Freya's Founding: Book 2 of the Winging It Series Page 2

  I heard Gina’s snicker. “She might not be a werewolf, but, man, I don’t think it’s a good idea to piss her off. Good luck with that, David.”

  Chapter 2

  As I stormed down the sidewalk in my quiet, tree-shaded neighborhood, I couldn’t help but reflect on how different my current troubles were compared to the peacefulness of my surroundings. A few days ago, a werewolf named Maria had tried to kill me and a couple of other people. She and her husband had run the Santa Fe werewolf pack like heartless, barbaric dictators, stealing money and destroying pack members’ lives. When David, a member of their pack, had escaped their madness, they tracked him to San Luis Obispo and tried to kill him and those closest to him, me included. David killed Maria’s mate, but for reasons I myself sometimes questioned, I decided to spare Maria’s life. Because of the death of her husband, she was no longer Alpha and had lost most of her powers. Santa Fe didn’t want her back, and David and I certainly didn’t want her around. So we traded Maria to the werewolf pack in Denver for Gina, who not only was still a child but also the adopted daughter of the Alphas. The patent enthusiasm of her own parents to make the trade troubled me.

  And I was beginning to see exactly why they sent their daughter away. According to her Alpha/mother (who told us this only after we agreed to the trade), Gina’s sledgehammering was only the straw that broke the werewolves’ back and got her expelled. She was constantly creating lots of problems, especially for her twin brother and her adoptive parents. The pack had gotten sick of her attitude, temper, and destructive behavior and was more than willing to trade her for another troubled werewolf, even one as nasty as Maria.

  I was halfway down the block by the time David caught up to me and although I was still stewing about the situation, the heat of the stew had started to fade. He cleared his throat and made a noise which sounded like an apologetic start to a conversation, but I cut him off.

  “Give me a second more.” Taking a deep breath, I shook my arms as if I could rid myself of the rest of my frustration and anger with the physical activity. David remained quiet. I took a couple more steps and my thoughts poured out all at once in a jumble.

  “Believe it or not, David, I’m not mad at you because the werewolf packs will be out to get me.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him look at me, eyebrows drawn in confusion. “I knew that the other werewolves wouldn’t be throwing me a welcome party. But I feel way over my head being an Alpha, and then I feel like I’m stumbling around in the dark at the same time. Why I’m frustrated with you is because I feel you are withholding information from me—like Maria setting a death notice on me as soon as she disembarks in Colorado. Come on here. We’re supposed to be a team, right? Alpha co-leaders? But Gina knows more about this situation than I do.”

  Stopping, I turned to him. “I didn’t want to be a pack leader, and you know I’ve tried to get out of it, but according to you and the others, I’m stuck, and I’ve accepted it. So stop trying to protect me by not telling me the bad things. I can handle a lot more than you think I can; trust that I can be your partner and don’t keep me in the dark.” I ended my sentence a little louder than I intended. The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, disturbing the peace in my sleepy little neighborhood.

  Hastily, I scanned my surroundings, suddenly concerned that werewolves might be hiding in bushes, ready to pounce. David turned, faced me, and put his hands on my shoulders. He captured my glance and held it for a few moments, steadying me with his calmness.

  “Freya. I didn’t mean to hurt you—this time, in the past, or, undoubtedly, in the future. Although I may not deserve it, I ask for your patience right now. I’m doing the best I can. This is the first time I’ve been Alpha and definitely the first time I’ve ever had a non-werewolf Alpha partner. But you are right. I should have told you about the threat. I couldn’t get myself to say the words. You have been through so much lately.”

  I weighed his words for a moment. Perhaps I was being unfair—he was caught up in this mess, same as me. My muscles slowly unclenched. His hands, still on my shoulders, squeezed gently.

  “Okay. This is your one free pass,” I said, “but please don’t hide anything from me in the future.”

  David dropped his forehead to the top of my head. “Thank you,” he said softly. We stood motionless for a moment.

