We walked up to the podium behind which stood a penguin-suited man with a small mustache so full of grease it looked ready to slip off his face. He looked down his long nose at our rough but clean clothing and sniffed the air like we'd come in with a cloud of manure scent behind us. There were a pair of wood doors behind him that led to the eating area. Luke walked confidently up to the podium like he owned the place and smiled at the unsmiling man. "Is Miss Stevens here yet?" he asked the fellow.
Penguin-suit's face showed a hint of surprise, and he checked the roster. "Yes." He glanced down at Luke's attire and sneered. "Is she expecting you?"
"By a funny coincidence, I am," a voice spoke up. Stacy came out from closed doors and smiled at us. "You're all looking fabulous this morning," she teased. The boys had dark spots under their eyes and I was ruffled from my night of tossing and turning. "If you want some food, come this way."
"I'd follow you to hell for a leg of lamb," I mumbled.
Stacy led us through the doors and into a large room filled with circular tables and fancy waiters with fancier customers. There were a few doors leading off to the sides, and through one of these she guided us. It was a private room with a long table and thick, sturdy walls. We sat at one end of the table with Luke at the head and us girls on either side of him. Alistair took a seat next to me and Baker grabbed one beside Stacy.
Stacy noticed the gentlemen glance around apprehensively at the room, and laughed. "You can speak freely here. I've checked for bugs," she assured us.
"We can't be too sure. We've learned some unpleasant information since we last saw each other," Luke told her.
"You mean about Callean turning sides and decorating his employees with red? I already know about that," she replied.
Baker turned to her and scowled. "And yet you advised us to take a room there?" he growled.
She smiled sweetly at him. "Because I also happen to know that all that show is just that. Show. He doesn't care for Lance's politics any more than he cares for ours."
"Anyone who isn't helping us is helping Lance," Baker argued.
Stacy laughed. "Lance might solve that problem for us. My sources tell me that one more demand from our unworthy adversary and Callean will torch all the armbands in the city and turn to our side," she told him.
"I wouldn't trust someone who goes to our side just to spite the other," Baker quipped.
"Enough arguing," Luke interrupted them. "So long as Callean doesn't heed the demands of Lance that's one less worry for us." He turned to Stacy. "Have you managed to learn anything of this Cranston, or of Chemisis?"
She sighed and shook her head. "I've already looked into Cranston and can't find anything about him except he came from Simpling. His history before that is empty."
"Wait a sec," I spoke up. "How can anyone just pop up out of nowhere?"
"Someone who knows what he's doing," Luke answered me.
I rolled my eyes. "At least someone does because I'm really lost," I muttered.
"It's the hunger," Luke teased. "Though I admit I could use some food myself. What's the best on the menu?" he asked our hostess.
She leaned back and smiled. "The best should be here right about-" the door opened and a waiter came in with a cart, "-now."
Breakfast were huge trays full of pancakes, waffles, sausage, and all the other delights a hungry werewolf girl could ever want. While I wolfed down the goodies, Luke and Stacy kept talking and everyone listened in. "I sent a message to Brier about the body we found, and I hope to hear from him soon."
Stacy wrinkled her nose. "I hope you're referring to the Protector, and not his sheriff brother."
I choked on my food. "Did you have to remind me about that guy?"
"Protector Brier," Luke corrected himself. "He should tell us the truth about the body, but that still leaves the problem with the de-scenting substance."
"Mullen could be involved, and he'd be doing the dirty business at the order of Lance. By catching Mullen we could kill two birds with one stone," she pointed out.
Baker nodded at Stacy. "You forgot about that fake message you got from her," he spoke up.
"That would be our third and fourth problems, my father and Cranston," Stacy agreed.
Our problems got worse when the door to the room crashed open and a half dozen men in black garb rushed in. We jumped to our feet and prepared for battle, but the men only blocked our path and let one of their number through them. That man was Cranston, and he had a smirk on his face. "Good morning. I'm sorry to disturb your meal, but I'm afraid the leader of Manutia wishes to speak with you all," he informed us.
