Silver (20 page)

“
What?” Nikki stood. “Mom,
that’s ridiculous. They’re handcuffing him, one werewolf with who
knows how many armed Hunters? That’s not fair!” She glanced at me,
fear for my life showing in her eyes.

I caught her hand. “It’ll be okay. If it
makes them feel safer, I can take it.” She stared at me and I
smiled encouragingly. “I’m just lucky they granted this meeting in
the first place.”

“
I don’t think luck had
anything to do with it,” she muttered, but she sat down next to me
again.

I stood and put my arms behind my back. When
Meg fastened the handcuffs a jolt of pain ran up my arms. I glanced
back at her in surprise. “Silver, really?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry, Jaze. I really am.
They insisted.” She leaned closer and whispered as though other
Hunters were close enough to hear. “But these are just plated, so
hopefully they won’t do much damage.”

I sat again on the edge of the couch, my
arms tingling.

Nikki refused to speak, her hatred for the
situation evident on her face.

I listened to the car pull up, a trio of
footsteps walk up the sidewalk, and heard them stop for a moment at
the porch. A few seconds later, at exactly six o’clock, a knock
sounded at the door.

Roger sighed. “Well, here we go.” He placed
the cloth bag over my head and drew the strings closed, then took
my arm and helped me up. It was awkward with my hands behind my
back and I hoped there wouldn’t be much rising and sitting at the
meeting.

The door opened and three different
footsteps entered the room.

“
Is that it?” one of the
Hunters asked coldly.

“
This is Jaze Carso,” Meg
replied firmly. I smiled at her defiance.

I took a step toward the door.

“
Wait!” Nikki jumped up
from the couch and pulled the hood off my head. She rose on her
tiptoes and kissed me on the lips. I closed my eyes against the
pounding of my heart. One of her hands rested against my chest, and
I could feel the heat radiating off it. I wondered if she felt my
heartbeat.

The kiss was over quicker than I wanted it
to be, but the taste lingered on my lips. “For good luck!” she
said, out of breath. A blush stole across her cheeks and she
returned to the couch without meeting her parents’ eyes.

Roger let his breath out in a rush and
picked up the hood she had discarded on the floor. He met my eyes
briefly, his expression unreadable as he slipped the hood back over
my head.

The footsteps backed up and we walked out
the door. Roger guided me down the steps and the sidewalk and I
ducked into a car that smelled of peppermint, gun oil, hand
sanitizer, and amusingly, crayons, which attested that we were
driving in a family car not accustomed to chauffeuring handcuffed
werewolves. There was also one other occupant, the driver, who
smelled of starch, hand soap, and hair care products.

“
Let’s go,” the first voice
growled.

The trip felt longer than necessary with an
excess of stops, turns, and roundabouts. When the door opened and I
smelled the myriad of scents on the humid morning air, I realized
we hadn’t even left the city. I fought back a grim chuckle at their
pathetic attempt to disorient me.

Roger took my arm again and this time Meg
walked on the other side, her hand resting gently on my forearm.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said under her breath, but her voice
quivered slightly, betraying her fears.

We walked up cement steps and entered
through doors that smelled of old planks and decay. A warehouse.
Our footsteps echoed on the cracked wooden floor. We crossed a
small room that smelled of sawdust and mice, then another door was
pulled open and we entered a much bigger area. Air flowed as though
through open windows, and the talking of at least forty people
stopped at our entrance.

My heart slowed and a cold pit formed in my
stomach. They had gathered together more Hunters than I would have
thought possible in such a short time. Again, the implications of
organization tore away all of my preconceived thoughts about
Hunters. I pushed the feeling away, reminding myself that more
Hunters would be welcomed and needed in this fight.

We walked to the middle of the room and
turned to face the waiting audience. Roger squeezed my arm and took
a few steps away. “You’ll be okay, sweetie,” Meg whispered on my
other side. She patted my elbow and made her way to Roger. They
both went to join the others.

