Wolf in League Page 8

  "You don't know anything about me, Doctor Strauss," Matthew said, his voice edged with annoyance. "If you did, then the conversation we are about to have would have been one that you and I would have had a week ago.

  Gavin shrugged with feigned innocence. "The O'Connells and their fanboys weren't here a week ago. Goodness gracious, Matthew, try and stay with the program."

  "I mean with me," Matthew grumbled. "We're supposed to be partners—"

  "I was waiting for the right time." Gavin winked and offered Randy a wide smile. "Can I get you a coffee? Matthew, how about you? A replacement?" He spun and walked down the hallway to the kitchen. When he spoke again, he was out of sight. "Gentlemen! Comfortable?"

  Matthew caught Randy's stare out of his corner of his eye. "In case you've changed your mind on destroying him," Matthew drawled, "I'll take that stake out of your hands." He lifted one eyebrow at Randy's confused expression. "Just how hard do I have to hit him with it to make it work?"

  A small grin crept onto Randy's lips. "Very hard. Rib bones and what not."

  Matthew nodded. "Good thing anatomy is a specialty of mine, isn't it?"

  Randy snorted a laugh. "Doctor, your oath is slipping."

  "I can't help it. I'm always a bear without my coffee," Matthew said. "Shall we?"

  "If coffee is at the end of our journey," Randy said with a flourish, "then I will follow you to the ends of the Earth. These heathens seem to think six a.m. is a reasonable time to rise, you know."

  "That is not heathenistic, it is positively..." Matthew paused, grinning. "Inhuman."

  Randy's chuckle followed him down the hall. Only the small strip lights under the kitchen counters were lit and someone had thoughtfully pulled the drapes over the sliding doors. It felt like the day had slipped away from them and night had fallen, even though Matthew knew the sun still shone beyond the heavy folds. He walked to the garbage bin, dropped the pieces of his mug into it, and then rinsed both his hands and his face in the sink. He cautiously checked his nose, running his fingers along the various cartilages and the nasal bone before deciding it probably wasn't broken after all. It was, however, swollen and tender.

  Then, with his wounds confirmed as mostly just pride-related, Matthew dug two new cups out of the cabinets. While Matthew readied the coffees, Vaughn cleared his throat. "So, you were saying?"

  "Oh, no," Matthew shook his head. He turned to face the group. Only Gavin and Rafe were sitting at the table. The rest were clustered around it, on their feet, still gripping their stakes and frowning. "That's not how this is going to work." He put up his hand when Gavin started to stay something. He shook his head again. "You want information, Mr. O'Connell, and I understand that you feel you deserve it, but we want information as well. Since your story starts before ours, it's only fair that you begin."

  He lifted the cup to his lips, grimaced at the black coffee and took a sip. "Start with D.C. and end with why you figured you could smash your way in here and try to drag Gavin out into the sunlight." With his free hand he pulled his cell phone out of the back pocket of his pants and wiggled it. "Because I am one second away from calling the GDBCG and letting them know what's going on here. I work for them. Gavin works for them. And I have reasons to believe that they are far more trustworthy than any of you."

  He eyed Gavin. "Including you, at this moment."

  Gavin sighed. "You really should have collected the phones. I told you—"

  Matthew glared. "You will have my phone when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers—"

  Without warning, Vaughn leaned to his right and plucked the phone out of Matthew's hand.

  "Hey!" Matthew stared at his empty hand, shocked. "You can't—"

  Vaughn smiled. "I have three kids, Doctor. I'm an expert at snatching electronics out of unsuspecting fingers. Live, warm fingers even." He tucked the phone into the breast pocket of his shirt.

  Gavin shrugged at Matthew's look of disgust. He turned to Vaughn. "Matthew does have a point though. It would be helpful to know what's going on, Mr. O'Connell. Why did you drop contact with the GDBCG? Do you know something about what's happening there?"

  Vaughn frowned. "What do you mean 'what's happening there?'"

  Gavin looked around the room. He nodded at Rafe. "Do you know?" When Rafe didn't reply, he narrowed his eyes. "You do. You know something, anyway. What happened in D.C.? Who are you?"