  “Let’s go to Colorado,” I said, breaking the silence abruptly. David raised his head and started to protest. I cut him off. “No, no, hear me out. The best defense is a good offense, right? We force the issue—we show up and tell them the way it is. Don’t give them a chance to make a decision from a distance. I think the idea of a non-werewolf Alpha is a more distasteful in abstract than in person. At least, I hope I’m not that distasteful in person.”

  Grinning, he opened his mouth, but I laughed and waved him quiet. “I set you up for the comeback, so that doesn’t count. But seriously, don’t you think it might work?”

  He thought a moment and then replied, “Werewolves aren’t like the USN. We don’t operate on consensus. The Alphas rule the pack. We need to convince the Alphas not to attack.”

  “What are the odds on them changing their minds?” I asked.

  He grimaced. “Low to very low. I’m guessing they consider your very existence as an Alpha an insult.”

  “Hmmm… that’s a challenge.” I paused and a niggling thought bubbled to the surface. “But here’s the thing that I don’t understand about dictatorships. Take each individual and, yeah, they are weaker than the dictator. But put all the people together and they will be stronger than the leader. Dictators only have power if everyone allows them to have power. So does the rest of the werewolf pack really want to start a war with us?”

  “I don’t think the five members of our pack would be that threatening in a war,” he replied.

  “But it isn’t only the five of us in this pack. When the werewolf ‘mystical-powers-that-be’ decided I was going to be an Alpha of this pack, the whole Alva Flock got invited in as well. If I am hurt or killed, be prepared for the strongest supernatural group in Europe to come down hard and fast on werewolves. Not to mention the USN. My mother is one of the most powerful members of that organization. As much as she claims to play fair, if her daughter…”

  Palms out, he interrupted my outburst. “I get it. I get it, Freya. But the question isn’t whether I understand the complexities here, it’s whether the other packs will stop and consider the consequences of their actions or if they will immediately act out in anger and fear.”

  “That’s why we have to catch them off guard and before they have a chance to work themselves into a frenzy.” I stopped and took a breath, knowing my next sentence would cause trouble. “And that’s why we need Alrik to be a part of our traveling party.”

  The air around me seemed to drop ten degrees and the hairs on my arm stood up straight. How did David manage to change the air around him through his emotions?

  “Sorry, David. Like it or not, he has to go.”

  “I know.”

  “Alrik deals with hostile interspecies conflicts. And he earned the role by being the toughest Alva around, both in words and physical battles. He’s the person an Alva wants at her back when walking into a potentially dangerous situation.”

  “Freya. I agreed. Please stop trying to convince me.”

  The words finally sunk in and I shook my head abruptly. “Oh. I suppose you did.”

  “That doesn’t mean I like it, though.” He stared into the distance.

  “Well then, let’s get it over with. Maybe if we do a good job convincing the Colorado pack, we won’t have to do the same with the other packs.”

  “Has anyone ever called you Pollyanna before?”

  “Alright,” I said with a grin, “that’s a long shot, but a girl’s got to have dreams. Besides, maybe if we meet the Colorado pack, you might meet some other werewolf who could step into my Alpha role. Two birds with one stone, right?”

  The muscle at David’s
jaw twitched and he didn’t reply.

  We returned to my house after a long walk, hashing out details for the Colorado trip. Gina had put away her paltry amount of possessions and started dinner. My face must have shown my surprise because she smiled a little sheepishly. “I like cooking. After my family and I started to fight, I didn’t cook anymore. I missed it.”

  I held out my hands, palms facing her like a priest. “Bless you, my child. You may stay as long as you want.”

  “What are you cooking?” David asked, peering into the kitchen. “Smells incredible.”

  “I found some tomatoes on the counter and basil and oregano in some pots outside. It’s only a simple tomato sauce and pasta,” she said nonchalantly, but her back straightened and her chin rose an inch or two. I guessed she hadn’t been getting much positive feedback recently.

  “Keep on doing your magic; I need to make a phone call,” I said, walking into the patio area.