They sat, clothes rustling, and a deep
silence fell. I waited as patiently as I could. I counted the
seconds in my head until five minutes ticked by. The adrenaline
from our entrance faded and the ache in my stomach and ribs began
to rise. I shifted my feet, frustrated at their lack of courtesy.
Scents of anger, hostility, and a hint of fear flowed from the
group and through my hood.

Underneath it I could make out the scents of
occupation, the bread, soap, and fruit-laced perfume smell of a
housewife, the ink, electronic, stale scent of office workers, the
sawdust and metal smell of a construction worker, the grease and
oil scent of mechanics, the old paper and slightly mildewed carpet
smell of a librarian, the antiseptic scent of several employed in
the medical field, the dry-erase marker and sharpened pencil smell
of the school teacher, and many others I worked to place to
maintain my patience.

I wondered briefly how they had all gotten
off work, then realized this was intended to be a short meeting,
scheduled early in the morning so they could go to their jobs
afterward. It showed that they didn’t give much importance to the
reason of this meeting, betting that it would be over within the
hour.

“
What is this?” I asked,
fighting to keep my tone polite.

“
You will wait until spoken
to,” someone spat out.

“
Rensh, that isn’t
necessary,” a deeper voice corrected him.

The nerves of being surrounded by obviously
hostile Hunters and the odds that at least one pair here had
probably been responsible for my Dad’s death made my muscles ache.
I longed to phase and show them what I really thought about
standing cuffed and blind. Another minute passed. My legs wobbled
slightly with the effort to stand; I forced them to hold and
concentrated on breathing deeply. “Are we going to talk or am I
just to stand here?” I asked, gritting my teeth to keep from
shouting.

“
We’re waiting for one more
person,” the deep voice said; I could hear his dislike at answering
a werewolf.

The outside door opened, two pairs of
footsteps entered, crossed the small room, then opened the inside
door. Clothes rustled as though gestures were made, and the pair
crossed the room and sat near Roger and Meg. Their scent wafted
past me and my blood turned cold as images of blood, pain, and the
musky woods scent of my dad mixed with it. They were two of the
Hunters responsible for his death.

The deep voice spoke. “We will hold this
impromptu meeting with order.” He said it loud enough for everyone
to hear, but his head was turned toward me alone. “You will speak
when spoken to, and will conduct yourself as humanly as
possible.”

Roger cleared his throat.

“
That is uncalled for,” Meg
said, the anger in her voice barely under control.

A gavel struck wood and the voice spoke
again. “Megan Valen, you will obey the rules of this meeting or you
will be dismissed.”

“
Yes, sir,” Meg replied,
her voice muffled as though she bowed her head.

The deep voice turned back to me. “It isn’t
entirely clear why this meeting has been called in the first place.
The Valens only said that it was urgent and life threatening. That
we even allow you to participate is an honor no other werewolf has
been granted.”

“
I feel honored,” I
muttered under my breath.

“
What was that?” he
demanded.

I bit back a reply and closed my hands into
fists behind my back.

He sighed and hit the gavel again. “This
meeting is called to order. We now grant the werewolf two minutes
to state its business.”

I turned toward his voice, feeling stupid
with the bag over my head but worried about angering him enough to
stop the meeting altogether. I had no delusions that I would be
allowed out alive if things didn’t go well. I cleared my throat.
“Sir, a werewolf is killing off the Alphas in order to take control
of the packs himself.”

I waited a minute for my words to sink in,
and was startled when he began to laugh, a deep, throaty chuckle
that lifted the hair on the back of my neck. “And we’re supposed to
be concerned about a werewolf killing off other werewolves?”
Several others in the audience laughed with him. “That’s good for
us.”

My lips pulled back in a snarl and I fought
to maintain control. “You don’t understand,” I forced out slowly,
my words deep with the anger in my chest. “If he succeeds, you will
have one werewolf in charge of all of the North American wolves. It
would be a disaster for everyone.”

“
Oh?” he questioned, still
chuckling. “And why is that?”

“
Do you know why wolves in
the wild keep their pack numbers small?” I asked, barely concealing
the hostility in my voice at his amusement.

He sighed, his voice still laced with humor.
“Do explain.”

