“Henry, you always say that, and no, it can’t wait. You need to come home for dinner. Laylah needs you.”
“My daughter does not “need” me. She has you and Naiya to guide her. Now, if there’s nothing else, I’m leaving. I have lives to save.” A sudden long beep and empty screen greeted his words. “Must be that time of the month.” Henry returned to his work, whistling as he continued his trials.
~***~
The crash of glass breaking brought Naiya running to the kitchen. She looked at the remains of the china set and sighed. She stared at Jacques' back. “Problem?”
“He may be my friend, employer and my Alpha, but he can be such an ass!” Jacques stared at the broken plates and ran his fingers over his bald head.
“That bad, was it? Speaking of which, what exactly did he say when you called?”
“That Laylah doesn’t need him because she has us. The same nonsense he always spews to avoid the question. I’m getting real tired of it, Naiya. In all other matters, Henry charges forward, always with intent and purpose. With Laylah, it’s the opposite. He doesn’t even see how hard she’s trying to please him.”
Naiya clucked disapprovingly. “A young lady always needs her father. Henry is doing her a disservice.”
Jacques turned to Naiya. “Well, no use trying to worry about it now. Laylah needs space and time to calm down. I hate seeing her sad. It tears at my heart.”
“I know. It worries all of us. But go on now. Check security or whatever you always do. I’ve got a kitchen to clean.” Naiya pointedly looked at the smashed dishware and Jacques gave a rueful chuckle.
“Yeah, surveillance needs to be checked.” He walked out the back door, thinking about ways to help his young charge cope with the bully
~***~
Laylah sat on her bed, staring at the history text in front of her. She sighed and picked up her e-stylus to check her work. She slowly read over it, looking for errors.
In the twenty-first century, the Earth and its peoples were steadily reaching technological highs that were unheard of centuries and even decades past. Within these many nations lived those who were disturbed by such advances. While they welcomed some changes, they feared others.
Because of this fear, these individuals began to reach out across the Internet and through language barriers to come together. Not all were common men. Many came from the upper echelons of society. They all shared one ideal--a desire to preserve their heritages. There was, however, another reason some answered this call. They were a group that lived in secret, blending in with humans. But the Earth was getting too crowded for them and the desire to run free in their natural environments was strong.
And so the Weres approached their human counterparts and a bargain was struck. They pooled their assets and, with the help of covert government agencies, began building a ship to take them to the uncharted reaches of space in search of a home to call their own. Construction began on the ship, Terra Freedom, in the year 2000 on a protected and unexplored island in the Pacific.
Laylah stopped, her thoughts not on the assignment. She lay down her e-stylus and picked up a picture frame from her bed stand. Idly she traced her fingers over the glass. She remembered the day the photo was taken. It was the last time Father had done anything fun. They’d gone to West Sparks River Beach, played in the waves and built sand castles. He had carried her on his shoulders to the end of the pier and together they had watched the sun set.
Eight years old and, to her, Father had been her whole world. After that day at the beach, he’d changed, growing colder with the passing of time. It was little things at first--missing meals, breaking promises. Then it changed to outright verbal refusals to speak to her and, finally, hiding out in his lab for days and weeks at a time.
Confused, she turned to Jacques and Naiya, who became surrogate parents. And though they filled a spot in Laylah’s heart and affections, it was her father she yearned for. His approval, even some kind of acknowledgment of her presence, would have been welcome. She even entered into the genetic degree program at the academy, just like her father. Still, nothing worked and she, at last, admitted defeat.
The shrill ring of her ear comm scattered her morose thoughts. Laylah sighed, grabbed it, and hit the activate button. Before her eyes a 3-D display appeared. “Hello?”
“Hey girl! Thought I’d check on you.”
Britta’s cheerful voice made Laylah wince and she managed a weak smile for her friend’s benefit. “I’m fine, Britta. If you’re calling about my essay for Mozar, the answer is no, I haven’t started on it yet. If this is about Violet, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Not worried about the essay; that should be a breeze for a genius like you. As for Violet, I already told you what to do. Take some self-defense courses, for heaven’s sakes!”
