Smilodon, page 8
It took no time at all for his gnawing on my neck to get very old, but I didn’t want to ‘just’ roll over. I was sure other shifters tried that all the time. I wanted to be different. So I reared up on my hind legs. Thomas yipped as he pawed and nipped at my back and hips for some kind of traction, but he must not have found it. He hit the arena floor in another poof of dirt and sawdust, and I hoped he was watching for what came next.
Ever worked a nine-to-five in an office that put a lot of stock in those asinine team-building exercises like trust falls? That backward collapse where you trust your co-workers to keep you from hitting the floor? Yeah… I would’ve paid money to know what went through Thomas’s mind as I forced myself to overbalance backward and come down on him like a thousand-pound furry tree.
Timber!
An immense cloud of dust and sawdust billowed into the air to the accompaniment of a solid, heavy THUD and many, many bones shattering all at once. The whole arena fell silent, and I saw several people cover a gaping mouth with a hand. I could’ve rolled over and finished it right there, but I wanted this fracas to be as memorable as possible. So, I wiggled like the wolf was my back scratcher. I heard a few more pops and snaps, with a whine or three thrown in for flavor.
Yeah… no one would mistake that for anything other than adding insult to injury; the only thing more humiliating would be to stand up and mark my territory on whatever furry mess remained.
Since I figured I’d made my point by now, I rolled to my feet and looked to see what remained of the inestimable Thomas Carlyle. It wasn’t pretty. The wolf laid there, with blood oozing out of his ears and eyes, a red froth drooling out of his mouth. His deep barrel chest now looked more like a smooshed sandwich, and I think only the various tissues involved kept his legs connected.
I moved until I could look the wolf in his eyes, and I saw resigned acceptance there. He knew what happened next. I knew it, too. Every part of my feline form ached to end him, and I doubted anyone here would say he didn’t deserve it.
But I—Wyatt Magnusson, the human—didn’t want him dead. I just wanted him to be a decent person. I lifted my head and search the crowd until I found Alistair. He stood and approached the chain ring, then nodded once.
“Finish it, Wyatt. He wouldn’t hesitate if your positions were reversed.”
I touched the part of my mind that was still human and shifted. “I know that, so why should I sink to his level?”
Alistair heaved a sigh. “Because it is our way.”
“It may be your way, but it’s not mine.”
I turned and knelt in front of Thomas the wolf. I met his eyes and held the gaze for several moments. Then, “Do you yield?”
A faint nod with an even fainter whine.
“Have you learned your lesson about being an ass to people? I don’t want to have this discussion again.”
Another faint nod.
I stood and addressed the crowd. “Thomas Carlyle yields. Honor and justice have been satisfied.”
The silence blanketing the arena was so extreme that I figured my enhanced ears could hear a pin hitting the pavement on Main Street, a solid three hundred yards away. I approached the side of the arena where Gabrielle sat with Melody, holding the bundle of my clothes.
“Mind tossing me my clothes?”
Somewhere off to my left, I heard a woman mutter, “Does she have to?”
8
Gabrielle exited the arena in time to see the doctor from the infirmary and two assistants carrying a stretcher pass through the participants’ entrance. This led her to notice Alistair and the remaining councilors standing off to one side and talking in hushed tones. More than one councilor’s expression suggested the conversation was getting heated, despite being so muted. She watched Alpha Jace exit the spectator’s access, and she thought he looked a little unsettled. Part of her said she should speak with him, but she knew her heart wasn’t really in it. Gabrielle turned toward the participants’ entrance to meet up with Wyatt, but Alistair saw her and motioned for her to join him.
* * *
“Yes, I understand your point, Norman,” a female councilor said as Gabrielle approached, “but the fact of the matter is that our laws are sacrosanct. Wyatt defeated a councilor in a recognized dominance fight, which means Wyatt takes his seat on the Council.”
The councilor addressed as Norman looked like he was about thirty seconds from losing control. His nostrils flared as a deep red flush creeped up his neck, his eyes partially shifting toward golden wolf eyes, and he glared at the woman as he replied, “Dammit, Joanna! Thomas was a wolf councilor, and Wyatt is a feline. I will not accept a feline taking over a wolf seat and throwing the Council out of balance. Every shifter race has always had three councilors. I’m going in there and settling this once and for all.”
Joanna and several of her associates regarded Norman with the expression of a patient parent dealing with a recalcitrant child. Joanna voiced what Gabrielle was sure everyone there was thinking, “And just what makes you think the outcome of your fight with Wyatt will be any different than Thomas’s fight? Hmmm? You have always said that Thomas was a better fighter than you, a more vicious fighter than you. If he didn’t succeed, how will you?”
Norman drew himself up to launch into a reply, but Alistair forestalled that by asking, “Gabrielle, what are your thoughts on the situation? You know Wyatt best out of all of us.”
“I wouldn’t say I really know him,” Gabrielle countered, “but have any of you considered Wyatt might not want a seat on the Council?”
Every councilor present gaped at Gabrielle. Each person’s expression communicated his or her confusion differently, but it was apparent that they had not even considered that possibility.
