Roger locked eyes with Andre for a moment, then nodded. It seemed that Andre would remain in human form for the coming combat, so Roger would assume the wolf shape and attack. Even the best human fighters had very little chance against a coordinated attack by a competent bare-hand fighter and an angry police dog.
And none of these combatants were ordinary.
Andre blocked a punch from the Patriarch, something he normally could not have done. The pack leader’s injuries from the fight with the brash Turned One had both slowed and weakened him considerably, and he could not avoid Andre’s counter-punch to the face. Nor could he dodge Roger’s tearing bite to the back of his right thigh.
The big man was hamstrung. It was now but a matter of moments.
The Patriarch swung his open hand down at Roger and slapped the wolf away from his leg, but then he fell backward and shouted in pain. Andre jumped on his chest and slammed his feet down on the big man’s rib cage while Roger skittered to his target and clamped his jaws across his former leader’s throat.
A huge fist swung up and pounded into Roger’s side. Andre heard the ribs snap as the wolf howled in pain and released his hold. Andre took advantage of the distraction and thrust his fingers into the punctures in the big man’s skin. He reached deep and ripped the Patriarch’s neck wound further open. He saw the Patriarch’s blood begin to pour out.
The Patriarch swung his other fist into Andre’s face and knocked him away. The big man rolled over and tried to rise, but his multiple injuries were too much even for his great frame and single-minded determination. He put one massive hand against the tear in his throat in a vain attempt to slow his bleeding – one of the attacks had torn a large artery.
His face was pale and his breathing was rapid and shallow. His eyes lost focus and half-closed. His great hand fell from his neck and flopped to the ground. His massive torso leaned over from the waist and he slowly toppled head-first to the grass, then fell to his left.
He let out a deep sigh and was forever still.
The Patriarch was dead.
Roger slowly resumed human form and looked at Andre. He was as Roger, standing still, panting, wiping blood – both the Patriarch’s and his own – from his face, wondering what the next move would be. A false move might trigger a werewolf riot, something neither of them wanted, nor was it something from which either could profit.
Then yet another voice, this one with a Cajun accent, shouted, “Everyone remain still! Do not move! Raise your hands to shoulder level and do not attempt to transform!”
A tall blonde woman dropped to all fours and began to change. A single rifle shot rang out. She fell to one side with a huffing sound and reverted to fully human form. She rolled over on her back and reached upward as she inhaled. Then the woman’s hand fell to the grass. She slowly exhaled and did not move again.
“I did not wish to do that!” the Cajun voice shouted. “There are twenty-five automatic weapons aimed in your direction along with six high-powered rifles! Remain still if you wish to live!”
With the cost of disobedience abjectly displayed before them, no one else moved. Roger had no idea what would happen next.
*****
From his kneeling position at the upstairs window, Robert turned and gestured at Melody to move closer. When she put her ear next to his lips, he whispered, “Put the two bolt-action rifles at either end of the apartments and have them aim at opposite ends of the group. Have the rest move down to the lower floor in pairs, waiting until each pair walks out of the building, until we have ten in front of the building. You will go in the last pair. I will go first.”
He made as if to rise, but she put her hand on his arm and held him down on his knee. “No, Robert. Please. Let me go with you.” He hesitated in surprise, and she added, “I told you I would watch your back. You must not force me to break my word.”
He looked into her eyes and saw something more than he’d expected, something far more than fear for her boss – something deeply personal. His reflexive denial evaporated and he nodded. “Very well. Pass the word to move as I have indicated. Come back here when you are finished and I will give you the handcuff carrier. You and I will lead them to the arrests.”
She almost smiled, then nodded slowly and slipped away.
Just like a woman, he mused, involving her heart in a dangerous mission. He wondered if Monsieur Kent thought of his wife in that fashion.
He really needed to review those department rules on fraternization.
*****
Jane half-turned to Lois and urgently whispered, “Did you know this was the next item on the agenda?”
