Bite Back Box Set 2

by Mark Henwick

  She had everyone’s attention.

  “If your pack is an associate of Altau, say through an agreement reached with the Altau sub-House in Albuquerque…”

  Rita’s lips pulled back in a snarl. “There’s no way we’re associated with House Romero. Or Amaral.”

  “They’re gone,” Bian said. “The new Athanate House in Albuquerque is House Trang.”

  “Since—”

  “Since today,” I said. Both Rita and Haz looked at Bian with a new level of concentration, but I sensed they wouldn’t be pushed into anything, and Zane wasn’t here anyway. “Let’s hold that for the moment. Take the pressure off and say this is just a preparatory meeting with all interested parties, including Were and Athanate.”

  Rita pondered it and nodded. “I’ll need to call Zane and update him,” she said.

  “Fine. You may want to come back with me and meet some of the Long Beach pack we captured earlier. Alex is pumping them for information to set up the meeting now, and it’ll be useful to see how they react to you.”

  Haz and Rita both agreed, and Dante took them to the next-door office to make their call. I hoped Zane didn’t mind being woken at this hour.

  Dominé congratulated Bian on her appointment. “And you must use Club Vasana as a base in Albuquerque until you’ve found your way around,” she said.

  I smirked. Bian wouldn’t let it distract her from her task, but it would be interesting if they decided to hold one of their Blood Orchid nights at the club—their name for a vampire-themed party. It made me laugh to think of her dancing her way through the horde of fake vampires, everyone else flashing their fake fangs at each other.

  Time was pressing on and we started to move as soon as Rita and Haz finished their call to Zane.

  Dominé and Dante would stay at the club until it closed just before the rest of LA woke to breakfast. The Altau guards on the door would escort them back to the house in Hollywood Hills, where we’d meet them when we were finished with the Long Beach Were.

  In short order, the rest of us met down in front of the black box truck that Rita and Haz had arrived in.

  “It is good to see you, Amber,” Rita said. “Things always happen when you’re around.”

  “Thanks. I think.”

  “But I can’t claim to miss you as much as Zane does.” Rita was laughing at Haz, who was scowling. “Yeah,” she went on. “He even sent you some presents.”

  She opened a door and reached underneath the passenger seat. She picked up a box and pulled out a small, heavy bundle, which looked as if it was wrapped in bulky, stiff cloth.

  I could smell gun oil. Zane was giving me a gun as a present?

  Rita held it in one hand and used the other to flick the folds of cloth back. Except it wasn’t a cloth, it was my battered old stockman’s coat. And inside…

  “Oh, my God,” I said. “Christmas came early.”

  She was holding my old Heckler Koch Mk23 in its shoulder holster. The one I’d lost when I’d been captured by Vega Martine’s ninja nuns at the convent outside Taos. I’d thought it was gone forever.

  I took the familiar weight on my hand, uncertain what to say. It had even been cleaned and oiled.

  “We found it when we went there to clean up. Couldn’t leave it behind.”

  I looked up. “Anything else at the convent? Wind River Were? Bodies? Prisoners?”

  “No one alive but the prisoners, and not all of them, either.” Her voice took on a snarl. “The women from Ute Mountain.”

  Who’d been kept as sex slaves by the Gold Hill pack when they destroyed the Ute Mountain pack.

  I’d done what I could to stop that when I’d been captured. But as a pack, Ute Mountain was just as bad as Gold Hill. All the Were in them, including the women, had been outcast.

  “What did you do with the survivors?” I asked, not sure I wanted the answer.

  “We didn’t kill them,” she said. “They’re on a ranch. Under observation. If they aren’t rogue, we’ll offer them a place in the pack.”

  And if not, they’d end up dead. I couldn’t really ask for more from the Albuquerque pack.

  While Rita had been talking to me, Haz had put a ramp up against the back of the van and she was wheeling a motorcycle out from the back.

  It was the Kawasaki street legal trail bike that Tullah and I had borrowed from Drake in Santa Fe.

