Werewolf Moon (The Pack Trilogy Book 1) (8 page)

Raya’s eyes widened. “They break even the law governing pack numbers? And how is it that their numbers vary so greatly?”

“Their Weres seem to die fairly often,” Itchiko responded. “Requiring frequent replacements, preferably with young to train.”

Raya went silent. Then, “Alright. It’s obvious that we’re badly outnumbered. If we stay in Europe, it’s possible they find us and eradicate us. I believe it’s time Pack Lupeinescu make a move: a rather large one. The New World is wide-open, plenty of space for a new compound where we can live in protected peace. What say the pack?”

They went around the table, from Were to Were. One after another said “Aye” and the proposition was accepted.

Pack Lupeinescu was on its way to America.

Chapter Six

Oh, Say Can You See?

Adică sîntem atît O casă creşte rapid, un magnific o durează pentru totdeauna.

A shoddy house rises fast, a magnificent one lasts forever.

—A Romani saying

The packed ship pulled into the bustling port of New Orleans. People of every color worked side by side as Raya’s pack disembarked from the ship that had been their home for so many months.

Raya himself told Itchiko to stay with the pack: he’d return in a moment. In a louder voice he declared that he had a surprise for everyone, and then he strode off through the throngs of people around the busy shipping area.

Shortly he returned with two large black men who shouldered most of the pack’s possessions and led the way through the crowds to a nearby street where several carriages awaited.

Petra followed along, gold eyes missing nothing as she climbed into the leading carriage with the other two women of the original pack. Itchiko and his bitch, along with most of the pack’s possessions pulled up the rear.

The carriages struck off slowly through crowded streets containing so many weird things that the wolves weren’t sure the city was human.

Finally they escaped the city proper. The road narrowed, but the carriages made excellent time. Just as the sun was an hour from setting, the lead carriage took a right onto what looked like nothing more than a deer track. A few more minutes and they pulled up in front of a small, very rough cabin.

Raya jumped out of the leading carriage and presented the cabin as if it were the finest of castles.

“Meet the beginnings of
L’heureuse lune
, The Auspicious Moon, the new home of Pack Lupeinescu,” he said with a certain amount of ceremony not lost on any wolf present.

As was her due, Petra descended first and walked to his side. “Alpha female is honored to join our Trans-Alpha.” So saying, she knelt by Raya’s side and pushed her head under his hand. Raya lifted her straight up by a light tug on her hair. “Trans-Alpha welcomes Alpha Female.”

Itchiko followed suit. “Beta Itchiko would join his brother.”

Raya pulled him to his feet. “Pack Lupeinescu accepts,” he said in his normal voice. Then he added in a stage whisper, “and if you kneel to me again you’ll be minus one gonad.”

The rest of the pack coughed, attempting to cover snorts of laughter. Then one by one they followed suit: one head after another pushing into Raya’s large hand.

Petra sighed and walked to the cabin, opened the door and peered in. “I’d say Pack Lupeinescu has some ass busting in our near future.”

“I’d say they don’t,” Raya promptly countered. He gave a short whistle. “Come on out, boys.”

From behind a nearby thick stand of trees, a crowd of men walked out. Amazed, Petra figured there had to be nearly thirty of them! How on earth had Raya arranged all this from that ship as they crossed the Atlantic?

Raya caught her eye and winked. She grinned back. However he’d done it, these men meant that Pack Lupeinescu would have a new abode much faster than she’d thought possible. Something tickled her memory. Now what was it? Oh yes. That cabin’s interior. In the brief peek she’d taken, she’d seen something fascinating.

She turned and made for the small building, hoping she’d seen what she thought she had. As she opened the door, there it was: a large square table that nearly filled the entire cabin from one wall to the other.

What sat on that table was the prize, she thought as she walked in and looked down. Was that what she thought it was? Having not ever seen a true architectural rendering of a house, she was unsure.

“It has everything you wanted and then some,” Raya said from the doorway.

“You going to translate all this for me?”

“Sure. It’s easier than you think.”

Somehow Petra doubted that, but she’d keep an open mind.

Chapter Seven

A Manger

Nu dau bani, dar mijloacele pentru a-l face.

Give not money, but the means to make it.

