"All we saw were the tranq guns," said John-Julian, slowly. "But two shots killed the young wolf-and they shot Adam with five before he was doped enough they could bind him."
"Our metabolisms are put out of commission by the silver while this DMSO carries the drug more quickly into our blood system?" asked David. "Does that mean someone could just substitute something else for the Ketamine?"
"I'm not a doctor," I told him. "It sounded like something like that would work, though."
"Maybe that's what it sounded like to Gerry, too, and he was testing it out," said David. "With a real pack, it wouldn't have worked, but with this mix of lone wolf deviants and new wolves born of mercenaries who also have to work alone-there's no one who would feel it necessary to protect the prisoners."
That was nature's balance to the role of the dominant wolf. As strong as the instinct of wolves to follow those who were dominant, was the instinct of dominants to protect those weaker than themselves.
"All lone wolves aren't deviants," protested Connor.
David smiled. "Thank you. But werewolves need packs. It takes something stronger to keep them away. A few are like me, we hate what we are too much to live within a pack. Most of them, though, are outcasts, men the pack wouldn't accept."
His smile changed, grew bleak. "I have my pack, Connor. It's just not a pack of werewolves-" He looked at me. "I left the other members of our team with Gerry to keep an eye on the situation there. There are six of us. A small pack, but it works for me. Most wolves who live very long outside of a pack go a little crazy. Mercenaries are a little the same way. A mercenary who only works alone usually does so because no one else will work with him because he's stupid or crazy-and the stupid ones are mostly dead."
"Not someone I'd want to meet as a werewolf," I said, as my phone rang. "Excuse me a minute," I said, and fished around in my pockets for my cell, which had miraculously escaped damage.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Mercy!"
"Happy Thanksgiving, Mom," I said. "Can I call you back? I'm a little busy right now."
"Your sister has just told us she's engaged" said my mother, blithely ignoring me. So I sat and listened to her chatter about my siblings and my stepfather while three mercenaries sat in my living room and watched me.
"Mom," I said, when she showed signs of slowing down. "Mom, I have company over."
"Oh, good!" she said. "I was worried about you all alone on Thanksgiving. Is it Warren and that nice young man of his? I hope he keeps this one. Do you remember the last one? Easy on the eyes, I must say, but he wasn't someone you could have a conversation with, was he?"
"No, Mom," I said. "These are new friends. But I have to go, or they're going to feel like I'm ignoring them."
I hung up the phone gently a few minutes later.
"I forgot today was Thanksgiving," David said, but I couldn't tell if it bothered him or not.
"I've been thinking about these drug experiments, sir," said Connor. "Most men who are trying to assassinate a ruler intend to set themselves up instead."
"These are werewolves," his grandfather said. "Not humans. Gerry could never be Marrok. Oh, he's a dominant-but I doubt he'd ever be strong enough to be Alpha of any pack, let alone all the packs. He knows that."
"But does he like it?" asked Connor. "Have you watched him among his wolves? Did you notice that the mercenaries he has who are still human show signs of being dominant? He tells them that he can't risk losing them right now-but I think he's being cautious. He doesn't like it when you give his wolves orders and they obey."
"He can't change what he is," said David, but not like he was disagreeing.
"No, sir. But he has Adam under his control now, doesn't he? Between finding the right combination of drugs and Adam's daughter, he could have Adam under his control all the time."
David tilted his head, then shook it. "It wouldn't work. Not for long. An Alpha would kill himself fighting before he'd submit for very long. He'd defeat the drugs or die."
I wasn't so certain. I don't think anyone knew exactly how the drug cocktails would work-not even Gerry, who had been experimenting with new wolves and not powerful ones like Adam.
"It doesn't matter what we think. Could Gerry believe they would work on Adam?" asked John-Julian.
For some reason, they looked at me, but all I could do was shrug. "I don't know Gerry. He didn't spend much time with the pack, and he traveled a lot with his job." I hesitated. "Bran wouldn't put a stupid person in a position like that."
David nodded. "I never thought Gerry was stupid before this. But that bloodbath has had me rethinking my opinions."
"Look," I said. "I'd love to discuss Gerry, but why don't you tell me what you are doing here and what you want from me first."