  Haz kicked the side stand down, not at all happy about Zane’s gifts.

  Much as I enjoyed riding the Kawasaki, I wasn’t exactly happy either.

  “That’s not my motorcycle,” I said.

  “It is now,” Rita said. “Zane bought it from Drake.”

  “What? Seriously?”

  “Yup.”

  “What does Zane want? Apart from what he was trying to get last time?”

  As in, a way into my pants.

  Rita’s grin widened and Haz’s scowl deepened.

  “You’ll have to take it up with him,” Rita said.

  “What about the Hill Bitch?” Tullah and I had left my monster pickup with Drake at his works for him to make it ‘less distinctive’; which meant repairing the thousands of dents and repainting it.

  She shrugged. “Your witchy friend Tullah picked it up. I think she drove it back to Denver.”

  Despite my initial reluctance, having the Kawasaki was a bonus. It took too long to get anywhere in LA by car. The bike should be much better.

  And it wasn’t going to buy Zane’s way into my pants, if that really was his intention.

  “We should be going,” I said. “I’ll take the bike.”

  “I need to stay with you,” Yelena said immediately.

  “I’ll ride with you in your truck, if that’s okay?” Bian raised her eyebrows at Rita.

  It’d be smart if she got off to a good start with the Albuquerque Were.

  Haz was shaking her head, but Rita just waved at Bian to climb in.

  That left Vera, and the Altau patrol van we’d arrived in.

  I was worried about that, but Yelena had beaten me to it.

  “You okay driving this?” Yelena asked Vera, nodding at the van.

  “Of course. Really, Yelena, you worry so.”

  “Only about you. It’s—”

  “It’s been ages. I am healed. Thanks to you and Bian.”

  “And Naryn.”

  “Well, we’ll just skip that.”

  Yelena laughed, gave Vera a quick hug and kissed her.

  Oh, my God. I needed to reprogram my mental image of Vera.

  The sprightly Colonel’s wife in her late fifties had gone, replaced by a woman whose face and body looked more like she was in her early forties. Her gray hair showed dark roots. She was vigorous and alert. And looking younger every day.

  She was Yelena’s kin, and all that implied.

  I needed to get Colonel Laine back and overcome his phobia of being bitten.

  Another line on the to-do list.

  I checked that I had a full tank, and started the bike. Yelena slipped onto the back behind me.

  “Hold tight,” I said, and dropped the clutch.

  Chapter 27

  Getting across town on the motorcycle was much, much better than by car, even at this time of night and with the roads slick with a light rain.

  It would have been more fun if I’d been wearing a heavier jacket. As it was, I was freaking freezing by the time we’d crossed town, well ahead of the others.

  I shivered and then put the cold out of my mind. The task of getting the Were into individual associations with their local Athanate House and a group association with the new Assembly looked more and more like making a stable pyramid out of ball bearings.

  Albuquerque might be easy. At least Zane was the only alpha in town, and Bian would be more than able to…distract him. That should give me a good introduction to this league Rita was talking about. It would be run by Cameron, since he was in command of all the New Mexico Were. I’d need to meet with him soon, preferably not testi
ng dominance levels and snarling through the walls of a confessional like last time.

  Denver’s association or alliance with the Oklahoma and Kansas packs might be straightforward, through Felix.

  LA looked much harder; four alphas who didn’t work together, and we were already on the point of conflict with a couple of them.

  The other Were coalitions and the Confederation? Well, they seemed as remote as the stars in the sky.

  But Skylur was right; we needed to get them talking instead of fighting. We needed them in the Assembly. We needed a united front for Emergence.

  First steps first. A meeting with the LA Were, to get them to back off a little. Then I needed to be in Denver and Albuquerque, in short order. And somehow, in the midst of all that, I had to deal with Forsythe.

  I turned off down the riverside road to the safe house and started to pay more attention to my surroundings. And I got the first stirrings of uneasiness.

  I couldn’t pinpoint what it was. I slowed the bike all the way down and swiveled my head to look back the way we’d come. I had that freaky nightmare feeling of things that disappeared as I turned to look for them.

