“For such an exquisitely beautiful woman, you are quite violent,” Bob Herm pointed out as he offered Hank and me a cheese tray.
“Thank you,” I replied, ignoring the cheese. I loved cheese. However, the sneaky bastards were not going to distract me with brie.
“It wasn’t a compliment,” Bob Harold said as he gestured politely for Hank and me to take a seat.
“Ahh, but it was,” I shot back. “You knew exactly who I was when you basically blackmailed me into joining the WTF Council. My looks are hereditary, so I can only guess that you’re impressed with my prowess. And might I add… pot, kettle, black about the violent part?”
“Touché,” Bob Hiram said with a shrug. “To what do we owe this surprise visit? I believe you’re supposed to be supervising the summoning of a Demon.”
“Oh my golly gee, you’re right,” I said as I slapped myself in the forehead. “How could I forget something sooooooo important? Crazy isn’t it?”
“I’m not following,” Bob Harold said, watching me warily.
“Of course you are,” I replied as I gave in and grabbed the entire block of brie. “Everyone forgets. Right? Maybe even the Bobs forget?”
“State your complaint,” Bob Harold snapped, glancing over at the others.
“State the fucking facts, gentlemen,” Hank countered, joining in as he propped his combat boot-clad feet on the priceless coffee table much to the Bobs’ dismay. “All of them. Like the last Jazz Cabbage outbreak for starters.”
Again, glances were exchanged.
“It’s not related,” Bob Hiram stated flatly. “It was forty years ago.”
“I want to bash their heads together,” I told Hank telepathically. As mated Werewolves, we could communicate in this nifty way.
“Not your best idea,” Hank replied.
“It would feel sooooo good,” I whined.
“Things that feel great in the moment don’t always work out well in the long run. It’s about the long game, baby.”
“What about sex?” I asked.
“Sex doesn’t count. Sex is always good.”
“So sex is good and don’t go apeshit on the Bobs?”
“Bingo.”
“What if they don’t come clean?” I questioned.
“Then we both go apeshit on the Bobs.”
I considered Hank’s advice. It was solid. However, I still wanted to bash the Bobs. But I’d grown smarter over the last few years. As much as I wanted a go at the Bobs, there was a fine chance I wouldn’t come out of it alive.
“Deal,” I said.
“That’s my girl. Keep them talking. And if we get out of the building without killing anyone, we can go to the amazing taco joint on the outskirts of Chicago.”
“Oh. My. God. That might be the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I told him, trying not to laugh. It wouldn’t do to have the Bobs know we were conversing. However, the taco joint Hank was referring to was positively orgasmic.
“Well, shit,” Hank shot back with a chuckle. “I’m gonna have to step up my game. Go back to work, baby. Clock’s ticking.”
“How do you know the last outbreak isn’t related?” I demanded of the Bobs, slapping the cheese down on a brocade table runner that was probably hundreds of years old.
All three of the Bobs winced in pain as they watched the cheese become one with the irreplaceable piece of fabric. I felt a little bad about that. I now knew why Granny covered everything in her house with plastic. I was kind of messy.
“Sorry,” I said, trying to peel the cheese up which only made it worse. Instead, I dropped a monogrammed napkin over it. Out of sight, out of mind. “However, I repeat. How do you know it wasn’t related?”
“There were no Demons involved,” Bob Hiram said. “It was an experiment.”
That floored me… and horrified me. “Run by who?”
“Scientists.”
“WTF scientists?” Hank ground out as he stood up.
Bob Hiram sighed and sat down. “Yes,” he admitted with what I thought might be regret. “They were able to create Jazz Cabbage in a lab—no Demons involved.”
“Why?” I asked, wondering how sick and insane the Council really was.
“Because knowledge is power,” Bob Harold said without a shred of emotion.
“And death of innocent Weres was just a silly byproduct?” I snarled. “What is wrong with you people?”
“Is it wrong to kill a few to save millions?” Bob Herm asked.
“When did you become God?” I snapped. “Your logic is appalling.”
I sat down heavily, picked up a banana and then thought better of it. I needed something that wouldn’t cause property damage when I threw it or squashed it into the furniture. I settled for some crackers.
“We knew about Devil’s Lettuce. We didn’t believe it was a real threat,” Bob Hiram said.
“Short-sighted on our part,” Bob Herm added. “We created it to see if there was an antidote—a way to render it impotent. We needed a way to fight the Demons if it became necessary.”
“And?” I asked, knowing what the answer would be.
“And we failed,” Bob Harold said in a hollow tone. “The Weres in the experiment had to be destroyed. They became so violent we couldn’t control them.”
“So you killed them?” Hank growled.
“Not exactly. We let them kill each other.”
The silence was deafening. I felt ill.
“How do you know this isn’t some kind of experiment again?” I fired out, furious.