"I still don't like what Bran's doing," David rumbled. "Not at all. But I like what Gerry is doing even less."
"Gerry asked us to deliver the boy's body to your doorstep," explained John-Julian. "He said that you needed a warning to stay out of wolf business. We met him back at the house he was using for headquarters and that was when we found out that he'd kidnapped Adam's daughter and left three of his wolves to die."
"You don't leave your men behind," said Connor.
"You don't attack the innocents," John-Julian told me. It sounded like a creed.
David gave me a half smile. "And, though I think Bran needs to be brought up short, only a fool would think he could get Adam to move a step he doesn't choose to. I'd leave Gerry to learn his lesson, but our honor is at stake. We don't hurt the innocents-so we're getting Adam and his daughter away tonight."
"They have Adam?" It wasn't really a surprise. What else could have kept the pack away from phones all day? It was even a relief to know because there had been a dozen other, worse things that had occurred to me.
What did come as a surprise was the door opening, though I hadn't sensed anyone on my front porch. Samuel, back in his human shape, let himself into my house. He was wearing only jeans. Even his feet were bare, and he limped a little as he came to me. "They have Adam," he confirmed.
I might not have heard him or smelled him, but David didn't look surprised. He'd made a subtle gesture that kept his men where they were-though I could see they were tense and ready to act.
"David Christiansen, meet Dr. Samuel Cornick," I said. "Samuel, this is David, Adam's old army buddy. He's here to get Adam and Jesse out."
"So I heard," Samuel said, sitting down on the couch next to my feet.
"What happened to you?" I asked.
"We got to the address we had for the other wolves and found a few signs, but nothing definite. We wandered around quite a while before Darryl realized the reason Adam wasn't recalling us from the hunt was because he was gone, along with his car. Someone saw him with a cell phone-which he didn't have when we left Warren's house. Several wolves noticed the car drive away, but no one thought to question Adam."
"Wait a minute," I said, because I was getting a very bad feeling. "Wait a minute. The vampires would have checked out the address-Bran says there's nothing more paranoid than a vampire. They'd have made certain there were wolves where they were supposed to be, don't you think? Even just to make certain that it was wolves who'd come. But when half our pack shows up, they can't find enough scent to track the others?" I looked at David. "And when Mac's body was left on my porch, I couldn't scent anyone else who shouldn't have been there-I didn't smell you." I hunched my shoulders. "I should have realized it then, shouldn't I? It's not just Gerry, is it?" I saw Samuel stiffen and remembered he hadn't known. "Gerry Wallace is working with our witch."
There were a lot of witches who could sterilize a body so that not even the keenest nose, or the best-equipped, best-trained forensics team could find a clue. But Elizaveta Arkadyevna was one of the few witches who could have removed the scent of David and his men without removing the scent of Adam's house.
"There's a Russian witch," David said.
"If the wolf packs come out into the open, witches will lose a lot of business," I said. "Staying hidden bears a high price-and the witches are some of the people who benefit. I'm not even certain it would be a breach of contract, not as long as Gerry wants to make Adam the Marrok."
"What?" Samuel's voice was so quiet it made me nervous.
"Gerry doesn't want the wolves to be made public," I explained. "He decided Adam is the only one who can prevent it-by killing Bran."
He held up a hand, his eyes cool as they watched the other men. "I think that Mr. Christiansen should tell me what he believes is happening." So Samuel could see if he was lying or not. Samuel was one of the wolves who could do that.
David knew it, too, I could see it in his smile. "Gerry Wallace told me that Bran was abandoning his people. He asked me if I would speak to Adam and see if I could get him to object."
"Meaning fight the Marrok for leadership," clarified Samuel.
"Yes. To that end he flew me and my boys out here. I was surprised at the method he chose. I would not have brought armed men to confront an Alpha in his own home-but I could not object more strongly without a fight that would have left me in charge of Gerry's wolves-and a sadder bunch of wolves you've never seen. I knew that Adam was capable of defending himself, so I went along with it."
David shrugged. "Talking to Ms. Thompson, we've pretty much decided that Gerry intended that blood be spilled because the wolves who died would have been trouble for him. I think he intended blackmail rather than talk from the beginning."