"My father wishes to speak with us, or you do?" Stacy challenged him.
Cranston chuckled. "Whatever the difference you must still come with us," he ordered. He snapped his fingers and the men surrounded us. I was prepared to fight for my food and my honor, but Luke put his hand on my shoulder and shook his head.
"Another time," he whispered.
"I doubt that, but keep giving your little mate some hope," Cranston quipped. The men grabbed our arms, pinned them painfully behind our backs and marched us through the door. Cranston stopped our little procession when Alistair passed him. He looked the man over with a careful eye. "You're shorter than I expected," he mused.
"I'm sorry to disappoint, sir," Alistair quipped.
Cranston smiled, stepped back and motioned for the line to keep moving. We were marched single-file through the restaurant, past the confused and befuddled podium penguin, and out the door to two waiting black cars.
Baker and his handler slid up beside us, and our ally frowned. "I'm seeing a pattern with you and trouble, Laughton."
Luke smiled. "If I know Lance then you haven't see anything yet," he promised.
They stuffed us inside with Luke, Stacy and me in one car and the other two in the other one with Cranston. The drive in the cramped back seat was short, and they were soon shoving us out at Lord Steven's house where more fun awaited us.
14
The men pushed and shoved us out of the cars and through the front doors. I was just thinking how wonderful it'd be to gnaw off the mens' hands when all five of us were pushed into Stevens' office and the doors were slammed behind us. All but two of the guards left us alone in the office, a nice room covered with bookshelves and posters on the walls. I sniffed the air and wrinkled my nose when I smelled that faint hint of dried blood. It was just like Lance's smell, but old.
Stevens himself sat in the chair, but there was something very wrong about the way he faced straight ahead. Maybe it was the lack of blinking, or the way he sat as still as a statue.
"What's the meaning of this? Why were we brought here under guard?" Stacy asked her father and Cranston.
"The men were merely for show," Cranston told her.
"They won't intimidate us," Luke argued.
Cranston chuckled. "They weren't meant to intimidate you. They were meant to cast you and your companions in a poor light. I mean, who would take the side of someone whom they personally watched being escorted out by the city peace force?"
"You meant to deface our character?" Luke guessed.
Cranston raised his eyebrows and bowed his head to the lord. "You are correct. Contrary to the popular saying there is such a thing as bad publicity."
Stacy, her face a mask of terrifying fury, marched up to her father's desk and slammed her hands on the top. "What in the world is going on here, Father? Why would you order them to take us like-" She paused and frowned. Her father didn't move an inch. "Father?" She moved around the desk and clutched his shoulders. "Father?"
"He won't hear you, and if he does he can't do anything about it," Cranston spoke up behind us. Stacy glared at him.
"What have you done to him?" she growled.
Cranston smirked and shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, just a small experiment. Unfortunately, it's nothing permanent, but it does have its uses when it works."
"Wake him up!" she ordered him.
"
Ah, but he is awake. Aren't you, Lord Stevens?" he called out to the man.
"Yes," Stevens replied. His voice was an echo of its former, boisterous self. He was more machine than man.
"See? Nothing wrong with him." Cranston walked around the desk opposite Stacy and stood beside Stevens. "Now if you would stand with the others we can begin the interrogation."
"Interrogation? On what charges?" Luke asked him.
Cranston nodded to Baker. "Fraternizing with a suspected traitor, for one, and for the disappearance of a Protector," he told us.
"I'm less a traitor than you," Baker shot back.
"That's in the eye of the beholder, and right now my eyes are all that matter," Cranston argued. "Now please join your friends and answer my questions." Stacy glanced down at her stiff father, and then reluctantly moved away from him to rejoin us on the other side of the desk. "Very good. Now tell me what you know about the men who failed to report back to their superior."