  There was only the briefest hesitation while Rafe seemed to consider Gavin's questions. Then Rafe leaned back in his chair and took a breath. "All right. I'll start." There was another breath and Rafe closed his eyes. "I always knew I was different from the other kids—"

  "Oh, brother," Matthew said, rolling his eyes. "This might take a while if we're starting with 'when I was a kid.'"

  Matthew got no responses to his outburst. Annoyed, but unsupported, he circled his hand at Rafe. "Fine. Carry on. I just don't get how 'what happened in D.C.' means 'when I was in preschool' but whatever."

  Rafe merely nodded and continued as if Matthew hadn't said a thing. "It never crossed my mind, not even in my most clairvoyant dreams, that this talent would get me into trouble with a vampire, though. You see, I can see things before they happen. In my dreams, you know? And I'd like to say I saw Arius coming, the way I saw Lyle coming, but I didn't. It was the most terrifying few weeks of my life..."

  By the time Rafe stopped talking, Matthew was no longer standing. He was making notes beside Rafe with his ophthalmoscope, reflex hammer, and stethoscope on the table, (pupils are equal and reactive to light; ears: typical; TPR: typical; HR: 68 bpm; KJR: within normal limits; VSS/USOH), and could only barely recall directing Lyle to his medical bag when Rafe had started discussing psychic abilities. While Rafe had told them about his lifelong dreams of Lyle, of being held prisoner by Arius and the attempts Arius had made to find out what exactly Rafe was capable of—psychically speaking—then how Lyle had freed him and the two of them had run back to Wolf, Matthew had checked and prodded and made notes. Rafe didn't seem to mind, and it made Matthew feel better to confirm all the necessary signs of a healthy, normal human being. Though more than once, Matthew had decided that his understanding of the word 'normal' had changed forever. He'd heard of psychic ability, sure. He hadn't even really doubted its existence. Knowing it was real was pretty mind-blowing, though.

  It was only when Rafe reached the part about Arius bursting through the window of the O'Connells' family room and threatening the lives of not only Rafe himself, but the smallest O'Connell boy, Isaac, that Matthew began to realize how much anxiety and pressure had been heaped onto that household.

  "He said he'd make us pay," Rafe said, finally winding up the tale of Arius' involvement in their suddenly confusing life. "And none of us doubt that to be true."

  "So you assumed, or at least thought there might be a possibility that we worked with him," Gavin said. "Which explains your, uh... interesting gesture of welcome."

  "We had to be sure," Vaughn said.

  Matthew tore his gaze away from Rafe and felt the pinch of a frown fold into his forehead. "And your children? The little ones? Are they safe over there alone?"

  Randy answered. "My father is with them. As grateful as I am for that, however, I'd like to get back there. But not before I hear what you are actually here for. I assume it goes beyond spying for the GDBCG, if Gavin's ambiguity is any indication."

  "Yes," Matthew drawled. "So would I."

  Gavin looked at each of them one by one, locking eyes and then looking to the next, seeming to take forever to reach Matthew. Then he did and his gaze didn't just rest in line with Matthew's, but felt as though it were trying to peer into Matthew's soul. "Genocide, Matthew. We're here to discuss, and hopefully annihilate, the deliberate and elaborate destruction of an entire group of men and women that the GDBCG has deemed too unstable for the folks of our planet."

  "Vampires?" Lyle asked. His expression was dark, thoughtful, and not the only one of its kind around the table by any means. "Because i
f you're going to try to persuade me that's a bad idea, don't bother. I've already listened to one fascist try to explain why they are the master race. He proved to be unconvincing. I'd hate to lump the entire group together, but..."

  "Oh, yes," Gavin agreed. "Vampires." He sat back in his chair and linked his hands over his chest. "And while it's easy to dismiss those that have done you harm, please be sure that you consider the full ramifications of doing such a thing to an entire group of people. You see, Lyle, there is a reason why vampires are targeted. It's because they have to be. They're not loyal and passive like wolves. They're not easily corrected by plastic surgery and growth hormones like elves. But they are not the first to be—"

  "Then maybe they should be," Lyle said, sitting forward.