Samuel inclined his head. "He knows Adam. Adam wouldn't challenge my father-even if he disagreed with what Bran was doing. He doesn't want to be Marrok."
"He doesn't know Adam very well if he thinks he can control him by threatening his daughter," said David.
"I think you're wrong," I said. "I think Adam would do anything to save Jesse."
"You all sound as if it is a given that Adam would kill my father."
I considered that. "Gerry's the one who believes it. Maybe he intends to do something to ensure Bran's death. He still thinks that he's the only one who knows about the tranquilizers."
Samuel growled, and I patted him on the top of the head. The back of the couch wasn't as comfortable as the seat-but I liked being taller than the two werewolves. Samuel pulled my hand down to his shoulder and held it there.
"So why did you come here?" he asked David. "Couldn't you find Adam's pack?"
"I wasn't looking for the pack," David said. "Gerry's got Adam drugged to the gills. I went in to talk to him and he almost tore through his chains. From what he said, he thinks he's got a traitor in his pack-I think he's right. I suspect that's how they took him. Even so, I think the drug is making him more paranoid. Getting him out safely with his human child is going to require his cooperation.
"He doesn't trust me-and I'm sorry to say he has reason." He looked at Samuel. "I don't think he'll trust you either-not another male when his daughter is there." He turned back to me. "But you have his scent all over your van, and he has a picture of you in his bedroom."
Samuel gave me a sharp look. "In his bedroom?"
It was news to me, too. But I was more worried about Adam and Jesse than a picture.
"All right," I said. "Where are they holding him?"
With two exceptions, Samuel didn't seem to have a problem letting David make all the plans. First, Samuel insisted on calling in the wolf pack-though he agreed they were only to be backup, waiting a few minutes away. Only Darryl would know what was up, until the very last minute.
He also insisted on calling his father and telling him what we knew.
"Adam won't fight him," Samuel told David's frozen face. "I know he doesn't like coming out, but he understands my father's reasons." He sighed. "Look, none of us are happy about it, not even the Marrok. But my father has had several wolves report that one of the government agencies is threatening them with exposure if they won't cooperate."
Some expression crossed David's face too quickly for me to read, but Samuel nodded. "I wondered if someone had talked to you, too. The others were all military. We've become an open secret-and that's not safe. Frankly, I'm surprised that Bran's managed to keep us hidden this long. I thought that once the public accepted the fae they'd discover all of us."
"They didn't want to know," I said. "Most of them like their safe little world."
"What will your father do to Grandpa?" asked Connor.
Samuel raised his eyebrows. "I can't think of anything he's done wrong. He's sworn no oaths to Bran or anyone else-nor done anything to betray our secrets. Just the opposite."
My cell phone rang again-it was Bran. That werewolf was uncanny. "Mercedes, let me speak to my son."
I looked at Samuel, and said, "He's not here. I told you earlier that I haven't heard from him since last night."
"Enough games," Bran told me. "Give the phone to Samuel."
Raising my eyebrows at David Christiansen and his men, I handed the phone over and listened to Samuel explain matters. Bran had probably heard the lie in my voice when I told him Samuel wasn't here. Probably. But David, who had heard both sides of the conversation, was going to be forever convinced that the Marrok knew that Samuel was sitting beside me.
I hid my satisfaction. The more powerful the wolves believed Bran, the safer he was.
CHAPTER 14
We rode with Christiansen and his grandsons for most of the way, me as human and Samuel in wolf form. He'd shifted again at my house because other wolves can sense the change.
David dropped us off about a mile from the site with directions on how to get there. The idea was for me and Samuel to sneak up on our own. Then I'd see if I could wriggle my way through a hole in the side of the warehouse where Adam and Jesse were being kept, and Samuel would rendezvous with Adam's pack and wait until they were called in.
Adam and Jesse were being held at a tree farm, nestled in the rolling lands just south of Benton City, a small town about twenty minutes outside of Richland.
Though the tree farm was closed, there were still acres of trees unharvested. I recognized various maples and oaks as we passed, as well as a few pines.