  Nothing. Streetlights gleamed on rainy streets, making small pools in the night. Houses sat back from the road behind a narrow sidewalk. Opposite the houses, a wall topped with iron railings ran the length of the street on the river side, the levee a looming shadow in the darkness above it. Across the river, the interstate traffic hushed liked distant surf.

  No one moved. No one seemed to be awake.

  “Why slow? Fast is fun,” Yelena said.

  “Don’t know. Something feels off.”

  “You are walking on your grave?”

  “I think you’re trying to say someone else is walking on my grave.”

  “But you are not in your grave.” She scanned the street as she spoke. “And if you were, how would you know if someone walked on it? Why would it matter?”

  “Good questions.”

  We were coming up to the safe house.

  I was thinking it would be a good idea to ride on past, when I felt something I recognized.

  All Were packs have a Call. It’s a subdued thing a lot of the time. I could barely sense the Long Beach werewolves we held prisoner. Alex and I shared a Pack Deauville Call, and there was nothing to sense on that.

  But a pack that’s hunting, they will Call.

  A couple of big motorcycles, Harleys or similar, emerged from the darkness ahead, turning lazily into the road.

  A glance back showed another three had appeared behind us.

  And I could feel that peculiar werewolf thrill of sighting prey come snaking down their Call.

  Crap.

  I skidded to a stop and we jumped off the Kawasaki.

  I felt the welcome weight of the HK in the holster, but I didn’t draw. We had to make every effort not to get into a war with the local packs.

  The bikes, all of them big cruising Harleys, came to a coordinated stop on either side of us.

  All ridden by women wrapped in Mad Max biker leathers.

  All werewolves.

  Moving purposefully but without haste, they formed a casual semicircle in front of us and stood there.

  I’d back Yelena and myself against them hand-to-hand. Hell, I’d back Yelena on her own against them. If they had guns, that might be a problem. It only takes one bullet. But, I’d still back the pair of us.

  They noticed our confidence.

  “You’re acting damn cool about this.” She was the alpha, a genuine alpha, standing in the middle of the five of them. It was too dark to make out features. Her voice seemed too light for her bulk, rich and smooth as melted chocolate.

  “I could say the same about you,” I replied.

  “Well, that may be because we’re in our territory and you’re not. Skipping over the part where we outnumber you.”

  I frowned and sniffed. It was another marque I didn’t know. “You’re not Long Beach or Pasadena,” I said. “You can’t be Redondo this far over, but I would have thought it’s a helluva stretch to call this the Heights.”

  She laughed. “Heights don’t come down here,” she said. “They have way more sense than that.”

  “Well, if we’re trespassing, we apologize,” I said. “Funny though, Long Beach didn’t mention another pack. Who are you?”

  “We call ourselves Belles.”

  I grinned despite myself. Yeah, this district was called Bell. I guess it made a kind of sense. But if Long Beach hadn’t mentioned them at all—were they outcasts?

  The leader took a couple of steps forward and sniffed the air.

  “You’re not any pack I know, but you got Long Beach in that house behind you. What you all doing here?”

  “They’re our guests at the moment. Not that they want to be. They attacked us.” She was listening, so I hurried on. “We’re acting for the local Athanate House, and all we’re trying to do is contact all the alphas in LA for a meeting.”

  “That so?”

  The alpha took another step—trying to get me to back up.

  I wasn’t going to. She was bigger than me, and confident with it, but confidence without ability and training is brittle. She was going to get a shock if she attacked.

  That attack looked more likely when I refused to give way. She had tells: her shoulders tensed; her knees bent slightly.

  My gut feeling was that she’d come at my face to try and stun me into submission.

  Submit? Not going to happen.

  My body went all loose and still, alert to every twitch and sound.

  Including the sound of the door opening behind me.

  Alex.

  He made that growl that I felt in the chest rather than heard—a sound full of threat.

  That wasn’t the main event. Not even close.

