Cade (12 page)

“Maybe we could show them we don’t take it?”

“
Humans
are stupid,” Stephen said. His father shot him a look of admonition, but he ignored it. “Stupidity makes people do bad things. We might be physically stronger than them, but they have powerful weapons. We could lose out to them in war. They would wipe everyone out, including themselves, just so that they could win. Then where would we be?”

“So we coward to their every whim? Like slaves? Eat scraps and let them burn everything down?

“It doesn’t matter, Gemma,” her father cut in, his stern tone saying he had had enough. “This is how it is regardless of what you think of it. Now, I suggest that you go and get ready because we all have to go.”

“You’ll ask for time to find the one who did it?” Gemma needed her father’s reassurance.

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll turn them over?”

“Yes.”

“Kill them first, then.” She glanced at Stephen, and he knew what she was thinking. She was worried that Cade would get caught, implicated because of his actions. “Kill whoever it is we find. Don’t turn them over alive. Put them out in a merciful way.”

There was a long pause, and Gemma stopped breathing. “We’ll see,” Malcolm finally said. “Go get ready.”

Chapter Fifteen

It was no surprise to Stephen that Andrew Patterson was there early. He wouldn’t feel safe any other way. Arriving before the
Others
would allow him to scope the premises and set up his different lackeys with their weapons in all corners of the warehouse.
Humans
were no match for
Others
in terms of strength. The only way for them to feel they had any kind of upper hand was to scurry around with a hundred weapons. It also wasn’t a surprise that he had brought his entire little entourage with him—all of them armed, of course, and all of them ready to jump and piss in their pants if Stephen simply said boo. It was so tempting to sneak up behind them, pat them on the shoulder and wish them a good day. Of course, he knew that that would get him into more shit than it was worth, but the thought amused him nonetheless.
Humans
… fucking idiots.

Malcolm got out of his car and smoothed down his suit. Stephen wasn’t anywhere as neatly dressed as his father—jeans and a t-shirt—but he wasn’t there to make an impression. They entered the building and took their places in the front. At either side of the warehouse were the insurance people. Gemma sat behind her father. Emily, their mother, sat next to her with twelve-year-old Evie on the other side in the corner. She was reading and had headphones on. Stephen didn’t know whether he envied her ignorance to it all, or whether it worried him because she had no idea how dangerous the world really was. Gemma’s face, on the other hand, was nothing but worry, concern and anger. Oh, he had been able to feel the tension radiating from her in spades on the drive over. She had given up her protest about the boy, though, but Stephen had reassured her that their father would do the best he could.

Stephen stood beside Malcolm, both patiently waiting. Father and son stood with their hands clasped behind their backs, watching as the
Humans
filed in and took their places. Patterson was the last to enter the actual building. The coward, like them all, sent in his wife and two daughters first. One of the daughters was perhaps around the same age as Gemma, young and pretty. She sat there chewing on one of her nails and already looking terribly bored by the political crap about to start. Stephen watched her. As if sensing his eyes on her, she lifted her head and looked right at him. He couldn’t help himself, of course. He winked at her and she flushed, an instant smile spreading across her face. Her sister, who was perhaps a couple of years older, smacked her in the arm. “Don’t look at him,” she whispered. “They're dangerous. They spread diseases.” Stephen was
Other
; he heard every word. Seems their idiocy travelled down the lines, too. Never mind. She was nice to look at.

Flanked by two armed guards, Patterson took his position opposite Malcolm, clearing his throat and shuffling his papers like some important government official. Malcolm didn’t move at all.

Stephen studied Patterson. He had had the misfortune of meeting him twice before. He didn’t like him any better with each meeting. The
Human
was supposed to be a leader, but he was anything but. He was a fat, balding, middle-aged man, with a stomach that bulged over the top of his pants, the buttons on his shirt straining as it tried to hold his gut. He sweated like a fat-bellied pig on a spit as he spoke, every word out of his mouth dripping with venom.

