Out of boredom I followed suit and noticed a man behind the station. He wore a wide-brimmed hat and dark gloves, and beneath the cuffs I glimpsed a white bandage. I tapped Luke on the shoulder and pointed at the guy. "Isn't that the same guy we saw yesterday?" I asked him.
Luke looked to where I pointed, and his eyes narrowed. "Yes, it is."
Burnbaum glanced at the stranger and frowned. "Do not touch him, Luke. That is a counting man for Lance. He came to the inn when Lance come through."
"Counting man?" I repeated.
"An accountant," Luke told me. "The Connor clan has a large enterprise, but I'm surprised he'd use his number lackey to give us that unfriendly warning," he mused.
"They are desperate?" Burnbaum suggested.
"Maybe it's because nobody would suspect a bean-counter of being an assassin," I spoke up. The three men glanced at me, and I shrugged. "I wouldn't."
"You may have something there, but he's got a lot of confidence to be out in the streets without protection," Luke pointed out. His eyes scanned the crowd, and we all noticed the sheriff walk out of the crowd and over to the accountant. "That would answer my question. He has friends in higher places."
"Da. The sheriff hid his friend and now he protects him to Sanctuary," Burnbaum guessed.
Luke frowned. "I'll have to offer them a change of plans." Before any of us could stop him, he opened the door and stepped out. Alistair, Burnbaum and I followed him and he reached the pair by the station. "Good morning, sheriff," Luke pleasantly greeted the man.
The sheriff turned and, recognizing Luke, scowled. "What are you wanting, boy?"
"Won't you introduce me to your friend here? He looks familiar, but I don't believe we've been formally introduced," Luke requested.
The stranger smirked and bowed his head. "A pleasure to be formally acquainted with you, Lord Laughton. My name is Brad Alston, lead assistant to Lord Connor." He held out his hand, but Luke crossed his arms across his chest.
"The pleasure is all yours," Luke replied. "But I think we have some unfinished business between us."
Alston raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about, my lord."
Luke grabbed Alston's arm and tore down the sleeve to reveal the bandages. Alston tried to tear his arm away, but Luke's grip was so tight that the I swore I heard the man's bones groan beneath the pressure. "This is what I'm talking about."
Sheriff Brier pulled his gun and pressed the barrel against Luke's temple. "You just let go of him right now, boy," Sheriff Brier growled. Luke coolly released Alston and the man cradled his arm.
"Remember that pain," Luke warned him. "The next time I promise I won't return your arm."
The sheriff narrowed his eyes and kept the gun against Luke's head. "Are you threatening my friend here?"
Luke smiled and brushed away the barrel as though it was a toy. "Not at all, sheriff. I was just giving a friendly warning." I got a chill from it.
"One more time and I'll have a bullet with yer name on it," the sheriff threatened.
The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife, and me without the utensil. We were saved from a worse situation by the sound of a whistle in the distance. Everyone glanced up the tracks and saw the train head toward the station. Alston stretched out his arm and smirked at us. "I believe that's my train," he spoke up. He turned to the sheriff. "If you would escort me to the train."
"My pleasure," Sheriff Brier agreed. He sneered at us, and the pair of them walked over to the platform. The train stopped at the station and the crowd herded themselves into the cars.
Luke scowled at their retreating back and he looked to want to follow them, but Burnbaum set his hand on Luke's shoulder. "Do not look for trouble," he advised Luke.
"Mr. Burnbaum is correct, sir," Alistair chimed in. "If you create a scene you will be inviting the sheriff to attack us."
Luke sighed and nodded. "Unfortunately, you're both right. That show with Alston out in the open might have been a trap to invite just that trouble." The train whistle blew and by then the platform was nearly empty.
"Let us go to my car. It is at the head," Burnbaum invited us.
I glanced over to the train and watched our target climbed aboard a private car and the curtains were drawn. "Isn't there something we can do?" I insisted.
