Wolf Tales 12 (38 page)

Matt spoke up, quietly, but with the confidence of a born leader. “We still have to protect our children. We have to protect the women, too. Not because they’re not powerful in their own right, but because they need the freedom to concentrate on raising the kids, on holding the pack together.” He sat with his hands hanging loosely between his knees, a big kid with a serious, thoughtful demeanor.

“No matter how tough we think we are, the women are the strength behind the pack. They’re the ones that make it work. They make us—all of the males—better people. We have to protect them from those nuts you’re talking about, Anton. Because we know they’re out there. They’ll think our women are weaker, and that’s who they’ll target. The women and the children.”

Everyone nodded. No matter how any of them felt about their roles within the pack, their nature as Chanku couldn’t be denied. The women were physically as strong as the men in their wolven form, but their instincts were always to protect their young. As more and more babies were born, that gender-specific division had become even more pronounced.

As Matt pointed out, the women were the heart of the pack, the ones who kept the wheels greased, who held it together when faced with adversity. They balanced the needs of the men with the needs of the children and the overall needs of the pack. And they were the ones who would be targeted. It was something they all had to be aware of.

“I’m glad you brought it up, Matt. I hate to think of the risk, but you’re right. Maybe we should emphasize how powerful our women are, the fact we’re a matriarchal society.”

He sensed laughter—Keisha and Mei, Daci, Xandi, and Millie and the rest. There might be seven men in this room, but the entire pack was mentally linked with them, free to weigh in on any part of the discussion. They knew their ideas and concerns would be taken seriously.

And it was more than obvious they were seriously enjoying a discussion admitting the strength of women.

Anton ignored the mental cheering section and focused on Matt. “The point is, I agree, Matt. This is exactly why I’ve called you together. I think we’re going to have to go public in a big way. Stef and I talked about options—interviews, talk shows, whatever. We’re going to be asked to shift in public, and people will want to know how we do it.”

He laughed and slowly shook his head. “After getting the history from Lily, I know how it happens. I’m just not sure I believe it yet.”

“I don’t get it either.” Ulrich looked as perplexed as Anton felt. “We’re manipulating time whenever we shift? How the fuck do we do that?”

Anton shrugged and glanced at Stefan. “You’re the brains of this operation, Stef. You explain it.”

Stef grinned at Ric. “It’s an entirely individual anomaly, from what I can figure out. A time shift that affects only the individual and the immediate space and time they occupy. I think scientists will have a wonderful time trying to figure it out. I know that there have been times when Anton and I tried to film it and we couldn’t slow the film down enough to find the point between one form and the next. It’s like one winked out and the other appeared. I know that there have been times when I was sure I saw the shift, the visible morphing from man to wolf, but I think it’s because I wanted to see that. My mind gave me a visual that wasn’t really there.”

Interrupting him, Anton said, “There was one time when I was very close to a man who had hurt Keisha. He’d been stalking her—this was right after she and I first met. I wanted so badly to kill him that I was actually fighting with my wolf, forcing it not to appear and rip out the bastard’s throat. I remember my body shaking with the need to shift as I followed him up the stairs to her house. I saw the fur on the backs of my hands, the claws. Now I wonder if I actually saw that or if it was what I wanted to see. Possibly the intense emotion I felt overcame the time shift. I just don’t know.”

“You all know I was trapped mid-shift for years,” Stefan said. “So was Manda, and now, as we’ve just learned, so was Sunny. That proves there’s a gradual morphing from one form to the next, but it’s essentially happening in another dimension, one that we must slip in and out of during the process. I’m thinking it works the same as time on the astral does. Lily was gone for a couple of weeks for us, but it felt like less than a day to her. I think we can explain shifting to the public as we understand it, but since none of us understands it that well, it will give them a mystery to work with.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Luc hadn’t said much, though he’d obviously been paying close attention. “Diverting attention is an effective way to get folks not to look at the bigger picture, the fact that we’re an alien species, not even human, living and breeding among them. Give scientists a puzzle to keep them busy.”