“No, I didn’t,” Lois answered. “I knew Inspector Gautreaux and his people were in the apartments, but I didn’t know their plans.”
Guinevere slipped to Lois’ opposite shoulder. “Does the doughty Inspector Gautreaux intend to arrest all of us or only the Patriarch’s band?”
“No idea,” Lois returned quietly. “All I really know is that they have a bunch of AR-15s and a couple of .30 caliber bolt-action rifles. And every one of them has a pistol and lots of ammunition for all their weapons.”
Guinevere sighed. “So attacking them is not a good idea?”
“I wouldn’t advise it. They get attacked by what they pretty much know are werewolves and they’ll open up with everything they’ve got. The werewolves might win that fight, but a lot of them would be dead.” Lois glanced at either end of the formation of Naturals, then turned to Gwen. “I really hope the Naturals understand that.”
Lois watched Guinevere out of the corner of her eye. The blonde woman turned and gestured behind her. As several officers exited the apartment building and covered the werewolves with their weapons, Arthur stepped in front of Lois and turned to face his pack.
“My friends,” he said, “I urge each of you not to resist the officers as they perform their duty. We must cooperate fully if we wish to survive. I will ask that, if we are arrested, we occupy a cell or cells separate from the Naturals. This will—”
A lupine snarl sounded behind him. Arthur shouted, “Get down!” and suited his actions to his words. Lois quickly joined the small pack on the grass as several rifles barked and a few shouts of pain echoed in the small clearing.
After a few moments, the police officers stopped shooting and shouted for the unhurt werewolves to raise their hands. Lois risked a look and saw four, perhaps five silent and still bodies on the ground and at least five others who were down, wounded but moving around. Both Roger and Andre were among the wounded. The officers moved in pairs to each werewolf and ordered him or her to kneel and place hands behind the back. One officer held a weapon on the subject while the other snapped the cuffs in place. Occasionally one would return to Melody’s position beside Robert and reach into a carryall at her feet and pull up several more sets of cuffs.
As they moved through the pack, Lois noticed a flutter of red in her peripheral vision. Oh, good, she thought, he’s finally here. Must have heard the gunfire.
After a long moment, Superman floated down from the sky beside the Inspector. “Hello again, Inspector. Do you need any help?”
Robert smiled for the first time. “Thank you, Superman. If you could simply remain at the ready in case of trouble, we will proceed with our tasks.”
Superman looked around at the still forms on the ground. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here a bit sooner.”
“You had important business to attend to. We cannot blame you for anything that did not go as we had initially planned.”
Superman pointed at the largest body. “What happened to him? I don’t think he was shot, like these others were.”
Melody squeaked, “It was Mrs. Kent!”
The hero’s eyes grew huge. “You mean Lois Lane?”
“Yes, her! She fought the Patriarch and defeated him alone!”
Superman took a step toward Melody. “You’re telling me that she killed him?!”
“Killed him? Oh, no, of course not! She merely defeated him. Two members of his own pack turned on him and killed him. Lois Lane left him broken and defeated, but still alive. She refused to take his life when she had the opportunity.”
The hero relaxed a bit and released a breath he’d apparently been holding. “Okay, I understand. Where is Ms. Lane now?”
Melody pointed with her rifle. “Behind the main group. She’s the one in the impromptu bikini.”
*****
From her prone position, Lois saw her husband’s eyebrows rise as he spun to look for her. She knew the moment he found her because his jaw fell open.
She sat up in the grass and pulled her knees up, then wrapped her arms around her legs and tilted her head at him. The members of Arthur’s pack stood and took one or two steps back from Lois as Superman approached.
Superman assumed his usual hands-on-hips posture, then nodded to Arthur. “Hello,” he said pleasantly. “Looks like your folks came through this ordeal fairly healthy.”
Arthur nodded back. “Yes, save for young Gawain. He was our only casualty.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Arthur. He seemed like a nice kid.”