Armed guards were spread across the warehouse, their big guns trained on Malcolm and his posse. Stephen scoffed at their weakness and fear.
Others
never needed to bring any weapons to any of these meetings. They were weapons in themselves. The
Humans’
guns didn’t hold bullets—not the usual kind, at least—they were useless against
Others
. They had created bullets that worked like liquid—one of the few things that Stephen had to give them credit for. They contained silver and when shot at an
Other
, they exploded like a child’s water balloon and soaked into their clothing, or fur if they had shifted. Though it wouldn’t kill the
Other
—the
Humans
hadn't been that great yet—it would, however, incapacitate them long enough to be killed. How very brave of them.

The deputies of each contingent sat on either side of their leaders. Trevor sat on the one side with Aaron, and some
Human
that Stephen didn’t know nor did he care for sat on the other side with two more guards—their jobs were to observe and be impartial. In Trevor’s case, this notion was laughable. It was like having a hungry snake there to watch your back and hope that he wouldn’t bite you in the neck when you weren’t paying attention. Stephen had a profound dislike for Trevor. He wanted Malcolm’s position, and someone who was after power was dangerous. That was the problem with the
Humans
—they wanted power, and witless though they may be, that made them dangerous.

Patterson wasted no time starting the meeting. No pleasantries or polite formalities, just straight to it. Stephen smirked. The fucking idiot was shaking. He was clutching his papers—which were probably blank—to hide the tremor in his hands, like a little comfort blanket. He reeked of nervous apprehension. “Do you have what we are looking for?” he demanded, sweat beading and rolling down his pudgy face.

Malcom’s expression was stoic and gave nothing away, his eyes firmly fixed on the
Human
. There was not a single drop of fear there as he spoke. “No, we do not.”

Stephen’s gaze stayed riveted on the
Human
and his little guards as Malcolm spoke. He enjoyed the way Patterson seemed to squirm under his intense stare.

“I should like to remind you that a child was murdered yesterday,” Patterson sputtered when Malcolm offered nothing more. “He was taken and attacked by one of your … your monsters. Five, innocent boys who were simply on their way home, minding their own business.”

“There were five of them, and only one was killed?” Malcolm’s eyebrow rose in mock surprise.

Three more men stepped forward, two coming to stand in front of Patterson and the other behind him. The
Human
seemed to gain confidence with that the extra protection. It wouldn’t matter, though, how many men he brought in, Stephen thought. If the
Others
wanted Patterson dead, he would be. Didn’t he realise that?

“Yes, and you should be thankful for that,” Patterson declared.

Stephen rolled his eyes as he stood there, the fabric of his t-shirt straining over the powerfully muscled arms folded over his chest. 

“I believe that your … pet,” he spat disdainfully, eyeing Stephen up and down with contempt, “has something to say.” Patterson had stopped shaking now, and his face had turned red with indignation.

“I was merely thinking that if it was an attack, then it wouldn’t just have been one child.” It was true. Stephen was positive that if an
Other
had attacked those boys, they would have all been dead now.
Humans
were such fragile creatures. They died with such ease. Patterson’s daughter, who had been staring intently at Stephen throughout the exchange, now smirked at her father’s unease.

“I’m very sorry for the loss you have endured,” Malcolm said nonchalantly. “We will do everything in our power to find the person responsible and bring them to justice.”

Patterson went blood-red. “No. I demand you bring them to me. I do not trust your justice.” The
Human
glanced around the room at Malcolm’s delegation, scowling, his face twisting in loathing.

As Stephen watched this
Human
grow bolder with each passing moment, and with it, the hatred that emanated from him, he knew there was no way in hell he was letting him get his hands on the boy—and certainly not on Cade.

“
Demand
?” Malcolm raised an eyebrow in quiet displeasure.

“We want the
Other
responsible for this,” Patterson insisted, still feeling bold behind his guards and their guns. “We have the infection tracer.”

Trevor made a move as if he was to stand and Stephen stopped him with a brusque shake of his head. The look on Trevor’s face told him he’d be in shit for that later, but the last thing they needed was Trevor getting all hot under his collar about crap and blowing everything. He sat back again, arms folded at his chest and lips tight. It would be a miracle if he managed to keep his mouth shut the entire time, Stephen thought.

