Season of the Wolf Pt. 02

I sip the whiskey. Bottled in a proper distillery, not brewed in Coyote's copper still, and let it roll over my tongue. Van was quite amicable about the whole thing. Sure, he was embarrassed and Grace humiliated him in front of everyone. But, his reaction in climbing a tree to save the family jewels from an outraged she-wolf's jaws was completely understandable. I don't think there's a man alive who wouldn't have done the same thing.

A fire dances on the hearth of the fireplace. The smell of wood smoke takes the both of us back to a simpler place and time. Van truly has no choice but to excuse Grace's reaction as that of a pregnant wolf protecting her mate. I've not pressed the issue, but Van wasn't the only one who got bitten tonight. He sank his fangs into my neck and the sparring exposition wasn't the reason he did it. For a moment, I saw him stripped of his humanity and as the beast he truly is.

Van and his vampires are hungry. That's the primary reason I left Grace with Coyote to find him. We walked and talked. The both of us know that a bunch of half-starved vampires left to their own devices to walk free amongst a pack of wolves is not a good thing. I had been avoiding the talk with Van. But, there was no putting it off any longer. His vampires need to be fed and I'd rather find willing donors than to have our blood stolen from us.

I've asked for volunteers. Van assures me that a vampire's bite needs not be painful. Oh, it was agonizing, but that's because it was intended to be. I was impressed by the bravery of the pack. No one wanted to, but everyone stepped up to the plate and offered a vein. Luckily, our blood is more potent than an ordinary human's and it doesn't take but a few mouthfuls to satisfy the beast. Van drank from me and he drank deeply and he did it because he had the upper hand at the time and he could. Greedy bastard.

In the name of friendship and out of whatever sense of duty he possesses as my grandfather. He offered to speed my healing process with his blood. I told him to keep his fangs and his blood to himself. I'm healing just fine on my own without his help. My ribs are still a little sore and my joints stiff, but I've had worse.

I think Van is quite pleased with himself. Not only did he feed deeply from me. He managed to get a few more drops of his blood down Grace when she bit him. I have the feeling that from his point of view, getting her to unwittingly drink his blood was worth losing a pair of pants over.

Tonight, with their bellies full of our blood, Van's vampires are getting their first go at chicken wrangling. I think from the noise echoing through the woods beyond the barn. The chickens are winning. Van and I sit here like civilized people sipping expensive whiskey out of crystal tumblers. But, it's a truth he can't admit and I can't deny. Neither one of our species is civilized.

With their full capacity for tolerating daylight returned to them. Van's vampires should have no trouble resuming training at daybreak. It isn't what we have to learn about Vampires or they about us that we need to teach. This war isn't going to be solely fought with flesh and bone. We both know it. Technology has surpassed our greatest imaginings. And there's a far greater weapon for us to employ. The microchip. Knowledge is power and Van is a very powerful man. He knows where the enemy lives, breathes, and banks. This is a world, a modern world of money, and tomorrow morning at the start of the business day. He's tightening his fist around it.

It's a smart strategy. Without resources the enemy won't get very far. After all, money makes the world go round. It's a long hike from L.A. to our little corner of the planet. Van's approach might not stop them, but it will slow them down.

I'm sure, like Nathaniel before me and myself now, the enemy has contingency plan after contingency plan. The pack has assets that aren't in any bank. But, liquidating them into cash would take time. It's a modern time of money that doesn't really exist outside of the digital universe. People with large sums of cash raise suspicion. People wanting to sell precious stones and gold in the amount it takes to fund the daily lives of so many tend to draw the wrong kind of attention.

Van suspects the enemy has holdings all over the world. It'll take his contacts time to ferret them out and one by one shut them down. I see Van didn't stack all his chips on the table, but when betting on a risky hand, no wise man does. Especially when he knows the man sitting across the table from him has a wild card up his sleeve.

Van has left key players behind to tend to his house while he's away. I sip my whiskey and stare into the fire contemplating whether to fold, show my hand, or to keep raising the bet and bluffing my way through the game. For now, I decide to stay in the game. I realize that Van knows far more than what he has revealed. The only way he'd be able to track down the enemy through the World Wide Web is to know exactly who the enemy is. I don't ask and he doesn't offer to tell, but I suspect this enemy was at one time a friend.

