Gamma Pearson was walking both Nathaniel and I through what the hell happened. I'm still not used to feeling like I have people in my head with me. I don't understand how these werewolves handle being 2 people, even if it's as selective and random as what I'm currently enduring.

We went through it a few times as he teased details from both our views, like a Doppler echo, searching for what was in the negative space.

The image that it pulled up was this wispy thing. It had neither form nor sound, and it wasn't even the thing that caused Ol' Joe to explode. This itself was another effect of the affect.

Still, on repeat until I was ready to scream from the strain...

And there it was, something that looked a hell of a lot like the imprint of feathers on a windshield, the oils left behind when you accidentally hit a waterfowl. That's not my impression, it's Gamma Pearson's. He called it Stork Prints. Never even seen a body of water or hit a bird with my bus, and I thought that had to do with red marks on newborns.

"Apparently there's a being on the move. That it did not touch you means another either shields you itself or gave one of you the power to do so at that moment in time. It doesn't matter which one it is." Pearson slumped back in his chair, sweat dripping down his thin beard line.

Mrs. Longfish placed steaming mugs of coffee in front of the three of us. "You all need the stimulants. It's hopped up on sugar and cream. Supper is ready in about half an hour. You've got to calm the shakes before walking, my dear."

That last part was addressed to me. Yes, all 3 of us were a mess, but I'm no wolf and I spend my days tired as it is. They handled it better, and if I wasn't necessary, I'd not be used.

"That's enough time for a shower," the Gamma groaned, ignoring the hand up from his friend. His knuckles nearly dragged the desk as he picked up his cup and stumbled out of the room. Never seen a werewolf so dulled in my life.

Mrs. Longfish formally bowed to us both before leaving, as well.

"Drink up, my love."

I laughed hoarsely. "I have a name."

Nathaniel snorted in my ear. "Quit picking fights you don't have the energy for. Besides, you are mine, and only mine to love, so I call you what you are."

If we were any more immature, we'd be sticking out our tongues at each other.

Hell, it wasn't a matter of maturity. The last time I did that he damn well licked my tongue. Curse his speed.

"What decided their fates, back there?"

"Dad was charged with destroying the pack, but that left a vacuum of power. Our Sheriff was selling runaways into a sex trafficking ring. This means that people were safer when my father found them, most of the time. His son is in on it, your uncle is not...but his awful behaviors put you at risk. They may be human, but they are aware of what the Goddess gave you, at least in part. Even with this thing killing the man, they need to die. Just took the choice of when and where from me."

"So, why were you ready to execute them instead of angling to bring down the whole mess?"

"It wasn't my first choice." He grumbled softly, to make it harder to hear. "We don't know what the hell is going on, and if we can travel to take care of them. Now, though, with a wider threat that was silenced before we could find out what he meant..."

Nathan finally nuzzled against my mark, so I could hear his thoughts. There wasn't much that could be said, and even less that was safe to think. We need to figure out how involved these people are, before we're split between the pack house and the statue. So many factors, and this sitting around and doing nothing is killing me. As for Terry, he needs to be moved out of range before an attempt is made on him. If this is anything other than that statue, he's dead anyway, but if not, he's the only sure lead we have right now. I've been trying to put on enough weight for what's coming, too. Everyone has...

The problem—as I've been able to piece together—is that the traditions and ceremonies that makes an Alpha are totems that the pack confirms the Alpha, in a way they find believable. It's different from pack to pack. The long traditions are the foundations of the belief that augments the psychic changes in leadership. It's an aid to form consent to be governed, an informal voting system.

Our people's temple is in a cavern in the desert, anchored by a supposed lumpy statue of their Goddess. Vows bound generation after generation to that heartless monster, deep in the Nevadan desserts. In exchange, it breeds them for an end goal that no one understands.

