Pack and Coven (22 page)

His mood right now was pure, gnarly alpha.

“You won't be so clever when we erase your memories, jackass,” Vern grumbled.

Harry growled, low and threatening. These people should be doing what he wanted. Doing what was right.

Vern twitched before he flicked a piece of pie crust in Harry's direction.

“Did you feel that?” Annette asked her husband, who nodded. “It's almost like…”

“It is,” Vern agreed. “How in tarnation did that happen?”

“I don't know.” Annette stroked Harry's arm, trying to soothe him without herbs, he guessed. There'd better be no herbs. “He's never ordered us around before.”

“Good Goddess, don't tell him,” Vern exclaimed.

“Don't tell me what?” Harry half rose, but Annette wouldn't let go. The lady was stronger than she looked. “Gavin could be hurting her. Why are we pissing around here?”

“Junie will survive the hurt, but it would endanger all of us if we charge in unprepared. It's not easy to control large groups of shifters. What you saw June do yesterday—well, the rest of us don't have that kind of power. But we can heal almost anything June suffers and help her forget anything she wants to forget. She knows that. It will help her get through this.”

“That doesn't make it right.” He should have gone to the police. What was wrong with these people?

Vern shoved his plate away. “Look, Romeo, we know where the compound is, but we don't know if that's where he took her. There are other variables too. Magic's not…magic.”

“We have to get her out before the ceremony. I told you, I can—”

“Yeah, yeah, yadda yadda, you can find her. We can't keep up with you on the hunt, and you can't rescue her alone.” Vern leaned back in his chair, fingers laced over his belly.

Flinging off Annette's hand, Harry banged the table again. Everyone jumped. A stupid testosterone maneuver, but it helped to see them rattled. “I could try.”

“And you could fail.” Vern snorted. “Then what? It sucks to be June right now. It would suck worse if we outed ourselves to the shifters.”

“I'll find her and call you. Give me a cell and I'll go right now.” Energy brimmed inside him like a shaken soda, fizzing over the sides.

“Shifters are so hotheaded.” Vern leaned on the table. “The pack and Gavin would be on you like white on rice as soon as you got within a couple miles. Are you stupid or have you just spent too long on four legs? Someone tell me why we haven't wiped his memory already?”

“Because you need me to find her.” Harry leaned forward as well, matching Vern's posture like two lumberjacks about to arm wrestle. “June put a disguise spell on me before they took her. If they don't see me or hear me, the other shifters won't know I'm there. Every minute you sit here waffling is another minute I could be tracking her.”

“She adlibbed?” Annette asked. She touched Harry's hand again, her eyes closing, and finally nodded. “It's wearing off, but it's impressive. This experience has been good for her.”

“Give me a break. None of this is good for June. If you three don't come up with a plan in the next five, I'm out of here.” He'd have to hurry if his disguise spell was fading.

“We're trying, but somebody's being an impatient asshole.” Vern rubbed his temples. “Tell me and Pete everything. We're the tacticians. We need all the details.”

Harry cursed, but he complied. He rushed through the story, an edge to his voice. Vern stopped him when he got to the part where June did not change into a werewolf. He didn't kiss and tell, but her resistance was a significant factor in the upcoming mission. If Gavin tried a pack bond on June, there was no telling what would happen.

“So…she's resistant, for real? I figured you just stunk in bed.” Vern threw up his hands. “All this time and Junie's resistant.”

As Annette laughed, Vern proceeded to curse a bluer streak than Harry had ever heard in life—and he'd heard a lot.

Finally he ended, out of breath. The vulgarities were at odds with his cherubic countenance and chubby body.

“He's a poor sport and a potty mouth,” Annette said with a shrug. “That's what you get for playing the odds, old man.”

“Oh, like it's obvious who's going to resist and who's going to eat Alpo,” Vern snarked. “There was no reason on this green earth to believe Junie would be resistant just because she's crushed on Harry for eight years.”

“No reason except that it's true. And you lose the bet. You owe the kitty two hundred hours.” Annette spun her empty pie plate in a circle. “Might I suggest you spend your two hundred hours priming heal-all and cayenne?”

