Alfa Blood Box Set

by Mac Flynn

  I leaned toward him and frowned. "Did you look at the same message I saw?" I asked him.

  Alistair smiled. "Yes, but I have training to notice when a message is more than it appears," he told me.

  "Uh-huh, so is Prat the guy's real name?" I wondered.

  "Prat is probably short for Protector," he replied.

  "And what about the latter part of the message?" Luke inquired.

  "In reference to his mission which we read from the fake message sent in Miss Stacy's name," Alistair answered.

  "So that part's actually true? Those fools at Sanctuary thought I was a traitor?" Baker spoke up.

  "A traitor, but to their cause," Luke corrected him. He turned back to Alistair. "Am I right when I say asking for further instructions tells us Prat didn't find anything he thought was suspicious?"

  "You would not be very wrong, sir," Alistair agreed.

  "So wait a minute," I spoke up. "Simpling sends this Protector to see if he finds any signs that Baker's up to something and doesn't find anything. The guy sends the message, then a few days later he gets bumped off by the guys who bumped themselves off. Is that what happened?"

  "You would not be very wrong, miss," Alistair agreed with a teasing smile on his face.

  "All right, now that we're all on the same page, what now? We've got a corpse probably killed by Lance who was sent here by Simpling to find out if Baker was a traitor."

  "And we have the three who tried to kill us," Luke reminded me.

  I cringed. "The bodies are really stacking up," I muttered.

  "And so are the questions," Baker added.

  I sighed and leaned my head against Luke's shoulder. "I hope we find some answers at Stacy's place or these questions are going to bury us before Lance does."

  10

  The train ride to Bolton was uneventful but for a brief stop at the border between Baker and Stevens' regions. The train stopped so unexpectedly that I sailed across the car and into Alistair's arms. Luke and Baker shot out of their seats, opened the windows and stuck their heads out. I heard commotions in the other cars and outside. "What's going on?" I asked the guys.

  "There are several men at the head of the train talking to the engineer," Luke told me.

  I gulped. "Protectors?" I squeaked out.

  Baker shook his head. "Worse. Lance's men."

  "How can you tell?" I inquired.

  "They're wearing the red armbands and yelling orders. Nobody's as loud as his men," he replied.

  Sure enough the commotion at the head of the train grew louder, and the two men ducked back in. They shut the windows and the curtains, but my deft ears picked up on footsteps outside on the gravel that ran under the tracks. I held my breath and felt Alistair tense underneath me.

  "I'm not gonna let you on my train!" we heard a man refuse. I guessed it was the engineer.

  "It's orders from the High Lord. We search all the trains looking for signs of treason," a calm, gruff voice replied.

  "Lemme see your order!" the engineer demanded. There was the sound of paper and a moment of silence. Then a whisper of a curse and I heard someone spit on the ground. "That's what I think of your protection. It's a racket to bother us good folks, that's what it is!"

  "I don't care what you think it is, old man. We're searching this train as we're searching all the others," the other man argued.

  The heavy boot steps jumped onto the train at both ends, and I wrinkled my nose when the smell of tobacco and smoke filled the halls. Whoever was boarding us opened all the compartments one by one, at least judging by the angry voices that followed the opening of doors. Alistair stood and handed me off to Luke while he and Baker took spots on either side of the door. They snuck glances out the closed shades. "There's two teams of four guys coming at us. One of them is two compartments down and the other is six," Baker whispered.

  "Don't start a fight until we're sure they're here for us," Luke advised them.

  "What other reason would they be for doing train searches along the border?" Baker countered. He shut his mouth and Alistair stiffened as the boot sounds stopped outside the neighboring compartment. It was empty and they moved on to us. Luke hastily stuffed our bag of disguises behind him and under the seat out of clear sight.

  There was a loud knock on the door, and Alistair looked to Luke. He nodded, so the servant opened it and stepped back. In the doorway stood an unshaven man in clothes dingier than ours and with a cheek full of tobacco. Behind him were the three other goons, dressed in similar attire and few of them sporting a speck of clean skin. He grinned at me and I saw the brown stains on his teeth. "Good morning to you all. We're just here for some inspecting, so if you don't mind could you hand over any luggage you have?"