“Oh. Uh, if it’s not either of those, what are you calling about?” Laylah was now curious.
“I’m throwing a party in two weeks and I want you to come.”
Laylah was speechless. Britta always mocked the extravagant parties the popular crowd threw, comparing the hosts of such events to peacocks with something to prove. It seemed all pretty and accessible, but, in reality, was ugly with access granted to an elite few. To hear Britta say she was having a party was mind-blowing and confusing. Was Laylah going to lose her one and only friend to life's other pursuits, just as she’d lost her father?
“Uh, hmm. Laylah? Hello!” Britta’s worried tone penetrated her thoughts.
Laylah scrambled to remember her friend's last few sentences. “Britta, I don’t know. I’m not good in social settings and besides, Dad won’t let me go. You know how he is about me doing anything fun.”
Thoughts glum, Laylah stared at the peach colored bedroom walls and wished she had a different life or different parent or something. Most people would think she was crazy, wanting some intangible thing when she was surrounded by her father’s wealth and prestige. Those two things didn’t make a person happy. All she had to do was look at herself.
“Stop being such a downer,” Britta chided. “I’ll make whatever concessions, promises and oaths I have to, but you, my best friend, will be at my party. I’m not taking no for an answer. The invite should arrive tomorrow. I expect you to R.S.V.P. immediately.”
Laylah started to protest again about the impossibility of pulling this off, but Britta interrupted her. “Not another word, Laylah. Humor me, okay? Now, I have to make some calls. Catch ya later, Chica!”
The silence of the ended call was loud in Laylah’s ears. She turned off the ear comm and put it back on the bed stand. Moody and troubled with thoughts, she stared at her three paragraphs.
“Well, better write that essay.” She grabbed the e-pen and after a moment’s hesitation, resumed writing.
~***~
Outside the mansion, past the walled-in gardens and over the wooden bridge spanning the tiny brook that ran through the grounds, stood a wolf. Even from a distance, his white shaggy fur and large size were double that of any local wildlife. The wolf walked down the bridge, lifted a leg and peed on the post. He turned his gaze to the eastern wooded area behind the Le Croix mansion.
The wolf’s ears perked up at a sound only he could detect and he scented the air for danger. His tongue lolled out and, with one last longing look at the place, he ran to the north toward civilization. The only creature to mark his passing was a tiny frog on a lily pad.
Chapter 7
Laylah woke the next morning to the smell of eggs and biscuits. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and headed for the shower. Her stomach growled at the thought of food. Any meal Naiya cooked was delicious and she couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into it.
She wasn’t a morning person, but once up she did everything at a nice, quick pace. As Laylah put on her jeans, she smiled at the tee-shirt she chose to wear. The shirt was a favorite that Britta gave her. Its saying “Keep putting off tomorrow, what you put off today” was always good for a laug
h, especially when Laylah felt down.
“Laylah, breakfast!” Naiya yelled from downstairs.
“Coming!” Laylah grabbed her backpack, brush and hair scrunchie before running down the stairs. She nearly knocked Jacques down in her dash to get to the kitchen.
“Whoa! Slow down!” he admonished.
“Sorry, Jacques!” Instead she burst through the kitchen door, startling Naiya. With a laugh Laylah dropped her backpack and sat down.
“Lord, girl, scare somebody!” Naiya shook a wooden spoon in her direction. “Sit before it gets cold.”
“Or before I get a giant plateful.” Jacques grinned as he sat down next to Laylah. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”
“Yep. I guess dreaming about Britta’s party helped.” Laylah grinned and reached for the bread basket, missing the adults exchanging glances. “I still can’t believe she wants to have one in the first place. She’s always accusing our classmates of being shallow, petty and a waste of space every time one of them throws a party. I don’t understand her reasons, but if it makes Britta happy, it can’t be a bad thing.”
“Laylah, don’t go making plans without talking to your father first. And don't forget your veggie drink.”