Vern flipped her off with both hands. “Might I suggest you eat a fast-food hamburger?”

Annette quit laughing. “Good Lord, no.”

If there was one thing Harry knew about the grannies, it was that they did most of their own cooking. Not that he could call them grannies anymore. Who knew what lurked behind each facade?

“Honey,” Pete said, in his quiet voice, “arguing with your brother isn't productive. If the pack tries to bond a resistant like June, we could have a real situation on our hands.” It was the first time Pete had spoken beyond a hello when he arrived.

“Vern's your brother?” Harry asked, amazed.

“I'm younger. By a century.” Annette grinned.

“I'm glad to hear Junie didn't tell you everything,” Vern said sourly. “Did she tell you how old she really is?”

“Uh.” Harry sank into his chair. “No.”

“Shut up, Vern,” Annette said, “or I'll put a cucumber under your pillow.”

“If you two are finished,” Pete interrupted, “I have an idea, but I have questions for Harry before we proceed.”

Both Annette and Vern simmered down, giving Pete a chance to quiz Harry. He drew a notebook from the back pocket of his slacks. Harry was thankful to have Pete's investigative skills on the case but wished the slow-moving man would pour on some speed. His worries for June clawed at his insides like a hungry cat at a bag of kibble.

Annette handed her husband the pen tucked behind her ear, and he clicked the nib several times. He remained standing, his body blocking their conversation from the chaos of the kitchen.

“Gavin Householder has blipped the police radar a few times, so I can only imagine what he's really like.” He paused when a girl bustled over to refill their fruit teas. “What can you tell us about him?”

Too much.

“He's feral,” Harry said bluntly. “He should be put down.”

“And we believe you why?” Vern asked.

Harry's whole body tightened. He had to force the words through his lips, words he'd never shared with anyone. “I was born in the Roanoke pack. My dad died when I was three, and Mom didn't remarry. It left her unprotected. After Gavin came of age, he picked her. She was nobody, a border monitor without a protector, and I was just a kid. Gavin got rough with her. Repeatedly.”

“Oh, Harry,” Annette said quietly. Even Vern appeared solemn. “The two of you couldn't go to the alphas?”

“He's the alphas' son. What the hell do you think?” Bitterness welled inside him like pus in a boil that had needed lancing for forty years. “One night I guess I thought I'd be the man of the house and tried to stop him. He hurt me, and she fought back. That's when he went feral. Tried to kill us. We had to run. I was ten. She didn't survive the severance.”

“I am so sorry about your mama,” Annette said. “Is this still going on in Roanoke?”

“I don't know what he's done since I left.” He'd avoided finding out, the better to repress his memories. Harry's hands closed into fists. “They have a high attrition rate. Lots of runners. That's why they conscript indies. No indie with half a brain sets foot in Roanoke.”

“The Wytheville coven has mentioned increased violence in the pack,” Pete said. “Disappearances and skirmishes, stuff like that. They credited it to modern life's effect on such a traditional group. It wasn't a huge concern because the police have only picked up misdemeanors.”

“The shifters cover it up. You have ways, they have ways.” Harry stared at each of them. “Right now, I want to hear yours. This isn't helping us get June away from Gavin and the ceremony.”

Pete frowned. “The ceremony is part of our problem. Bianca's got to instate someone or the pack will disband, and we don't want that kind of chaos here. Problem is, something happened to the candidates. Between yesterday and today, they've all disappeared.”

“Roanoke,” Harry said grimly. “Half the pack came, pretending to help Bianca with the lockdown, and chased the candidates off. Douglas came too so they'd have an anchor to postpone severance if needed. Now only Gavin's left.”

“I never thought I'd say this, but Bianca was better off with Bert.” Annette stirred her tea. “So were we.”

“Old Bert wasn't all that bad,” Pete mused. “If nothing else, he was predictable, up until he got caught breaking and entering. That didn't seem like him. Too sloppy.”

“If you say so.” Bert's arrest had been unanticipated, but no surprise. Millington, like Roanoke, typified the conservative side of the shifter spectrum. Only Millington hadn't run a press gang or tolerated ferals.