  "We do mind, and we don't have any luggage," Luke replied.

  The dirty man's face fell and his eyes narrowed as he looked at Luke. "I don't care if you do mind. We need to search your compartment and your luggage, so get out."

  "Under what authority?" Luke argued.

  "Under the authority of the High Lord. If you don't believe me, then read this." The man pulled a piece of paper from his coat and Luke took it in his hands. He perused the contents, scowled, and looked up at the now-grinning stranger. The man wagged his eyebrows. "Now are you going to cooperate?"

  "No. This is a violation as our rights as werewolf citizens." Luke crumpled the order and tossed it back at the man. The man's mouth dropped open and clumsily caught the ball of paper.

  "Y-you can't refuse the High Lord's orders!" he stuttered.

  "I can if his order violates our rights without a calling to order of the lords of the regions," Luke replied. "Now get off this train before we start telling the other passengers what you're doing is illegal." Luke nodded at Alistair, who pushed the man out of the room and shut the door in his face.

  I was almost as flabbergasted as the stranger. "Are we really allowed to do that?" I asked him.

  "Under the werewolf code, yes," he told me. "We have as much right as citizens of any free state, and no executive decision can limit those rights without a vote being cast by the lords." He looked to Baker, and his lips twitched in amusement. "You recall voting on anything like that?"

  Baker smirked. "Only if I was drunk at the time, and I don't drink."

  Luke plopped himself down on the seat and his disgust showed on his face. "Then we still have our rights against unreasonable searches and seizures, and that was the most unreasonable I've ever seen." The commotion in the halls was dying down and, against what I feared, the men didn't come charging in to cause any more trouble. They probably thought we were more trouble than it was worth.

  "What did that order say, Laughton?" Baker asked Luke.

  "It said the bearer of the letter had the right to search any train, vehicle, or foot traveler traveling between regions."

  Baker's eyes widened, and even Alistair looked shocked. "What?" Baker exclaimed. "Those idiots are searching everybody who's stepping foot in another region? What are they trying to do, kill trade?"

  "They're trying to keep tallies on everyone probably so when they go to the next step of their plan they won't be taken by surprise by an organized rebellion against their decision," Luke replied.

  "So they're trying to stop people from talking to each other?" I guessed.

  "Yes. In our world nothing is more valuable than word-of-mouth information, and they have a good control of it by controlling the movements of the people," he told me.

  Baker growled and sat down in his seat. "So how are we supposed to go sneaking into Mullen's region without someone noticing us and discovering who we are?" he wondered.

  "We'll leave that to Stacy to figure out. She knows her region's borders better than any of us," Luke suggested.

  "But what if those guys did something to her?" I pointed out.

  Luke shook his head. "I doubt they would have gone to such drastic measures, at least not yet. If they were powerful enough to kidnap or kill her then they wouldn't have s
ent the false message. They would have sent a ransom or a threatening note."

  "That's a lot of speculation," Baker spoke up. "What if you're wrong?"

  "Then we'll find out when we reach her apartment," Luke replied.

  A few minutes later the train resumed its journey, and the rails took us from the farmlands to a region of small towns and large factories. Warehouses replaced farmhouses and parking lots took the places of fields. There were more stations along this part of the tracks, and we stopped several times to let people on and off.

  We reached our destination at nightfall. I glanced out the window at a city of bright lights and honking horns. Skyscrapers fifty stories tall towered over the tiny railroad tracks and blocked out the stars with their shimmering office lights. People walked along sidewalks amid flashing lights and advertisements for products that they didn't need but couldn't live without. This was the world I knew, and yet I didn't. My old world didn't have people playfully racing the train as werewolves, or strangers trying to kill me at every new and old place I traveled to. I also didn't recognize a lot of the products such as dog biscuits for children and designer dog collars, but I did see a large electronic billboard on one of the taller skyscrapers that advertised the chemical cleaner we needed to look into.

