Big Game

Chapter Twelve

Asa
Jerry settles onto the couch in Vivian and Rafe's small office. The gray light of early evening shines through the window as I flick on a desk lamp. Grabbing an armchair, I drag it to the resident electrician's side. I take a seat and stare into the old engineer's hazel eyes, mentally preparing myself that this man I admire could actually be our shooter.
Pushing out my will, I lay a mind compulsion in my words. "You will answer all of my questions truthfully."
He nods and sits forward, running a hand through his gray hair and messing it up. "Let's get this over already. I've got plans with Margery later. Assuming she's not patching up more guests, that is."
"Did you shoot any wolves yesterday or today?"
"No."
"Do you know of anyone employed here who hates Jon's wolf-dogs enough to go after them?"
A snort comes from Jerry as he looks away and then back to me. "No one would harm those dogs after what they did to protect the children when Ivan was loose last fall."
Good point. I wondered at the validity of that question when Jon presented it. "Does anyone besides you have silver bullets?"
He shrugs and settles back on the couch. "Not that I know of. Only Margery and you bloodsuckers know I have them and make my own."
Jerry is one of the few on the resort who doesn't donate blood and knows what we are. I have no idea why Vivian allows it, but I'm sure she has her reasons. Seems odd that he'd tell the aging doctor about his silver bullets. "Why does the doctor know?"
"Because I love her, you fool." He grumps and gets to his feet, looming over me in his indignation. "A man shouldn't keep secrets from the woman he loves."
Knowing my vamp whammy is still in place whether I stare at him or not, I continue my questions. "Have you seen any new faces recently on the property?"
"No." He paces to the door.
"Where did you go on leave?"
Jerry spins back around, a spark of anger lighting his face. "I went to Fairbanks. Are we almost through here?"
I rise from the chair and walk to the older man. I stare into his hazel eyes and say, "You will forget this conversation and think we discussed an upcoming change to the generators."
"Fine." Not missing a beat, he opens the door then turns back at me. "Get me those plans for approval before you order anything, got it?"
I smile and nod my head. "Yes, sir. You have my word."
He storms through the kitchen, passing Romeo and Elsa seated with Jon at a round table. The back door slams on his way out, and the three alphas look to me. "He wasn't involved. Doesn't know of anyone who could be doing the shooting, and no one else has silver ammo-as far as he knows."
Before questioning Jerry, Romeo came in with another male Were from his pack. Each man carried the bleeding form of an injured werewolf in his arms. The patients are now downstairs receiving medical attention from Dr. Cook. Jerry's plans with the doctor will have to wait a little while, but damned if I was going to be the one to tell him.
Jon's shoulders ease from hearing the shooter wasn't Jerry, but tension still pinches his face and rolls off him in waves. A wail of despair comes from the direction of the basement.
"Has Kotsana been properly confined?" Romeo asks.
"He's been drugged and placed in a vampire safe room down below. Should hold him."
Elsa's delicate features and short pixie haircut look out of place on the sad alpha. "Jon, does anyone hate you enough to be doing this?"
Jon sits up a bit and looks to his former leader. "What makes you so sure it's because of me? The lot of you could have led an enemy here from Manitoba."
Romeo shakes his head. "It's too thought out, boy. Can't you see that? Scouting and setting traps takes more than a few hours. Whoever is doing this was here first."
I pull up a chair and sip bloodcoffee in a travel mug, not willing to let myself lose control of my cravings with this many injured bodies occupying the inn. "So, you're both suggesting this hunter, or hunters, was here before your plane arrived yesterday, right?" They both nod. "Who knew of your plans to come up here?"
The couple's faces cloud over. "Pretty much everyone in our entire pack," Elsa answers. Jon swears under his breath.
I set my mug down on the table. "And exactly how big is your pack?"
Romeo says, "Fifty. But they are spread out over the province. And no, they don't all get along."
"Are some married outside of the pack? Like to non-Weres?" Jon asks.
"Yes, one or two are even mated to vampires."
I wonder if those vampires get addicted to their mates' potent werewolf blood. But then again, Vivian never has with Jon's, so maybe it's not an immediate addiction with every pairing. "You can rule out the vampires, too much sunlight up here with no place to hide. It's not like there's a hotel near by."
Jon stares off with a speculative expression. "We do have all those empty cabins."