I wrinkled my nose. "Men?" I repeated. "I thought there was only supposed to be one Protector guy missing."
Luke wrapped his arm around my shoulders and glared at Cranston. "He isn't asking about the Protector," he told me.
Cranston chuckled. "No, I'm not. I don't care what happened to him, but it's so difficult to find good assassins these days." He shot a glare at Alistair. "The good ones seem to die young."
"Never young enough," Alistair boldly replied.
"Good assassins?" I snorted. "If they were good assassins we wouldn't be here talking about this. You'd be spitting on our graves."
"That wouldn't have made them good. You see, they were supposed to keep you alive to make examples out of you," he explained to us. "You would be framed for a murder you didn't commit, and the enemies of the Alpha would be weakened beyond repair."
"Alpha? Is that what Lance styles himself?" Luke spoke up. "Some sort of benevolent ruler for us all?"
Cranston clucked his tongue and shook his head. "I'm afraid we're not getting anywhere in this conversation. I would rather you were telling me what you know so we can resume the plan," he insisted.
"You're going to have to be disappointed because we refuse to answer questions without a fair trial," Luke refused.
Cranston shrugged. "If that's what you wish, but you're going to have a long wait to see the judge." His eyes gleamed with a wicked glint and the edges of his mouth curled up in a wide grin. "I guarantee it."
"We'll take our chances," Stacy bit back.
"Very well." Cranston nodded at the two guards, who opened the doors and stepped aside for us. "These two fine gentlemen are loyal to the cause, so don't try to bribe them. They'll be your guide to your new accommodations, and if you feel the need to escape they'll be sure not all of you will make it out alive."
With the options of obey or death available to us, we chose obey, at least for now. Luke narrowed his eyes at Cranston, but turned and strode from the room with one of the guards taking the lead. I hurriedly followed with Alistair and Baker close behind, but I noticed Stacy hesitated. I turned to see her eyes fall on her father who still sat motionless in his chair. I pushed through Baker and Alistair, and grasped her shoulders. "It'll be all right," I whispered.
Cranston overheard me. "You'll save him later?" he mocked. "Nice sentimentalities, but very naive. You won't rescue him, not while I still live."
I glared at him and promised myself that I'd take care of that, but that would have to be later when I had the upper had. If there was a later, and if I had the upper hand then. Stacy scowled at Cranston, then turned and whisked out of the room with me by her side. The pair of guards led us down the hall to the stairs, and then through a door beneath the stairs that led into a musty basement. The place reminded me of the dungeons at Sanctuary, but without so much mold and without the cells. It was made up of a single hallway that led straight from the bottom of the stairs to a large door at the very back.
Our feet clacked against the hard concrete floor as one guard guided us and the other pushed us on from the rear. I expected some daring escape plan to hatch and chirp in Luke's mind, but we strolled obediently along with the pair of werewolves as our guides and guards. They stopped down at the end of the long hall and opened the lock on the heavy door.
Stacy stood by my side and her eyes widened. "What are you doing? You can't mean to put us in there," she protested.
One of the guards smirked. "We do and we will." His companion swung open the door and he jerked his head to the open doorway. "Now get in there."
I leaned to one side and caught a peek of the contents, or lack thereof. The room was bare except for a rudimentary chair and bed. The walls were a plain white, and there were no windows. I noticed the floor was elevated an inch above the rest of the basement and had a metallic covering over it. The guards evidently tired of my looking because they grabbed my sleeve and flung me in. Luke growled and lunged at the offending guard, but his gloved friend put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a club. He whacked Luke on the temple, and my mate howled in pain. Steam arose from the wound and I saw his flesh was seared from the contact. The club was made of silver.
"Get in there!" the lead guard shouted. He used the club like a cattle prod and herded the others in behind me.
They slammed the door shut and engulfed us in total darkness. There wasn't even a shred of light from beneath the tight door. After a few moments my eyes adjusted to the darkness and I saw that Baker and Alistair were already perusing the walls looking for a way out. Luke stood near me with his head clutched in his hand. Stacy was positioned near the door and her eyes darted around the plain room.