Bob Harold ran his bland and deadly hands through his nondescript brownish hair. “The Vampyre sensed a Demon in the warehouse. We felt the Demonic presence as well.”
“Plus the Were scientists who developed the batch of Devil’s Lettuce are with us no more,” Bob Herm informed us.
“Do I want to pursue that one?” I asked.
“No. No, you don’t,” Bob Herm assured me. “Suffice it to say, that chapter of our history has been put to bed.”
“Six feet under?” I asked.
“More than that,” Bob Herm confirmed. “There was no reason to bring it up, so we didn’t.”
I silently mulled over what they had just revealed. It made me sick and ashamed to be part of an organization that would do what they had done. I wasn’t exactly alive or in charge when the heinous experiment had gone down, but it was part of the legacy of this place. I needed a new damned job.
“What else have you omitted?” If they said nothing, I was going to have an accident with the four open bottles of red wine that were perched on the full-service bar. I’m sure they would look beautiful splashed all over the wildly expensive rugs we were standing on. If I couldn’t bash their heads in, I could certainly leave a few ugly reminders of my visit.
“You have the files,” Bob Herm said. “Everything we know is in there—pictures, locations, dates, approximate times of death. What more do you need?”
I was at a loss. I didn’t know what I needed… except my head examined for staying part of this organization. I needed to know everything I didn’t know. However, the Bobs were very literal and I didn’t have the correct questions. Shitshitshit.
“Why were Clark and Jones demoted?” Hank asked.
Bob Harold sighed and poured himself a glass of wine. “They made decisions that weren’t theirs to make.”
“Would you like to be more specific?” I picked up the cheese tray and held it over my head.
“Are you serious?” Bob Harold asked in an astonished tone as he took in what I was about to do.
“Quite,” I replied with a smile. “Since it would be bad and potentially deadly form to rip you idiots new assholes, I have to go with a simpler plan.”
“Ruining priceless antiques is your plan?” Bob Hiram squeaked.
“Do you have a better one?” I asked.
They were silent as they tried to come up with an answer. There was no way in Hell they would kill me for throwing cheese. Besides, if they tried, I would unleash everything I had on them. And the love of my Lupine life would be right beside me.
“Boys, you have a choice,” I explained. “Answer the questions and the cheese stays on the tray. Be cryptic and… well, you know…” I smiled and winked at the pissed off trio.
“They moved several elite teams to guard the death sites from the Jazz Cabbage outbreak,” Bob Harold finally admitted.
“Why is that worthy of a demotion?” I shot right back, beginning to tip the tray. “Sounds logical to me. Not that I’m crazy about Jones and Clark, but that action doesn’t merit a demotion.”
“The teams already had other assignments,” Bob Herm, choked out as he watched me in horror.
I was dangerously close to what I assumed was a very expensive painting that would look excellent smeared in blue cheese.
“The assignments?” Hank asked as he watched me with amusement.
“The teams were tracking the shunned,” Bob Harold told Hank with his eyes glued to me. “It wasn’t Clark’s or Jones’s place to make the call to reassign them.”
Shunned Weres were non-people in our community. I’d seen it happen twice in my life—three women from my own pack who’d been in cahoots with the Dragons and then the former Alpha from the Alabama pack. All four had been deeply involved with the viciously corrupt and now dead side of the WTF Council.
It was a punishment worse than death to our kind. To be shunned, the crimes had to be beyond heinous. An excommunication from our world was serious and had to be approved by the Council. The punishment was irreversible and devastating.
Without a pack, a Were had no real power or reason to live. The most concerning issue was that they didn’t reveal themselves to the human world—which was why they were tracked. Most of the shunned usually ended up going into seclusion and dying lonely deaths. It was incredibly hard to exist as a Were without the support of one’s kind. As pack animals the socialization of our community was necessary to our sanity.
“How many shunned are there?” I asked, finally putting down the cheese tray, much to the relief of the Bobs.
“Alive or dead?” Bob Harold asked.
“Jesus Hesus, are you people killing the shunned?” I choked out, wondering if the Bobs had a conscience at all.
“No. We are not. Most shunned don’t live long after they are banished. The solitary life in exile from our world does the trick,” he replied.
“So how many has the Council lost track of?” I pressed.
“Twenty,” Bob Herm said. “It’s not like we keep constant tabs on them, but we do get monthly reports. However, it’s been solved. New teams have been assigned.”
“Clark and Jones simply need to know their place. They are not decision makers. They are underlings,” Bob Harold stated with a shrug of indifference.
“I’m going to go a little off subject here,” I said with a humorless smile that made the Bobs grow nervous. “Aside from a name change, the WTF needs to do a little soul searching.”
“You’re new to the Council, Essie,” Bob Hiram pointed out as he quickly grabbed the cheese tray and placed it out of my reach. “You don’t understand the inner workings of our government.”
