Again, I find myself apologizing for the delay in updating this story. My old laptop gave up the ghost, and I was unable to replace it until recently. Thank you to everyone who has favorited and reviewed this. I truly appreciate the support, and I hope you find that this next installment meets your expectations. I do not own Bitten, in any form.
After the old Ford had been moved out of the main drive, the Pack and its houseguest tramped back into the house. While Pete and Logan scoured the boxes in the attic for cast-off clothing, Elena took charge of getting their guest settled. Clay, torn between his protective nature and natural curiosity, hovered nearby, ready to intervene at the slightest sign that his mate or Alpha might be in danger.
Once his small toiletries bag was placed in a spare bedroom, and Jim himself was enjoying a hot shower, Elena cornered Clay in the hallway.
"He is harmless, Clay. Just an old man tired of living in a world that has passed him by in ways he never thought he'd see." Clay grunted gently, but shook his head. Elena wasn't as hardened as the rest of them, and he hoped that she might never be.
"He's a werewolf, Elena. There is nothing harmless about what we are, regardless of age. But I hope you are right. It wouldn't be a fair fight." Elena smiled and patted his arm, aware of what her mate left unsaid. A series of loud thumps echoed through the house from the attic, and Elena rolled her eyes.
"What are they doing up there? Dust bunny wrestling?" She rolled her eyes again and sighed. "Never mind, I'll go find out. You wait here for Jim, and I'll go cat herding. Or wolf herding, as it were."
Clay shook his head, suppressing the snicker that threatened to escape as Elena flounced off toward the stairs. Pete and Logan would do better to vacate the area than try to handle his mate if she was annoyed. He turned abruptly when the door to the bathroom opened. The water had turned off sometime before, Clay knew, so he wasn't surprised to see Jim standing before him in the clean thermal underwear he had pulled from his small bag. A tidy stack of dirty clothing sat on the floor, and the man's worn face was now deeply creased by a smile.
"That's some woman you have there, m'boy." Clay nodded warily, his attention immediately focused on the Mutt in front of him. Jim continued, "she is only partly wrong, of course. I am not quite as harmless as I might appear, but close to it. I also know that your responsibility is to your Alpha first and your Pack second. I can assure you that I pose no threat to you and yourn."
Clay snorted in gentle disbelief. "I've heard more than one Mutt make that claim in the past, usually right before they try to kill me or another member of my Pack. You'll forgive me if I don't take you at your word." Jim nodded.
"That's fine, lad. Just fine. It's my word, of course, so it matters to me more than to anyone else." Clay could understand that, at least. Personal honor was something he understood, even if he doubted whether any Mutt truly did. But then, there was nothing normal about the man standing in front of him.
A clatter from the stairwell announced Elena's return. Her hair was mussed, her sweater was coated with dust, and a streak decorated her left cheek. Her eyes were vibrant, managing to convey annoyance and amusement in equal measures. She took Clay's breath away, but he again had to stifle a laugh when Pete and Logan appeared behind his mate, covered in cobwebs and dust, and each carrying a neatly folded stack of clothing.
"We found plenty for you to wear for now, Jim. Most of it should be a close fit." Elena smiled sweetly at their guest."
"Why thank you, my dear. I do apologize most profusely for my state of undress, but, well…" Jim trailed off, shrugging shyly. Elena laughed.
"That's quite alright. I am the only woman in the Pack, so I am fairly used to seeing men in varying states of undress. Here, Logan, Pete, take these to the room for Jim, and lets leave him in some peace to get changed."
Clay stood with his back to the fire, watching as Jeremy and Antonio spoke with Jim. Though the setting was informal, the younger Danvers could sense the undercurrent of tension in the room. It was just himself, his father, and Antonio waiting to hear Jim's story. Elena had herded Nick, Logan, and Pete into the kitchen to get a start on dinner. From the clanging, cursing, and smells wafting from that direction, he knew the meal was well underway. Jeremy motioned, and he stalked over to stand behind his father.
Jeremy sat in his favorite chair, with a steaming mug of coffee balanced on his knee. Antonio sat almost gingerly next to Jim, although the old man was more interested in his own coffee than committing any mischief.
"So, tell me, Jim. How did you come to be here?" Jeremy asked, calmly sipping the rich, dark liquid from his mug.
"Well, now." The subject of Jeremy's question sighed heavily. "That would be a long tale full of woe and heartache, one that I would not bring into your home during such a time as this." He waved his hand in the general direction of the Christmas tree. "I do feel that I must congratulate you on the tastefulness of the decorations. None of these gaudy bits that you see in the stores these days."
Clay chuckled to himself, careful not to allow any of his amusement to show. When he heard that Elena was determined to decorate for Christmas, Jeremy had purchased a number of antique ornaments. Elena was thrilled, and even Clay had to admit that they looked better than those he saw in the stores during his infrequent trips into the city.
"Thank you. I'll be sure to pass your appreciation on to Elena. But I'm afraid that doesn't answer my question. I'm sure you are aware that this is an unprecedented action, on my part at least. A Pack Alpha simply does not invite a Mutt, known or unknown, into his home."
