Moonlight: The Big Bad Wolf (Black Swan 4) (18 page)

Litha narrowed her eyes. When she hugged him back she let a little heat build up in her hands. "I'd like to see you try it." She arched an eyebrow while he laughed, sidling away from getting burned.

"Okay. So how does this work?" Glen asked.

"I guess that means you've taken command." Storm looked at Ram, who shrugged and smiled. "Well, we have two mules and three riders. You tell us."

"Only you could turn getting a ride in the passes around to make it sound like you're in control." Litha gave Storm a mock dirty look.

"You go with Litha. I'll go with the demon. Litha, will you please come back for Sir Hawking?"

She nodded.

Storm looked at Glen. "Okay. Since we're following you, we're giving you temporary permission to drop the formalities."

"Speak for yourself," Ram teased, winking at Glen.

"Will that be copasetic with you, um, Ram?" Truthfully, Ram's first name on Glen's tongue felt awkward and out of place.

"Aye, sir."

"Very well." Glen withdrew an old-fashioned paper map from his pack and showed it to Litha and Deliverance. He pointed to a marking he'd made in orange highlighter. "This is the south entrance to the Elk Mountain reservation. There's a lightly guarded border station there. We need to be dropped close, but not so close that we would alarm anyone." He glanced at Elora and the baby and his meaning was clear. "We have to be cleared by the security station to gain official admittance to the reservation. They might give us a ride or they might point to the road. We won't know until we get there.

"Either way, we'll be about twelve miles from the settlement. It's a short ride or a medium jog." Glen eyed the two old men who were already well on the other side of twenty-five. "You're both up to it?"

Ram looked at Storm. "He just insulted us, did he no'?"

Storm nodded. "I think we can manage."

Glen rolled up the map and stuck it back in his pack. "Let's go then."

Storm gave the kid points for knowing that it was always good to have a paper map back up. While small electronic devices were convenient, sometimes weather or atmosphere or concentrations of technology interfered with their operations and you had to be ready to go old school.

Storm and Glen were delivered to a location within visual range of the reservation entrance. Storm was glad he got to go first so his stomach had a minute to settle down.

So far he was impressed with everything about the way Glen had conducted himself. He had taken the initiative to do his own research in case the intelligence briefing missed something. He'd listened to Elora attentively and respectfully, while acknowledging deference to her rank and personal experience with the king. When deciding how they would travel he had, apparently, factored in Ram's dislike of Deliverance and arranged for him to go with Litha. And, last, he had adopted a practical approach to what he'd learned about werewolf tribal customs. The plan to arrive outside the guard station, but not so close as to alarm anyone, confirmed Storm's past impression that Glen had some innate talent for strategy and tactical application.

The kid was the whole package: brilliant, likable, and able to turn any situation into an equation to be solved by sorting through available data, and arranging various factors in order of importance. There were only two things Storm still needed to evaluate. How did he react to stress? And, did he have
it
? That mystic quality that science couldn't define or categorize. Women called it intuition. Men called it gut instinct. Naming it was irrelevant. Having it was crucial.

Storm jumped when Litha popped in with Ram. It seemed that, even when you knew it was coming, it was still so unnatural that the body reacted independently of the brain.

"Sorry," she chuckled quietly. She leaned up and gave him a peck on the lips. "Have fun. See you later."

"I'm not here for fun, woman!" Storm protested with his brows furrowed.

"Right," she laughed and vanished.

"You were right," Glen said to Storm. "It's cold here."

It was a cloudy day threatening a big dump of snow. They looked around at the inch of recent snow on the ground. Not so much that rocks and twigs weren't visible, but the moisture in the air made it seem even colder than it was.

"Ready?"

Storm and Ram nodded and fell in behind him.

When the guard saw people approaching he stepped outside the hut with a silent, but open question hanging in the air.

Nearing the gate, Glen said, "Visitors to the king. We're expected."

The guard looked them up and down unapologetically as if he began every clearance encounter with an assumption that non-werewolves were up to no good. "Names?"

"Glendennon Catch. Rammel Hawking. Engel Storm."

He checked his list then picked up his cell phone, speed dialed a number, and repeated the names. "Do you need visual confirmation?" He grunted, touched his handheld device a couple of times, then held it up and panned across them to transmit video. He switched back to audio communication, grunted into the handheld and put it away.

"Do you have weapons in those packs?" All three said no. "Would you mind opening up and letting me take a look?" He rummaged through each pack so thoroughly that, at one point, Ram and Storm gave each other meaningful looks. The potential guests from Black Swan did have weapons, of course, but none that would be identifiable by sight, which was the most primitive method of security scan. When the werewolf guard was satisfied, he pointed at the dirt road behind him. "Twelve miles that way. Stay on the road. You can take that jeep. Keys are in it. When you see buildings, leave the jeep. The village is pedestrian only."

Glen thanked him and led the way toward a topless jeep that looked like it could have been a relic from World War II. He threw his pack in the rear and pulled himself up behind the wheel.

"You know how to drive manual?" Storm asked as he folded his long legs into the shotgun seat.

Glen just grinned as he started the engine and threw the gearshift into reverse. "You two should hold on. The lack of hydraulics in this model might be a little hard on old bones."

Storm looked behind him at Ram as if to say, "Can you believe this?" Being with someone who thought of them as old would take some getting used to. Glen was masterfully ambiguous which kept them guessing about whether or not he was kidding.

At almost exactly twelve miles they reached the edge of the settlement. They pulled off the path, parked, and shouldered their packs.

