Caged

2-2

TREES HUGGED THE UNEVEN car park on three sides, blossoms dying on the cracked tarmac below them. Four cars dotted the unmarked spaces, but none of them as large as the X5 in the far left corner. Genetically big creatures by nature, werewolves tended to opt for the bulkier vehicles, if only for space comfort. Sean’s girlie Porsche made him an exception to the rule. Guessing the sleek grey wheels belonged to the other pack, I parked as far from it as possible.

All three of us inhaled upon stepping from the truck. A host of scents greeted me. Dissecting the wildlife from the flora and cooling engines, I discovered four two-legged mammals carrying the underlying scent of wolf.

Four against three. “You sure this is kosher, Dad?”

“I made the request,” he said. “So I’m sticking to the arrangement.”

A path wound up and behind a line of trees. Dad headed that way, Sean and I falling into step at his shoulders. The higher up the incline we walked, the stronger the other pack’s scents grew.

Low brick columns supported the entrance. Beyond those, the man I presumed to be Jack Brosen sat on a far wall, as though enjoying the morning’s rays.

Only someone looking for it would spot the tightness of his jaw, the tension in his body language. Just as only one who expected to see it would notice the weariness in his expression—caused, I presumed, by his missing son.

He nodded to us, as we passed the entrance, but made no effort to approach. A few metres to his right, a second male leaned against the exterior of the coffee shop. Behind the wall Jack occupied, a third and fourth skulked about in the trees.

Had an outside pack asked for a meet on my territory, I’d have brought adequate backup, too.

When we neared, the two tree-huggers rounded the wall and flanked Jack. As the other one pushed up from his casual stance and took a few steps closer, my gaze shifted to keep watch on him. If he’d stayed that close to begin, he must have had a higher priority than the other two in keeping the head of the pack protected. Another son? His hair, what I’d tag as nondescript brown, matched that of the mature wolf.

Dad halted a few feet before Jack, yet neither offered a hand in greeting. “Thanks for meeting with us.”

“There’s been another?” Jack asked.

Dad nodded.

Jack’s eyes seemed to retract at the knowledge. “The kids on the news?”

The hairs on my arm bristled as nondescript-brown came too close for comfort. I glanced at his flared nostrils and lifted an eyebrow. “Personal space. You ever heard of it?”

“Kid,” Dad said. “His friend’s human.”

“Aw, s**t,” Jack said.

I turned back from the werewolf’s smirk.

“It’s escalating,” Dad said.

Jack’s stare hardened as he lowered the hand he rubbed over his hair. “It escalated weeks ago.”

I shifted forward. “What do you mean?”

Jack’s attention flittered to me for a split second before reengaging with Dad. “Let’s take a walk. Just the two of us.”

My shoulders stiffened as it took every effort not to intervene, to allow Dad to speak for himself. Let him wonder off on his own with an unfamiliar wolf? Only a moron would consider it. I caught the alteration to Sean’s stance in my periphery—a sign that he shared my concerns.

“If I come, they come,” Dad said like he’d sensed our distrust. “Otherwise, we walk away, and this discussion will never take place.”

“That many of us together will draw attention,” Jack said.

“Not as much as continuing to argue about it outside the coffee shop.” Dad shrugged. “Besides, with everything that’s going on, I’d rather keep my sons where I can see them.”

Tension tightened Jack’s jaw, as though he tried to work out if Dad’s words had been a personal insult. I knew they hadn’t been—Dad had more class than that—but it took Jack a couple of seconds to nod and push up from his perch.

He inclined his head to the left. “We’ll take the path. Should be quiet at this time of day.”

Sean fell into step behind the two Alphas, hanging back a little. My personal minder matched each of my strides, which kept him as a permanent side fixture in my view span.

Branches from trees on our right embraced those of their neighbours on the left, creating a green hued tunnel of shadow that dappled the ground. I caught the twitch of Sean’s shoulder muscles beneath his shirt as ‘Odd and Odder’ took positions left and right, boxing him in from all sides. As I created one of those barriers, and Dad half of another, I decided the situation could have been worse and tuned into the conversation up ahead.

“Which of the names from the news wasn’t human?” Jack asked.

“Gabriel Lewis.”

“Race?”

“Werewolf.”

Jack’s steady pace faltered for a moment as he turned to Dad. “With which pack, as he’s living on my territory?” A hint of outrage underlay his tone.

“None,” Dad said. “Kid’s not with a pack ... yet.”

“Yet?”

“We made him an offer.”

I’d made the offer and confessed to Dad two days after the event, but that titbit got omitted.

“He’s thinking it over,” Dad said.

“You crossed the border to my county and poached on the locals?” The outrage became more than a hint.

“I had my reasons.” Dad’s tone of indifference dismissed the discussion. “What did you mean when you said it escalated weeks ago, Jack?”

A brief pause ensued, as though Jack warred with the urge to continue his pride-primping. “The twelve that have been reported?”

“Twelve?” Dad’s steps ceased as he turned to his companion again.

I halted, too, but jerked forward when my shadow knocked my shoulder. My lips drew back with the low snarl I sent his way.

The mouth of the brown-haired wolf curved up at the corners.

“You like me,” I murmured. “I get it. It’s an effect I have on all the ladies.” As the two leaders continued their walk, I resumed mine, my lips twitching at the quiet growl that followed.

“... two females in Yorkshire as well as two males were reported,” Jack said up ahead. “I think those were the earliest ones. If there were others, before Yorkshire, they’ve escaped my notice, or stayed below the media radar. Then disappearances started in Lincolnshire. Only two reported there, but I’ve heard there were at least double that. From there, they moved into Derbyshire—”

“They?” Dad cut in at the mention of our patch. “There’s a team?”

“Stands to reason. Races are still going missing in one county when they begin in the next.”

Dad nodded like that made sense to him. “We only had one go missing on my territory, and I haven’t a clue what he is, just what the news said.”

“Only one was reported,” Jack said. “Doesn’t mean it was the only one.”

The disadvantage, I guessed, of isolating ourselves as a pack had finally caught up with us.

“From your domain,” Jack continued, “they moved across to Worcestershire. Two females from there—neither of them wolves, to my knowledge.”

“Then, how do we know they’re connected?” Dad asked.

“Because they were taken on the same evening, with the same disrupted signs left behind, as two pack wolves from the area. The wolves didn’t make the news.”

“And now?”

“Now they’re here.” Jack stopped walking and rubbed a hand across his face before settling it upon his hip. “They took another of mine two days ago.”

Dad mirrored his stationary pose, bringing the rest of us to a standstill. “Besides your son? Why haven’t I heard about this, Jack?”

“Because I hoped he’d turn out to be with his mate. But he didn’t, and with the blood traces we found at his home, it doesn’t look promising.”

Dad blew out a slow breath. “Name?”

“Samuel Toulsen.”

A few moments of quiet followed, as though they both needed the gap to absorb all the information.

“I’d like your permission to search in Shropshire,” Dad said.

“We have no idea where they are. They could be anywhere.”

“But this is where they’re currently hunting. So this is the best place to hunt for them right now. I don’t want to trespass, Jack, but I will if I have to. Do I have your permission?”

He met Dad’s stare, holding it for seconds, before he gave a slight nod. “I’ll let my boys know.”