Teresa folded her arms over her chest and said, “He was indeed a nice boy. I only wish I had shown him more patience. Perhaps he would still be with us had I done so.”
Superman lowered his hands to his sides and spoke softly. “I’ve had to learn that no matter what I do or how hard I try, I can’t get everything right and save everybody all the time. And I can’t go back and fix what I missed. All I can do is learn from my mistakes and the situations I get into and determine to be better in the future.” He paused as if waiting for Teresa to speak, but she didn’t. “It’s hard, I know. But you won’t make the same mistake the next time, assuming that whatever you’re talking about really was a mistake. It’s possible that there was nothing you could have done to save Gawain. I don’t know. All I do know is that focusing on what went wrong will stop you from seeing what went right.”
Lois saw a tear slip down Teresa’s cheek. She thought about trying to comfort her, but Jane beat her to it. The two women slipped further away from the group, Jane guiding the quietly weeping Teresa to a nearby pecan tree.
Superman stepped next to Lois and reached out his hand. She looked at it for a moment, then at his face, then gave him a pixie grin and took his hand. She bounced up from the grass and brushed herself off.
The hero crossed his arms and slowly shook his head. “A strapless blue elastic top and red spandex bikini shorts,” he said. “Wait till I tell your husband about this.”
She shot him a mock glare. “You’re just jealous because this color scheme looks better on me than it does on you.”
Behind her, both Guinevere and Lancelot snorted.
*****
Arthur’s pack watched the police handcuff all the surviving werewolves from the Patriarch’s pack. Then Arthur cautiously approached the inspector – not because the human male appeared threatening, but because the body language of the female beside him was all but shouting from the rooftops that she would gleefully shoot down anyone who attempted to harm the inspector.
He stopped about six feet from the man, the woman’s rifle muzzle pointed at his belly. “Inspector? I am called Arthur.”
“I am Robert Gautreaux, New Orleans Police. I am, I think, pleased to meet you, sir.”
“Thank you. Can you tell me what plans you might have for myself and my friends?”
“That depends. Were you associated in any way with the mass murder of the homeless group earlier this week?”
“Absolutely not! We do not take the blood of humans, Inspector, only prey animals from the swamp and the surrounding woods. In fact, that act of barbarism precipitated this ultimate conflict between our forces.”
Robert nodded. “That was my understanding. We have no plans to arrest any of you.”
“Thank you. We will depart now from—”
“However,” Robert broke in, “given that this firefight was directed against a band of actual werewolves, and given that it is impossible to silence all who were here or who are providing either medical care for the wounded or post-mortem care for the deceased, the city is not safe for you now. For your own safety, I must ask that you leave New Orleans as soon as possible.”
Arthur stared at Robert for a moment, then spoke very precisely. “I was about to say that we will depart from this area of the country by mid-day two days from today, if not earlier. You may believe me or not, Inspector, I care not which.” He relaxed slightly and continued. “We must return to our current safe house, pack our belongings, and somehow make arrangements to inter one of our number who perished during this internecine conflict. After that is done, however, we will be gone.”
Robert nodded. “Thank you. I do not ask this of you out of fear for what you might do, but out of concern for what might befall you. I offer you my sincere condolences for the loss of your companion, and I truly hope that you find peace at your destination.”
“Thank you. And I hope the young lady behind you remains as in control of her weapon as she seems to be at this moment.”
Robert glanced over his shoulder at Melody, who didn’t move or flinch at all. He almost smiled at Arthur and said, “That is my hope also. She earned the second-best rifle score at this year’s inter-precinct competition.”
Arthur matched Robert’s almost-smile. “Then we would be wise to exit her sphere of influence as quickly as we are able.”
Robert shifted his rifle to his left hand and extended his right to Arthur. “Go in peace, each and all of you.”
Arthur took the hand and gripped it firmly but not painfully so. “I thank you, sir. I wish the same for you and yours.”