  I scanned my phone for Alrik’s European number, since he was currently in Sweden. If it was seven o’clock in San Luis, it would be four a.m. in Stockholm. I wavered a moment but then pressed send. Friends could call each other at ridiculous times and it would be okay, I decided.

  “Why the hell are you calling me at four in the morning, Freya? There better be a damn good reason.” Alrik’s voice was deep and croaky from sleep.

  “I just saw the cutest thing. There was this tiny little Yorkie Terrier and it had two red bows in its hair. And here’s the funny part—its owner had two matching red bows in her hair, too.”

  There was a pause that stretched all the way from Sweden to California and back. And then a sigh from Alrik. “There’s a part of me that believes that you would actually call for no other purpose than to tell me that. But today I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you have another reason for calling.”

  “Well, I guess so, but I thought I’d start with the important stuff. So the other reason for calling has to do with some trouble I may be in right now.”

  “I don’t think you are ever not in trouble. What’s going on now?” Alrik’s tone was now steady and businesslike.

  “Some more werewolf problems, unfortunately. I may have another pack out to get me.” I walked aimlessly around the back patio, weaving between my potted herbs.

  “The rest of the packs don’t like you being Alpha and are out to cause you problems?” Alrik asked.

  “Bingo. And now…”

  “How much time do we have? I’ll be back as soon as I can, but I need at least twenty-four hours. And Flock Elders need to be updated with the situation.”

  “David and I are planning to go out to Denver and confront the pack most likely to attack first. We will leave Friday night. I was hoping that you could join us in Denver.”

  There was a silence, but it didn’t hold the emotional heft that can be mysteriously transferred through the lines, so I assumed Alrik was figuring out the timeline.

  “Okay. I can meet you in Denver Friday night,” Alrik confirmed. “But you need to get things straightened out with your mom and the Elders by then. I want us going into this with full Flock understanding and support.”

  “It’s a plan. I’ll call again when I have more information.”

  After hanging up with Alrik, I girded my proverbial loins for a scolding and called my mom in Chicago. My mother was my first go-to before talking with the Alva ruling council. Although she wasn’t on the council per se, she had lots of connections and was often an informal consultant to the group. Like Alrik, she wasn’t surprised by the backlash from the werewolf pack. In fact, she almost sounded sympathetic with their position. This was a bit annoying, as their position was probably to kill me.

  “I know I wouldn’t like it if a non-Alva became an Elder,” she said.

  “Okay, but I didn’t ask to be an Alpha. And I don’t think you would kill someone if they did accidentally find themselves an Elder,” I replied.

  “No, I wouldn’t,” she paused, thinking for a second, and then continued, “but to be honest, I think some other Alva would consider it.”

  I groaned. “You aren’t helping, Mom. I’m looking for backup here.”

  “Of course, Freya. And you will have my, and most likely the Elders’, full support. But you need to realize that the pack reaction isn’t completely unjustified.”

  “Yeah, I know, I get it… But still, I want a strong Alva response to this situation. I don’t want to keep looking over my shoulder for a werewolf out for revenge. I’m calling the Elders next; do you want to be part of the phone call?”

  “Yes. But don’t call until at least eight in the morning, their time. A few of the Elders are particularly grumpy in the morning.”

  The conference call to the Elders a few hours later went as expected. I got a firm reprimand from several of them about mingling in other supernatural groups’ business. Even my mother got a scolding from a particularly conservative Elder for allowing her daughter to stray from “the Alva Way.” After the lectures had wound down, the Elders got around to solving the problem. They all agreed that allowing werewolves to attack or hurt me was unacceptable. Not because I was particularly important to the Flock overall, but the loss of face for the Alva could not be tolerated.

