“I will,” I said softly. “I’ll see if I can get a mailing address so you can write letters.”
“Don’t bother. Daddy won’t let me write.” With those terse words, she turned and ran back inside.
The members of Unit Eighteen got into the two vehicles they had driven to church land. The rest of the team was waiting for us at the Stubbins farm. FireWind, still a wolf, rode with Rickin a pickup truck with thegwyllgicage in back. I rode with T. Laine, her car leading our short caravan to the abandoned farm of a former church member clan. She didn’t need directions. We had covered a nasty crime scene there once already. We didn’t talk; I wasn’t in the mood and T. Laine seemed to understand that.
When we arrived at the Stubbins place, on the shadowed side of a steep hill, the property was still iced over and slick. Lainie’s tires were unable to get traction up the drive, so we parked and walked the slippery hill, stamping down with each step to break the ice until we reached the side of the abandoned house where Occam and Margot, in big-cat form, had trapped the devil dog. Rettell had shifted to human and was dressed in a pair of sweats and thin sneakers. She was holding a weapon in a two-hand grip, her aim centered on the dog, in the corner of the low wall in front of the house.
T. Laine tossed an amulet at the dog. The dog stumbled and went down, asleep in a heap. Lainie turned and touched Rettell’s shoulder, murmured something to her, and pressed down on the military service weapon. Rettell removed the round in the chamber and holstered the gun. “The military wants the dogs,” Rettell said.
T. Laine said something else.
“You think I don’t know that? So when the dog got away, into the snow, and LaFleur sent his people to chase, I was ordered back to HQ. That’s my story. That’s what needs to be in your reports.”
The military woman went to the pickup truck and climbed into the passenger seat, her back to us.
Rick raised his brows. FireWind chuffed, a clear interrogative.
T. Laine said, “JoJo found her orders. Tandy confronted her about them last night and she didn’t even bother to lie or deny. Rettell came for the arcenciels, but her orders were amended when the devil dogs appeared on scene. She didn’t know they wereyoung. And now the military knows about the Montana Bighorn pack having some. The pack needs to beef up their security.”
FireWind growled, the sound vibrating.
T. Laine looked surprised. “You already knew,” she stated.
“FireWind spoke with the pack leader last night,” Rick said. “He’s aware there’s danger. He updated his defenses, moved his people, and is prepared to take in moregwyllgi. The dogs are fierce and strong, and most have integrated well with pack life.” His face went hard as if reliving something bloody and terrible. “Today’s military has never fought a fully trained and equipped shape-shifter pack. If they show up there, FireWind says they’re in for a surprise.”
Today’s military…But perhaps a military in the past had fought a pack of shape-shifters? Maybe with FireWind part of the fighting?
“Is the Montana pack a safe place for the boys?” T. Laine asked.
“You got a better idea?” Occam asked. He had shifted and trotted around a building in human form, wearing lightweight clothes. “They stay here, they stay doped up and in cages. We don’t have the skills, the personnel, or the facilities to keep humans safe from them, and them safe from humans. They’ll be safer there than here.”
FireWind showed his fangs in what might have been amusement. Or a threat. It was hard to tell. But it looked as if we were colluding to keep the military from knowing about and confiscating ourgwyllgi.
Aya jumped over a low gate half-buried in drifts, as if the ground wasn’t slick, and gently picked up the reddish black dog in his jaws like a grown wolf might lift a puppy, his fangs not piercing flesh. He carried the boy to the back of the truck, where Rick took him in his arms. His black jacket and shirt were immediately smeared in blood and mud and covered with black dog hair. Moving gracefully, his hands and motions gentle, he loaded the dog into the cage with his friends and piled the blankets closer.
FireWind leaped into the bed of the truck and lay down next to the cage, his jaw on his front paws, his eyes on the boys. I had expected none of the kindness they showed the church boys. Many of the churchmen would have killed their owngwyllgioutright. But these men, who knew nothing about them, were being kind. It made me ashamed of my own family.
Rick locked the cage, pulled a tarp over it to keep out the worst of the wind. “Margot. Shift, and you and Occam go pickup lunch for us all. I’ll drop Rettell off at HQ with Jones and Dyson and see that the boys are put on a plane to Montana immediately.”
“How are you going to get a flight out today?” I asked.
Grimly, Rick said, “The Dark Queen has a small jet. I plan to beg for her help.” He looked at the truck. “With the military involved, I have a feeling she will agree, and might even foot the bill.”
Without waiting for us to respond, Rick got in the truck next to the big-cat he was in heat with, and drove off in the direction of HQ.
Margot trotted off behind a wall to shift. T. Laine, Occam, and I stood in the cold, waiting.
“Rick didn’t want to call Jane Yellowrock,” I said.
“No. Pretty sure he didn’t want to contact her on her honeymoon,” Occam said, “but this is a personal request. Not a PsyLED request. The DQ is responsible for things vampires do, and vampires killed a human kid and forced others intogwyllgiform and then chased them until they were…” He stopped when T. Laine looked away. Softer, he continued. “This falls under her responsibility as queen. She’ll help. And if she shows an interest, and claims the devil dogs, the military is likely to back off. Word is, Yellowrock is trying to form an alliance with all the vamps, all the packs, and independent paranormal creatures to force the U.S. government to recognize them as citizens or set them up permanently as independent nations, under the same part of the Constitution that governs the tribal Native Americans. She even approached the covens.”
I glanced at Lainie, who was staring across the small abandoned farm, her eyes unfocused. “How did that go over?” I asked her.
“The council of covens said no thanks.” Her voice was unyielding, defensive.
I let the tone and the information settle inside me. Occam had said the queen was trying to set upindependentparanormal creatures. T. Laine was one of very few covenless witches. I wanted to butt in and ask more questions, but her lips turned under as if holding in her thoughts, as if every choice came with problems attached.
“Pizza,” I said.