Every word from Patterson’s mouth was an insult. An “infection tracer” was what
Humans
used to identify
Others
who had some kind of connection to one another. Stephen and Gemma had the same tracer—if he committed a crime, then she could rightly be accused of it in the
Humans’
small minds. Implying that
Others
were a diseased miasma that could infect
Humans
if they got too close enraged Stephen and was a fucking offence to his entire race. Granted, they could get “infected”, but it had to be from a bite. It wasn’t a disease. If anyone spread disease in this world, that would be the
Humans
—their corruption and hate claimed the lives of millions, their weak bodies easily dying from deadly viruses and sicknesses they themselves had caused.  Stephen’s hands balled into fists behind his back, but it did nothing to calm his mind. The problem with the tracer was that it wasn’t as precise as DNA. It was the same for anyone related to another. 

Ignoring the insult to his race, Malcolm met Patterson’s glare head-on. Stephen knew that as leader of the Society, his father would do everything in his power to maintain peace. They might be physically stronger than
Humans
, but
Humans
had destructive weapons, and outnumbered the
Others
by millions. The
Humans
might suffer many more casualties in the event of a war, but their population was in the billions on this earth.
Others
were in the hundreds. The loss of even one
Other
was one Malcolm was not willing to incur. He would keep the peace as much and as far as he could. Patterson knew this. “We will do everything we can to locate him,” Malcolm finally said, calmer than Stephen would have managed, and calmer than Trevor could ever have been.

“We want him alive,” the
Human
spat. “Although he won’t be for very long after,” he sneered. The guards around him chortled. A muscle worked in Malcolm’s jaw, but he held himself back. Even the great Trevor remained still as he stared, but his eyes betrayed him. “You have one week to deliver the person to us.”

Gemma gasped from behind them and Stephen hoped she’d not give in to her rashness and say anything. Too many things were at stake, and making Malcolm publicly reprimand her in front of the
Humans
would be the ultimate humiliation. Malcolm didn’t even twitch at her reaction, though. Perhaps he had been expecting it.

“One week is not long enough. A month.”

Patterson shook his head curtly. “Two weeks and no more. I have been generous enough.”

Trevor snorted, but he was ignored.

“We cannot deliver someone that fast. There are things that we must do correctly, and our resources are limited in comparison to yours.”

“Are you saying that it is my fault?”

“I am saying that we are at a disadvantage, and so we need time to enable us to do our job properly.”

The
Human
glared at Malcolm. Stephen watched him closely, keeping an eye out for those tell-tale signs that he was about to do something stupid. Patterson glanced at Stephen and momentary fear flitted across his features at the feral expression on his face. He stepped back from his position behind his lectern, moving closer to Malcolm. Like little puppets, the armed men moved with him in perfect synchrony. Patterson stopped a foot from Malcolm, his bravado only as big as the men with the guns at his side. “For every day that you go over,” he continued, though this time there was a slight tremor to his voice, “you will accrue a debt that will be collected in blood. I do not care whose blood it will be, but it will not be mine.”

“You will bring war onto yourself,” Malcolm replied evenly, not having moved an inch from his place.

“Are you threatening me?” As if on cue, the men beside Patterson aimed their guns at Malcolm. Trevor stood up, and then so did his counterpart on Patterson’s side.

“No,” Malcolm replied evenly, seemingly unaffected by the fact that he had about a dozen guns aimed at him. “I am telling you what will happen.” Stephen recognised that tone all too well. Deep, authoritative, the kind that spoke loudly, even though he hadn’t raised his voice at all. Only a fool would dare to argue with Malcolm now. “We will search for whomever it is that attacked the boy,” he continued in that unflappable tone. “We, unlike you, do not tolerate murder. It is not our way. But we also do not tolerate bullying, and you, sir, I do believe are nothing more than a bully. We met here today with the aim of making a compromise for what we both want—the culprit of this transgression found. But it would seem to me that you are hell-bent on pushing buttons that you really do
not
want to push.”