—A Romani saying

The pack intended on taking their time to really explore New Orleans while their manse was being built. Their very first night in the beautiful town, they decided to splurge on the supremely elegant but expensive Hotel De Ville. Raya, Petra and the two bitches sat at a large round table in the expansive dining room waiting for Itchiko and his wife. The waiter had come twice with menus, and Raya was getting steadily more nervous about Itchiko’s continued absence. The Japanese were never late.

Raya couldn’t even say “almost never late”: the other was, literally, never late so this came as a most unwelcome shock. Another ten minutes crept by, and Raya had had enough. He stood.

“I’ll be back shortly,” he announced as he turned on one heel and strode away.

Petra watched him go. “Worried about Itchiko,” she said briefly.

“Rightfully so,” Charissa said and the rest of the pack froze. Charissa almost never spoke up and if she did, there was a problem. Charissa was an exquisitely colored wolf from her red-tinged dark coat to her pale blue eyes. Some said those eyes were the mark of a psy-Were, as psychic werewolves were known. Her partner, Erigny, was her perfect complement with a grey coat and eyes a peculiar golden-green. They were a formidable couple, and Petra meant to take advantage of Charissa’s abilities right at that moment.

“Charissa, where is Itchiko?” Petra asked straight out. Sometimes the smaller wolf would instantly respond.

“Walking up behind you,” Charissa responded and everyone laughed, until Itchiko drew close enough where his worried face could be seen.

“What’s up?” Petra asked, voice sharp with worry.

“You need to come with me,” Itchiko told the Alpha Female. As the others in the pack automatically rose, Itchiko said “Only the Alpha, for now.” The pack resettled in their seats, but there wasn’t one wolf who didn’t have a tight stomach.

Petra followed Itchiko as the black wolf walked toward the back of the restaurant. Where on earth was he leading her this time?

Outside the restaurant, Itchiko took Petra up several flights of steps then down a long hall, and finally slowed to a halt in front of an impressively large door. She turned her head to ask what was happening and the answer hit her in the face like a wooden bat.

The heavy, tell-tale scent of a Werewolf in absolute terror was seeping out from cracks below and around that door. Petra frowned. What could cause such terror, and what was that intermingled scent? She inhaled through her nose and concentrated, but nothing came to mind. As she opened her mouth to ask Itchiko, the door swung open.

“Watch out,” Itchiko said. “Been through this once today already. I’ll go first, you wait for a moment.” The room was dark, the heavy curtains pulled shut as Itchiko slid sideways in through the door.

Petra squinted, but even with her werewolf-enhanced vision could make out nothing but the shapes of two beds, a chair, a long bureau and a chair.

Then she felt the air move. Itchiko grunted and cursed, there were assorted noises as bodies took blows and responded. Infuriated at not being able to help, Petra finally bolted into the room just as the bright lights flipped on.

Itchiko was standing, bent over at the waist, over a small man curled up on the floor. To Petra’s horror, the man was in constant flux: he shifted back and forth, back and forth. “I don’t know what to do any more,” came a voice from behind her in the doorway. Petra whirled and squatted, ready for battle.

“Stand down,” Itchiko said calmly. “This is Jean-Paul’s lover. Jean-Paul is the one who is shifting.” He inhaled deeply, and Petra saw that for once the Japanese were was badly troubled. The wrinkles on his forehead were a dead give-away.

“What happened to him?” Petra asked.

A well-built male moved carefully past her to kneel next to Jean-Paul and put his hand on the other male’s cheek. “The government, they set trap and they caught my Jean-Paul. He was there for almost a week before I am able to pull him out, and during those days he was given I do not know what kind of drugs.” Deep golden eyes rose to Petra’s, the plea evident. “Please, help us. I don’t know what to do any more.”

To Petra’s horror, tears slowly rolled down the large man’s face. Weres don’t cry as a rule, and male Weres? Never. This situation was unprecedented in so many ways. “I need my mate,” she stated flatly. “He’s Alpha of our pack: he’ll know what to do. Always does. Let me go find him, alright? Itchiko, can you stay with these two?”

Itchiko nodded, reluctance visible by his lowered brows. “Whatever is going on, I don’t want you left unprotected.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s Jean-Paul who needs help as fast as possible.” With that, she turned and strode out towards the stairs and Raya.

