Buer

“The troops are ready Sir.” “Préparer le jet.” (Prepare the jet.) At eight thirty sharp, he was ready. The car was fueled, the jet prepared. It was his turn to conduct the annual conference. “Quand arrivent les autres?” (When are the others coming?) “Aujourd'hui.” (Today) On his way from the pack house to the parking area, hundreds greeted him with a standard nod and bow. The sign of submission. He acknowledged back with a nod. “How is fille?” He asked a pack member whose daughter was infected by typhoid. The child was administered to a dosage of basilic tea. Ail was also a comment ingredient in his tablets to help her get better along with a dozen other herbs. (fille - daughter, Ail - Garlic, basil - basil) “She is recovering Sir. Merci.” ******************************************************************************* By the time he landed in Victoria, it was almost ten. The conference was to be held at eleven at Fairmount Express. With a strength of almost two hundred, the hotel staff was instructed to stay away from the allocated hall. The last one ended with a wolf sightings by humans. Appropriate measures were taken to make sure that history does not repeat itself. The room was decorated with three main chairs on the podium and the rest of the chairs on the floor. It was almost full. One of the three occupied, the second waiting for him and the third was late as usual. “Bonjour Stor.” “γεια σας Beur.” (Hello Beur) The rest settled as the two claimed their thrones. Still waiting for the third. “Where is the κώλος ?” (κώλος - asshole) He had enough knowledge of Greek to understand Stov’s emotions. “Probably with a woman.” The answer was standard when it was concerned to Kron’s whereabouts. He was always surrounded by women. Men, even, if he was in the mood. “Start the meeting. He will join when later.” ************************************************************************************* Kron did join later. His clothes rumpled, hair disheveled and lips swollen. It was as obvious as the moon in the night. “Do you have no control?” Stor was known for his temper and Kron loved to irritate him. Managing the two of them became his job. A job he was tired of. The banter continued till the shouts were heard outside the room. “Enough. For one night, behave.” Stor stopped but still glared and Kron simply smirked. That smirk said that Kron was upto no good. “I am leaving for a drink. We will discuss when I am back.” He found himself in a small dingy bar in the outskirts of Victoria. It was a small town with minimal population. Who seemed to know each other and treaded carefully around him. They should. After all, he looked strong enough to kill them all with one hand. He was strong enough! “Whiskey, no ice.” His blood made it almost impossible to get drunk. “Not from around, eh?” The bar looked like it was built in the fifties, the bartender around the same age. The man’s English was rusty and had a strong French accent. “Vagabond.” The man’s eyes softened at the sound of French. “Ton français est bon, mon fils.” (Your French is good, my son.) The old man had called him son. He wondered how comical it would be if the old man knew about his age. “Merci.” After one hour, he had almost finished a bottle of whiskey. Not one bit drunk. The bartender was now observing him closely. In wonder, he assumed. One more drink and it would attract unwanted attention. That was Kron’s job not his. That reminded him that he has left them alone for too long. A dangerous mistake on his part. It was time to go back to the hotel. ************************************************************************ Everything was silent. Unbelievably silent! “Ce qui se passe là-bas?” He mindlinked Louis, his right hand man. “Kron is busy and Stor has retired for the night.” (What's going on there?) “Rien ne s'est passé?” (Nothing happened?) “No Sir.” He was suspicious but felt better listening to that. Tonight, he could sleep well. The next morning, everyone was back in the hall. Kron, surprisingly well dressed and on time. “Bien.” (Good) “Merci Buer. Your praise means the world to me.” Came back Kron’s reply. The sarcastic bastard. “Behave Kron.” Behind him Stor growled out. It was beautiful that such clashing personalities were meant to rule together. “Enough, let’s start.” The conference was long and tedious. The topic for today was witches. Which was a dicey one and had the whole place divided. Some wanted to have them killed, others just wanted peace. He, personally was partial towards them. They all knew that. So, he refrained from joining the discussion. That resulted in another disaster. Stor wanted them dead and Kron was dead against it. He was stuck in between again. Unable to choose a side. Tempers started to escalate. “Why do you want them dead Stor?” “They are a curse, corrupting humans, manipulating packs, killing innocents.” Stor’s eyes darken with every word, years of torment reflecting in them. “They deserve to die.” He ended his answer like it was the most obvious conclusion. “Witches are the reason our kind exist.” Kron retaliated. “Exactly. They are the reason we are cursed.” Another man bellowed from the crowd. Stor nodded in agreement. There it was, the main reason for the hatred towards witches. Our existence was their mistake. A mistake that costed them half their population and a lot of innocent lives. “Even if we do decide to eliminate them, how will we carry out the decision?” Killing witches was as easy as killing humans. Physically, they were just as delicate. Mentally, they were strong enough to wipe packs overnight. The only way to kill a witch was knife through the heart. A wooden stake and then burn them. At his question, all the arguments stopped. The decision was easy, the willingness to go through it was the tough job. Spotting out a witch was easy. Killing them, was just as tough. “I’ll think of something.” Stor’s confidence was down by a lot now. Of course, Kron had to point that out. “You should do that sometimes. Really helpful if you ask me.” He couldn’t but wish for Kron to get lost. To go back to his women. “At least I have a brain and not just a d**k to think from.” Things get ugly and he was wishing for this nightmare to be over soon. Everyone just reached at an impasse. Nothing else could be done. Just like every other year. ******************************************************************** He found himself at a different bar this time. He was tempted to go to the same one as yesterday but it was too risky. Easily forgotten wasn’t his forte. This one was more new, young lads and girls, hyper, energetic crowd. Even the oldest person here was not of his generation. Youngsters these days fascinated him. Surrounded by so many, yet alone. Loved strangers yet can’t bear blood. Fascinating! He was on his fourth whiskey when he heard the loud cheering. A group of youngsters, mostly teenagers were having a celebration of some kind. They were all cheering a beautiful girl who looked the happiest as she was cutting the cake. Looking at them made him think of his young days. Of course, they didn’t really have cake back then. Just simple pudding. Delicious pudding. After ordering his eighth and last drink, the same girl who was cutting the cake approaches him. As she nears him, he notices how young she looks. “Hi. Are you here alone?” Internally, he sighed. “Go home child.” When the girl just rolled her eyes, he continued. “Take a man your age.” Physically he did look like he was in his late twenties. “I like old men.” “Well, I’m not interested in children.” “It’s my birthday. You’ll be a great gift.” She gave him a once over that made his skin crawl. What was wrong with girls nowadays? Didn’t they have any self respect? When a man says no, even he means it as no. “Child, you’re getting on my nerves.” Before she could speak, a small feminine voice is heard. “Sir, you’re drink.” He turns to the bar, not finding the middle-aged guy who was serving him all along. It was a small woman. No, it was a small girl. Probably the same age as the one in front of him. “Bugger off you idiot.” Something in him rose, when the girl insulted the ange in front of him. “I’m sorry…. I” The tiny creature looked lost for words. “Merci belle.” He then turned to the girl in front of him. “Leave fille. While you still have the chance.” He let his eyes darken so for a second so she understands. Girls these days needed to know how to behave. The ange’s voice brought him back to the present. “Anything else, Sir?” “Tout mon amour.” (Everything, my love.)