A huge pole building, obviously the warehouse David had told me about, was nestled well behind the manufactured home. The house was boarded up, and there was a Realtor's sign beside it proudly proclaiming it SOLD.
Samuel at my side, I crouched in a ditch surrounded by a thicket of Russian olive and gave the place a good looking over. From where I sat, I couldn't see any vehicles, so they were probably all parked on the other side of the warehouse.
Christiansen had told us that the tree farm had been purchased by a local winery that intended to use the land to grow grapes. Since they wouldn't plant until the coming spring, the whole thing-house and warehouse-was supposed to be empty until then.
The Realtor's sign told me that one of Adam's wolves had indeed betrayed him and gave me a name.
I pulled out my cell phone and called Darryl's number. By this time, I had it memorized.
"Have you gotten in touch with John Cavanaugh, yet?" I asked. John Cavanaugh was one of the wolves I didn't know very well-he'd been at Warren's for our council of war.
"We haven't been able to locate him."
I heaved a sigh of relief that Darryl ignored, still lost in his irritation at not being told exactly what we were doing. He wasn't happy at having to follow Samuel's orders, either.
"As instructed, I'm not leaving messages on answering machines. That means we are going to be short a lot of people."
"I'm looking at John Cavanaugh's name on a Realtor's sign outside of the tree farm where they're holding Adam," I told him.
There was a long pause.
"I see," he said thoughtfully, and hung up. Not one for long good-byes, our Darryl, but a smart man. John Cavanaugh wouldn't be called for this rescue-or any other. Maybe it should have bothered me more that I had just signed a man's death warrant, but I'd wait and see how Adam and Jesse came out of it before I felt sorry for Cavanaugh.
Beside me, Samuel whined softly.
"All right," I told him, and began disrobing. It was cold out. Not as cold as Montana, but too chilly to do anything but fling clothes off as fast as I could-while being careful not to stick myself on the Russian-olive thorns. I folded my clothes, somewhat haphazardly, and turned off my cell phone.
"You don't have to wait for me to get in," I told him again.
He just stared at me.
I heaved a put-upon sigh, then I shifted. Delightfully warm again, I stretched, wagged my tail at Samuel, and headed out for the warehouse. It was still daylight, so I took a circuitous route to avoid being seen. I was aware of Samuel trailing me, though I never saw him. Quite impressive considering his coloring-white is good for a Montana winter, but winter in eastern Washington is usually gray and brown.
One corner of the aluminum side of the warehouse was bent up, just a little, right where Christiansen had told me it would be. I had to work at it, but I got inside at the cost of a little fur. My nose told me that another coyote and several smaller critters had used the same route within the past few months. If Gerry or one of his wolves caught my scent, hopefully they'd just think another coyote had gotten in.
The interior of the warehouse was cavernous and no warmer than it had been outside. Somehow, though Christiansen had said I wouldn't have any problem finding a place to hide, I'd expected it to be empty. Instead it was filled with hundreds, maybe thousands of crates, pallet-sized with three-foot-tall plywood sides, warped by moisture and wear. The crates were stacked three high on racks that reached to the ceiling, maybe thirty feet over my head.
The air smelled musty. As I looked around, I saw there was a sprinkler system set up and drains in the floor. It made sense, I suppose. When the warehouse was full of trees, they would have had to keep the plants moist somehow until they shipped them.
I found a stack whose bottom crate bore a sheet of paper that said "Hamamelis Virginiana-Witch Hazel 34 ." It was empty, but the astringent smell of the shrub still clung to the gray wood. I could have hidden inside the top crate, but I'd be easy to see while I was jumping in or out. Instead, I curled up on the cement between the bottom crate and the metal exterior wall, as safe as I could be under the circumstances.
The plan was for me to wait for one of David's sons to come and get me. They were going to "do the extraction" (David's words) at night, which was still a few hours away.
Gerry had been having problems with Adam. Even with the tranquilizer, they'd found that having guards in the room they were keeping him in made him too agitated. They remembered the way he'd broken through their restraints at his house, so they did their best to keep him calm: that meant most of the time he and Jesse were alone with a guard outside the room. Gerry's scent bothered Adam enough that he'd had to stay out of the warehouse entirely.