Naiya’s concerned look made Laylah sigh. “Okay, I won’t commit myself to going, but Britta really, really wants me to go. Father can hire a hundred bodyguards if he wants, but I have to go. How would it look if her best friend didn’t show up? Britta’s counting on me.”
Laylah made a face as she drank the veggie drink. Though she wasn't fond of it, she'd been having a veggie drink twice a week ever since she was seven years old. Naiya joked that it kept her strong, but Laylah personally thought it was another one of her father's strange orders designed to make her life miserable.
Excited by thoughts of the party, Laylah ate quickly. The party meant a shopping trip with Britta, something Laylah did mind doing because her friend would find a way to foster some uncomfortable styles on her. Laylah liked her baggy clothes. Comfort was her thing, not showing skin and wearing clothes so tight they threatened to rip if a person moved the wrong way.
Laylah helped Naiya clear the table, grabbed her backpack and followed Jacques to the limo. The ride to school was uneventful and she went inside.
Her happiness disappeared when Violet’s number one follower, Teresa, shoved her face first into a nearby locker. Laylah didn’t break anything, but it hurt enough to bring tears. This brought on taunting from Teresa and her friends who came to watch the bullying.
“Aw, look. Daddy’s rich little princess is crying. Maybe, the tears are for her face that’s now improved by that red nose. Ha, ha, she’s bawling like a baby!”
Teresa’s mocking laughter made Laylah blush and angrily she brushed away her tears. The comment upset her more than the bullying did. People who thought her father gave her everything her heart desired were all wrong. True, he gave her things, but what she wanted above all else, he denied her. All she wanted was his love. Laylah backed up two steps before fleeing from the bullies’ malicious laughter.
Chapter 8
The shabby walkway and building served as a reminder of how quickly the past could be forgotten. How ironic that this particular part of town was shown so little respect. Stefan McJeysen stared at the huge brick structure in the center of the plaza. Once upon a time, this great building had held court for saints and sinners who came through its doors.
Commonly known as the “Old Courthouse,” the once proud structure had fallen into neglect and disarray as later generations stopped caring about historic landmarks. Instead of cherishing the past, most chose to live for the moment and some nebulous future only they could dream of. It was deplorable and inexcusable, yet that was the way things were.
Stefan casually ran his fingers through his dirty blond hair and continued to muse on the places and things people had forgotten. He was getting too old to be playing Were politics. He’d lost his taste for it back in 2207. Quickly, he turned his mind away from those thoughts. He needed to focus on the here and now.
A crackle to his left made him ease his pace. He had a follower, but Stefan didn’t stop. He didn’t want his pursuer to know he was aware of being hunted. He slipped around the nearest corner and froze, using all his senses to seek out his unwelcome guest.
With a burst of speed, Stefan leapt from his hiding place and crashed into his stalker, sending them both rolling. He landed two solid punches before a throw flung him into the a nearby lamppost that buckled from the impact. Stefan came to his feet with a grunt, fists ready.
A harsh chuckle filled the air, raising Stefan’s hackles. He recognized that evil noise. “Drayden Morales! Could’ve gone another few decades without seeing your ugly face.”
“You always say such nice things, Stefan. Too bad you never learned to keep them to yourself. If you had toed the line, you would’ve been Alpha instead of that cur, Henry Le Croix.” Drayden straightened from his crouch, his seven-feet-two frame towering head and shoulders above Stefan.
“Why did you bring me here? The message was vague and delivered by a scared pup.” Stefan was in no mood for games and Drayden played dangerous ones.
“All business today, I see.” Drayden pulled a dagger from his boot and cleaned under his nails. “The Council wishes to speak with you about an assignment.”
“Uh-uh. No way. I’m not getting involved in anyone’s private little wars again. That’s how I got screwed the last time. And though I might be slow, I’m not dumb. Tell them to find another lapdog. Not interested.” Stefan pulled his baseball cap from his pocket and jammed it on his head. “I’m outta here.”
“If you won’t do it because they asked, do it for your niece.”