Vampire politics make my temples throb. I'm glad Nathaniel clung to tradition and kept us apart from the world. Yes, we're in it. I've got a law degree that I earned the old fashioned way through hard work. And there are more than a few highly educated, very skilled people in the pack. Nathaniel never spurned education. He encouraged us to learn everything and everything that we possibly could. But, he made certain that in a changing world we held true to our humble beginnings.

I miss the simplicity of the pack's pre-vampire lives. I liked it better when we thought we were the only paranormals in the universe. There was a reassurance to the rhythm of our lives. From generation to generation we've handed down knowledge.

Looking at Van dressed in expensive clothing and shiny designer loafers and pretending to be in control of everything when in actuality, neither of us truly controls anything. You'd never know he had ever been human or gotten his hands dirty trying to make a living from the land.

Van's nails are neatly trimmed and his hands smooth without the hint of a callous. My fingernails are stained with dirt and jagged at the ends. My palms are rough from hard work around the farm. He progressed and thrived in the modern world of technology while I've stubbornly learned what I had to in order to survive it and nothing more. I've kept my feet planted in the past, doing things for the most part the way they've always been done. But, I realize something that maybe he doesn't. No matter how much either one of us tries by clinging to the past or blazing forward. Though we're both in the world neither one of us is truly a part of it.

The human world truly has no place for us. Nathaniel knew that. I don't want to admit it, but it's the truth. It took Grace, stumbling and bumbling though our world, to make me see it. I thought Nathaniel was crazy at the time, but I understand why now. Far before Seward purchased Alaska, Nathaniel bought up a good portion of the wilderness and set it aside. He always claimed it was an investment. I thought he meant to resale the land at some point. But, he was investing in us...in the pack. He knew eventually humanity would force us from our home. It's not a very hospitable place, snowy, cold, and wild. Hardly fit for a human of this modern time. Life would be hard and rough and definitely not comfortable. But, for a wolf or a pack of wolves, it's perfect.

From the grave, Nathaniel is still pulling the strings. He has always known what I'm just starting to realize. It isn't this plot of land that holds the magic that makes us what we are. Angela and the California pack were faltering not because they weren't here, but because they weren't with their true family. With us united our magic has shifted. It has become more powerful, almost a life force of its own. It's enough to sustain us as long as we remain as one. No matter where we go.

All this time, I thought the old ways were just a means to cling to the past. They were, but they weren't. Nathaniel was teaching us what we might someday need to know and preparing us for his ultimate contingency plan. Surviving on our own.

The old bastard knew where Grace was all this time. He left me just enough clues that with Angela's help and trail of breadcrumbs I was able to find her. He kept me curious about her. Dangled her like a carrot under my nose. And I like the stupid jackass that I am, kept straining and pulling the burden forward until I finally was able to reach the carrot.

Grace has been the key. I hate that when I look at things objectively. Everything points to her. The people who were supposed to love her and protect her have used her time and time again for their own gain. Even me, in the beginning I couldn't see past the things I wanted for myself to see how my desires affected her. She truly is a brave and determined woman. She has delivered everything everyone wanted from her. Myself included.

Thank God, her view of me, of our world, and the people in it, is tinted with love. I don't think Grace has the capacity to hate anyone. Nathaniel left her in play to his gain, to bring his wayward pack back home. Angela and Josiah carefully constructed her world to return them and the pack to this place. They knew there wasn't anything I wouldn't do for her and the used that knowledge to their full advantage. Christine used Grace's friendship to steer her to the right place and time. Van is using Grace to gain access to me and to the pack under my control. As for me, I'm probably the worst out of all of them. Grace is my only ulterior motive. I wanted her. I didn't know her, but I wanted her. She and the baby she carries are my destiny and I had grown impatient with waiting for her to come to me.