"Not while the sheriff vouches for his integrity," Luke explained to me. He hustled me to a car toward the lead engine and we all climbed aboard one of the front cars. This, too, was a private suite, at least judging by Burnbaum's name embossed on the pillows and he referring to it as his own.
"So he's just going to get away?" I persisted.
"For now, but he won't have much chance at attacking us at Sanctuary. The Protectors are a more reliable bunch than the sheriff here," Luke replied.
"What's this Sanctuary place about, anyway?" I asked them.
Luke turned to Alistair. "You're more familiar with the history than I am. You want to tell her it?" he offered.
Alistair bowed his head and cleared his throat. "The founding of Sanctuary occurred about three centuries before as a place for werewolves to keep their existence a secret, and to keep safe from the human persecution that came with exposure. It was chosen specifically for its inaccessibility and the bounty of its natural resources which provided the werewolves with all the necessities they needed to survive. Eventually they risked exposure and allowed a train rail to be built so they could export those abundant resources. The town of Wolverton, from which we are about to depart, sprang up along the last bit of hospitable track and filled with werewolves and those humans who were vetted for tolerance. Sanctuary, as the oldest structure built by werewolves, has held the seat of government during its entire existence, though there have been recent calls to move it for greater convenience. The main disagreement is in which region to move the seat, as all have vied for approval."
"So who's region is this in?" I wondered.
"It's its own territory to keep the seat of government in a politically and culturally neutral position," Alistair replied. "A lord is jointly elected by the people in Sanctuary and Wolverton to represent them in government affairs. The current lord's name is John Farber."
My head spun with all these names, positions and places. "How many lords are there?"
"Seven in all, counting the one here, and from one of them is elected a High Lord who officiates over governmental affairs and manages the bureaucracy," Luke explained to me.
"Too much of that now, this bureaucracy. Bad for business," Burnbaum quipped.
Luke smiled. "There's a lot of it, but I don't know about too much."
"Much more," our former host insisted. "I pay taxes to feed their mouths and they do nothing."
Luke leaned in toward me and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Burnbaum is very vocal about his political leanings."
"I hear you and still stand by what I say," Burnbaum insisted.
"So is this Sanctuary place very pretty?" I asked them to change the subject. If anything, I was tired of this Political Science lesson and was afraid there'd be a test at the end.
Luke wrapped an arm around me and grinned. "I don't think you'll regret coming here," he assured me. I had my doubts.
15
Within a few minutes the final whistle of the train blew and it chugged down the tracks. Resigning myself to an existence as a werewolf, I let myself enjoy the view more than the other times I'd been in a train car. We slipped past the town and entered a thick forest of trees with massive trunks that were as wide as my arms if I stretched them out on either side of me. There were no roads, but I did notice a lot of footpaths that crossed the tracks. They looked like animal trails, but knowing Wolverton and Sanctuary were full of werewolves saying they were animal was not quite accurate.
"How far is Sanctuary?" I asked Luke.
"Twenty miles up a steep incline and set on a mountain outcropping," he replied.
"Sounds friendly."
"It's very good
at keeping out unfriendly and unwanted visitors."
"This train's already carrying a few," I pointed out.
"For us, but I don't doubt Lance is eagerly awaiting Alston," he countered.
I returned my gaze to the window and watched the view slip by. The degree of angle of the tracks gradually increased until I sat flat against the back of the cushioned seat. To say I was worried would be an understatement. One stick of butter on the track and we would be doomed. "Is it always like this?" I wondered.
"Unfortunately, yes. There's been plans to increase the slope to make this part of the trek less gravity-defying, but it's stuck in committee," Luke told me.
"I guess the committee doesn't have to ride this train, otherwise it'd pass unanimously," I quipped.
"We'll plateau soon and then you'll get your first view of the station and Sanctuary," he assured me. His prediction came true, and a few minutes later gravity pulled my feet down instead of my chest.
I spotted something ahead and leaned my face against the window for my first glimpse of the Sanctuary station. It was a small wooden platform hewn from the local trees and stretched to a length of fifty yards to accommodate the long train. There was a wide roof with wooden shingles that covered the platform from tip to rear.