That would change along with everything else once Gavin was alpha.

“As for there being no other contenders in the area, I wouldn't say that's the case.” Pete eyed Harry speculatively. “You're a good man, Harry. That's why I know you're going to hear me out, even though you aren't going to like what I have to say.”

After a bumpy trip down poorly maintained roads, Gavin and his followers, with June chained to a tire in the back of the truck, arrived at the Millington compound a few hours before midnight. Her body ached, and her shoulders and arms had grown numb. However, her sprained ankle and throbbing head more than made up for any numbness. She hadn't been able to catnap, but she'd zoned out as much as possible.

June had driven past the compound a number of times on the river road. She'd been on a recon mission inside once, under the pretense of gathering signatures for a petition. Humans had little cause to trek this far downriver.

The compound itself was on the opposite side of the Hartsell, connected by a steel-cabled swinging bridge. The pack lined their vehicles on the public side, next to a narrow concrete garage for motorcycles. There was always at least one shifter near the vehicles at any given time, protecting one of the packs' most valuable assets as well as the bridge. Needless to say, the pack posted numerous no-trespassing signs, and shifters patrolled the woods to make sure no one came upon their utopia unannounced.

To the naked eye, the compound resembled a shantytown, with an open central area surprisingly free of debris and clutter. Because of the mountain on one side and the river on the other, the livable area was long instead of wide. The hodgepodge of dwellings clustered haphazardly, with ATVs, sheds, animal pens and the occasional swing set scattered among them.

June had been secured in a white plastic chair on the edge of the courtyard. She smelled like dried beer and anxiety. Sounds and scents rose in a tangle around her—the hum of generators, the babble of voices, the smell of grilling meat and baked beans, and somebody running a chain saw. Her ankles had been taped to the chair legs, and her arms remained behind her back. A cheap outdoor table beside her held the condiments for the meal after the ceremony.

Too bad it was nothing she could cast spells with. Ketchup, relish, mustard and hot sauce were too far beyond their native form to be of use for anything but hotdogs and burgers.

After some raised eyebrows at her bound status, the wolves had ignored her, even the young ones. No one was set to guard her, although Gavin warned her about getting funny ideas.

None of her ideas were funny, unless death and dismemberment amused you to no end.

June got as comfortable as she could and watched the preparations with an eye toward escape. Whenever she thought nobody would notice, she chafed her hands against the chair slats, using the poorly molded resin to shred the tape.

Pack wolves from Millington and a few from Roanoke milled around. A bonfire was in the center. Teenagers laid evergreen branches in a circumference around the area while two adults worked at a utility table near the beer kegs, doing something with roots, herbs and crock pots. She assumed they were preparing the infusions each adult pack member would imbibe. June wasn't close enough to see what they were using, but traditionally it included passionflower, red clover, skullcap, peppermint and goldenseal. Others raked the ceremonial area over and over, sifting out unwanted items.

What the pack members didn't know was that they were preparing for a spell. Big magic. Not that it mattered. It was the only magic they could channel beyond changing their bodies from two to four legs.

With a lot of discreet wiggling, June scooted her chair farther from the circle until she was near a prefab shed. A few more feet and she'd be within reach of a laurel bush. She was beginning to hope she'd been forgotten when she noticed Bianca and Gavin, a pale wolf trotting behind them, headed her way.

The alpha's impatient stalk and jerky movements indicated all was not right with her world. Not surprising, since Gavin was about to become a permanent part of it.

June couldn't blame the other woman for wanting Harry as her partner, but Bianca had caught herself in her own snare—the clock ticking on the ceremony and nobody but Gavin left to choose from.

The shifters halted in front of June. The wolf, which looked familiar, sat beside the condiments table and regarded her unblinkingly. Bianca grabbed June's chin and tilted her face one way, then the other, peering closely at her features.

Would she note the resemblance between June and Sandie? Bianca released her and regarded Gavin with one thin, black eyebrow arched.

“This is the one you want to pack bond?” she asked dubiously. “That doesn't always work.”