I lover her more and more everyday...love her...not the version of her my mind concocted to entertain the endless days and nights until she finally came into my life. The remote corner of the Alaskan wilds sounds better and better. Just she and I and the baby living our lives without the constant vampire politics, influence of the outside world, or the demands placed on us by our rowdy pack. But, there's no escaping any of it now. Fleeing for Alaska would tip my hand and reveal the only trump card I have to play.

I have to keep Alaska safely tucked away for the future. I've seen war, a lot of it. Sometimes, it seems we're all: the vampires, humanity as a whole, and us, victims in the making. There is no shortage of madmen waiting in the wings and someone always has a bigger gun. In that aspect, the paranormal community at large has a disadvantage. We have to stay hidden. Some human with a good enough cause, blood thirstier than any vampire, or crazier than any werewolf howling at a full moon, could far too easily enough be the one to pull the trigger.

The very woman who occupies my thoughts both night and day draws me out of my pensive revere. Gently nudged from behind by Coyote, Grace enters the study. She does her best to hold her head high and look the part of the regal queen she is. A blush stains her cheeks and her eyes can't quite manage to meet Van's. "I'm sorry," she mumbles.

Van chuckles, raises his glass to her, and swallows down the remaining draughts of whiskey. "I was rather fond of that pair of pants, but I learned a long time ago not to place too much value in possessions. No harm done. I assure you, both my ass and my pride will survive."

"You're ok?" Grace asks and I can see the relief etched on her features over the fact that Van is so willing to put the incident behind him and not make a fuss over getting bitten in such a tender place. She all but sinks onto the settee and exhales.

"It takes more than a little nip on the buttocks to kill a vampire." Van reaches for the decanter sitting on the table between us and pours himself a deep drink. Perhaps, it's the Scot in him, but the man can put away the whiskey. His mood is mellow and agreeable from the effects of the sour mash. Strangely enough, for a fanged creature of the night, he's a pretty decent drinking companion and can definitely hold his cups.

Grace's eyes scan mine. She licks her lips, a sign she's not completely at ease around Van. Her gaze flickers between Van and myself. "What will...you know...kill a vampire?"

I'm stunned by her question. Van's expression is one of utter amusement at the fact that less than two hours after she took a hunk out of him she would ask such a thing. I'm curious. I've been wondering the answer to that same question myself. Obviously, sunlight isn't a vampire's friend. But, that's a pretty gruesome way to die. I have no love of the enemy. I would prefer though to make the kills clean and quick, if I have to kill at all.

Van gets up and paces the room. I see him weighing his options, deciding what secrets to tell and which ones not to tell. "Vampires have few laws. One is a constant though. Betray your own kind and dying will be the very least of your concerns. In fact, you'll be for death. We can exist a very long time without food or air. It's a kind of living hell, spending eternity in a box, trapped at the bottom of the ocean or in the foundation of a building.

"It is rumored amongst my kind. An ancient suffers such a fate...buried alive beneath the pyramids. You must promise...no...swear to me here and now to never consider so severe a punishment. No matter what the crime."

"Never," I vow, disgusted by the very thought.

Van nods. "Good. I'd rather die than suffer such a thing personally."

Grace gasps and her eyes widen. She understands something I really don't want to consider. "You've done it. You did it someone, but he got out."

"Yes and yes...and now he's coming for me and mine...and unfortunately, what's mine is also yours, Han." At least Van has answered us honestly. Now we know the reason for this war. It's a terrible enemy to fight...revenge...and it's a war we cannot win.

"I dropped him in the bottom of the Pacific. I assumed eventually the seawater would corrode his tomb and he'd find a release from his prison...someday... centuries from now. I didn't expect it to happen so soon."

"What did he do?" Grace asks.

"He took my life away. You see, for all intents and purposes, he was my father. My creator. When I closed my eyes on that battlefield expecting death and opened then instead, seeing his face. I knew I had died in all the ways that mattered. My human life and all the people in it were gone forever. I should have died that day. He should have let me. I wanted to make him pay."

"Either he dies or we do." Grace has summed it up nicely. "How do we do it?" Grace is thinking of our child, of me, and of her extended family. She's ruthless and I love her for it.