Raya followed his mate back up the stairs, lost in thought. What she’d told him made little sense. Why would the American government want a Werewolf, and what kind of drugs had they filled him with? None of this made sense and he needed answers fast.

Once in the room, he targeted the man kneeling next to the constantly-shifting Were. “You. Your name is?”

“I am Andre, I’ve been with Jean-Paul for almost two hundred—“ he paused as his lover shifted to wolf-form, let a mournful howl that was abruptly cut off by a shift back to human form. “
Dieu nous garde. Faut que
...” he saw incomprehension on the other faces and dropped into English. “You must help us. Please.”

“Where was Jean-Paul held?” Raya asked.

“A facility on the other side of the lake,” Itchiko responded for the distraught Were. “I can take you there.”

“That’s where we start, then. Whatever has to happen, this guy needs to stop shifting ASAP.” Raya stopped speaking, but every Were in the room heard his unspoken words: shifting took a certain amount of energy. Constant shifting meant a constant drain with no chance of replenishing supplies. No one knew what would happen if a Were was completely drained of his energy: as far as Raya knew, it had never happened.

That he or his pack were aware of, he amended silently.

Time to visit a government facility now.

***

Two hours later, the entire pack was assembled in Raya’s spacious suite. There was obvious tension in the air as Raya began to speak. “As you know, the facility or warehouse was empty. Utterly empty down to the packed-dirt floor.” Raya began pacing across the deep carpet. “Not sure where to go from here, but we need to find out exactly who held Jean-Paul, why, and used what drugs. Obviously we need this information yesterday. Does anyone have any ideas?”

Petra heaved a sigh. “There’s always Uncle John.” Raya’s elegant nose actually wrinkled at the suggestion.

“That has to be the worst—” Raya stopped at the warning plain in Petra’s eyes. Damnation, his alpha mate was right—as usual.

Uncle John was a man in his sixties that Raya had met whilst applying for visas for the pack. John had accepted the Were’s applications, then flipped through them while Raya looked on.

“Certainly come from a lot of different places,” John had remarked.

“We’re a worldly bunch,” Raya agreed.

John had come to the end of the small stack of papers, flipped it over and begun to read again from the beginning. Raya had been exasperated, but knew enough not to show it.

After all, the American was dealing with papers from Wallachia, Germany, the UK and two other unpronounceable countries in Eastern Europe: such a group would draw the attention of any government employee. At last John slapped the papers down and looked into Raya’s eyes.

“What y’all really up to in New Orleans?” Heavy set, John’s eyes appeared tiny behind folds of fat.

“I’m building a beautiful compound for us here: it’s perfect! The weather is divine, the city is large enough to be cosmopolitan but not so large the crime rate is high, and the surrounding area is exquisite. We intend to put down roots here for ourselves and the Lupein Corporation.”

Those small eyes sharpened. “Lupein Corporation? And what do you have to do with that particular enterprise?”

“I created it,” Raya said.

There was silence, then John said “If I’m to believe that, why come to America when you are doing so very well in the European market?”

“The New World is going to be the most important business location in years to come. Lupein Corp will have a jump-start on the rest.”

John rubbed his heavily-stubbled chin, evidence that a morning shave hadn’t lasted until nearly 7 at night. “Your board of directors,” he said at last. “Who is comptroller?”

“Have to look that up,” Raya said. “Whoever’s doing it now is a good question. We all hate that job, so we rotate through it.”

“I like a man with an eye to the future,” John said slowly. A business card appeared and was pushed under the glass divider separating him from Raya. “Me, I’ve had my own business for well on fifteen years now. Small accounting firm with some dang big clients. Whole reason I took this job…” he pulled himself up short and looked at Raya, one thick grey brow raised.

“You wanted to be in a position to serve as go-between for major government contacts, and one day go out on your own,” Raya finished for him, eyes staring at nothing. “How handy would that be for an accounting firm run by a guy with even a menial government job?”

John grinned. “I do believe you see my point.”

“I do indeed.”

The two men had left the court house and wound up at a small bar on the other side of town, where they’d talked until the bar closed.

The upshot: “Uncle” John had a seat on Lupein Corp’s board, and Raya owned a small percentage of John’s company. Neither man had a reason to regret the move and John was in a perfect position to make some quiet enquiries.