They released the handshake and stood facing each other. After a few seconds, Robert softly said, “Were the current circumstances different, sir, we might have been friends.”
“Perhaps.” Arthur nodded once. “Good-bye, Inspector. I doubt we shall meet again.”
*****
They walked back to the safe house in relative silence, speaking only about the weather or local traffic patterns or people on the sidewalk approaching them. Nothing of any importance was discussed until they had each procured a beverage according to individual taste. Jane sipped a cream soda, Guinevere and Lancelot a glass of wine each, Teresa a glass of ginger ale, Alphonse a beer – Jax, of course, brewed and bottled in Cajun country – and Arthur had a tall glass of ice water.
Arthur moved to the living area, followed by the others. They stood in a rough circle, silent and almost brooding, until Teresa lifted her glass and said, “To Gawain. May we always remember him fondly.”
“Hear, hear,” the rest responded.
“And may he know the rest he never found in life,” Teresa finished.
Each one sipped his or her drink, then slowly each person found a place to sit. Guinevere landed beside Arthur on the couch, while the others sat separated from each other. No one spoke for almost two minutes.
Arthur finally cleared his throat. “I mislike breaching our quiet moment, but we must prepare to leave the city. We must now decide where we will go and how we will travel to that destination.” He looked at each one in turn. “This is something we must all agree upon. I cannot dictate this, nor can any one of us. This must be a unanimous decision.”
Lancelot leaned forward in the recliner he’d claimed for his own. “Why must we leave, Arthur? The Patriarch is dead, killed by his own. His pack is mostly in custody, and those who are not are as dead as he. We no longer need fear being hunted and killed for not being Rougarou from birth.”
“What you say is true, but the police do not want us here,” Arthur returned. “We have been asked – politely ordered, really – by Inspector Gautreaux to vacate this part of the country, largely for our own protection. Werewolves of any stripe are too visible at the moment, and we are in danger here.”
Lancelot clunked his glass down on the side table and stood abruptly. “I do not care to be ordered about by mere humans. I do not care that the police fear us. We do not hunt and kill humans!”
Teresa huffed. “Really, Lancelot? What of the humans we slew during our conflict with the Patriarch?”
He spun and glared at her. “They were the Patriarch’s willing servants! They are merely collateral damage in that war! Had they remained apart from the Naturals, no harm would have come to them!”
Before Teresa or Arthur could snap back, Jane barked, “Enough!”
The rest turned to look at her. She tilted her cream soda up and drained it, then stood and crushed the can. “Arthur is correct, Lance. The pack has to leave. You stay, you’re going to be targets for frightened humans who can’t tell the difference between Naturals and the Turned, because to them there’s no difference.” Jane looked to her right and tossed the empty can into the nearest waste basket. “You’ve got to leave, go someplace where no one knows who you are. Maybe you can form an alliance with another pack of Turned Ones, set up a cooperative for mutual defense and hunting privileges. But that can’t happen here.”
The room was silent for a moment, then Guinevere said, “Jane, dear, why do you say ‘you’ instead of ‘we?’ Are you not accompanying the pack?”
Jane sighed, then shook her head. “No. I have someplace else to be.”
Alphonse said, “Jane, honey, can you tell us why you leave us?”
She ran a hand through her hair and pulled it back behind her head, then let it fall. “I suppose it doesn’t make any difference now.
“You folks took me in over fifty years ago, when I was a scared and lonely nine-year-old girl. You knew I was a Natural, yet you had compassion on me and took care of me, taught me how to live without murdering humans, taught me to treat them as equals and with respect. You knew something bad had happened to me, but you never tried to force me to reveal it.”
She rubbed her face with her hands, dislodging a few tears that had nestled in her eyes. “Best I can remember, I’d been on my own for about three weeks when Alphonse found me. I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much that meant to me, Alphonse. When I was ten, I wanted to marry you.”