  Alex and I were alphas. I’d guess that either one of us was more dominant than the Belle alpha. Our dominance had grown since we’d become paired, and under threat, it was a case of pumping each other up and lighting the fuse.

  It wasn’t directed at me, but the wave of dominance from Alex blew through me, snatching the breath from my lungs and crashing over the Belles.

  “Oh, shit,” one of them breathed, her knees buckling.

  But their alpha refused to take a backward step. By force of will, she locked her legs and kept her head up.

  A van appeared down the street and sped up when they caught sight of us. I hoped it was Bian. Not because I wanted to win a fight, however much my wolf was spoiling for it, but because I wanted the Belle alpha to realize there was no point in trying to fight.

  This pack hadn’t even been mentioned by Long Beach. I was curious, and not least because they were all women.

  The van screeched to a halt and Bian, Rita and Haz leaped out.

  “Odds have changed,” I said, my voice rusty, “but really, honestly, all we want to do is talk to the local alphas.”

  The Belle alpha still hadn’t moved. Her pack had recovered a little, folding back into a defensive circle.

  I walked forward, despite Alex’s snarl. I held my hands open and away from my body, away from the comfort of the HK and Yelena at my shoulder.

  We locked eyes and the alpha tried to stare me down. She had way more juice than the Long Beach Were, but it wasn’t enough. After all my staring matches with Zane and Felix, she was a dewy-eyed cub.

  “My name is Amber Farrell,” I said. “House Farrell, sub-House of Altau. And co-alpha with Alex, behind me, of Pack Deauville of Denver. I ask your permission to be in your territory while we talk.”

  “It’s the frigging hybrid herself,” hissed one of her pack.

  The alpha held her hand up to silence them.

  We stood, still as carven chess pieces, while the night wind coiled around us.

  “Maybe,” the alpha said finally. She squinted at Rita and Haz, her nose flaring. “Who else am I hosting?”

  “The Albuquerque pack,” Rita said.

  “Th
at so? And you ain’t even wolf, woman. Shit, you all got stories I gotta hear.”

  She backed up a pace, tension flowing out of her. Her pack loosened up behind her, not without a couple of sighs of relief, quickly stifled.

  “Name’s Billie,” she said, and put out a hand. “Welcome to Bell.”

  I shook it.

  Her hair was cropped tight to her head, eyes deep beneath a broad forehead, strong cheekbones and a wide mouth. The distant streetlight gleamed dully on dark skin. I couldn’t make out much else in the darkness.

  “Come inside,” I said.

  “We will,” Billie replied, “if your hunk stops glaring at me like that. It’s not how a girl wants to be looked at.”

  Alex snorted and put it all away.

  I gave him a quick squeeze as we filed past. And inside, I soon found out why he wasn’t in the best of tempers.

  He’d made a deal with Horseshoe, the temporary leader of the Long Beach prisoners. Altau security had blindfolded the rest of them and delivered them back to the Long Beach area in exchange for Horseshoe cooperating with us. Except as soon as he’d gotten a call from his pack alpha that the rest were safe, Horseshoe had clammed up.

  Quite a trick, managing to be so irritating and noble at the same time. It wasn’t as if we had any intention of interfering with the local packs.

  Horseshoe registered the Belle alpha and his face went dark with anger.

  He jumped up, only to be sent crashing back to the floor by Alex.

  “You can’t talk—” he started.

  “Right. We can’t talk to her because she doesn’t exist, asshole,” I said. “Four packs, you said.”

  “They’re not a pack,” he shouted. “She’s not a real alpha.”

  “No? Looks the part to me,” I said. “Talks the talk and walks the walk.”

  Oh.

  A pulse on the Call. My comment had gotten me big bonus points from the Belles. We had ourselves a genuine sore point here.

  Billie was ignoring the Long Beach Were and looking at what Alex had been doing when we arrived. He’d pinned a huge street map to the wall and marked it up.

  The pack names had been written in approximately the right places. Alongside, we had contact info for Pasadena from the cellphones I’d taken. Alex had gotten another number when the Long Beach alpha had spoken to Horseshoe.