  There was a frown creasing his forehead that Matthew realized was almost the mirror image of the one Vaughn wore. It was oddly adorable to see the two men look so similar. It reminded Matthew of his own father, even though everyone said Matthew took after his mother far more than his father.

  "Why the fuck shouldn't they be loyal and passive?" Lyle continued. "That's a reasonable expectation in society. Is it so wrong that we expect people to live up to a certain standard? Either conform to the whole or get the hell out."

  "They used to say that about homosexuals." Matthew waited for Lyle to look at him. He didn't necessarily agree that vampires had a place anywhere; he didn't know any of them enough to make that call yet. But he did know that Lyle's comment had struck a nerve and it was a nerve that went deep. In all honesty, Matthew hadn't made the connection himself until that very moment. It was an unsettling thought—that vampires couldn't change what they'd become any more than a person could change the fact that they weren't straight.

  Except in Gavin's case, of course. Gavin had known full well what he was going into and he'd jumped at the opportunity. Matthew could almost see Gavin rolling up sleeves and presenting bare arms while screaming, 'For science!'

  Regardless, not everybody could just conform to society's expectations on what was normal and right.

  "Passive." Gavin sat back. "Loyal." He rested his hands on the table. "And you call that a reasonable expectation." He nodded as if he agreed with Lyle. "That expectation didn't stop you from following your instinct to attack me this morning, though, did it?"

  He shook his head when Lyle tried to respond. "The important thing here is that your passivity and loyalty doesn't make you any less a risk, Lyle. It just makes you easier to destroy. There's no reason to wage war with your kind. A few good kicks to the gene pool and the mighty wolves simply fade off into the sunset. They've done most of the work with that already."

  Randy seemed the most upset by what Gavin had said. Matthew wondered if that didn't have to do with the fact that Randy had a little more time within the strong arms of government-managed society back in his former life. "What do you mean by that?"

  "The wolf mutation is not viral. It's genetic. It's passed down. If the passing down of genes is stopped, then you guys stop. How many shifters are left? When's the last time you saw a female?"

  "They're doing something to our women?"

  Matthew didn't catch which of the men standing had spoken, but he felt a stress headache start pounding in his right temple.

  "It's not hard to plan, is it? You run at night. You run in the woods. Accidents happen, or so they say." Gavin turned to face Vaughn, "I believe that your own doctor used that very line when you spoke to him last year about your fiancé, did he not? About the possibility of getting rid of him? And—"

  Vaughn's frown became a glare. "How do you come to know about a confidential conversation I had with my family doctor?"

  Gavin threw up both hands. "We know everything about you, Vaughn! About your children, about your life; there isn't a single thing that we don't know! That we don't make sure we know. You have to understand that the laws and the regulations that exist for normal folks don't mean a thing when it comes to you and your people. Why do you think Matthew and I were sent here? Because for a few months, they didn't know, and good fucking God, that is not acceptable to them!"

  "Language!" Matthew hissed.

  Gavin waved Matthew away. "My point being, when enough accidents happen to the right folks, genetic lines begin to falter. Tell me, Vaughn, your wife... your healthy, breeding, fully confirmed lycanthropic wife... what happened to her? How did she die?"

  There was a long moment of silence, and when it was broken, it wasn't by Vaughn but by Lyle. "My mother was shot during a turn of the moon. It was an accident."

  Gavin nodded, but his expression didn't have an ounce of agreement in it. "Of course it was. One of the few female werewolves left in existence, one that was breeding not with a common man, but a man with the same genetic makeup as her own, and..." He dropped his hands and shrugged. "Whoops. An accident. Must have been hunting season, was it? Back when a person could still hunt a wolf here in Wyoming?"

  "No." Vaughn's voice was so low that it barely made a sound. "It wasn't."

  "But surely they caught the miscreant that would do such a thing out of season, right?" Gavin asked.

  Again, Vaughn's almost inaudible voice. "No."

  The only thing Gavin said to that was, "Ah."

  Vaughn's hands tightened into fists. "If that fucking Center had anything to do with the death of my wife, I will personally burn it to the ground."

  Gavin stood. He leveled his patient eyes with Vaughn's furious ones. "Welcome to the cause, sir."