My legs tingled, restless to change with the
rage-filled adrenaline coursing through my veins. I took a step in
his direction and heard him step back. “It’s detrimental to the
pack. There’s not enough food, and control is too hard to maintain.
Large packs require bigger territories. Wolf packs, like the
werewolf ones, are limited to family members with one or two
exceptions. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

“
So we just kill the leader
and everything is taken care of,” he concluded
blatantly.

I shook my head. “It’s never that easy.” The
hood was starting to really annoy me; it brushed my lips when I
spoke and muffled my voice to those listening. The bite of the
silver in the cuffs was just one more jab of humiliation.

“
And why not?” he pressed
with an annoyed tone.

“
Because-“ I couldn’t take
it anymore. I flexed my forearms behind me and broke the chain
between the handcuffs, then ripped the bag from my head and threw
it down.

Hunters who had been seated in metal chairs
stood in alarm and backed up until they hit the chairs of those
behind them. The one with the deep voice stood closest to me behind
a makeshift podium. He was a dark-skinned, dark-eyed man who was
overweight and wore a yellow sash with two blue stripes across his
chest. He glared at me angrily. A gun from a holster on his hip now
rested in his hand.

I twisted my left cuff and tore it from my
wrist, then did the same to the right. Angry red burns showed where
they had been, my body’s reaction to even plated metal while the
remnants of the silver from my wounds was in my body. I threw the
cuffs down to the floor; they bounced once and stopped with a metal
clang. The eyes of every member of the audience burned into me;
fear and hatred radiated from them in waves. Guns pointed at me
from all sides, no doubt loaded with silver bullets. I raised a
hand. “I’m sorry, but that’s the most humiliating position anyone
has ever put me in.” I pointed down at the hood. “Is that how you
treat everyone who comes to you for help?”

“
Every werewolf,” the man
named Rensh said. The audience around him laughed, but their
laughter was uneasy and they kept their eyes and guns on
me.

I shook my head. “Then maybe you aren’t the
right people to talk to.”

I took a step toward the door, knowing it
was a death sentence, but the leader held out a hand. “Wait.” I
turned warily. When I met his eyes he frowned but lowered his gun.
“Maybe we were a bit hasty.”

Mutters rose from the audience, but they
quieted when he glanced at them. He steeled himself visibly. “I am
Gunthrie Rogart, in charge of this assembly of Hunters. I think we
need to hear what you have to say.”

The sincerity in his voice, if not his
words, caught my attention. He had pride, and as a leader he would
do what was best for his people. As an Alpha, I could understand
that. I turned to the Hunters. “My name is Jaze Carso. I am
seventeen years old and a Junior in high school. I am also a
werewolf, one of the last remaining Alphas that I’m aware of.”
Murmurs flew around the room, but I pressed on. “You are humans put
into the position of Hunters to protect your loved ones.” My eyes
darkened. “At least two of you were involved in killing my father
while working in conjunction with this werewolf who is trying to
take over.” I avoided looking at the two I spoke of. I didn’t know
if I could control myself once I saw them.

The murmurs quieted and I met Roger’s eyes.
He nodded and I pressed on. “If this werewolf is allowed to
succeed, he will indeed have control over the entire legion of
North American werewolves. We have laws in place to prevent such
monopoly of the packs, but those in charge of upholding the law
seem to have faded into the woodwork. Werewolves might be killable
alone, but once this werewolf is fully in charge, you won't be able
to get near him. We need to combine forces to stop him now before
all werewolves follow him.”

Angry voices rose; shouts and cries of
outrage met me in a roar. I waited until Commander Rogart’s gavel
had brought silence once more. “He needs to be stopped, but I can’t
do it on my own. I need your help to wipe out this pestilence
that's a danger to both our races.”

Commander Rogart lifted the gavel again, but
only muted talking rose around us. He studied me as he waited for
the talking to die down, then nodded. “Mr. Carso,” he said. Talking
rose at the small token of respect he gave me, but he ignored it
and pressed on. ”We will discuss this matter and get back with you.
We ask if you could wait in the next room and we will call you back
in when we’re done.”