  "This is a manufacturing place?" I asked my friends.

  "And one of the largest cities in the regions," Luke added. "The manufacturing jobs pay high-dollar, so a lot of commodities from other regions are shipped here and sold to the workers."

  "Their gluttons for our wheat," Baker chimed in.

  "And you know how to get to Stacy's apartment, and aren't just going to use your sniffer to get us lost?" I asked Luke.

  He chuckled and pulled out a slip of paper from our spare-clothes bag. "She was kind enough to give me directions while we were at Sanctuary. We won't get lost with this, or thankfully have to use our noses. I doubt I could pick up her scent even if we passed by her apartment building."

  I sniffed the air and wrinkled my nose. It smelled of sweat, metal, and car exhaust. I plugged my nose and gagged. "I can smell what you mean. How can anyone live here?" I wondered.

  "Their noses are less acute than those in the country. In a scent race, they would lose," Luke told me.

  The view from our train disappeared when the rails dipped into the earth. We rode into a subway station of white tiles and graffiti-covered walls. It was just like my old home, but with a few children racing around at speeds that broke city vehicle speed limits. The train stopped, we got off, and I slipped my hand into Luke's own fingers. He looked at me with a concerned expression, and I leaned in close so he could hear my whispering voice. "Are all these people werewolves?" I asked him.

  "Most of them, but there are a few humans who trade here," he whispered back. He scrutinized my pale face. "Nervous?" he asked me.

  I nodded. "I didn't know there were so many werewolves," I replied. Werewolves were a whole civilization unto themselves and a force to be reckoned with if a war ever happened between them and humans.

  He smiled and gave my hand a squeeze. "They won't bite. Well, at least not most of them," he teased me.

  A sly smile slipped onto my own face. "It's not that I'm worried about. I just don't want to catch any fleas," I told him.

  Luke cringed. "Good point. Let's get through here quickly."

  I blinked as he pulled me through the crowds with Alistair and Baker bringing up the rear. "You mean they really have fleas?" I asked him.

  "No sense taking chances," he replied.

  I rolled my eyes, but was glad for the hurry. The air in the subway was hot, smelly, and stuffy. The air upside was just a little better, and I felt like I was back in my element as cars whizzed by and people strolled past wearing clothes I used to wear. Alistair and Baker now looked like the fish out of water, and Luke also looked a little unsure of himself. His eyes dodged around us, and he looked constantly from the piece of paper to the street signs. I softly elbowed him in the ribs and held out my hand. "Fork it over before you get us lost," I commanded him.

  "But you've never been here before," he pointed out.

  "Have you?"

  "Once. A few years ago."

  "Uh-huh, fork over the directions." He reluctantly handed over the paper, and I read the directions. They started from the station and proceeded into the depths of the city to a low-numbered street. "Must be a nice apartment," I commented.

  "Stacy likes the nice things," he reminded me.

  I spotted the first corner we needed to reach and smiled at my group of followers. "Well, let's get going."

  11

  I led my small troupe through the maze of sidewalks, streets, alleys, dead-end roads, and boardwalks to Stacy's apartment building. As I thought, she lived on one of the uptown streets where the roads were clean and large trees shaded the sidewalks. She resided on the fourth floor, or rather had the whole floor to herself, so Luke and I walked up the stoop and buzzed her number. We didn't get an answer, and the lights weren't on in her apartment.

  "We can't stay here too long," Baker spoke up. His eyes darted over the surroundings and his nose flared as he sniffed the area. "If this friend of yours is really in trouble then we're probably being watched."

  "We could go to her father's house if I knew the address," Luke suggested.

  "I have it memorized, sir, but I don't have directions," Alistair told him.

  Baker threw up his arms. "That's helpful. We have an address we can't hope to reach in a city large enough to fill a small county."

  I glanced around the street and my face lit up when I saw a familiar yellow cab. "Anybody got any money?" I asked them. My mouth dropped open when all three men pulled out wads of cash. "When were you guys going to tell me about that?"