“We'd be doing her a favor.” Gavin placed a heavy hand on June's shoulder like a warning. “Have you ever seen a juvie this old?”

Bianca bent until she was inches from June's face. Her nostrils flared and her fruity breath washed over June as she inhaled. “Why is she tied up? Didn't she agree to this?”

“I definitely did not agree to this,” June said.

Gavin grabbed her hair, yanking her head back. “Shut up, bitch. Nobody's talking to you.”

In a blur of movement, Bianca had Gavin up against the shed. The giant boom of his body against corrugated metal resounded through the clearing, halting the activity as everyone stared. The wolf beside the table rose to its feet, ruff bristling like a cat's.

June couldn't see Bianca's face, but the alpha's hands encircled Gavin's throat in a way June wished she could do herself. As it would be in poor taste to yell, “You go, girl,” she kept her mouth shut.

“You aren't alpha yet,” Bianca snarled, lifting him off the ground. “You will not treat the women in this pack with disrespect or you won't be alpha long.”

June had to wonder how Bianca intended to make good on a threat like that. Ridding a pack of unwanted alphas was trickier than it used to be. The go-to method had always been murder. In this day and age, cops tended to investigate missing persons, dead bodies and killing sprees, even when the people involved were cultish.

Gavin didn't struggle. Wrath burned from his eyes. “Is that what happened to Bert?”

Bianca lifted him an inch higher. “None of your damn business,” she said with a shake.

Gavin began to choke, so she flung him to the ground. The conversations around them restarted, unnaturally loud—people pretending this was business as usual, to allow the incoming alpha to save face.

Or because the encounter
was
business as usual.

June had no way of knowing how the pack operated. She had always assumed Bert and Bianca were a terrible twosome, and Bianca's aggression toward Gavin didn't disprove it.

Except for the fact her behavior had been spurred by his abuse of a weaker being.

He stood, rubbing his throat. “You know they won't find Smith in time. Or anybody. I'm your man, Bianca baby. Nobody's coming because I'm already here.”

Bianca's fingers flexed into fists. Her guttural snarl was wordless and more than eloquent.

Gavin answered with words. “So we'll be including the girl in the bond tonight.”

“I'd rather not drag any unwilling members into the pack,” she said. “We're going to have enough trouble.”

He laughed. “Harry Smith didn't want to join your pack, and you didn't give a rat's ass about that.”

“I don't want to talk about Harry.” In another display of alpha strength, Bianca hefted June's chair and replaced it beside the condiments table.
Oops.
The pale wolf sniffed June's leg.

“He's not even who he says he is,” Gavin said. “Harry Smith is an alias.”

June had heard this before, and apparently Bianca had too. The alpha didn't blink. “Lots of indies have fake IDs. I don't want to complicate the ceremony, and I don't want any bodies to dispose of. We have a lot of new members this month as well as…you.”

“All right, all right. You win.” Gavin's sharp teeth flashed in the glow of kerosene lanterns. “I'll keep her in a cage until she shifts. Me and boys will help her find the wolf. We've done it before.”

“You've got to be kidding me,” Bianca snapped. “That's inhumane.”

“I might care about that if we were human. But we're not, and we shouldn't pretend to be.”

She gritted her teeth. “I won't allow it.”

“In case you hadn't noticed, after tonight you won't be in charge anymore. I will.” He strutted away without a backward glance at the two women.

“What a piece of work,” June commented, knowing Gavin could hear her if he wanted. “How can you stand him?”

It was in her best interests to exacerbate the strife here, maybe enough that Bianca would risk the pack's unit bond rather than instate Gavin. She could try to push it another night, give herself time to find someone else—and give Harry and the coven and the police and the Marines and the cavalry and the Easter Bunny time to find June.

“I can't stand him,” Bianca admitted. The wolf that accompanied her nuzzled her hand, whining. “He's worse than Bert.”

Interesting sentiment coming from Bert's legally wedded wife. With Gavin elsewhere, she sounded almost civil. She hadn't let him hurt June and seemed troubled by her presence. How else was Bianca different from the person June had always assumed she was?

And how could June use it to her advantage?

“Why him? Why can't you wait until you find somebody better?”