Was our Sheriff a valve to get the bloodlines it wanted out of here? Or is there a third entity on the move?

~~~

Life tries to speed on. The Omegas formally accepted Aldane's offer.

Our head Omega is this woman who makes Mrs. Longfish look decadent. Billie Frasier is about 10 to 15 years older than Maverick. She's a pixie of an Omega with a deep curved scar on her cheek, and hair that ran towards a bright leathery brown. The only thing that matched her true age was her nose—a little large for her sprite-like face. Billie was one of the last appointed Omegas under Luna Chalcedony—the only recent Luna not from Nathaniel's bloodline.

Anyway, it was a night when the younger ones planned on cleaning the kitchen, and Billie was staying behind to make sure they did it right. All the other Omegas would have a night to do what they wanted. The plan was that they'd take over the basement theater and watch "chick flicks".

Nothing more had been said about Aldane, other than agreement...but something sure as hell was done. The Omegas decided they wanted to use him as a pillow during the movies and carried him off.

Quite literally. He barely finished eating when some of the younger Omegas tipped his chair over and got their cohorts to assist them in carrying him off like they were primitive hunters returning from the kill.

Aldane's laughter burst through the hall as his near-ebony skin refracted light. I guess their antics either caused him to break out in a sweat or he's been hitting the lotion hard enough to damn near emit light. Forget normal reflection. He's never been noticeably shiny before.

Or maybe I was in one of those anime moments.

He did look beautiful, as their prey. And it was interesting to see a couple of the other unmated guys were watching what happened, almost as if they were jealous.

I don't get that. But then, I didn't understand the dynamics of the pack on this matter.

See, when a pack has unbred females, it's not living up to its full growth potential. The drive to leave women barefoot and pregnant is far stronger in the wolf than in the man. At least with the wolf, he wants to be a part of his children's lives. One of the reasons that I had been freaking out about telling Nathaniel in the first place was I wanted to be chosen for me, not the baby. It's also why some pack kids ignored in Reno upset everyone. This idea that the unmated are forever alone isn't a common thing. The only females withheld from promiscuity, historically, have been those whose fathers had status, the same way that Stephen kept other males away from me. They didn't have a way to check for Alpha, Beta, Gamma, or Epsilon genetic markers, back then. There' are females that sell their eggs based on their markers, from both sides of their family. A double-Alpha marker pretty much assures that the descendant is going to be an Alpha.

But I wasn't going to stay in the dark about pack dynamics because I decided it was time for me to sit down with this Mrs. Frasier. (Yes, I have been shirking some duties. This place is barely functioning, and she was doing great without my inept interference.)

There's a modest table in the industrial kitchen where the Omegas ate most of their meals. They ate 2 meals to everyone else's 1—Nathaniel's orders. The first was to ensure they ate the basic calories needed before serving everyone else, then a proper meal afterward. He remembered watching a few of them faint because of sugar lows as a child. He was determined that anyone serving should have just enough in them to prevent that from happening.

Frankly, you don't have to give a shit about people to want to see them sustained. They cannot serve you if they're half dead on the floor. Basic common sense. But I thought the change was a good gauge of how Nathaniel took his job as Alpha, at the time.

I had intended to make this a light conversation about things she thought needed to improve to increase the efficiency of the pack; Instead, I was distracted by Aldane's parting comments. "Ladies, please, I can walk. Woah, watch the junk, Missy! I'd like to be able to use it later."

So, I wound up seated seated at the kitchen table with Billie Frasier, Nathaniel, Maverick, and Reuben. But the first thing out my mouth was, "Well, that was...interesting."

Billie rolled her eyes at me. Either Nate loved this woman or he didn't catch it because he had been cracking down on people when they were too casual with me. I mean, not that I give a shit. If I can't lead without his force, then I'm no leader, just a figurehead. I'd prefer he lets me handle minor infractions. "Tone down that disgust, young Luna. You don't want to cause pack division over something like this."

I had to quirk an eyebrow at that one. I know I'm not comfortable with this lifestyle they chose, but forgive me, I'm not all that comfortable with my own: it's definitely monogamous. "This sounds like I'm missing half a story."

"It ain't my story to te..."