Although we weren't getting Jesse and Adam out for a few hours, I could go in with them and do my best to get Adam ready to be rescued.
We'd argued about that. David had wanted me to wait until his man was on guard duty near dusk, but I didn't want to leave Adam and Jesse alone any longer than they had to be. David thought the risk of discovery was too high.
Samuel settled the argument. "Let her go. She's going to do it anyway, and this way we can reduce the risks."
David hadn't been happy, but he'd bowed to higher authority-and better judgment. Samuel was right. I wasn't about to let Adam and Jesse wait around without protection when I could be there with them. Gerry was the only wolf who would know my scent, and he was staying away from the warehouse. All the other wolves would just assume I was a coyote, and there were lots of coyotes around.
I still had to wait for escort, though, which might be a long time coming, but it was safer than having me wander around looking for where they were hiding Adam and Jesse.
It is impossible to stay in the state of readiness while waiting motionless. Eventually I fell into a light doze that lasted for maybe an hour before the newly familiar smell of John-Julian woke me.
I crept out cautiously, but he was alone, with my pack over one shoulder. He didn't talk to me, just turned and threaded his way through the crates to a section of the warehouse that looked as though it had been offices. Like the crates, they were stacked one atop the other, three high.
He climbed the stairs to the middle tier, where the far door had a bright and shiny dead-bolt lock that made it stand out from the others. When he turned the bolt and opened the door, I darted inside and stopped.
No wonder Gerry left them with only one guard at a time. There was no chance either Jesse or Adam would escape on their own.
Jesse was lying on a bare mattress. Someone had wrapped duct tape around the lower half of her face, covering her mouth, hair, and neck. Getting it off was going to be nasty business. Handcuffs held her wrists together, and a climber's rope secured the handcuffs to the two-by-four bed frame. Her ankles were bound together and tied to the foot of the bed, making it impossible for her to do much more than wiggle.
She stared at John-Julian with dull eyes-and didn't seem to notice me at all. She was wearing pajamas, probably what she'd been wearing when they'd taken her, those soft cottony plaid things with a T-shirt top. On the white underside of her left arm was a bruise so dark it appeared black rather than purple.
Adam was seated in a chair obviously made by the same style-impaired carpenter who'd thrown together the bed frame. It was crude, made of two-by-fours and lag bolts, though I don't suppose they were worried about style. Heavy manacles, just like something you'd expect in a wax museum or medieval torture chamber-held his wrists onto the chair arms and a second set held his ankles to the chair legs. But even destroying the chair wouldn't free him because there were enough silver chains wrapped around him to have funded the local school system for a year.
"Gerry won't come here," said John-Julian to me. Adam opened his eyes, just a bare fraction, and I saw that his irises were yellow gold and blazing with rage. "His presence has the same effect on Adam that my grandfather's does. Not even the drugs are enough to keep Adam calm-so Gerry will stay away. Our man is only on guard for another five minutes. The next one is the enemy; but after that, Shawn, one of our men, takes over for a two-hour shift."
John-Julian continued giving me information I already knew, repeated to make sure I understood. "Shawn'll come in to help you as he can. The guards are supposed to stay downstairs, except when they first come on shift. But you need to leave both of them bound until Shawn takes over guard duty in case they don't. There's one guard watching the prisoners, and there are four men on patrol over the property. One of those is supposed to just walk around the outside of the warehouse. There's electricity and satellite TV in the house, so most of them are in there when they're not on duty. No one really expects Adam's pack to find them this soon, so they're not on high alert."
David's men were doing the lion's share of guarding the prisoners because Gerry didn't have many people he could trust with a helpless fifteen-year-old girl-that not being a talent much in demand in the world of crazy mercenaries and lone wolves. David said that Gerry had paid them to stay and work guard duty. Gerry seemed to believe that David wouldn't work against him as long as he was paying them.
While John-Julian was talking, I glanced around the room, which wasn't exactly bursting with places to hide. As long as they didn't come all the way in, I could conceal myself behind the door or in the big, sliding-door closet- some clichés are clichés because they work. There was no reason for the guards to search the room as long as Adam and Jesse were still there.