He agreed when Raya asked, and didn’t even push for details. John knew nothing about Raya or the pack’s personal lives, and Raya intended to maintain that.

It took several days for John to find out anything whatsoever about Jean-Paul’s run-in with the government, and John’s face didn’t give Raya a warm feeling when he faced Raya with his news. His tiny eyes were more sunken than usual, and there were heavy bags and black circles indicating lack of sleep. Moreover, John’s usually expansive mouth which appeared to always be on the verge of a grin, was tightened down to a slit.

“Listen here, I don’t know what the fuck y’all done got into, and I don’t want to know,” John began as he hoisted his bulk into a chair in the suite. “Weird shit is going on, that much I do know. My contact in the army didn’t know much either, but what little he did know scared him to death. Seems that certain critters were spotted deep in the swamps, and the army captured one or two. My guy didn’t know specifics: this is all super hush-hush but my guy was on the detail that escorted these critters back to base.”

“What exactly were these creatures?” Raya asked.

“Damned if I know, and my guy said they looked as human as you or me until something right strange happened.” The large round face lost a lot of color, and the dark stubble stood out yet more clearly against the now-pasty color of John’s face. “Guy said that he’d heard some weird shit coming from that wing: swears it was howlin. You know, what wolves do from time to time.”

“Howling?” Raya injected just enough disbelief into the one word.

“You heard me. After that, the whatever-they-weres were transferred to a secure medical facility somewhere up north and that’s all we know.”

Thoughts raced through Raya’s mind. “Where up north?”

“Somewhere on the outskirts of Seattle,” John responded. The two men looked at each other for a moment. “You might think me a stupid old fat man, Raya, and you’d be right on two out of three.”

Raya had to smile.

“There’s something different about you and your entire board of directors, and don’t you think for a New York minute I don’t know that.” Raya stiffened, and menace poured off him in palpable waves.

John stood and held both chubby arms straight in the air. “None of that, now. I don’t know shit and don’t want to: I just wanted you to know that y’all ain’t put nuthin over on me. That’s it.” He paused, then added “well, that and I flat love your Petra! One fine woman who’s smarter than a damn whip.” Once again menace flowed through the air and this time John flat out laughed. “Don’t you worry none: she ain’t my type.” he leaned over and whispered, “I prefer one added appendage and two less than what she’s got.”

It was Raya’s turn to stifle laughter.

When they parted some hours later, they had part of a plan and something else new: a level of trust that had not existed prior to this night. Raya wasn’t sure how that had happened, wasn’t going to blindly accept it either—but was going to play along and see what happened.

He didn’t have long to wait.

Two days later, there was a knock on the suite’s main door. Through the peephole Raya recognized the uniforms: the US Army, clearly. With lots of hardware as well.

That door wasn’t opened until Raya was satisfied about the intent behind those uniforms, via a plain manila envelope marked “Top Secret” in bright red. One man handed it to him and held up a hand as Raya started to ask something. Held up a hand and shook his head.

Raya shut the door in their faces and opened the envelope. Several photos fell out along with a written report. He scanned the latter and immediately returned to the door, ushered in the soldiers.

“What can I do to help, gentlemen?” he asked as they seated themselves on a long couch.

“You’ve applied for citizenship, we see,” the older uniform said. “Uncle Sam would like to help you and your wife with that matter, which can sometimes be somewhat sticky. In return, we need a little information on people you likely knew back home...”

The discussion extended deep into the night. The US Army at topmost levels were interested in a group of bad guys in Europe. From the included photos and several descriptions, Raya discovered that the US were after none other than that dangerous pack his own had run across before coming to the USA.

Now that was interesting: their interests definitely coincided there. The danger lay in what “talents” certain in the American government were sure the European group had, specifically the ability to vanish. And the ability to change into a wolf: something that had been recently discovered via a capture made only months ago. The two soldiers looked at Raya as if waiting for roars of laughter.

“I’m not entirely sure I believe in those ‘talents’ you’re describing, but we’ve run into that group on a business level as I’m sure you know.” The soldiers nodded. “We are highly interested in them as well: I’m sure we can work together, as you originally suggested.”

Both uniforms snapped to attention in their seats, then relaxed. “Just a few details...”