Jim smiled wryly. "There are many things that a Pack Alpha does not do, Mr. Danvers. One of which is show mercy, hence my surprise at still being alive. I did, after all, trespass in the heart of Pack territory."
Antonio cut in. "You seem to know quite a bit about Pack life. How is that?"
"Well, that at least is a simple enough answer. I was Pack, once, a very long time ago." Antonio stood abruptly in shock, and Clay took a step forward, ready to place himself between Jeremy and whatever threat the older man posed. Only Jeremy remained seated.
"Sit down, Antonio. Clay, get yourself something to drink. And try not to kill our guest. It would be a shame to get blood on Elena's decorations." Clay snorted, but returned to his place behind Jeremy's chair, and Antonio sat, though he remained tenser than before. Jeremy returned his attention to Jim. "I suspected as much. But I would still like to hear the whole story."
"Of course. And had you let me finish, young man," Jim said to Antonio, "I would have assured you that it was not to your Pack that I once belonged. The beginning would be a good place to start, I think." He drained the last of his coffee and carefully placed the empty mug on the table. "I was born in Ireland in 1856." At Antonio's strangled choking sound, and the stunned expression on Jeremy's face, he smiled slightly, but continued. "Our pack was a small offshoot, allowed to survive due to our isolation. My father was Pack second, close friends with our Alpha. He had a large estate, my father did, not far from the local village. I spent my first ten years there, and most of the Pack lived on the grounds as well. Those were good days. I was the youngest of five brothers, and we and the other Pack sons would run to the village on most days. There was a sort of communal relationship between us and the ordinary folk. They served as a barrier between ourselves and the outside world, and many of the village elders and some of the women knew what we were."
Jeremy cut in. "Your Pack were mating with the village women?" Jim nodded.
"It was a fairly simple arrangement. If a woman caught a Pack member's eye, and bore him a son, custody of the child was granted to the Pack. If it was a girl, the child remained in the village with her mother. As the local landowner, my father sponsored several apprenticeships that brought young men into the village. Kept the ratio of men and women somewhat more equal. Anyway, us lads were told once we were old enough, to prevent inbreeding, see. The whole situation worked fairly well." He shook his head sadly. "That is, it worked well until our Pack Alpha felt his control slipping and decided that many of the villagers knew too much. He ordered the deaths of several people, including my mother. She'd given birth to myself, my brothers, and our three sisters. My father was the sentimental sort, you know, and even though he couldn't marry her, he remained true to her. Even let me stay with her and my sisters from time to time."
"I would imagine that your father took exception to his Alpha's orders, then." Jim nodded at Antonio's statement. Clay suspected that Antonio himself was still in touch with Nick's mother, though he had no proof.
"Yes, indeed. My father and nearly half the Pack opposed that decision. Many had daughters, or lovers, in the village, and feared for their safety. Relations between the two factions began to dissolve, and my father saw the writing on the wall. Our Alpha, a man named Harper, wasn't known for tact or mercy. If it came to blows, then any who opposed him, as well as their lines, would be erased from existence. So, my father booked me passage on a ship to New York. My two oldest brothers had gone a year or so before, an attempt to expand our family fortunes. My father thought I would be safe in their care until the dispute was ended." The old man shook his head and stood, walking creakily to the window to watch the snow fall. When he spoke again, his voice sounded even older, faded and cracking.
"The night before I was to leave, the storm that had threatened us arrived. Brother against brother, father against son. I don't remember much, I was only ten years old after all. Peter, the second youngest, came and woke me up. He was nearly thirteen, almost a man, but not strong enough to fight full grown werewolves. We made it to the stable, but not before seeing John, our middle brother, torn apart by an older boy we had played with only the day before. Peter got me out on one of the horses, and gave me instructions to ride until I could go no further."
Jim turned from staring at his reflection in the window, tears streaking his weathered face, moisture catching on the wrinkles there. In a quiet, barely audible voice, he finished the first part of his story. "I never saw any of my family alive again. Peter ran back to the house, and was killed by one of Harper's sons. My own father challenged Harper, in the middle of his own home, while it burned to the ground. Harper killed him, then razed our village to the ground. Any who didn't flee were butchered, a warning to any that might oppose him in the future. I was lucky enough to board the ship my father had bought my passage on, but received a cold welcome in New York." He snorted. "I found out decades later that Harper had immediately allied his severely weakened Pack with one of the others packs and had my brothers killed."
"How did you survive?" Jeremy asked, breaking the silence that had filled the room after Jim's last statement.
"I fought and scrounged. I grew, learned, and trained until I was a young man, strong and cocky enough to think I could return to Ireland and take back what had been taken from myself and my family, avenge their deaths. I was naïve, though. There was nothing left to avenge. I never made it further than Dublin before one of the werewolves from my old Pack spotted me and told me of all that had happened. That was how I learned of my father's fate, and my brothers'. Of the few that survived that night, and the intervening years, none recalled my existence except in passing. And so, from that day forward, I was just another Mutt, with no one to call family, and nowhere to call home."
This chapter turned out to be a little less cheerful than the rest of the story, but that's the way it played out. The next chapter will be much lighter.