“I want to give them medical data, too.” Adam gazed around the room. “I think we should allow ourselves to be examined, poked and prodded as much as a chosen medical team wants. Anton mentioned this to me, and it’s a great idea. One team of the government’s choice, with the caveat that all data be made public. The fewer our secrets, the less of a threat we become. Logan and I have talked about our healing abilities, too. We want to offer our insight to the medical community as a whole. See if we can train other physicians to do what we do.”

Nick interrupted Adam. “Won’t that give away our telepathic abilities?”

“Not if we let them think it’s limited to our healers.” Adam’s frustration was obvious. “Nick, I can help people. So can Logan. Hell, I can help animals as well, so I know it’s not limited to Chanku. Humans could benefit from what we’ve learned to do, and if we can find others with the ability to do the same, we have to share this. I think that could be our greatest asset to humanity—our ability to integrate ourselves within a person’s body, to fix things from within. You know some humans are better able to mindspeak than others. We’ve all run across the ones whose minds are wide open. I think they may be able to learn to do what Logan and I can do. I’d like permission to give it a try.”

“Adam, you don’t ever need permission to help people.” Anton gazed at the man who had fascinated him from the beginning. So much power inside him, so much they still didn’t understand. That ability to separate himself from his body and move about at will . . . where the hell had that come from?

Even the Ancient Ones hadn’t touched on that . . . or at least, he’d not found it in the new memories filling his head.

Adam nodded. “Thanks. That’s good to know.”

“Another thing.” Anton grinned. “I understand everyone is taking up my invitation to settle here in Montana. You realize it’s going to be a trailer park until we get some houses built. I’ve recently purchased more property, so we don’t all need to live in one place, but we’ll get together with the whole pack before we build anything and figure out exactly what we need. I’m really pleased you’ve all decided to join us. We’re stronger together. Healthier. I think we’re going to need whatever strength we can find in the coming months.”

He paused for a moment as Mik’s voice slipped into his mind.
There’s a big chopper coming in low over the trees. Not U.S. Forest Service. Looks official, maybe military. You might want to come up.

On our way.

He stood up and clapped his hands together. “I just heard from Mik. We’ve got company. It appears it’s show time.”

Chapter 27

Stefan stopped Anton with a soft touch on his arm. “I don’t have a good feeling about this. The only Chanku anyone knows of is Nick. Why would the military come here? Nick lives in Washington—there’s no way to connect him with us. What’s bringing them here?”

Anton cocked his head and stared at Stef. “I have no idea, but you’ve made an excellent point.” His mind was suddenly spinning with an entirely new set of problems. “Get some of the guys. Shift. Use the tunnel in the woods and come in from the far side of the meadow. Hold back and keep an eye on things. See what happens, but stay out of sight.”

He fingered the cell phone in his pocket. Freshly charged, without any numbers to dial, it gave him a direct link to the president. He fully intended not to use it, but it was nice having it. Very nice. “Stef, I trust you to know if and when you’re needed.”

“Got it.” Stef glanced quickly at the small group. “Matt? Get Deacon and Oliver. Ric? Can you come with us, too? We’re going as backup. Four-legged backup.” He tipped an imaginary hat to Anton and headed for the main cavern with Matt and Ric close behind him.

Anton nodded to Luc, Adam, and Nick. “We’ll go as men. Only shift if you have to. Mik says the chopper’s landing now. He and AJ will meet it. Tinker’s staying back, out of sight in wolf form.” He made eye contact with each of them. “Are you ready? Good. Let’s go.”

Anton led Nick, Adam, and Luc out of the main cavern, with each step trying not to think of the fact this was the first time for him to leave the cavern since fleeing the fire the night before. The first time to see what, if anything, remained.

Mik, Tinker, and AJ had shoved the heavy cabinet hiding the caverns from the cellar back in place, but it slid aside easily on oiled tracks.

The cellar was intact, protected by the concrete foundation overhead, the natural rock walls, and the steel door that led to the fire-resistant stairwell. The steel door stood open. The wide stone steps had been swept clean, but instead of leading into the kitchen, the stairwell opened to the blue sky above.