Alistair seemed to watch the councilors with barely restrained amusement, then asked, “Would you please explain your thinking on this?”
Gabrielle sighed. “Wyatt has been a shifter for all of… what… five days? He doesn’t even understand what it means to be a shifter yet, let alone all the politicking and backstabbing and maneuvering that happens at the Council level. Besides, we’ve already discussed how the dire wolf tends to keep to herself, and I would not be surprised at all if Wyatt decides to follow her lead.
“Keep in mind that Wyatt didn’t choose the dominance fight. Yes, he was angry and offended at how Thomas had dominated Melody to violate the hotel’s policies, but he didn’t go into the arena to claim Thomas’s seat. He went into the arena to defend Melody and everyone else who has been bullied by a more dominant shifter. We didn’t—”
Alistair looked over Gabrielle’s shoulder and smiled, interrupting her, “Ah, here he is now. Wyatt, would you come over here please?”
I couldn’t take the pained whines and yips as the medical people moved Thomas onto the stretcher, so I left the arena. As I stepped outside, I heard Alistair call me over to a group. I could see Gabrielle standing with him along with the rest of the councilors, and I couldn’t help but wonder why they wanted to speak with me. I tried to keep my feelings from showing in my expression as I approached, and I arrived just in time to hear Alistair apologize to Gabrielle for interrupting her.
“The conquering hero arrives,” Alistair remarked as I stopped at Gabrielle’s side. I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me or just joking in general.
“Hello, Alistair,” I said. “You wanted something?”
Alistair glanced at the councilors before answering, “Yes… well, you see there’s a bit of an issue arising from your victory. I suppose we should have foreseen it, but by defeating Thomas, you have the right to his seat on the Council, as per our laws and customs. That creates a problem because Thomas is a wolf. As a feline shifter, you would give the felines four votes, throwing the Council out of balance. There’s no law that specifically says the Council must be balanced across all species, but we’ve kept the peace between the different shifter breeds for hundreds of years by ensuring we all have equal representation on the Council.”
I made a dismissive wave. “Oh, that’s easy. Thomas can keep his seat, or it can go to some other wolf. I certainly have no interest in being on the Council. The other primogenitor in North America isn’t on the Council, so I see no reason to change things. Besides, I’m still learning about being a shifter and coming to grips with that fundamental change in my life; there’s no reason to complicate that by adding something else.”
By the time I wound down, I noticed the councilors all stared at me, wearing various expressions of shock and disbelief.
“What?” I asked. “What’s the big deal?”
“Gabrielle just explained that she expected you were largely uninterested in a seat on the Council, my boy,” Alistair explained. “I think they’re having a difficult time processing a shifter of your strength not wanting power.”
I grimaced and shook my head. “There are more important things in life than power. I need to understand and adjust to what my life is now. I don’t need a seat on the Council for that. Matter of fact, I imagine a seat on the Council would only complicate that for me. So… was there anything else?”
Alistair smiled and shook his head. “No, my boy. I think you’ve answered the matter. Thank you much.”
I turned to leave and noticed Gabrielle took the opportunity to leave with me, not that I minded. We walked far enough to be out of earshot for Alistair and the Councilors before Gabrielle threw me another curveball.
“I feel it’s only sporting to warn you that many of the eligible ladies will make themselves known soon.”
That hit me like a bucket of ice-cold water while I was fast asleep. I tried to keep from freezing mid-step and staring at her. My incomprehension was that strong.
“Uh… what?”
Gabrielle chuckled. “Don’t act so surprised. You were already turning heads. With that display of both cunning and raw strength, anyone who thinks they might have a chance will be getting into line to make their case.”
I looked at her, once again noticing just how attractive she was. “And just where do you fit into all this?”
Gabrielle worked her lower lip between her teeth, and damn if she didn’t make that look sexy as all hell. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel it, too. My cat has wanted to climb you like a tree since you dominated Buddy in the diner; she was very put out that we let you slip away to go tie off the threads of your human life all by yourself. But that side of every shifter is much more primal than we are and doesn’t always understand the human side of things. I get the impression that you’re maybe two or three unexpected revelations away from going completely off the rails, and I don’t believe following my cat’s advice would help you with that.”
My stomach chose that moment to interject a fierce growl into the discourse, making me aware of a gnawing sensation that almost felt like my spine or surrounding tissues might be in grave danger if I didn’t get food soon.
“Say… not to change the subject, but it seems like I’m in need of food. You hungry at all?”
Gabrielle laughed. “I’m a shifter, too, Wyatt. It’s rare when we’re not hungry to some extent.”
* * *
The steady, low-intensity background noise of people eating and chatting filled the diner, and even with my newly enhanced senses, I could only pick out a snippet of conversation or two as Gabrielle led me to an open table. One of Gladys’s servers arrived before we finished sitting down to take our drink orders and leave menus and silverware wrapped in napkins.
Silence reigned for a moment until I said, “So, what’s the next lesson on the journey to becoming a well-adjusted shifter?”
Gabrielle sat unspeaking for several moments more. At last, she shrugged. “I’ve never been a guide for new shifters before, and since I was born a shifter, it’s a little difficult to know where to start.”
