Page 81 of Old Secrets

With work, I believed I might be able to campaign for Fenerec to help their cause.

I would not be able to handle the guilt if science couldn’t conquer what love could not.

Five days after our arrival, my father warned us the sinners approached and would arrive within a few hours, and if we were to stage an ambush, the time had come. I’d spent the previous days making plans with Jake, and we’d agreed on one thing: we would shift, and we would solve the problem with our teeth and claws.

I looked forward to fighting over the bodies, giving all witnesses a brutal demonstration of what retribution could look like.

Mellisa would be ready to make use of her magic, squeezing out every ounce of her strength to take out at least one sorcerer before they could strike.

Those seeking redemption armed themselves with every weapon at their disposal, some they provided themselves with the rest coming from the Inquisition. I loaned Rosalie my new gun, warned her it was fully automatic, and told her to go for the kill so she couldn’t be surprised later. Jake loaned his gun to my father, gave him the basic safety speech, and warned him to only use it if he had no other choice.

I’d tried to convince my mother to shift once and only once, but I recognized her trauma response, changed my mind, and put her in charge of the rest of our small family, having her find shelter somewhere within the caverns and tunnels.

She didn’t need to witness more death.

In hindsight, I wished my father had gone with my mother, but I understood why he needed to remain.

The sinners expected his presence.

I shifted without incident, and Jake completed his transformation faster than normal. To praise him, I licked his muzzle before ducking my head under his and snuggling into his plush coat. Jake draped his paw over my shoulders until I settled in front of him, and he went to work grooming my fur to perfection. Once satisfied, he let me up, and he herded me in the direction of one of the side tunnels hidden behind an outcropping of stone.

From our vantage, we would spot them before they spotted us.

Those seeking redemption likewise scattered, with some scaling the walls to hide in niches above, niches my father had created to give them a place to stage their ambush. From the ground, nothing appeared to be different, but we all knew better.

During the work, my father took the excess material to where he had cast his many children back to the Earth, spoke a prayer, and tossed the rocks into the depths. A chillingly long time passed before the faint echo of rock clattering against rock made it up through the shaft, exposing that there was something far below.

The last part of the wait dragged, with seconds stretching into minutes and minutes stalling and refusing to turn to hours. In truth, we only waited for about thirty minutes.

The steady thump of footsteps warned us our adversaries approached. Infrequent chatter informed us we dealt with at least two. According to their shadows, there were at least ten of them. Ten would complicate things.

If all ten were sorcerers, the complications could prove lethal to us. I could take out one. Jake could take out one. Rosalie promised she could take out two before I could blink an eye, for she was well versed with guns and had used one like mine before. Mellisa would take out one.

The rest would give us problems, as I had no idea how our conspirators would behave around those who had led their cult for so long.

They might open fire and litter the ground with corpses, ending the fight before it could begin. They might balk, giving them a chance to utilize their foul magic.

We’d find out soon enough.

As planned, my father waited at the gate, dressed in his modern clothes rather than the tunics and trousers or robes the rest of the family tended to wear. He regarded the group with a neutral expression, not saying a word as they moved closer.

I counted bodies, determining we had a dozen assholes to eliminate. Jake tensed beside me, and he exposed his teeth in a silent snarl.

I longed to chitter my fury, but rather than expose our presence, I waited.

“Have you disposed of her body as ordered?” a man with a deep yet somehow raspy voice asked, and I questioned why he spoke in English.

My father said nothing, although his stare turned baleful.

I appreciated how he lied using silence as his tool of choice, although the shock of their order crashed through me and chilled me to the bone.

They had ordered my father to kill me?

“Rabten,” the man warned. “You were given leave of the mountain for one purpose. Have you committed her bones to the Earth?”

My father lifted his left hand and turned his palm to face the ceiling, our signal that we could do with the Greenwich bastards as we saw fit.

Rather than question what the man meant, I decided he would be my prey, and I surged out of my hiding place, closed the distance between us, and closed my teeth around his throat, using my weight to slam him to the side and into several of his companions. With a shake of my head, I snapped the bones in the bastard’s neck. To make certain I finished the job, I bit again, jerking my entire body in an effort to remove his head from his shoulders.