That incongruous patch of blue stopped Anton for a moment. Though he knew his house was gone, he’d not really contemplated the reality of it. How it would look . . . what it would feel like to have everything so changed. The stink of fire was everywhere—burned wood, burned plastic, melted metal.

He wished he could stand here for a little longer and absorb the changes, experience the scents and sights—even the sounds of smoldering wood—in order to deal with them later. But now was not the time. There were matters to attend to, and he would grieve another day.

He climbed the stairs quickly and was the first of their group to step out into the gray wasteland—all that was left of his home. He paused in what had once been the kitchen and gazed out at a moonscape—what had just yesterday been the truly magnificent, naturally landscaped grounds Keisha had labored over for years. Everything was gone. The fire had burned so hot that not even twigs remained. Nothing but soot-stained boulders and a few broken pieces of once-priceless metal and stone artwork that had graced the beautiful gardens around the house.

Nothing of the structure remained but the stone foundations, and what little metal hadn’t melted entirely. Piles of broken and charred slate, once the roof, lay all over the ground. It was difficult to imagine the heat that must have been generated to destroy everything so thoroughly. Anton moved quickly past the burned-out hulk of what had once been a refrigerator covered with childish drawings, stepped carefully through shards of broken, blackened tiles where kids had played underfoot while parents fixed their meals.

Nothing. None of it was left.

He couldn’t think about that now. Couldn’t look at it. Couldn’t consider his financial and personal loss, the work lying ahead of all of them, the changes in their lives.

The terrible, unstoppable changes. Not with a Sikorsky Black Hawk helicopter squatting like a giant bug in the middle of what had only yesterday been a beautiful meadow. Not with armed men marching toward the ruin that had once been his home. Anger welled up in him, anger that these men should come here now, at a time when he wanted to mourn what was lost. Anger that they would defile a place that had been almost sacred to him, to his family. His pack.

He glared at the helicopter, unaccountably angry at the machine. Except it wasn’t just a machine. It was an abomination, sitting there in what had been a living meadow mere hours ago. The way it blended in with the blackened earth beneath, the slow, deliberate spin of the huge rotors overhead, the sunlight glinting off darkened, bulletproof windows—all of it adding a sense of malevolence.

Three men in uniform with heavy rifles held at an identical angle across their chests took up positions outside the open door of the Black Hawk.

Mik and AJ waited in front of what had once been the broad redwood staircase leading to the intricately carved front doors of Anton’s home. Not even the door frame remained. The wide front deck, the huge house—all of it was gone. Only ash and metal, stone and broken glass and a few smoldering timbers marked what once had been.

His men were covered in soot, obviously unhappy their work had been interrupted. Anton noted how much they’d already accomplished. Four huge piles—one of broken glass, another of twisted metal, a third of smoldering timbers, and the fourth of indescribable refuse—filled what had been the parking area between the house and Mei and Oliver’s cottage.

He thought of the effort it had taken to move so much and realized they’d needed the physical labor. They’d wanted to work off some of the anger at what couldn’t be changed. He understood that drive. He felt it himself, even now. He felt pride, too. Pride in the ones who stood beside him, pride in the men who’d been out here trying to put this outrageous mess right.

There was no fixing it this time. There was only moving forward. He turned his attention from what was lost to what he had. There was no price to be put on loyalty, no way to measure the love of good people.

AJ, looking gorgeous even when he was dressed in torn jeans and covered in soot, stood slightly behind Mik. Backing him up, always. As deceptively relaxed as a snake preparing to strike.

Mik merely looked pissed. He made it perfectly obvious he’d been busy, that he resented the interruption, and he didn’t give a rat’s ass how many stars the man walking toward him wore on his beret or how many armed men walked beside him.

Anton bit back a smile. It was hard to imagine a more imposing force than Miguel Fuentes. Unusually tall and broad shouldered, with skin the color of burnished bronze emphasizing his sharply drawn Native American features, he looked like a man from another century. His waist-length black hair was pulled back in two long braids, and he had a stained strip of leather tied as a sweat band around his forehead. He stood proudly, impassively, with his thick, muscular arms folded across a powerful chest.