Chapter Thirty-Six
Though the back of my head was spinning hard I discovered the front was thinking coldly. "David, how much do your men know about the preternatural?"
"As much as I can tell them, Mercy. They know about vamps, if that's your worry."
"OK. No offence, guys, but nothing said here now gets repeated anywhere else." I moved on. "Raven needs food and so will anyone who'll be heading out. Set another place, please, Jesse. Adam, call those who need to be on their way here while I call ap Lugh and Marsilia?"
Wolves don't have the kind of speed True Blood gave vamps, not altogether wrongly, but they can multitask over food if what they're eating isn't something they've just killed. With four of them dialling, Warren, Joel, George, Mary Jo, the Owens brothers, the Seattle wolves, and Samuel with the other medics were set in motion, and the gate warned, while I carved slices for Raven and saw him seated. I left a terse warning of imminence on Marsilia's voicemail before for the first time hitting the speed-dial for a number Bran had given me.
/Mercedes?/
"Gwyn ap Lugh. Raven just arrived saying he has a location. Raven, would you give your news so the Prince of the Gray Lords can hear you?"
Raven was tucking in, but having a mouthful seemed no impediment. "My children called me to a place north-east of what Anglos call Muddy Gap, in Wyoming, and I smelt many wolves and some fae and vampires. And rot. No humans now, not alive anyway, but they have been there until recently, and ghosts still are. All is underground — an old mine. What Anglos call trona, maybe. It felt deep. But there are ventilation shafts that smell of pain and death, and lots of tyre tracks, though my children remember nothing there until a few years back."
"Many wolves?"
"More than anything else." Raven shrugged. "Scent's not my best thing, but it seemed like many."
Rescuing more wolves was good, but dealing with many traumatised ones was going to be a major problem. First things first, though, and Charles had already fired up the laptop that lived on the side for when a phone screen just didn't cut it. When he had the general area on GoogleMaps he switched to satellite view, and slowly zoomed in, as Raven directed, on a sprawling but isolated ridge formation.
"There. The track doesn't end the way it looks on that. It hugs the cliff under an overhang and stops at the mine entrance. Ventilation shafts are among the scrub trees here."
Adam and David were looking over Charles's shoulder, and seemed to agree about something without saying a word. Adam pointed.
"We need the co-ords for there, Charles. Gwyn ap Lugh, this is the URL of what we're looking at." He read out the numbers clearly. "Raven is indicating that the mine entrance is forty or fifty yards west of the end of the visible track. We want to arrive just behind the crest of the tributary ridge above it."
After a moment Charles gave a set of GPS numbers, and I could hear ap Lugh using a keyboard.
/Yes. May I ask how many wolves are coming?/
"Wolves and avatars." I reeled them off, adding Asil. With many wolves to control Alpha power would be needed, and he didn't object. "We're not at our best underground, though vamps are. If you have anyone who is, that might be good."
/Yes./ His voice was dry. /How soon?/
Adam and David exchanged another look.
"We'll aim for two hours from now, Gwyn ap Lugh. Wolves have to get here, kitting up, briefing, dealing with the FBI. Mercy can call you when I start briefing, if you want."
/I do, Adam Hauptman. And we will be waiting for you Underhill in two hours. Mercedes, that your kind has found this place is noted./
He rang off, and I paused in eating to give Raven an apologetic glance.
"That's the nearest to thanks you'll get from the Fae, I'm afraid. But wolves acknowledge the debt."
Raven waved a hand, still eating. "We owed you. And maybe it should be Dinner Woman — this is good food. Don't worry about the fae. I won't."
"Alright. Thanks anyway."
Charles was still working the laptop with a frown, his phone on beside him, and I guessed Bran was now listening.
"It was a small trona mine. Privately owned, opened in the 1940s, closed in the '80s. Only places there might be plans on file are Casper, as county seat, or Cheyenne. One for the Feebs. And no indication of sale I can find, but without knowing what township number might be assigned I can't usefully search."
"I don't think we should give Westfield the co-ords until we're closer to going." Adam waggled a hand. "I trust him, but there's no point stretching him. And I'm more concerned about many wolves. A few we can handle, but if we're talking double digits …"
Wolves were silent, thinking about it, and it wasn't good. Had any involuntarily Changed victims been able to control their wolves? Or had any help in doing so while having who knew what done to them?
"Necessary supervision of family contact means maximal openness, and an answer other than death if any victim can't learn to control their wolf."
/Probably so, Mercy./ Bran's voice was flat, and tired. /But we will have to know what we are dealing with before we can plan./
"Un huh. So let's pick a number. Three hours from now, say, we find twenty surviving forcible Changes who are all anywhere between grossly traumatised and psychotic. Some in each form. We can't bring them back here. What do we do? And say, when the FBI team turns up?"
"Nearest packs are Green River and Cheyenne, but neither has anything like the resources for that. Denver could help some." Charles shrugged. "We need to know how dominant any of them are before we know who might deal with them. But you should put all those Alphas on alert, Da. And yourself, for if any of them are too trapped as wolf."