"Where a man's heart lies also lays his greatest vulnerability. He'll come for us. No matter what we do. He will come. You see. I am his son. And a father will always love his children no matter how far they stray. The way to get to him is through me. I'm the weapon and I will kill him."

"What does that make us?" Grace asks.

"Cannon fodder and the spoils of war," Van answers. He turns on his heel and walks out of the room leaving Grace and I alone with the crackling flames in the fireplace.

Chapter 48

Grace crawls into my lap and buries her face into my chest. I understand what she needs. I wrap my arms around Grace and hold her as tightly against me as the wingback chair will allow. I rub my cheek over the top of her head and savor the feeling of her sleek hair against the rough stubble on my jaw. I give Grace comfort and take mine from her in return. Touch is a necessity for a wolf. Physical contact grounds us and keeps us centered. The warmth of her body is as essential as air to me and magically turns everything wrong right once again.

"I wish there was someplace we could go. Someplace where it was only the two...well, three of us now and nobody else," Grace confesses. She shakes her head, rubbing her cheek against my chest. "Just when I think I can actually almost like Van. He completely kills any sense of compassion I might feel for him. I can't believe the two of you are related. You'd never do the things he's done. You'd never gamble the lives of so many people in order to save your own ass."

I run my fingers down the knobby points of her spine counting the vertebrae as I work my way down. Regret holds my heart under siege. I should have protected her better than I have. I'm excited about the baby. I've dreamed of being a father for so very long. But, there has never been a worse time or place to bring a child into the world. Grace and the baby are my Achilles heel. Grace claims Van is a bastard. She has no idea the lengths I'd go to keep her and this baby safe. "Grace, this is war."

"I know," she sighs. "I just wish it wasn't."

I close my eyes and listen to her rhythmic breathing and the crackling flames dancing on the hearth. The sounds are reassuring and comforting. But, they're only a temporary respite. I cling to this memory of her in my arms and know I'll need it to see me through the days ahead. I wonder how many more days of calm before the storm we have left. No matter how many there are. There won't be enough of them.

Winter comes early to Alaska. In Indiana fall is slowly beginning to lose its hold to the change of seasons. Alaska is already blanketed with snow. Soon it will be impossible to reach the remote wilds of Nathaniel's last resort plan. During the Cold War, when there was a very real possibility of a nuclear attack. Nathaniel stocked our Alaskan home with provisions to last for decades. The thought has formed in my head and I can't let it go. Grace would be safe there. She and the baby would thrive in the wilderness. But, I just found her and I don't know, selfish as it is, if I can let go of her.

I am a man divided between my loyalties. I've lived in this house, farmed this land, and protected the pack for the entirety of my very long adult life. How could I possibly concede defeat when the war hasn't even begun yet? Evacuating the pack to Alaska may very well reveal the only trump card I've got to play. Nathaniel intended Alaska to be a last resort not a first option. I've got no choice but to stay and fight. Grace though, she doesn't have to.

I kiss the top of Grace's head and cradle her in my lap. My mind begins to formulate a plan. I can't leave here and Grace needs to before it's too late. This is a matter of survival and nothing means more to me than these two lives I hold in my arms. I could risk it and send her to someplace civilized, but that'd be like tossing a minnow into an ocean full of sharks and hoping it doesn't get eaten. I have no idea of how widely spread Van's net or the reach of the enemy is.

Like most predators, I assume vampires won't stray too far from their food source. The Alaskan tundra is too remote and inhospitable for humans. The vampires couldn't hunt without risking detection. And again, like most predators, they'll go for easier game.

There may be some people, scattered about in small settlements. But, I think for the most part, we've got hundreds and hundreds of miles of wilderness to ourselves. I've never hunted anything larger than a deer and my inner wolf perks up his ears, wags his tail, and licks his chops at the very thought of more formidable prey.

It won't be an easy journey for Grace. After all, there aren't any direct flights to the middle of nowhere. To avoid anyone being able to pick up her trail, she'll have to go a round a bout way to get there. We'll use all means of travel available to us to get her to Alaska. Anything but a straight point A to point B route. She'll have to drive to the literal end of the road and from there, depend on her wolf to do the rest.