“Well, what about an overview of shifters then? You said all the shifter races are represented on the Council?”
Gabrielle snorted. “Goodness, no. Every shifter type is represented, but for each race or species to be represented would make the Council so large it would be unwieldy. If I said ‘race’ earlier, it was a mis-speak on my part. By type, I mean wolf, feline, avian, and so on.”
The server returned with our drinks, and Gabrielle took the time to browse the menu while I ordered three cheeseburgers with everything and a couple orders of fries. The server took the time to verify what I meant by ‘everything,’ which gave Gabrielle sufficient time to settle on what she wanted.
The server left to put our orders in, and Gabrielle snapped her fingers. “Oh, that’s right. I ran into Doc. He asked me to tell you he’d appreciate it if you stopped by the infirmary. He’d like to get a medical baseline started for you if you plan to be around here for a while.”
“Are you sure it’s not just a cover for him to examine a feline primogenitor?”
Gabrielle shrugged. “I won’t say ‘yes,’ but I can’t say ‘no’ with any conviction, either. I know I’d be interested to find out if you deviate from the prehistoric natural Smilodons at all and, if so, how.”
“Okay. You make a good point, there. I hadn’t considered that aspect of it. Do you differ at all from natural melanistic jaguars?”
Gabrielle lifted her hand and tipped it back and forth. “I have a higher concentration of endurance muscle than has been recorded in my natural counterparts, but the difference is only a few percentage points. I don’t really know if that counts.”
Vicki would probably be able to give me chapter and verse on prehistoric Smilodons, but I knew next to nothing about them. I could do some research beforehand, so I’d be in a better position to understand the differences, too.
“Okay.” I added a nod. “I’ll do it. Want to stop by the infirmary after we eat to schedule it?”
“Sure, but I imagine Doc’s going to have his hands full for a day or two with Thomas. You really did a number on him, you know. I heard those bones snap across the arena.”
I shrugged. “I despise bullies with a passion. I was never bullied, myself; I think the family name kind of shielded me from that, but still…”
The bell over the diner’s door jingled, and Gabrielle and I both turned our heads to look. Buddy Carrington stood halfway through the door, his eyes locked on me and his whole complexion pale. His posse piled up behind him. I could hear some grumbling about the sudden stop, and one of them leaned to the side to look around Buddy. He went a little pale, too.
It didn’t take long for the background hum of the diner to fade, and I imagined everyone watched Buddy and his posse. I watched Buddy swallow hard a couple times, his Adams apple bobbing like a harbor buoy in choppy seas, before he fully entered the diner and made his way to our table.
He stopped about seven feet from us, his posse arrayed out around him, and he asked, “Please, sir, may we come in?”
I scanned the faces looking at me without making eye contact and replied with my own question. “Are you going to behave?”
One by one, each member of the posse nodded. Buddy said, “Yes, sir.”
“Then, why would I care? It’s not even my diner.”
Buddy jerked a quick nod and moved with haste toward an open table far from Gabrielle and me.
Once the background hum was back, I looked to Gabrielle, saying, “That was a little odd.”
“No, it wasn’t.” She looked like she fought a grin or smile. Maybe a laugh. “Buddy has always looked to Thomas Carlyle as something of a role model or hero, even going so far as to model his behavior after the man. And you just schooled Thomas in the arena. I may be wrong, but I think we might be seeing a new Buddy in the making.”
The server arrived with our food, and a comfortable silence descended on the table while we ate. My order was excellent, and Gabrielle didn’t seem to have any complaints about hers, either.
I couldn’t believe how hungry I was, going through my three cheeseburgers and two orders of fries like they were snacks. I finished everything only a minute or two behind Gabrielle and leaned back against my seat, a satisfied smile curling my lips. I had the ‘pleasantly full’ feeling you get when you eat just the right amount for your hunger, which was a little surprising considering how much food I had devoured.
“So, is this how it’s always going to be now?” I asked. “Will I go through what would be a month of food for a family of three each day?”
“Honestly, it’ll vary, just like it did when you were human. On the days when you’re very active and doing calorie-intensive work, you’ll eat like an army battalion. On the lazy days, you might only eat like a squad.”
“Doesn’t a squad have something like ten or twelve people in it?”
Gabrielle smirked. “Usually, but look on the bright side. You can supplement your food budget by hunting.”
The bell over the door dinged again, and Gabrielle and I both turned to look as the diner’s background noise faded. Alistair stood just inside the door with a state trooper and a man and woman in suits just behind him. He scanned the diner, and his gaze settled on our table. He headed our way, the trooper and suits falling in behind him.
When Alistair reached our table, he rested his hands on the back of a chair across the table from us, his expression grim. After a heartbeat or three, he said, “Gabrielle, I regret to pull you away from mentoring Wyatt, but you’re our best tracker. We need your expertise.”
Alistair’s words circled through Gabrielle’s mind as she examined his hangers-on. The trooper was easy (and human) enough. The man and woman in suits were human, too, but they carried faint hints of shifter. Too faint to tell what type. The man’s suit jacket splayed open far enough so she could see a badge that looked suspiciously like one of the federal law enforcement agencies.