This was wolf magic that I'd only seen rarely, twice in Aspen Creek with new wolves who lost sight of the way back, and once here, the other way, when Adam had forced Mac back to human when he was losing it. And we had some other magic we might be able to draw on.
"One thing might be to get them into the Columbia Basin somewhere, anywhere, so Medicine Wolf can get to them."
/Yes. The worst cases, at any rate. Boise, maybe. As to what you tell anyone Federal, Mercy, while you are the one on the ground it will be your call. But you will not be dealing with Westfield, at least at first. Be very careful, please./
"Oh yeah. But the problem is that while they are wolves, they're also human victims. And how did Cantrip get as high a survival rate as many implies? Or are we talking about a lot more victims than anyone's been thinking?"
There weren't any answers, and things started to happen. The wolves who'd be travelling went to change and kit up, David trailed by Connor and John-Julian, and I lingered only to check what Raven wanted. He said he was curious, needed rest, and was happy to wait for whatever happened here. We were all out of guest bedrooms, but Travis said they had a spare bedroll he could use, and that seemed good, so I left them and Jesse to defrosting packs of beef mince, and packing them in rucksacks.
I wasn't putting the cloak on until I had to, but I talked to it about what I'd be asking it to do as I switched to snug jeans and hiking boots, with upper layers that had good insulation and sufficient pockets for whatever one might need on wolf-rescue missions to the wilds of Wyoming, besides plenty of meat. I had a belt holster for my Sig, and a belt sheath for a hunting knife, while a pocket took Carnwennan until I could get a proper sheath for it from Zee. Others took spare magazines, lead and silver, a small but powerful LED flashlight, my phone, and — after some thought — a compact vidcam Adam had given me. I also had Manannán's Bane.
Back downstairs everyone else had arrived, and after greeting Warren, Joel, George, and the Owens brothers I was introduced to the two soldiers from Seattle, who went by Simon and Chris and seemed more excited than grim, and to two docs who'd be with Samuel — a submissive from Chicago called Rashid, and a low-ranking dominant from the Twin Cities called Artie. I noted with mixed feelings the wary respect all the new wolves showed me, and consciously stuffed any Alpha-ness I was projecting down and away. Adam didn't need anything that might suggest competition when he already had three other Alphas in the room. Wolves stared at me.
"That's … where did it go?"
Adam grinned. "Mercy can do that, Simon. She'll pull it back up if she needs it. Mercy, make that call. Now, what we know so far is this."
He was in briefing mode, and once I'd dialled ap Lugh I listened until Adam had run through a solid outline of what he wanted to happen on the ground and the necessary flexibilities given all the unknowns. When he got into Q.-and-A. about more narrowly military concerns I sent a query, made a note before giving Adam my phone, and slipped out with Anna. Westfield and Fisher, with others of their team, were standing outside their MCC, alerted by the traffic, and Westfield gave us a long look as we approached. I didn't want to mess him about any more than I had to, so I went straight to it.
"A private word with you and SA Fisher, AED?"
He ushered us into the MCC silently, and shut the door.
"Turns out I was right about ravens in Wyoming. We have a location."
Smells I always remember, and poems I learned at school have stuck with me, but strings of numbers do not stick unless they really have to. I handed Fisher the co-ords Charles had worked out, and as she typed I gave a summary of what he'd found, with the request to look for any plans and sales records once they had the township reference number. Then I added what Raven had sensed, minus vamps, and took a breath.
"We haven't talked much about the Change, AED, or what it might mean to have it forced on you. Anna can cover that."
While Fisher zoomed in and made calls, Anna did, briskly and brutally, by running through a list of the rules about Changing that Bran enforced, and why, before bringing up the question of survival rates and the implications for the total number of victims.
"But if there really are tens of surviving forced Changes, AED, there is a big problem. Will they want to be reunited with families? Probably, in the worst way. And the families will almost certainly want them. But what if they are not in control of their wolves? We're only six days from full moon, when they'll have to change, and an out-of-control wolf can come through anytime. Three, or five, or even eight we could absorb and hope to save. Tens are going to be … very awkward."
I'd had a chance to think it through a little. "As wolves, however forced, they are our responsibility, AED, and we will not shirk it. Whatever resources we can draw on, we will, but that cannot stretch to permanently assigned wolves with sufficiently greater dominance to control them unless they are in one place. And they may still self-identify as human, having every reason to be terrified of wolves, including themselves. Psychosis and worse are very probable. So the crunch is that if a rescued forced Change insists on leaving our care for human care, someone will have to take responsibility for controlling them, and if that's not a powerful magic user, they'd better be packing silver and prepared to pull the trigger. Probably on the eve of the next full moon, though we can make a sufficiently dominant wolf available if we're allowed to. This time — not thirteen times a year in perpetuity."
Westfield was listening intently, and held up a hand. "I hear you, Ms Hauptman. Leslie?"
"Cheyenne can roll in about ten, but it'll take them two or three hours at least. Nothing yet on the site but DC's on it. IR satellites can't retarget for ninety minutes. Hospitals in Cheyenne and Green River are standing by, and two air ambulances." She gave me a card with a number. "Assuming you have coverage, that'll get me here, Ms Hauptman, and I can relay any request to where it's needed."