  *~*~*

  If Gavin thought that Vaughn had been convinced, then Matthew thought that Gavin was a complete fool. Vaughn had been pushed to the point of contemplation, sure—consideration, consultation, even—but not confrontation. Not yet. Matthew, however, had been convinced quite nicely… convinced that Gavin was at least unstable, if not completely and utterly fudged up. And hanging around someone who was wallowing in the fudge bucket was the surest way possible to ensure that you would end up getting covered in the goop yourself.

  So when the group of men decided they needed to confer on their own soil, away from the prying eyes of the two doctors, and filed out of the house, Matthew simply slipped out after them. Gavin couldn't possibly follow beyond the doorway. Not for several hours, anyway. The look on Gavin's face when he'd been drawn toward the doorway earlier had been pretty indicative of prior knowledge, and it had screamed of fear. While Matthew wasn't entirely sure what would happen, Gavin did know what sunlight would do to him. Matthew didn't know if the GDBCG had made that knowledge available firsthand, but they had made it available. Whether Gavin had been there to see it happen, had seen the aftermath of it, or had watched it on film, Matthew didn't care. What he did care about was that Gavin's expression had been a clear indicator that Gavin didn't want it to happen, be it again or at all. No... Matthew wouldn't be followed.

  He wanted to talk. About what he wasn't completely sure. To whom? Well, that he knew even less. The psychic was interesting, but Matthew doubted that Rafe was the right person. He'd had a moment or two (or twenty) of interest in Randy, but interest wouldn't appease the questions running through his mind. It would have to be Vaughn or Lyle. They seemed to be most in charge of... themselves? The situation? Everything? He flicked his eyes between both of them. According to the GDBCG's files, Vaughn was the pack's alpha. The vibe, though—the draw of power for a lack of better words—came most strongly from Lyle. The alpha in training? The king's magistrate? Well, that might make Lyle the ideal guy to talk to. Matthew had learned a long time ago that it was that it was never the guy with the Commandante stripes who was really in charge. Not 'on the line' in charge, anyway. One had only look at the President to know that. At first sign of severe trouble, the very next thing government officials did was get Mr. Prez up and out—in a plane, underground, some mountain cave mansion, wherever the secret little spot de jour was. In short, they got him someplace safe, they didn't set him down in the middle of the action. Mr. President was just a figurehead. It wa
s the guy in the boots and the camo, reading maps and watching computer screens under the light of a bare bulb strung by wire, who really knew what was going on.

  Furthermore, Vaughn had his arm around Randy and seemed to be in quiet, reflective conversation already. They were into each other, the kind of men that enjoyed each other's company more than any other company in the world. They walked with the quick, firm steps of men who had concerns they'd prefer to visit in the sanctity of their own space, with one another. Only one another. Lyle, on the other hand, walked a couple of steps behind the rest of them with his gaze on the ground and that frown still firmly stuck on his face. Here was an introspective thinker as opposed to a talker. A man that could (and probably did) figure things out better when he was left to his own devices and some quiet time. And that was the kind of person that Matthew could relate to. There was the age factor, too. Lyle was one of the few men in the group that Matthew actually had a couple of years on.

  Matthew hurried forward to close the distance between him and his disappearing neighbors. "Lyle?"

  There was no response, but with the choked, whispered, weak voice that had come out of his mouth, Matthew was hardly surprised. He tried again with more vigor. "Lyle?" He got closer when Lyle hesitated and Lyle gave him a quick look of startled distrust. "Can I talk to you?"

  He saw Rafe offer Lyle a quick smile, a nod, and then continue walking. While the easy way that Rafe left Lyle to him surprised Matthew, the expression that darkened Lyle's already somber face when Rafe turned away surprised him more. "Lyle? Are you okay?"

  "Fine." Lyle growled the word more than he spoke it. "Sometimes I just wish that..." He pursed his lips and shook his head. "Nothing. Never mind. What did you need?"

  "That didn't look like nothing to me." Matthew gave Lyle his warmest friendly-doctor smile. "Trouble on the home front?"

  Suspicion rose in Lyle's eyes. "Would you like that?"