we’d be able to come together again.
After all these damn problems with Jaeger-Tech were over we could have our fresh start. If she and I both survived it, I was going to try and rebuild my life with her. The feel of her in my arms earlier in the day had more than made up my mind on that front.
“Any of y’all need another beer?” Frank asked as he rose from the picnic table, gathering up empties in his hands.
“I could use another,” Lacy said, holding up her empty bottle for inspection. She’d just turned twenty-one a few months ago, and I could tell from the scowl on Gen’s face that her grandmother didn’t approve of any of her habits—which was rich coming from an ex free love flower child like her. Lacy must have caught the look, too, because she just winked in Gen’s direction. “Come on, Grandma. Live a little.”
Gen twisted her lips from side to side, frowning a little as she continued to glower.
“Any more wine in there?” Elise asked, rising from her own spot at the kitchen table we’d moved outside.
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