“You ever been in a pack, girl?” Bianca asked. “Maybe born in one before you took off?”

June shook her head. “Neither of my parents were pack.” It was true.

“Then you wouldn't know.” Bianca aligned the bottles and jars on the condiments table in order of tallest to shortest. “The lead-up to a ceremony begins weeks in advance. Once it's underway, if you drop the thread, it dissolves our bonds. All of them. We pushed it as far as we could. Tonight's our last night.”

“Weeks?” Bert had only been sent to prison a couple days ago. Foreboding washed over her as the implications sank in. The Millington pack's annual ceremony usually took place in another thirty days. Either the Macabees had planned the bonding ceremony early or Bianca had planned it behind Bert's back…a month before Harry took his customary vacation.

Bianca nodded. “Then there's the ceremonial drink. The ingredients are expensive, and they have a use-by date you wouldn't believe.”

“I would believe it.” Certain herbs were the same way. They weren't effective if the item in question wasn't hours, even minutes from the ground fresh—problematic if you couldn't grow a local supply. “You won't really let him lock me in a cage, will you?”

Bianca placed the last salt shaker in the regimented line. “We'll try the ceremony. If you go into it with a willing heart, you'll probably make it through.”

“Probably?” June exclaimed. “I don't know as much about pack bonds as you, but this is my life we're talking about. Mrs. Macabee, please.”

Bianca frowned. “I'm getting a divorce. Call me Bianca.”

“Bianca, I—”

“Actually, don't call me anything. If you aren't going to tell me how I can find Harry in the next hour and save us from that dog shit Gavin, I don't have anything else to say to you.” The wrinkles in Bianca's forehead smoothed out and her exotic features became expressionless. “Other than welcome to the pack, sister.”

For the twenty-seventh time, the Caddy's overworked engine failed to catch, so Harry motioned for Vern to turn off the ignition. The old car had coughed to a stop a mile from the compound. It was close to midnight, and part of Harry's job was to create enough of a diversion for the coven to infiltrate the compound.

The other part, he didn't even want to think about.

He cursed and slammed the hood. “I can't do anything without my tools. It's dead.”

“Congratulations. You killed both of June's cars,” Vern said. “Some mechanic you are.”

“Shut up.”

“No, you shut up,” Vern replied with what had to be deliberate immaturity. Harry had never even met a preteen as annoying as Vern, and he'd been told adolescence was the most difficult age for kids.

June's original disguise spell had worn off. Vern had been sent with Harry to cast a spell the coven swore would protect him long enough for tonight's undertaking. The kid—man, whatever—was the strongest witch in the coven next to June, who'd be in no position to help anybody, they assumed.

Harry detested all the assumptions they were basing their plan on—like the assumption Gavin wouldn't hurt June, or that it didn't matter if he did, because they'd help her forget.

It mattered. It mattered to Harry.

He leaned through the back window to grab one of June's ubiquitous containers of wet wipes. That was when he heard it. The call.

A high, mournful ululation poured over him. He felt the urge to respond more strongly than he'd experienced since his childhood. Shifters who lived where there were no true wolves had to be cautious about the howl, so it wasn't something he'd heard in many places he'd lived. Like all indies he kept himself far away from bonding ceremonies to avoid this exact situation.

The call made him want to shift. To sing. To run. To join.

Moonlight broke into shards as his eyes changed. His fingers curled. His breathing quickened.

“Is that what I think it is?” Vern yelled through the window of the Caddy.

His voice shook Harry out of his trance. So did the answering howls scattered around them.

“Damn.” He stalked around the vehicle and opened the door. “They're getting ready to start.”

Vern popped out of the car. “Then let's go.”

“Help me push the car onto the shoulder. It's blocking the road.”

He wasn't sure how the coven intended to rescue June. They'd been crafty when pressed. June's scent marker led straight down this road. There was nothing out here but the compound and a lot of wilderness.

She was alive, or had been a couple hours ago.

Despite Vern's protests, they managed to inch the Caddy onto the shoulder. The grannies would be behind them soon. This section of the road was hundreds of feet above the river, and the next mile was all downhill.