  "When we were safely away from danger to our pocketbooks," Luke teased.

  "Uh-huh, well, one of you gentlemen can pay our way to Stacy's dad's house." I led them to the cab and looked in through the open front passenger window. "Mind giving us a-" The words died in my throat when I noticed the man had a red armband over his sleeve.

  The cabbie frowned. "You want a ride or not?"

  "Um, not." I pulled my head out and herded the men away from the vehicle.

  Baker wasn't too happy to be stuck on the streets. "What's the problem? What's wrong with that cab?" Baker growled.

  "You wouldn't like the color interior. A terrible shade of red," I whispered with an emphasis on the color.

  Once we were out of hearing range Luke glanced behind me and frowned when his eyes caught sight of the cabbie's accessory. "I see what you mean. It seems Lance's influence has reached this far."

  Baker shrugged. "That doesn't mean anything to us. We just need to get to that house," he argued.

  Luke shook his head. "It means plenty if the group demands more from them than that they wear the armband. They could be informants. We'll follow Becky's advice about using that cab, but take a different one."

  We strolled down the street into the busier commercial sections of the city in search of our cab. Now that I was on the lookout for loyalty colors, I noticed dozens of people with the green and red armbands. We found another cabbie who didn't have an armband and he drove us to the address in Alistair's head. Good thing for the car, too, because the house was at the far end of the city in an old-fashioned neighborhood complete with circular park and street lamps that looked like somebody had come around and lit them.

  Lord Stevens house was a three-floor mansion with an iron gate to keep out unwanted solicitors and family members. A short wall of stone surrounded the grounds, and those covered a couple of acres. The yard was hidden from view of the sidewalk by a thick growth of lilac bushes. The house itself was a replica of an English manor house with tall, narrow windows and a steep-sloped roof. We stepped out of the cab and up to a buzzer outside the gate.

  Luke rang the buzzer, and a gruff male voice answered. "Yes?"

  "We'd like to speak with Miss Stacy Stevens," Luke
replied.

  "She's not having visitors at the moment, so leave" the voice ordered.

  "She'll have us. If you'd just tell her Laughing is here she'll know who you're meaning," Luke insisted.

  Baker rolled his eyes and I snorted. "Laughing?" I repeated.

  "A nickname," he whispered.

  The voice wasn't laughing. "I told you before, she isn't seeing anyone right-"

  "Paul, what in the world do you think you're doing?" a womanly voice spoke up through the intercom.

  "Stacy!" Luke and I yelled in unison.

  "Luke? Becky? What are you two doing outside?" she asked us.

  "Could we explain that on the other side of the gate?" Luke pleaded.

  "Oh, yes, of course." There was a pause and then the gate opened. "I'll meet you at the front door. Just follow the driveway."

  We stepped inside and the gate shut behind us with a loud, ominous clang. Luke led the way up the drive to the porch that held the front doors. The entrance opened and Stacy hurried out with a smile on her face. "You're a sight for sore eyes," she greeted us as she flung her arms around Luke's neck. I unconsciously growled at the action, but caught myself when Stacy looked to me in surprise. She grinned and slipped off Luke. "You've changed. Has Luke here finally been teaching you everything about being a werewolf."

  "Mostly about what we eat, but he's trying," I told her.

  "Small chat for later. Can we get inside?" Luke requested.

  "Only if you say please," Stacy teased. He frowned, and she sighed. "All right, follow me." She led us inside and we found ourselves in a large entrance hall with archways to the left and right leading off to hallways and rooms. In front of us was a large staircase that led up to the other floors. I sniffed the air and frowned. There was a scent of dried blood that was oddly familiar. I noticed Luke's nostrils' flared and he frowned, too.

  Stacy turned to us with a sheepish smile on her face. "I'm afraid-" We heard someone yelling loudly down the hall, and Stacy winced. "-you didn't exactly come at a good time," she finished.

  A door flew open down the hall in front of us and a man scuttled backwards into the passage. "I-I'm only the messenger, my lord! I don't make the decisions!"