Lycan Alpha Claim 3 (33 page)

Of course,
Julia thought, following Jen to a large building that had once been a barn.

Julia didn't think she wanted to be queen of that.

Or queen of anything.

CHAPTER 27

Cynthia

Cyn stepped off the plane into the well of people flowing from one destination to another and felt instantly lost. A bottle in the ocean, the current traveling in whatever direction it pleased, she its captive.

Get a grip, Cynthia
, she told herself. Her eyes were clenched, her breathing finally getting under control. She looked around, someone jostling by her. Cynthia's backpack swung and she moved alongside one of the great, cylindrical concrete columns, pressing her backpack and herself against it.

There, she was out of everyone's way. For the moment.

She'd left everything behind. The backpack weighed about a thousand pounds with the things she couldn't part with.

The wedding photo. Cynthia gulped back the lump in her throat. Tears running down her face. She wasn't aware of it. The people staring at her didn't register either.

She missed Jules so much it hurt to breathe. She couldn't even think about Kev and Jason. She felt like a limb had been amputated without them.

Cyn swiped her face, surprised at the wetness she found there. She tore off in the direction the sign pointed.

Bus Depot.

She arrived at the fork in the great corridor, people flowing past her on either side and chose the town that sounded the simplest.

Actually, she remembered vaguely that it was a city.

Kent.

*

Truman

Karl Truman went through the studio apartment in the seediest part of Homer, kicking the thrown drawers and papers as he went through. The whole fucking place had been tossed by someone. Or many someones. He turned to the beat cop on his ass. “Daugherty!”

He jumped like he'd been goosed. “Yeah, Detective!” His eyes were bulging fish bowls in his face.

Truman frowned. Good kid, not too bright. “Is our team here yet?” He frowned at Daugherty.

Shit, his boss was kind of a dickhead. He scratched his head. Truman got results though. He'd give him that. “Yeah, I called it in.”

Truman was getting a head of steam and opened his mouth to let Daugherty have it when the forensic team came through, the first lifting the yellow tape, as he scooted under it. Turning, he lifted it for the others to pass underneath.

“Whatcha got, chief?”

Hell, Truman hated being called chief! He wasn't a damn Indian for cripe's sake! He neutralized his expression with an effort.

He gave the first specialist a look that clearly said,
follow me.

He did, squatting down at the windowsill height. His eyes flowed over the deep gouges that ran the length of the sill. “Holy shit...” he breathed, his name badge, crooked.
Alexander.

“Yeah,” Truman leaned into him expectantly.

“I don't know what did this!” Alexander extolled.

“Bear, right?” Truman led.

Alexander snapped his plastic gloves on, the powder coating wafting up to Truman's nostrils. The familiar smell resonating from a thousand crime scenes, the memory trigger the same.

It was time to work.

Alexander put a fingertip across the groove. His eyes met Truman's and he shook his head no. “No way... this is something,” his eyes went to the groove again and then lit with excitement. “Wait! He rummaged in his toolbox and took out a tool that looked like a dental instrument for cleaning teeth.

It wasn't.

He began carefully scooping the groove. Finally, Truman thought, watching the process as if it was an archeological dig. Alexander brought out the smallest sliver of something.

“What is it?” Truman asked as the two other members of the forensic team huddled around them like they were getting ready for a football play.

“Claw,” Alexander said, his eyes meeting his team.

“From what?” Truman asked, eying the twice-the-size of a pinhead shard.

“Don't know,” he paused. “But I've never seen anything like it.” He met Truman's eyes. “Not a problem! We'll type this puppy and get the results back to ya,” Alexander smiled.

One of the other forensics specialists said, “Nah, let's not type it. There's no blood or other fun here.” He looked around at the trashed apartment, not a shred of evidence to support violence of the human variety. “Besides, what can it be anyway? Bigfoot?”

They all laughed at that.

Yeah,
effing hilarious
, Truman thought then said out loud, “That's horse shit. Any idiot knows there's no such thing as Sasquatch and that other happy crap!” Truman said.

The specialist laughed again, carefully collecting samples to type.

For DNA.

Truman sighed. He figured it was a long shot. Probably had some spoiling meat in here somewhere and it was as simple as a pack of wolves trying to get an easy meal. He gazed outside through glass so filthy it was gray. The forest mocked him, stretching into eternity. Hell, it could have been anything.

Truman knew animals tried to get in the apartment. But who had gone through every nook and cranny of this dump? What had they been searching for...

And, more importantly, where the hell had Cynthia Adams fled to?

Because she
had
fled. He was sure of it. Like she was escaping something. There was too much stuff just left behind. Abandoned.

Running.

But why?

Truman stared out the window, gnawing on the tip of his ballpoint.

Answers, he needed answers.

Like yesterday.

****

William

Claire repeated herself, “Hold your temper! I didn't say that I could locate her, only that it was possible.”

William paced, he had returned empty-handed and Gabriel had not been surprised. Because Claire was a Precognitive, she had simply known that his quest was impossible. William had thought it was strange that Gabriel was not pressing other runners into service to assist him.

Gabriel laughed from his gut. “It is not as if you were prone to listen. I told you not to go. We knew the location of the dogs' stronghold. Yet, still, you would not listen. Your own cousin, a known precog...”

William strode to Gabriel and he straightened, knowing the tenor of the vampire he faced: volatile, fresh, angry. “No, she could give nothing of substance. It was all vague,” he threw his arm out. “I would never be content with that as Julia's end. Ambiguity? No!”