“While this might be true,” I admitted, picking up a large bowl of vegetable dip, “I’d be remiss if I didn’t remind you of a few things.”
They stood silently and waited. Hank grinned and made himself comfortable on the couch—feet up and all. They wanted new blood on the WTF Council? Fine. They were going to have to listen to what the new blood had to say.
“The Council is a shit show—all the time. Before I joined, you had members in cahoots with the Dragons. You had members funneling massive amounts of money out of the accounts to cover up illicit sexcapades. You even had members who experimented on agents, trapping Weres in their animal forms for over twenty years— which included my parents. Don’t you find that problematic, boys?”
“The guilty have all been eliminated. Permanently eliminated,” Bob Harold stated flatly. “Your point?”
“My point is that power corrupts, dude. You’re running a damned archaic kingdom and we’re not living in the 1500s here. You didn’t even know about the Dragons, the experiment or the sexual shit. Your heads are so far up your own asses that the WTF is falling apart. Me. Me and my friends are the only reason any of these crimes were brought out in the open—Dima, Nicolai, Junior, Sandy, Hank and me. We led you to the three Tinas and the disgusting Giles Giles who were all working with unscrupulous WTF Council members. We killed the freakin’ Dragon King and exposed all the double-dealing of the supposedly untouchable Council. All of the bullshittery would still be happening if it wasn’t for us,” I said in a furious tone. “That is my point.”
“And that is why you are now on the WTF Council,” Bob Herm shot back as his eyes glowed with displeasure.
I wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill me or was simply horrified that I’d shed a glaring light on all of the disastrous happenings in the WTF recent history. I didn’t care.
It was time to make some real changes.
I didn’t need to hurl the ranch dip at the antiques. That was childish. I wasn’t going to win by destroying their office. It would be fun, but Hank was correct. I needed to take the long game into consideration.
“We’re changing our name,” I announced as I put the dip down. “It can go up for a vote, but the acronym cannot have the word fuck in it.”
“Fine,” Bob Hiram ground out.
“We will not have retreats in Wisconsin ever again. It’s cold there and it sucks.”
“Do you have any more demands?” Bob Harold inquired, looking as pissed as his cohorts.
“Dude, I’m just getting started,” I shot back. I was positive I heard Reginald chuckle from the other side of the door. “We’re going to have full disclosure. Open files. Lie detector tests on the remaining Council members. Checks and fucking balances will abound in place. There need to be ramifications for anyone caught operating on the shady side and we abolish the lifelong terms.”
“Impossible,” Bob Hiram ground out. “It will be chaos.”
“Like it’s not chaos right now?” Hank inquired, still sitting on the couch.
Hank’s body appeared relaxed, but I could sense his power begin to float around the room. The Bobs could feel it too. It was menacing and freakin’ sexy. Well, to me it was. The Bobs just seemed perturbed.
“Your system is broken, jackasses. You can agree to fix it with us or my friends and I can do it without you,” I explained, talking to them like they were three years old. “We’re in danger of being revealed to the humans. That would be all kinds of awesome. Can’t you just imagine Shifters of all species being incarcerated and experimented on by the humans? Sooooo fun! The time of pitchforks and being burned at the stake would do wonders for our morale—not to mention our lifespans. Demons are infiltrating our secret world. And all I see you boobs doing about it is having lunch meetings in your fancy office. Get your boring heads out of the sand or we’re gonna be done.”
“Fine. We’ll make changes,” Bob Harold said as the other Bobs gasped in shock. “Solve the Devil’s Lettuce issue and then we will take all your suggestions under consideration.”
I shook my head. They really didn’t get it. “It’s not a negotiation or suggestion. You put Hank and me on the Council. We have as much power and say as you do. If that’s not the case, we resign,” I said and then looked quickly to Hank to make sure it was okay that I was speaking for both of us. He gave me a thumbs up and a sexy lopsided grin.
“No one can resign from the Council,” Bob Harold snapped. “It’s never been done.”
“There are a lot of things that have never been done… yet,” I countered coldly. “And we’re about to do them.”
The Bobs digested my words unhappily. However, it was clear they’d finally heard me. They might not have enjoyed what they’d heard, but I’d said my piece.
“As you wish,” Bob Herm said quietly.
“Blood oath,” I demanded as all three of them raised their brows in surprise.
“You don’t trust us?” Bob Hiram inquired with the smallest beginnings of a smile I’d ever witnessed.
“Nope,” I said with a tiny smile of my own. “You haven’t given me much reason to, dude.”
Without another word, Bob Harold pulled a wicked looking dagger from his coat pocket and sliced his palm. The two other Bobs followed suit and a blood oath was born. I was shocked and secretly delighted. Maybe… just maybe… we could make this work.
The times… they were definitely a-changin’.