"Got it. But the upside of living wolves, even out-of-control ones, is that physical injury should not be a problem. What we might seriously need, though, is meat — we'll be packing all we've been able to defrost, but if we're talking tens it'll be gone fast. Any kind is OK, but assuming injury, exhaustion, or starvation — and if the … facility is now human deserted, that's a real possibility — then minced or cubed would be good."
Fisher blinked, once, and went back to typing and dialling. Westfield, Anna, and I listened for a minute, until we heard her tell someone in Green River to call his cousin the butcher and get his stock, minced or cubed, aboard a chopper soonest, and Westfield shook his head.
"Some orders you only get to give once. You going to beat us there, Ms Hauptman?"
"Yup."
"How?"
"Cloak." I flicked eyes at Fisher. "She know what I told the President?"
"No."
"Here to there. There to Wyoming. We'll arrive in" — I glanced at my watch — "fifty minutes and six steps. And while I can't give details, because I don't know them, you won't need SWAT teams. We're not going to be stupid, militarily, but we are going straight in, as full bore as necessary. Think very magical marines set to as-minimal-as-possible, but no upper limit."
After a moment, Westfield sighed. "Oddly enough, I find that more comforting than not, but Cheyenne will take a SWAT team — it's SOP for anything like this. Is there any chance that I, or Leslie, can accompany you, blindfolded if necessary?"
"No. I'm sorry, AED. The way we're taking is not open to humans, period. Put yourself in the air to land on 220 or 410 and you're welcome to join us as soon as you can, but that's the best I can do."
He was dialling before I'd finished speaking, and used a brief hold someone put him on to meet my gaze.
"I'll be there asap, and once I am I'll be senior. Until then it'll be SAC Todd Vance out of Cheyenne. Didn't know him before … two days back, but he seems a good man."
"Straight arrow?"
"Yes, but you don't get to be an SAC somewhere as large as — General, thank you for taking my call so late. I need to ask for the fastest possible transport."
Fisher was still talking, and Anna and I left them to it, receiving sketchy farewell waves. Outside, excluded Feebs looked at us with curiosity we ignored, and back in the house Anna gave me a long look.
"That went better than it might have, Mercy. And you are still thinking very clearly."
"You mean ruthlessly."
"That too." Anna shivered. "Captives in cages."
"Like Mac."
"Yes. He still haunts me, Mercy."
"Me too. But you know, Anna, I wonder how he'd have done, if he'd lived. His control wasn't good — Adam had to Alpha him off me at the garage — and he was still grieving his girl. I think he could have made it, but I won't swear he would have. And how would either of us feel then?"
Anna was silent for a moment, while we stood in the hall.
"I can't think like that, Mercy. If Charles had had to … put Mac down, I'd be … very conflicted. But I can see the realities. And so could Mac — he was running from his family for their safety as much as from Leo and Gerry for his own."
"I know, Anna. I heard him call someone in his family the first day he turned up at my garage. Does your zen help you with your own rage?"
"Some. I don't get that indiscriminate wolf rage, but I'm very happy Leo, Isabel, and especially that shit Justin are seriously dead." She shivered. "There are so many ways this could go badly wrong, Mercy."
I knew it, but what choices were there? We rejoined Adam's briefing, which had moved on to checking weapons — the usual sidearms but also compact SMGs that had to be David's. He'd also supplied the things he used when there were hostages to save — smoke and gas grenades, flash-bangs, and tasers. Everyone had acquired body armour, except Joel and the Owens brothers, who were wearing one-pieces so they could strip to change more easily. Anna put some on willingly, and I did less willingly — it blocked pockets, and besides hating the feel of it I thought the cloak would make it redundant — but it appeased Adam, and I saw Asil's slight smile at my compliance. I also reclaimed my phone and entered Fisher's number, as well as a memo of the GPS co-ords.
Time was nearly up, so rucksacks of meat were claimed from the kitchen while I went to get the cloak. It settled around me with what felt for all the world like a sigh of contentment, and my spine tingled, Manannán's Bane warming in my hand when I picked it up again. I glanced in the mirror and allowed myself one twirl, thinking that whatever else Underhill's magic might do, it had superior tailoring down cold. The hush in the crowded hall as I swept down the staircase was good for my ego, too, and I felt the anticipation rise into tension.
"Three things to do first, everyone."
Jesse was watching with John-Julian and the other humans, and I gave her a rose-scented hug.
"We'll let you know when we'll be back as soon as we can, Jesse, but it might be a while. Hang in there."
Then I called Marsilia, who answered this time, and gave her the GPS co-ords with a terse description and a polite request to arrive silently and follow Adam's plan, as the fae would do. And with the time pleasingly close to two hours exactly, I called Gwyn ap Lugh.
"Coming through in one."
With the phone in hand, showing the GPS co-ords we'd need, I stood towards the door and checked that everyone had a hold on the cloak before asking it to open the way to the place of its making. The archway formed, and we went.