Romeo dismisses it with a wave of his hand. "We'd have smelled any vampires near the cabins."
Jon runs a hand over his face, for a moment looking much older than his normal mid-twenties appearance. "Essentially all of your pack's human mates could know as well?"
A little sound of distress comes from Elsa. "And not all of them have relatives who like werewolves."
Jon stands up and crosses to the fridge for a bottled water. "Weren't the mates sworn to silence?" He whirls back, anger evident on his face. "How could you let this many people be aware we exist?"
Romeo stands, his own frustration spilling out when he stands nose to nose with Jon. "Lots of people know about our species. We've been living amongst humans for millennia. You can't blame my wolves-"
"Calm down, you two. And sit!" Elsa barks out. The two men jump at her sharp tone and take a step away from one another. Romeo leans against a counter, deliberately not sitting, and Jon stands near the fridge. If it weren't so dangerous having two alphas ready to throw down in a cramped kitchen, I'd have laughed at how they both refused to obey the request. But the truth is, we need them working together right now.
"Do you think lots of people know about werewolves, vampires, magic, and all this supernatural crap?" I ask, completely unaware of what the answer might be.
Romeo answers, while Jon stares out the window. "There are always a few who have known." He shrugs. "How many exactly? I'm not sure. Thankfully, they sound crazy if they tell anyone, so we've gone undiscovered for the most part."
I take a sip from my travel mug and place it on the table. "Isn't it also possible then that someone who knows of our existence might not accept us?"
"You mean those who've tried to eradicate us in the past?" Elsa asks. "Like supernatural hunters?"
I nod. "Makes sense. Hell, if I found out there was a pack of werewolves vacationing in the woods of my old home town I'd probably have been out there with a rifle."
"He's right." Jon says, letting out a deep sigh. "Ignorance breeds hatred and fear of the unknown. Not acceptance and tolerance."
The phone attached to the kitchen wall rings, and I scramble to answer it, wondering why whoever it is didn't call one of our cells. "Yeah?"
One of the airplane mechanic's frantic voices comes over the line. "All of the planes have been vandalized."
"Calm down. Tell me what happened." The wolves with their sharp hearing sit up and listen to both sides of the conversation.
"Someone who knows planes systematically removed the starters and shredded all the electrical wiring to the panels."
My mind whirs, searching for possible ways we could still escape. "How long will it take to fix?"
"Days, and that's if I can find everything I need in storage."
"Get on it. Keep us posted."
The call ends and I look to the wolves one by one around the kitchen. "I'm sure none of our people did this. I would have heard a hint in the probing I did in their minds last night."
"It's time we face what we don't want to admit," Jon says, coming back to the table and lowering into a seat. "We've got supernatural hunters gunning for werewolves-and they aren't going about it half assed."
"These aren't just guys with guns," Elsa adds. "They're armed with silver and are systematically eliminating any chance we have of going for help."
"What about the roads?" Romeo asks. "Can't we drive away?"
Jon runs a hand over his hair, mussing it up. "No. This time of year the roads are un-navigable. Only one leads to Coldfoot and it's almost as dangerous right now as in a snowstorm. The planes were the only way out."
"And they knew that," I say. "Which means they arrived here by air, as well."
"Rather than discuss how they got here," Elsa says, "we need to make sure our people are safe. Let's pull everyone to the inn and regroup. Brainstorming together may help determine who is hunting us and why, but we still need to figure a way out of this mess."
I finally dig out my cell phone, remembering the mechanic didn't call that number first. The screen is blank, showing no reception. "Crap."
"What is it now?" Jon asks.
"My cell is out. That's why the guy called on the resort number-landlines are buried underground."
"What does that mean?" Romeo pushes off the counter and pulls his own cell phone from his pocket. "Why are our cells out?"
"It means whoever is after us has sabotaged our satellite dishes as well," I answer. "We're not going to have any Internet access. The regular phones could be next."
Jon shakes his head. "The phone wires might be underground, but if the hunters cut them at the pole that leads into Coldfoot we'll only be able to reach local business extensions to the main buildings and services on the resort."
"We need to call all the cabins while we still can," I say, reaching for the phone.
"Get the wolves based here at the inn." He moves down the hall, heading toward the office with the multiline phone. "I'll start calling the apartments and confining staff inside their homes."
"Do you really think they'll shoot the employees?"
"I'm not willing to find out. Anyone who helps us could be a target."