“Thank you, Jane,” Alphonse said quietly.
“I grew out of that infatuation, but I never stopped loving all of you for saving my life and never asking anything special from me. You treated me like one of your own, and I’ll never forget that. Never.”
She turned to face Arthur and Guinevere. “I know I’ve caused a few problems for you, being a Natural in a Turned pack, but I thank you again for giving me a home. You’re the closest thing to family I’ve had since that day I was nine and lost my parents.”
Teresa stepped over to Jane and put her hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “Jane, I think you’re working up to telling us something we don’t know but probably should. I can tell it’s a difficult thing to speak of. May I help you in some way?”
Jane sobbed once and took Teresa’s other hand in both of hers, then brought it to her cheek. “You just did. Thank you.”
She slowly released Teresa’s hand and took a step back. “You know I stayed with you because I had something I had to do. Well – it’s done. It didn’t happen like I thought it would – I didn’t do it – but now that the Patriarch is dead, my quest is over.”
Guinevere stood and took a step toward Jane. “Why were you on a quest to slay the Patriarch, Jane?”
Jane lifted her distressed face to the others and straightened to her full height. “My parents and I were living with a small pack of Naturals in southern Alaska in 1942. There were eleven adults and four children, and we almost never took humans. And before you congratulate me for being so enlightened, it was partly because there were so few humans in the interior and partly because we didn’t want to be hunted down and wiped out by surviving humans.” She paused, then said, “We never considered that we might be attacked by others like us.”
Arthur’s eyes grew wide. “You mean – other werewolves – other Naturals – attacked your pack?”
She nodded. “That’s exactly it. The Patriarch led the raid. He brought about thirty others with him. All eleven adults and three of the kids were slaughtered, some of them after they tried to surrender. The kids – that was the worst.”
Teresa shook her head. “You needn’t tell us anything more.”
Jane broke down and wept for a few seconds, then wiped her eyes again. “I was playing hide-and-seek with the other kids. They couldn’t find me because I was up in a tree behind an old eagle’s nest. You couldn’t see a kid up there from the ground. I saw – I saw the attack begin. I was too startled to shout a warning, and the other kids were dead almost before I knew it. The Patriarch saw my parents running toward him to defend the little ones, and he – he killed them. He morphed into that beast-thing form and – and killed them like a human swatting a fly. Then – he laughed.” She seemed to realize her fists were clenched. She stared at them for a moment, then opened her hands but didn’t relax them. “In less than a minute, I was the only survivor, and I was too scared to breathe.”
Lancelot stood, his own eyes damp. “Jane, I – I never knew – I am so sorry.”
“You didn’t know because I didn’t tell you. Any of you. That’s when I vowed before the yew to see the Patriarch dead.” She slumped a little and put her hands in her jacket pockets. “My vow is fulfilled. I have no reason to stay.”
Teresa smiled sadly and stepped in front of Jane. “Yes, you do,” she almost whispered. “We love you and we want you to remain. We need you as much as you need us. We would not be the same without you.”
Then Teresa shocked everyone else in the room, but most especially Jane, when she put her arms around the younger woman and embraced her. Arthur watched Jane’s eyes bulge and her mouth fall open. Then she grabbed Teresa as if holding on for her very life.
Their tears intermingled as first Guinevere, then Alphonse, then Arthur surrounded Jane and embraced her. Even Lancelot murmured his appreciation for her presence.
Guinevere stroked Jane’s hair. “We all agree that you should stay with us, Jane. Will you agree also?”
Jane’s eyelids crushed shut and she burst out openly weeping. With her face buried in Teresa’s shoulder, she nodded hard.
Then she enveloped Teresa with her long arms and held on for dear life.
Like the Grinch, whatever passed for Arthur’s heart loosened and warmed. He silently agreed that Jane should stay with them. She had more than earned a place among the members of his pack.
And a place in each of their hearts.
