“Ben.” Mac warned in a bored voice aware the wolves across from them heard every word. “Don’t tease the animals.”
Before Ben could respond with something even more inflammatory the crowd of wolf shifters parted and Demon caught his first sight of the Alpha after fifteen years. Gregory Bidel, Alpha of the Bone Crusher Clan. He felt his hackles rise and his wolf instinct to fight nearly overwhelmed his control.
“You have no business here outcast. You or your pack of degenerates.”
“Even Outcasts are welcome at family funerals. It’s shifter law.”
The man who he’d once called father took a threatening step forward. “You have no family here.”
A little grayer, the Alpha hadn’t changes in 20 years, except to get harder and meaner in appearance. Demon realized he looked down on him now, by about a foot. For some reason he had pictured the Alpha a bigger man. Now Demon was both taller and broader across the shoulders, though the Alpha was thicker everywhere else. Looking from the rage filled grey eyes of the Alpha to the rest of the pack, about fifty in all with the females hidden towards the back with the few cubs, he was ambivalent. Ben was right; they looked like a pack of illiterate hillbillies. For years, he had wondered what it would be like to be this mans natural son, a welcome member of the pack. Now he could only be grateful to have escaped such a life.
“Where’s Clancy?” He should have been at his father’s side, but the Alpha stood alone, his pack keeping a respectful distance.
“That’s our business and none of yours.” One of the men closest to the Alpha spoke up, smirking a challenge across the sacred ground until the Alpha glared at him for speaking out of turn. He dropped his head immediately and bared his neck.
Glancing around Demon felt his wolfs unease, quite a few faces seemed to be missing, Clancy not least of all. He should have been here. Even if she was not his biological mother, he was a Beta and an enforcer. When the Alphas mate dies, everyone goes to the funeral. Demon opened that door inside himself and stretched out with his wolf senses. No one here was powerful enough to be any of the upper echelon. Besides the Alpha, every powerful wolf of the Bone crusher clan was missing from the funeral.
He met the old Alphas eyes and every hair on his body stood up in warning. Both Ben and Mac on either side of him went to battle ready mode without moving an inch and his own eyes shifted to wolf gold.
Mac moved up a step, grabbing every ones attention. “Shifter law guarantees safe passage at funerals even for outcasts. You break that law and you sign your own death warrant.”
The Alpha sniffed as if catching something bad on the wind, his eyes insulting and dismissive. “Who the hell would care if I took out the trash? I can’t even tell what the hell you are.”
“Wolverine.” Macs voice held soft menace making many of the wolves shift about. Even Alpha wolves knew better than to mess with a wolverine shifter and none but one here was an Alpha. The minister who had been standing oh so quiet at the head of the grave appeared properly horrified.
With his face twisted in distaste, Gregory spit on the fresh grave. His eyes on Demon, he ignored the choking sound coming from the appalled minister. “Consorting with a wolverine and an outlaw cat. I heard about your fucked up clan of deviants and perverts but I didn’t really believe it. Even a bastard like you should have more pride. Not even a clan-less female will have you now.” He laughed a hard edge to it. “When I think of how often I had to hear about your fucking pedigree and here you are mixing with cats and whatever the hell else. Your grandfathers must be rolling in his grave.”
“Looking at what you’ve done to his pack I doubt he’s sparing much thought to who my friends are.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Please gentleman!” The little man finally spoke up. “This is a funeral and if no one else is coming I would like to get on with the service.”
The old Alpha snapped his teeth with a growl but stepped back. Church officials were another thing protected by shifter law. The service commenced. Demon locked his jaw and kept his wolf senses open. While he listened to the sermon on everlasting life and the will of God, his eyes wandered over the assembled wolves. None of them would meet his eyes until he hit the golden eyes of an old Witch. Essie had been old when he was a child, now she seemed withered and dry except for the spark of fire peaking out of her wolf eyes. She studied him for a long minute, then bowed her head enough to show respect. He couldn’t hide his surprise. She had acknowledged him an Alpha. No one seemed to be paying attention but such a thing would get her beat or worse if Gregory heard of it.
He noticed a small hand clutched in her gnarled clasp. A small head peaked out from behind her. No older than 12 at most and obviously a girl. She had not yet grown into her features and her blue eyes were huge in her heart shaped face. She reminded him of a baby angel with all that gold skin and hair. She turned her head to glance back and he saw the raised scar across her neck that disappeared into her ratty t-shirt. She had been burned at some point in her young life and he had to wonder how far the scars went. She stood out from the other mourners in both color and circumstance. While every one else had come slicked back and in their Sunday best, she wore oversized cast offs. Then the service ended and he had other things to think about.
The Alpha threw them one last warning to get out of town before sunset and stomped off, followed by his cowed pack. The old witch gave him a nod before turning and following the others.
Ben smirked at the few stragglers who stayed behind to growl at them before heading off with teeth bared. The minister followed behind them. When it was the three of them Ben let out a breath and pulled out his cell phone.
“So, trap?” Mac asked as they turned to walk back to their rental.
“Trap.” Demon said coldly.
“Code Blue.” Ben said into the phone and hung up when he had confirmation. “Still think it’ll be the airport?” With a press of the keys, the car beeped and all the doors unlocked. He pulled open the trunk and threw his suit coat inside to be followed by two more. He passed out the guns, holsters, and extra clips. They all pulled on the holsters, loaded their weapons, and clicked the safeties. Mac took the wheel while Ben slammed the trunk and climbed into the back seat.
“Probably, but we have a shadow just in case they try to take the car.”
Demon didn’t bother to search, knowing he wouldn’t spot anyone watching them. Shawn was a hawk shifter. They wouldn’t notice him unless he wanted them to.
It was almost anticlimactic when they arrived at the landing strip without incident. They parked the car and Ben checked the phone. No alerts had been sent.
“Sniper?” Mac asked, seeing the landing strip around the plane remained clear. Demon shrugged, it was possible, but not in the Bone Crusher packs usual style. When a hawk circled and squawked they got out of the car and headed for the open hatch of the plane. A tall teenager waited for them inside.
At sixteen, he was already just over six feet and not yet finished growing into his shoulders. His sneakers were scuffed, his jeans faded at the knees and his gun holster strapped over a punisher t-shirt. Wiry with a lot of tawny hair he was a smaller version of his father.
“All clear.” He said, pushing the mane of hair that always seemed to be flying everywhere out of his face.
“No problems.” Mac said, “Tell Cleo to start the engines, as soon as Shawn’s in we’ll lock her down.”
“Affirmative.” The boy said heading for the cockpit.
“Ian?” Mac said halting him. “As soon as we’re airborne contact the car rental place and tell them to pick up the car. I’ll let your father know what’s going on.”
The teenager nodded before disappearing into the passageway to the cockpit. A hawk flew in as soon as the engine started and disappeared into the back of the plane. Ben pulled the hatch closed and secured it. His head shaking.
“What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t like this.” Demon said, his jaw clenched tight. He pulled on his seat belt nearly ripping it out of the seat in his agitation. “Where the fuck is Clancy if he isn’t waiting to ambush us?”
Shawn came in from the back wearing black jeans and pulling on a black t-shirt. At six feet, exactly he had a slim whipcord body and moved with precision. His piercing hazel eyes missed nothing. He had brown hair that fell to his shoulder and a beak of a nose. His voice, when he spoke, had a hard core of steel behind it. “Why would Lucas send the brat squad on a mission like this?”
“Cleo hears you calling them the brat squad and she’ll rip you a new one.” Mac said finding his seat and