I went to Luke and gently pulled his hand down so I could get a look at the wound. It wasn't pretty. The skin and hair were burned, and a trail of blood trickled down the side of his face. "How does it look?" he asked me.
"You've seen better days," I replied. I tore off a piece of my shirt and pressed it gently against the wound. He winced. "Hold still or you'll just make it worse," I scolded him.
Luke obeyed, but turned his attention to Stacy. "What is this room?" he asked her.
She wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered. "My father created this room to hold the more dangerous werewolves. He didn't trust anyone else to keep them locked up, not even the peace force," she explained to us. "The paint on the walls are filled with bits of silver, and the door has a silver layer in the center. The exterior wall is a foot thick and there is only one exit, and that's the door with the silver."
"That they locked behind them," Luke added. He turned his head to the men and winced. "Any luck?" he wondered.
Alistair shook his head, but didn't stop perusing the walls. "Nothing yet, sir, but there may be a weakness in the corners we could take advantage of."
Baker sat down on the chair and folded his arms. "Don't waste your energy. We're stuck in here until they come calling for us."
"I don't give up that easily," Luke shot back.
Baker smirked. "Who said anything about giving up? We'll just bide our time and think of a way out of this place." He looked to Stacy. "You know this place pretty well."
"As well as anyone," she agreed.
"If we can get away from the guards, where do we go from there to get out of this place?" he asked her.
Stacy paced the room and shrugged. "There's always through a window or the backyard, but we can't be sure one of Cranston's guards aren't waiting for us there."
"We may not need to worry about either of those ways," Alistair spoke up. He knelt in the center of the room and tapped on the floor. The clang echoed around the bare room.
"We dig our way out?" I wondered.
Alistair smiled and tapped the floor two feet to the left. The sound was different. "A hidden escape?" Luke guessed. He turned to Stacy. "Would your father have been worried about being locked in here by accident?"
She furrowed her brow and tapped a well-manicured fingernail against her chin. "Now that you mention it, my father was very adamant t
he builder follow his blueprints to the letter. I never got to see them, but my father was sometimes known to be secretive. That's probably one reason why I didn't see this takeover by Cranston."
"What's the floor made out of?" Luke asked her.
"He never told me that."
"I would say steel, but there is a thinner plate here," Alistair spoke up. He pulled back his arm and thrust his fist down onto the floor. His hand left a half-inch deep dent in the floor. "This may take a while."
"What's beneath the house?" Luke wondered.
She shrugged. "The sewer, I suppose. I've never been curious."
"What's going on in there?" a voice spoke up from out in the hall. Alistair and I jumped on the dent and pushed our backs against each other before the slide in the door opened. One of the loyal guards glared at us. "What's all the noise?" he growled.
"We were testing out ways to escape," Luke replied. I shot him a look that told him I thought he was nuts.
The guard just laughed. "You can do that, but you won't get far." He slammed the slide shut and we heard his footsteps retreat from the door.
Four of us breathed a sigh of relief and glared at Luke. "Are you trying to get us moved?" Stacy snapped at him.
"Is there more than one of these rooms?" he returned.
"No, but that was still stupid to tell him that," she argued.
"Stupid or not, he's gone and we have to figure out a way to stifle the noise," Luke replied.
I glanced around and noticed the chair Baker sat in. "Why don't we knock the chair legs against the walls?"
Luke smiled, knelt down in front of me, and planted a light kiss on my lips. "There's my smart girl. Now let's get making some noise."
15
The chair was sacrificed in the name of Justice, and Stacy and I were each handed two legs. The men positioned themselves over the thin steel trap door, and we stood on either side of the entrance. At a signal from Luke we started batting away at the walls and doors. I chimed in with a resounding rendition of a cat howling. "Meeeooowwwwr! Meoowwwrrr!"