Drayden’s last words hit hard and Stefan pushed off the wall. His hackles raised at Drayden for playing the one trump card guaranteed to make him curious about the Council’s offer. Stefan turned his back on the other man. “Fine. I’ll come.”
“Be there tomorrow night, Stefan, don’t be late,” Drayden warned and sheathed his dagger.
“Don’t worry. I’m always on time.” Stefan threw a bitter look in Drayden’s direction before jogging away.
Chapter 9
Laylah sought refuge in the girls’ bathroom. She heard the late bell ring and groaned. Yet, she made no move from the stall she’d barricaded herself inside. Laylah hadn’t seen Britta, a first, because her best friend never missed school and always managed to save her from the bullies. Laylah tried to take steadying breaths to calm her racing heart.
Lately she noticed her panic attacks increased whenever she arrived at school. Most of them happened when Violet harassed her. Thinking of the bully made her stomach churn.
The bathroom door squeaked open, startling her. Laylah tensed, ears straining to catch the voice of the person entering. If it was one of the bullies, she had no escape. If it was a professor, she’d be in trouble. Maybe she would luck out and it could be another student at Citrus Academy.
“Laylah? Hey, are you in here?”
Hearing her best friend’s voice, Laylah let out a relieved sigh, unbolted the door and crept out. “Britta!”
She ran to her friend and hugged her. “I’m glad it’s you.”
Britta laughed and patted her on the back. “I’m glad it’s me, too, but what are you doing in here? First period has already started.” She stepped away from Laylah.
Laylah hunched in on herself at the frank gaze of her friend and tensed when Britta touched her cheek, still wet with tears.
Britta cursed and then growled, “Laylah? What happened when you got here this morning?”
Laylah flinched and tried to pull away, but found herself held in place by Britta’s sudden, tight grip on her arms.
“It’s nothing. I’m tired and cranky and I let things get to me that shouldn’t. I need to go to class.” Laylah hung her head, stared at her feet and hoped Britta would let it go. She admired her friend’s stubbornness, but not
when used on her. Britta’s probing gaze made Laylah squirm.
“All right, Chica, but this conversation is not over.” Britta let go of Laylah’s arms and stepped aside.
Laylah knew that look. Squaring her shoulders, she walked out of the bathroom with Britta right behind her. They made it a few feet down the hall before it occurred to Laylah to wonder how Britta found her in the first place. “Brit, how did you know I was in the bathroom?”
“Remember when we were little and played hide-n-seek? You always hid in the bathroom.”
“Oh.” Laylah laughed. “I forgot about that.”
“Seems you forget a lot of things, Miss Le Croix.”
Laylah knew that voice! She stumbled to a stop, eyes wide as she caught Britta’s panicked expression. They were so busted!
“When I’m speaking to you, ladies, you will show respect and face me.”
“Mr. Mozar, I can explain!” Laylah quickly faced her history teacher, hand raised in entreaty. Britta stood quietly by her side. “I was feeling sick and went to the bathroom. Britta came to check on me. Please, sir, I’m sorry. We’re on our way to class right now.”
Mozar eyed the two of them. “Get to class, now, and I won’t report you…this time.”
Laylah gaped but Britta reacted first, tugging her hand to get her moving. The last she saw of her professor, he was heading toward the teachers’ lounge.
“Whew, that was close!” Britta giggled.
After a moment, so did Laylah.
Chapter 10
The red, two-seater car with the top down sped along the highway. Traffic along D-7 was light and that was the way Zina McFin liked it. The feel of the wind ruffling her hair reminded her of the runs she took in the forest as a wolf. The memory of the prickling of grass under her paws, the stirring of fur from a breeze and the scents of the animals she hunted made her grin.
Of course, none of it would matter if she didn’t finish what she started thirteen years ago. Henry Le Croix had never stopped craving human approval nor their wealth. His quick mind, much sought after inventions, and cutthroat Alpha mentality made him a hot commodity to half of the Were community. The rest, the group Zina traveled to see, vilified him.
Werelove #1: Dusk Conspiracy Page 3