“But William... I knew she would be safe,” Claire reasoned.

William nodded. “Oh yes! She is quite safe... with the other Singers. How long do you think it will be before one of them recognizes Julia for who she is? What she is to them?”

There was no response from them. William faced Claire. “We have not one scrap of evidence as to where the Singers may be? It has always been our policy to not interfere in the balance. But now that scale has been tipped. And not in our favor, I may add.” He lifted his brows in question and Gabriel sighed. “Alright,” he lifted his palm up, “you've made your point. We will call in a Locator.”

William was surprised. He did not think there was one in their kiss.

“We will have to...” he looked at Claire, “I have not been amongst their kind... my kind. What is the contemporary vernacular for asking to borrow...?”

Claire nodded her understanding. “Call in a favor.”

He nodded. “Yes!” he snapped his fingers. “That's it. We will call in a favor to our sister kiss and borrow one of their Singers who locates. That will help us find the Rare One.”

“And what will they ask in return?” William quizzed reasonably.

Gabriel sharpened his gaze on William. “I do not know. But rest assured, it will be something.”

William nodded, knowing that the vampire did not solicit favors. They took what they wanted, needing no one. An autonomous group unlike any other.

Except the Were.

There was always them.

“Yes. It will be that,” William agreed.

Claire nodded. “There is always recompense.”

It was what and how much they would expect in payment.

Not a pound of flesh, no, not that.

But payment by blood would suffice very well.

*

Julia

Julia had spent a lot of time that morning with her mouth hanging open while the boys (as she thought of the brothers), Brendan and Michael, and their spunky sister, Jen, gave her a tour of her newest home.

The barn looked like a red stop sign in a field of green. Fresh and iconic, it stood like a stoic anchor about ninety yards from the Victorian. It seemed so innocuous standing there, but when they went through the small doorway she entered another world. It was as if they remained hidden in plain sight. The floor was white, the walls, the desks... it was weird.

Then Jen spoke, “Weird huh?”

Julia nodded without speaking. Then she couldn't help herself and asked, “What's with the monochromatic thing...?”

“Helps us batten down the mental hatches, girlie!”

Girlie? Julia laughed despite herself. “Really?”

Brendan joined in, “Yeah. Keep everything one color, no distractions, helps with training.” Michael nodded in agreement.

There were partitions that separated the “rooms.” But one room wasn't quiet and the mats weren't white. They were blue and red. Blue in color.

Red with blood.

Julia stopped. There were three guys fighting and they were really going at it. One man had an open cut above his eyebrow like a second mouth and it was dropping blood splatter everywhere. “Wait a sec!” Julia began.

Brendan interrupted, “Training.”

Julia's face turned sharply to his. “Is this what you do? I mean...” Julia hesitated, “to each other?” Just as she asked, the instructor, whose back had been facing her, turned. She was instantly sure he was one of the brothers. The missing one, because Jen had said she had three. He looked a little like Brendan but the hair wasn't red at all. It was black and he was clearly the eldest. He was tall, broad and built like an ox. He'd have fit right in with the wolves.

Julia assimilated these details in seconds.

Because in the next second, those thoughts were driven from her mind when he grinned at her and charged.

Fear surged through Julia's body, beginning at her gut and throwing a tingling shot of what felt like electricity into her extremities. They prickled uncomfortably when her telekinetic power flowed out of the hole that the fear had made, hitting the man as he advanced toward her at a dead run.

Julia felt the wall of her power slam into him while he walked through it like it had been mist. Next thing she knew Brendan had barreled into her, smoothly rolling her out of the way of the locomotive relative.

“Knock it off, Scott!” Brendan yelled at him even as he came for them again. Julia didn't even think, she jerked them up into the air by fifteen feet. She wasn't sure which part was better, Brendan's face or his brother's.

“Well I'll be damned!” Scott said with a laugh. “Maybe she's not a useless figurehead after all!”

“Hey! Mannerless! Way to go on the introductions!” Jen said, smacking his beefy arm.

“What? It's my job to assess new talent,” he said innocently.

“She's our Queen, asshat,” Michael said in a droll way.

Scott paused, Julia and Brendan suspended. And it was taking its toll, Julia was shaking in Brendan's arms.

In Brendan's arms!

Julia was suddenly and acutely aware of being held by a guy she'd just met that was über-attractive. Julia lost the tenuous grip on her ability and her focus shattered. They fell and she yelped, bracing for impact.

Before they hit the hard concrete floor painted an obscenely bright white, their progress was halted in a sickeningly explosive lurch. Julia looked around her, as she was gently lowered the remaining half foot to the ground.

It was Jen.

But she had eyes only for Scott. “You stupe! Really? Look what almost happened? How would I have explained this to Marcus? That our queen's guts were strewn around the ground because you were 'assessing'!” She hit him again and folded her arms across her chest, stewing.

Jen huffed then noticed that Julia was there.

Listening.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, then continued, “I mean... about the guts and brains part.”

“It's okay,” Julia said, scooting away from Brendan and standing. She gave a wary look at Scott and he looked back with steady eyes, so brown they looked black.

“Ya know,” Julia said, “if there's any truth to this royalty thing, I'm demoting your ass first.”

Scott threw back his head and howled laughter. Finally, when he could speak he said, “I think I like her.”

“Not that it matters!” Jen said, still pissed.

Brendan and Michael looked at their brother. Michael asked, “Don't ya have someone's ass to kick or something? Stop stomping all over Julia and get over there and train!”