In the end, Pack Lupeinescu was working indirectly for the United States government, something that horrified Itchiko down to his very bones.

“Don’t you see,” Raya explained for the umpteenth time, “this will do us nothing but good. We have eyes inside the government now: we’ll know what they know about our species as soon as they learn it, and be in a position to guide their knowledge without them knowing who or what we are. Better yet, keep the pack close and those who would harm it even closer,” he intoned, quoting from the Lupein Codec, which was still under construction.

Itchiko reluctantly gave in, but made plans of his own to ensure Pack Lupeinescu’s ultimate protection. Plans he shared with no one, including his brother.

Even Itchiko was finally convinced of John’s loyalty to the pack when the obese man showed up at the camp Raya had put together where Heureuse was being built. At 3AM, John managed to sneak past booby traps that had taken Itchiko days to arrange to place.

Itchiko in fact awoke to a very large, very hairy face with breath rank enough to knock a buzzard off a shit wagon blowing in his face. “I got what you need. Don’t know what the fuck’s in it: don’t want to, either.”

Itchiko came instantly awake and to his feet before John’s familiar scent gave him away.

“Give your sick buddy this, right in the ass,” John instructed as he pulled a gigantic hypodermic needle filled with a cloudy yellow substance from his pocket. Then just as suddenly, John vanished back the way he’d come.

Itchiko looked at the bizarre contraption for quite a while. It had a big round steel thing on one end, evidently one pushed on that to inject what was in the tube into the person. He had his doubts if this procedure would even work, but Jean-Paul was visibly declining by the day.

All the shifting was draining him to death, as Itchiko had feared. If this weird thing worked—well, they’d have to see. He walked out of his own crude tent, shifted, and ran to the hotel in town where Jean-Paul and his mate were staying.

He knocked softly on their door, hoping not to alarm them. Andre answered the door so quickly that it was obvious he’d not been asleep. One look at Jean-Paul and Itchiko knew why.

Even in the few days since he’d seen the ailing were last, he’d lost weight. A lot of weight. Andre looked at Itchiko and shrugged helplessly.

“I brought something that might help,” Itchiko said. “No guarantees. The guy I got this from has no idea what it is either, but if he says it’ll work, we need to give it a shot.” He winced. “I could have used better wording there,” he admitted as he pulled the contraption from his pocket.

Andre stared at it. “What on earth?”

“No clue. Give me a moment, it sure can’t hurt at this point.” Itchiko slid the covers off Jean-Paul, rolled the Were onto his side, and rapidly injected the fluid into the Were’s bony ass.

He and Andre waited nearly an hour, but nothing happened. No shifting, though, either. Maybe there was hope after all, Itchiko thought as he took his leave.

When Jean-Paul still hadn’t shifted in three days, his mate Andre and all of the pack were relieved. John had pulled off a miracle, and earned the pack’s respect. Not their trust: that would maybe come with time.

Chapter Eight

Die to Live Another Day

Throughout the next century, Pack Lupeinescu worked with those government contacts and provided them with invaluable information on the ever-growing criminal European pack, based on “knowledge from Lupein contacts inserted into that group.” As both pack and military humans aged, the pack casually introduced sons and daughters who’d graduated from impressive colleges, were working in Lupein Corp already and were ready to enter the agreement with the government. As the pack’s personal government contacts retired, they were introduced to the next generation of Army personnel who were involved with the ‘European Terrorist Group’ program.

At the same time, Petra had worked non-stop on becoming a social success in New Orleans. She’d succeeded beyond her own wildest of dreams, and was now known from tea rooms in Manhattan to kitchens of the newest American craze, movie stars.

It was Petra who introduced the concept of the ‘Lupein silent auction’ in which bids were written on a list at the front of the room by anonymous bidders such as trusted servants. This was the perfect situation when the objects for sale could be embarrassing to bidders such as ancient Japanese netsuke, miniature sculptures invented to hold bags for traditional Japanese robes that had no pockets. Japanese artists had created beautifully carved sex scenes, worth a fortune to collectors but of course not something most Japanese would even admit to possessing. At one of Petra’s auctions, not only were bids placed anonymously, but the increments were set prior to the auction: every half hour the active bidders would come and view the current bids, then change their own or withdraw.