The center of Elk Mountain reservation so perfectly blended into its surroundings that Frank Lloyd Wright would have called it a masterpiece of low impact architecture. The buildings varied in size, but used identical building materials. Wood logs that came from the local forest. Stone that came from the river nearby. Homes were situated in concentric circles around a community center which appeared to be a place of central meeting and a country store with basic provisions.

There was a lodge sitting on a rise at the edge of the village. Glen knew from his research that it was the alpha's home. It wasn't larger than most in square footage, but its height, both in terms of structure and how it was situated relative to other buildings, strongly suggested dominance. What he didn't know for certain was whether they should go to the center of activity or to the lodge. He headed toward the large meeting hall. If no one had been designated to greet them, he would ask someone there.

Storm and Ram fell back just a little behind him. Under his breath Storm said, "Don't interfere unless his life is in danger."

Ram gave Storm a questioning look and narrowed his eyes. "You sure? He's a rookie."

"Would you rather see him tested
without
us watching out for him? Gonna happen one way or the other."

Ram nodded and they picked up their pace until they were right behind him again.

Glen looked over his shoulder. "Secrets, gentlemen?"

"Storm's expectin' fatherhood and needin' advice from a more experienced family man."

Storm always marveled at how easily stories slid out of Ram's imagination and onto his tongue.

A score of children had started following, laughing and running circles around them. Glen smiled at them, but didn't speak. Werewolf tribes were isolated. They didn't get many visitors and didn't readily trust people from the outside world. A handful of adults who could tolerate humans conducted business on behalf of the tribe. The rest of the population preferred to keep to their own territory.

Glen looked over his shoulder. "Don't say anything to them. Their parents may not want us to interact with them and make them feel comfortable about humans."

When they reached the settlement center, there were several young bloods hanging around the entrance, leaning against the wall. When the three strangers approached, they straightened. Glen offered a courtesy nod and started toward the door. They immediately closed ranks and blocked his path.

"We're here to see the king. And we're expected."

One of them repeated his words back to him in a high mocking voice while the largest stood right in front of his face and stared down at him. The one directly in front of him inhaled deeply, then made a face like he smelled something bad.

Glen narrowed his eyes, but didn't look away. The werewolf standing directly in front of him started to growl low in his throat. Glen responded by letting his pack drop off his shoulders onto the ground, but he didn't look away while he did it.

"Maybe I wasn't clear. Once again. We're here as the
king's
guests. We don't want any trouble. We're just trying to find out where to meet with him. So either take us to him or get out of the way so I can ask somebody else."

The wolf in Glen's face responded by showing his teeth. Without further warning or ritual threatening behavior, Glen unleashed a snarl so loud and menacing, and inhuman, that the werewolf in front of him stumbled backward and ended up on his ass with a shocked look on his face. The three friends behind him backed away quickly. Still growling, Glen leaned down toward the boy on the ground and waited for him to submit. When the other kid showed his throat, Glen looked at the others so they could see what alpha looked like on someone their age. That gave the young male on the ground time to scramble to his feet and retreat to a safe distance.

Storm and Ram both raised their eyebrows. A look passed between them just as the door opened. Stalkson Grey was standing behind it.

"Mr. Catch?"

"Yes."

"I apologize for that behavior. You were supposed to have been met and escorted here. By the time I heard the disturbance and realized that some of the young bloods were misbehaving, I saw that you were doing fine on your own. I saw what happened from the window."

Grey was looking at Glen with unexpected admiration. All three of his team were thinking that the potential ambush might have turned out to be the best thing for the success of the mission.

Glen offered his hand to the king. "Glendennon Catch. I'm here on behalf of Black Swan. I believe you've met Sir Hawking."

Grey stepped off the porch and greeted Ram with a handshake, then introduced himself to Storm.

"Since we're having a small get-together of a private nature, I thought we could talk at my house. The tribe's two elders are already there waiting."

Grey turned to Ram. "How was your flight?"

"Actually we used another method of transport. 'Tis related to what we came to discuss. Mr. Catch knows all the particulars, so I'll be lettin' him fill you in.

"'Tis a beautiful place you have here. A little cold maybe."

Stalkson Grey laughed at that. "It's funny to hear you say that because lately I often find myself feeling too warm."

"Aye. Well, 'tis probably the menopause."

Glen froze in his tracks and held his breath, wishing to all the gods, as much as he loved and admired him, that Rammel had stayed home.

Grey stopped moving. Then, seeing the twinkle in Ram's eye, he threw back his head and laughed. "You know, Sir Hawking, you and your mate are the only people I know who aren't afraid of me even a little. It's... refreshing." As they continued walking, Grey slapped Ram on the back. Then, in a more serious tone, he said, "You know I'm not experiencing the menopause."

Ram took another couple of steps before asking, "How do you know?"

There was a hitch of hesitation in Grey's stride, but he broke out in laughter all over again when he realized he'd been teased, not once but twice. And all in the same day.

Grey's lodge was stately in its own way. It was a tribute to Northwest Pacific art and architecture. There was a comfortable conversation area by a large free-standing rock fireplace that could be seen from both the living area and the kitchen beyond. A small, cheery wood fire was burning and filling the house with the delicious aroma of green wood and sap.

Two old werewolves sat on either side of the fire like bookends. Grey introduced them as Drift and LongPaw and they rose without the effort normally expected with age. A tall woman with wholesome, natural good looks brought in a tray with six wooden mugs and set it down on the knee-high table. Each member of the impromptu Black Swan team looked at the liquid they were holding, but couldn't begin to tell what it was.