"Billy, it's alright." Maverick shut down the woman's objection with a soft tone, briefly touching the back of her hand. Perhaps he didn't trust himself to speak. "Better to hear it from your view than my own."

I had to stomp down on my ire as he treated her better than he ever had me. I still hadn't found a way to talk about his strange behavior with Nathaniel. I don't think he would have been so civil towards his dad if he knew. Understatement...

Mrs. Frasier shook her head. "It was a very different world when we grew up. Maverick's daddy wasn't any of the big 3, though his grandaddy was the Alpha before Alpha Silas. Both these men were just babies when I was taken from my parents to become a pack slut."

I think my jaw dropped a little, wholly distracted. "Modern meaning or the ancient term?"

She shook her head, at that. "I was both. I was the lowest Omega in rank, so I scrubbed pots and floors, all sorts of menial tasks. Back then, it was before the Alpha's council outlawed the practice of forcing those of lower rank to submit to their superiors...ah...practices."

"Meaning you couldn't turn down your mate?"

"That was one aspect. I was not allowed to say no to any wolf. It was difficult the first year, as everyone wanted a go at fresh meat, but I caught the then-Gamma's attention. He didn't make me his chosen due to my rank and age, but he did make sure I was off-limits to the rest of the wolves. Not ideal, but it was better than most situations."

This gave me several disturbing thoughts. The first one was that this was slavery at the gateway of technology, a good way to expose werewolves if it became public knowledge. The second one, I had to ask about. "How old were you?"

"I turned thirteen the day after the Gamma took me in. Silas bowed to the pressure of getting the pack a new chew toy, named Selene, only to have her snatched up by his mate as her personal maid. Chalcedony took a liking to the girl and kept her as a pet, chasing off anyone who touched her. Again, Silas brought in another pup, but this time he traded with a Jamaican pack for an even younger child. Maverick and Reuben were about 12 by then, a touch older than Delyse. How old were you, Maverick, when you turned?"

The former Alpha wrinkled his nose. He had a soured look of distaste throughout the whole story—and it's forcing a change in my view of that asshole. "16. We didn't have a late turning, like this generation."

"That places you at 26, Selene at 20, and Delyse at 15, that day?" Reuben spoke through half-closed lips as he rested his head on the palm of his hand to cup his own cheek.

"The day that Maverick put an end to Silas' reign? Aye, I was 26. Selene was 19, though. The first thing Maverick did was outlaw the mistreatment, officially. Took years of catching wolves in the act and killing them to really put an end to it. But what shook us out of complacency was when Phelan—the former Alpha's son—shifted. He found out that Delyse was his mate, and it became a war of status between him and his mother. It increased attacks on the girl as people still followed their old Luna's attitudes. It forced Maverick to do something drastic."

Nathaniel had that hyper-focused look to him as if he was absorbing everything. "What did you do, Dad?"

"I stole old Chalkhead's personal Omega as my chosen mate. Made Selene Luna and your mother, broke that last tie to authority away from a bad regime. Honestly the best 5 years of my life before that bitch fought your mother to the death over something stupid—I can't even remember what it was, now."

"Grandma said it was over pack jewelry." Nathan shook his head. "And so I lost a mother."

There was a brief silence at the table. How do you address something so stark...so foolish? A fight over a few baubles and 2 wolves died. One was in the fight because the younger Luna did win, and the other a few days later.

Nathaniel still remembers those last days. He was maybe 4 at the time.

But this was the last of Maverick's attempts to build up the pack. Once Selene died, he became much of what he is today.

It doesn't have to be a Goddess-given mate to sink a wolf into dark depths.

"Aldane and Amancia kept their parents, Delyse and Phelan. They have their own home a few blocks away from here. But the pendulum between being abused and ostracized was something that crazy Jamaican taught her children about from the cradle. She didn't know it, but she groomed him for this position in the Omega's lives. Just not mine."

That part amused me a little. "Oh?"

"I'm not messing round with a friend's kid. All the rest of us are too young to have lived through that upheaval. Besides, I've got two grown men right here with nothing better to do with their time, if I was desperate." With that, she started laughing. Maverick rolled his eyes while Reuben smirked.

I bet I could guess which one she favored, with that.

"Alright girls, let me see them plastics. They may have to be washed again, due to grease." With that, Mrs. Frasier dismissed us from her mind as she trotted around after teens drenched in suds.