  Alva were at top of the pile of supernaturals in Europe and therefore generally got their way when there was a dispute between supernaturals. If the werewolves could strike a blow against us, then other tribes might get ideas and start testing the Alva strength. Because of this threat, the Elders would contact the Denver pack soon and express their disapproval of striking out against me. Strength would be shown and sabers would be rattled. Alrik would then be dispatched to meet with David and me to confront the werewolves and assure their compliance. Overall, it was a reassuring phone call and I knew I couldn’t get more dependable help than from Alrik, but the doubts about bringing an Alva to a werewolf fight started to creep in. Although different in form, these two supernatural groups both had similar light and dark sides— warmly supportive on one hand and viciously territorial on the other. Which side would Alrik bring? Which side would the werewolves bring?

  Chapter 3

  Between waiting for the follow-up Elder call and worrying about werewolf attacks, I was more than a little distracted at school the next day. The clock appeared to be stuck in slow motion but regardless, I watched the hour hand crawl around to three o’clock. As soon as the last lingering student wandered out of my classroom, I closed and locked the door. I needed to get out of town for some time to reflect and mentally reorganize.

  In times of high emotion, I found that literally spreading my wings and trying to put some distance between me and my problems was the best way to clear my head. Today, I decided the wilds of the Pacific coast would match my mood, and not too far from SLO were the rugged and majestic cliffs of Big Sur. Parking my car on the side of the road, I hiked about a mile through arid chaparral until I reached a remote grove of redwoods standing with roots curled over the edge of an ocean bluff. I paused to breathe the glorious mixture of pine and ocean and feel the crisp wind blowing off the frigid Pacific waters. Closing my eyes, I let the sunshine and sounds of the waves crashing on the jumble of rocks far below fill my senses. A caw of a solitary crow sounded above me in the trees. Worries about murderous werewolves and cultural expectations trickled out of my brain.

  When I could breathe easy and my thoughts were steady, I released and spread my wings. The massive appendages came from the smooth skin of my back curling around my specially made halter top. No hint of them exist when I am in non-flight status. How does this work? Beats me. It was a mystery that, somewhat surprisingly, didn’t call me to solve it. Rather than getting worked up about the impossible physics, I allowed myself to enjoy the blessing.

  A gust of wind caught my wings and rocked me back on my heels. Opening my eyes, I looked down the ocean bluff to the water churning two hundred feet below. I imagine that someone without built-in aviation appendag
es would likely panic at the deadly drop I was standing inches from, but for me, it was child’s play. Literally. As a kid visiting the rest of my flock in Sweden, I had joined with the other Alva fledglings and when the parents weren’t paying attention, we played something I called Fjord Chicken. Groups of us would jump off ridiculously high cliffs without our wings spread and the last one to pull out of the dive would win. I won a lot.

  As my sister had not inherited the Alva gene from my mother, there weren’t any other Alva for a thousand-mile radius around San Luis Obispo. Normally, I would revel in the freedom from the confines of Alva control, but my current troubles made me long for having my family and Alva friends close at hand.

  Mentally shaking off my melancholy, I focused back on my beautiful surroundings. I had chosen to move away from home and it was a good choice, I reminded myself. Stepping right up to the edge of the cliff, I dangled my toes over the edge and let the gusts of wind teeter me back and forth between land and open air. In a moment, I would dive from the edge and enjoy the free fall before sweeping into a glide, but now I stretched out my wings and arms, embracing the wilds of California. And then a shot of pain rocketed through my body.

  I lurched back and then fell to my knees, clutching my chest in bafflement. I took a few deep breaths to steady myself. No, this wasn’t pain, it was something else—a feeling I didn’t know how to express. It was a sensation of otherness, of tangibly having a connection to… what? What was it I was feeling? I hesitantly removed my hand and looked down at my chest, as if I could see what was causing this otherness. Nothing was visible. Trembling, I closed my eyes and looked inward. The sensation was not physical, but I could mentally probe at it. I paused and wrapped my arms around my body. This feeling reminded me of being in the hospital a few months ago when a crazed supernatural had tried to kill me with poison gas. The worst part of the whole hospital experience wasn’t the pain or the recovery, it was the IV. I could look down and see this bit of material stuck into my arm; the intrusion into my body wasn’t painful but it was foreign, uncontrollable, and not me. The sensation that had bloomed within me a moment ago was equally as alien.