I glanced up from the small station, and my eyes traveled along a stone path with thick wood railings on either side and wildflowers beyond those. The seat of government stood at the top and was a large villa hewn from the stone and trees that surrounded it. The building stretched for a mile along the mountainside with a depth of forty yards, and was five stories tall. Such a massive building created a small colony unto itself with two wings on either side of the large entrance doors. A large deck on the ground floor jutted out into the air and gave magnificent views of the valley below, and large windows were placed everywhere along the front to take in the scenery. There were also balconies outside the rooms that faced the declining side of the mountain. The roof was slanted down at the same level as the mountain, and the back of the roof matched perfectly with the level of the dirt and rocks so snow would cleanly slip off the ground and onto the roof. There were dozens of sturdy skylights to allow light into the halls that didn't have exterior-facing walls.
Around the building were many forest trails both planned and random, and they led into the woods for miles and miles. Some connected to the tracks lower down and others disappeared up the slope to the very peaks of the wild and rugged mountains. I hoped I wouldn't need a map to find my room.
We pulled into the station and disembarked. The station was a madhouse as people, or should I say werewolves in human clothing, walked down the path to greet old friends and family. Through all the chaos I noticed a strange man in a bright red silk robe with wolf imprints all over the cloth. I tapped Luke on the shoulder and pointed at the strange guy. "Who's that?" I asked him.
"That's John Farber, the lord of Sanctuary," he explained to me.
"Why's he dressed in a moo moo?" I wondered.
Luke snorted but quickly put back on his stoic expression. "That's the traditional robe of the lord of Sanctuary. As the current lord he's the only one with the right to wear it."
"And the responsibility not to," I quipped.
Farber worked through the first throngs of newcomers and spotted us. He hurried over and grasped Luke's hand in a warm, wild handshake. "I'm glad you could make it, Luke! I heard about the troubles on the western train, and was horrified when I learned you were aboard."
"Just a minor mishap. No one was seriously injured," he assured Farber.
"Excellent! Excellent! I hope to have many a lively discussion with you on politics!" He glanced over to me, and I slapped on a fake, wide, child-scaring smile. "And who have we here?"
"Lord Farber, this is my mate, Rebecca," Luke introduced me. I wasn't sure how I felt about the title, but I was stuck with it.
He grabbed my hand and gave me a shaking that rattled my soul. "A pleasure to meet you, and what a lucky woman you are!" Farber told me.
My eyes flitted over to Luke, and my voice came out flat. "Yeah, lucky."
Farber didn't notice my tone, and released me from the horrible shaking and grasped Burnbaum's hand. "And a welcome to my usual guest. How is business?"
"It is well, I thank you," Burnbaum briskly replied.
"Well, I must be off to greet the others. Enjoy your stay!" Like a crazed squirrel looking for his nut stashes, Farber slipped away to harass the other newcomers.
"Is he on something?" I asked them.
Luke shrugged. "That's a good question, but let's get inside."
"I will be seeing you two later," Burnbaum spoke up. His eyes were on a group of men and women talking along the side of the path. They all had green armbands around their arms. Farther up the trail was another group with dark red armbands. "I see old friends I wish to speak with. Goodbye, friends," Burnbaum gave his farewell. He strode off to join the group, and I nodded toward them.
"What's with the armbands?" I inquired.
"Those show the party affiliation. Green for Lone Wolf, and a dark red for the Alpha party," Luke told me.
"Why those colors?"
"Green signifies the forests and resources that unite and make each region distinct," he explained to me. "The red signifies the willingness for the Alpha members to sacrifice their blood for one another."
"Should I be writing all this info down?"
"I hope you won't be too involved in the party politics."
"I hope you're right."
Our conversation was interrupted when Luke looked up the path and I followed his gaze. Burnbaum passed dangerously close to the group of reds, and one of them leaned toward him and spat onto his shirt. In a matter of seconds the innkeeper transformed from docile to deranged. He snarled and leapt at the insulter, who growled and lunged at him. They collided and were at each other in a flurry of teeth and claws. Yes, claws. In their ferocity the men became half transformed into werewolves where their upper bodies and feet were shredded by the appearance of their wolf claws, muscles, fur, and fangs.
