Shattered Circle

“And you,” Scott gestured at Johnny, “simply want to keep the building.”

“The location in question,” Mr. Plympton said in his lilting Cajun accent, “is a mostly windowless structure that is perfect for the specific needs of our people.” His hands flitted this way and that as he spoke. “We’ve modified the interior extensively over the years and to move the den to any other building would require starting over on those modifications. The purchase price ODOT has previously offered does not come close to allowing us to purchase a new structure in the area and then modify it similarly in order to ensure the safety of our people . . . and yours.”

“There are other areas,” Blue Tie said softly.

Aha. They want us out of their downtown.

A few tense seconds passed, then Scott asked Plympton, “You are open to considering the new offer they have prepared, though, right?”

“Of course we will consider the new offer.”

Scott faced the ODOT reps. “You have the paperwork?”

The man to Blue Tie’s right opened his jacket. From an inside pocket he removed a mass of papers stapled together and folded once lengthwise. He handed it to Scott, who in turn handed it to Plympton.

Plympton perused the document, not bothering to remove his sunglasses. “There’s nothing new in this offer. In fact, these pages are identical to the last offer.”

“That’s correct,” Blue Tie said.

Johnny let his internal struggle for dominance deepen his voice as he asked, “If you’re not offering anything new, why are we here?”

“Oh, we’re offering something new.” Blue Tie nodded to the man on his left and he pulled out more papers from the opposite side of his jacket. “It’s something that is . . . out of the public eye, for now.”

When these papers were handed to him, Plympton quickly scanned through the pages.

Johnny tried to see what was written on them, but the smugness in Blue Tie’s voice made him look up.

“You see, we’ve had reports coming in about this pack,” Blue Tie said. “It seems some dubious activities are going on in Cleveland, activities that—according to our investigation—lead back to this den. As the paperwork trail you’re now looking at shows, this includes burglary, grand theft auto, receiving stolen goods, trafficking, money laundering, racketeering, tax evasion, embezzlement . . . ”

“That’s not true,” Todd growled.

Blue Tie hesitated only briefly at the outburst. “ . . . We even have evidence of insurance fraud, where the widow of one Ignatius Tierney is concerned.”

Johnny’s hands clenched. They’d made this up. All of it. They’d falsified documents to blackmail them. He could not let them mess with the pack, and would not let them harass Moira. His beast slavered and snarled, feasting on his hate. Fur sprouted on the backs of his hands—

Calmly, Plympton reached out and touched Johnny’s wrist.

Soothing coolness swirled around his skin. The wolf within him howled in pain and retreated.

“We’re prepared,” Blue Tie continued, “to deliver all of this documentation to our local and national news organizations. I’m sure they will be happy to write headlines about the new Domn Lup and his pack being sordid criminals. If you don’t want to start his rule with an uphill battle to overcome those kinds of black marks—which we will put front and center for the world to see—then you really should agree to our terms now.”

Plympton laughed. It started out small and quiet, but it grew. As it lifted in volume, the tone became menacing.

“You think this is funny?” Blue Tie asked.

Plympton kept laughing. Johnny joined in, then Gregor, then Todd. They all laughed together as if there was some fantastic joke when they were in fact simply following the lead of the diviza. It was not so different from a pack lifting their voices in unison because their alpha howled.

“What?” Blue Tie asked again. The men around him shifted, uncomfortable with the evil, echoing sound. “What!”

Only when Blue Tie had clearly shown his anger did Plympton let his mirth fade. “All right, boy. If you want your road so bad, we will give you the Cleveland Cold Storage . . . in exchange for Grays Armory.” His voice continued to convey humor.

Blue Tie’s suspicion was evident. “No deal.”

Plympton shrugged. “You are forcing us out. If we have no den to kennel in, it is your public that is at risk. You don’t want us telling the media you’re willing to endanger your citizens for your road. Do you?”

“The Armory is a public historical icon and a museum.”

“W?rewolves require a fortified structure to keep the beasts inside. Our team has already appraised every building in the city. No other building will protect your city’s inhabitants from us like the Grays Armory will.”

“Go somewhere else.”

“Not happening,” Johnny growled.

“We don’t have the authority to give you—”

“Then get it.” Plympton waved the papers at him. “With your obvious skill for fraud, I’m sure you can come up with something that will appease the people.”

“Mr. Plympton—” Blue Tie began.

“To you, this has always been about the building, but not to us. It’s about having a secure location for our people and safety for all. You’re clearly desperate to get your big road built, so you can have the building.”

He pulled his sunglasses off, revealing the wrongness on his silvered eye. The ODOT reps reacted as Johnny had.

“Trade us the Armory and the Zvonul will forget you tried to blackmail us. Don’t and . . . well, we’ll make sure the first casualties stemming from us not having a safe place to kennel will be those nearest and dearest to you.” He pointed at the reps individually, calling them each by name. They shifted uncomfortably. “Shall I name the men hidden in the darkness as well?”

Blue Tie swallowed hard.

“We’ll be ready to start our move this weekend, boys. You’d better be, too.” Plympton turned and walked away, giggling like a Cajun fool.

CHAPTER NINE

Sundown was fast approaching when the cab for which I was paying an immense fare neared my farmhouse. I spied Celia’s CX-7 in the driveway and smiled. It would be good to see her and Beverley.

I glanced into the backyard, hoping to see the girl riding around on a prancing Errol, but instead I saw Celia, hands in her hair like she was extremely frustrated. She turned and saw the cab. She started running toward the front.

Something’s wrong.

It took long seconds before the cabbie made the turn. “Stop, stop,” I cried, threw money at him, and I jumped out to run up the driveway.

“What’s wrong?” I called, seeing Celia round the back corner.

“It’s Beverley.”

“What?” We stopped before each other, both of us panting. I heard voices yelling the kiddo’s name in the distance.

“I was working on contracts and she came out to see Errol.” Her eyes were red and she started tearing up. “I heard the door open and close as she went out. Then, ten minutes ago, Mountain comes by and asks where Beverley is, since he didn’t see her outside. Errol’s in his stall, Seph. She never got to the barn.”

My stomach felt like it dropped into my feet.

“We don’t know where she is. We can’t find her. Mountain and Zhan set out in opposite directions around the cornfield.”

Mountain was a Beholder and Zhan an Offerling; both served Menessos. They were both very capable, but I