Jesse finally stirred as she realized he wasn't talking to her. She twisted awkwardly until she got a good look at me, then made a harsh noise behind her gag.
"Shh," he told her, then said to me. "You've got about four hours. We'll create a diversion-not my job, but you'll know it when you hear it. Your job is to get these two down the stairs and into the room nearest the big garage door. Grandpa will find you there, and we'll escort you out."
I nodded, and he set the pack he carried on the floor.
"Good luck," he said quietly, and left, locking the door behind him.
I shifted as soon as the door closed and opened the pack, pulling out underwear, a dark T-shirt, and a pair of old sweats. I dressed, put on my shoulder harness and slid my SIG into it. It was chambered and ready to go. I'd brought my foster-father's Smith & Wesson, too. It was too big for a shoulder harness, and I couldn't fire it as often, but the. 44 magnum bullets packed more punch than the 9mm. If everything went right, I wouldn't have need for either.
I heard someone coming up the stairs and realized that I hadn't heard John-Julian go down-which was pretty good for a human. Assuming that this was the new guard, I grabbed my pack and hid in the closet, the SIG back in my hand. The closet had a sliding door, but I left the side farthest from the door open, just as it had been.
I could see Jesse jerk against her ropes as someone turned the bolt and threw open the outer door.
"Hey, pretty thing," said the guard. I could smell the garlic he'd eaten recently, and something unhealthy and sour. He wasn't a werewolf, but he wasn't anyone I particularly wanted around Jesse either. "I'm here to take you to the bathroom. If you're nice to me, I'll even let you eat something. I bet you're hungry by now."
He walked over to Jesse and I had a perfect shot at his back. The temptation to take it was made stronger by the panic in Jesse's eyes and the smell of fear that washed off her.
Adam snarled, and the guard drew his gun and turned toward him. He pulled the trigger and Jesse made a horrible, disbelieving sound. I had my gun out and was tightening my own finger when I realized that the gun had made a soft pop rather than a bang-it was an air-powered tranq gun. If he'd had a werewolf's hearing, I'd have had to shoot him anyway because I couldn't help the gulp of air I'd taken when he shot Adam.
"That'll keep you for a while," he said, presumably to Adam. He holstered the gun and bent over to work on the knots at Jesse's feet. If he'd turned around, he could have seen me-just as Jesse did.
I shook my head at her and touched my eyes, then pointed at the guard. She got the point because she quit looking at me-staring fixedly at the ceiling instead.
He didn't seem to hear it, but someone was jogging up the stairs-possibly drawn by the sound of the gun's discharge, soft as it had been. The door was hanging open so the second man came right in. This one was a werewolf. I couldn't see him, but I could smell him just fine.
"Smells like animals in here," he said, in a voice that echoed in a bass so low that it sounded muffled.
At first, I was sure he was talking about me.
The guard I could see jerked around, obviously caught by surprise. If he'd shifted his eyes ten degrees, he'd have been staring right at me, but the second guard held his attention instead.
"You an animal, Jones?" the second man asked with a soft eagerness in his voice. "I am."
Jones backed up until the bed caught him behind the knees and he sat down, half on top of Jesse. I could have told him that was stupid. You don't back away from predators-it gives them the wrong idea.
When Jones didn't say anything, the werewolf laughed. "I thought the boss told you he didn't want you anywhere near this child. Am I right?"
I don't know what the werewolf was doing, but it must have been frightening because Jones was making small noises. The werewolf moved at last, a big redheaded man with a dark beard cut close to his face. He grabbed Jones, a hand on each shoulder of his shirt, and picked him up off the bed with a grunt of effort. He turned toward the door and tossed the lighter man across the room. I didn't see Jones hit the floor, but I heard him gasp.
"Go," the werewolf said.
I heard Jones scramble down the stairs, but I wasn't certain that it was an improvement. The man who was left was far more dangerous. He'd made that remark about animals. Had he scented me? Or was he just taunting Jones?
I stood motionless, except for a slight tremor I couldn't control, and tried to think good thoughts. Fear is a strong scent, and while Jesse was scared enough for the both of us, I was hoping to stay unnoticed.