The battle wasn't single-combatant combat for very long. Both sides dove into the fray so there was a mess of green, red, and brown fur with lots of torn clothing. The scuffle caught the attention of everyone at the station and at the entrance to Sanctuary, and crowds cheered or booed on their opponents and allies. The fray was an exciting match of fangs and sharp claws where each werewolf tried to break their opponent. My hackles raised in anticipation at the thought of joining the group and-
-suddenly I was a dozen yards up the trail from where I last remembered and Luke had his arms wrapped around me. I blinked and whipped my head back and forth. "Um, how did I get here?" I asked him.
"Instinct," he replied. "You smelled the bloodshed and tried to join the battle."
The color drained from my face. "And if I had joined?"
"You might've had your throat torn out," he told me. I cringed and relaxed my body, but he kept a tight hold around me.
Luke didn't have to worry. A group of four men ran out of the doors to Sanctuary and bounded down the stone steps with all the agility of their wolf heritage. They wore simple black uniforms and hats similar to police, and at their hips were pistols. The men tore into the fray with well-aimed blows at everyone who challenged them. The tide shifted in their favor and they had just about won the day when Sheriff Brier strode past us with his gun in his hand. He stopped a dozen yards from the scuffle and shot his weapon in the air. Dozens of people screamed and many ducked. "All right, Ah think we've seen enough here," he drawled.
The shot stopped what remained of the brawl and the combatants transformed back into their human selves. Thankfully no one had so many tears in their clothing that they were indecent to the few children in the audience, but their bodies were covered in deep gashes and bites. One of the uniformed men, a gentleman about Luke's height, strode out of the crowd and over to the sheriff.
Sheriff Brier looked down at the o
ther man with a grin. "Well, hello there, little brother. Still playing cops and robbers?" he greeted the man.
The smaller man turned his lips up in understandable disgust. I wouldn't want to be the sheriff's brother, either. He held out his hand to Brier. "You know no other weapons are allowed to be fired but ours, so I'll have to ask for your weapon," he requested from Sheriff Brier.
"Who's the smaller guy?" I whispered to Luke.
"I'm not familiar with his name, but he's wearing the uniform of Sanctuary's chief of police," Luke softly replied.
Alistair snuck up behind us with the luggage. "His name is Adam Brier, lead Protector of Sanctuary," he informed us.
"Ah don't see how I can give up my gun with such dangerous men around me," Sheriff Brier spoke up.
Protector Brier frowned. "Those are the rules, and no one is above the rules," he insisted.
Sheriff Brier looked like he wanted to argue the point, but with so many witnesses it wouldn't have been good politics to refuse. He sneered and dropped the gun into his younger brother's open hand. "You'd better take care of it," I heard him growl to the Protector.
"Better than you," was the cool reply as Protector Brier pocketed the gun into an empty holster at his side. He looked around at the gaping crowds. "All right, folks, let's move inside. Gentlemen of the brawl, I give you all a warning. One more time and you'll be thrown into the dungeon."
I raised an eyebrow. "Do they really have a dungeon here?" I asked Luke.
"The basement has a few cells leftover from more primitive times, and those are used to hold the rowdy werewolves," he explained to me.
The crowds took Brier's advice and dispersed, some to the trails and others up the steps. Luke, with Alistair loaded down with our luggage, guided us up the path and into the villa. The lobby was a multi-floor, open rafter affair with six wide doorways on either side that led off into the wings. Stairs lined the walls between the openings and led up to balconies on each of the five floors above us. The doorways led to a large maze of narrow passages and halls that ran parallel to the mountainside. In the rear wall of the lobby stood two wooden doors ten feet tall and five feet thick. They were engraved with scenes of forests and humans transforming into werewolves. To our right set in the wall before the first hallway was a large, dungeon-like door with a thick metal circlet for a handle. I guessed that was the dungeon entrance.