Chapter Twenty #2
“I saw a snake in there more than once. The tank was in the snake’s bedroom, and I don’t think you went in there.
The tank was big… The snake I saw was the same color as Python’s boots.
There was a safe under the pebbles at the bottom of the tank.
I saw him go into it a few times when he forgot to close his bedroom door properly. The tank was still there when we left.”
“Okay. Right. I’ll pass that on. That could be helpful. Thank you.” Devon’s bear was fretting. Wren was within touching distance. Devon was holding his hand. But he felt as if his connection to Wren was fraying by the second.
“What else do they want to know?”
Devon’s knee-jerk reaction was to tell his mate he’d done enough, that Wren didn’t have to think about or talk about his times prior to meeting Devon again.
But that wasn’t true – at least as far as the agency was concerned – and Devon was already in enough trouble with his mate to risk actually lying to him.
“They want to know if the snake ever mentioned anyone else’s name, if he had any friends, if anyone ever came to the apartment.”
Wren shook his head. “No one ever came. He would go out.”
“Did he ever take you out anywhere?”
“No.”
His mate wasn’t lying, and his answers confirmed what Devon had already guessed.
“Thinking back to your home life before you were sold to Michael, did your grandparents ever tell you what happened to your parents?”
“No. I asked once. My grandfather said my parents were evil people who died for their sins.”
Sheesh. Wren had never had a break in his life. “But they told you they were your grandparents?”
Tilting his head to one side, his eyes still closed, although the frown lines had disappeared, Wren said, “The pastor called them my grandparents. I was told to call them sir and ma’am, because that was the respectful way to address the people who were raising me out of the goodness of their hearts. ”
That’s a rehearsed statement if I’ve ever heard one. “Wren, hon, this is important. Was there any time in your childhood when you ever saw your grandparents shift, or did they talk about being a shifter or paranormal?”
“No. They were farmers. They would go to town once a week to do their weekly shop and to attend church. The rest of the time, we worked on the land.”
“Was it just you and the people who raised you living in the house? No other uncles, aunts, cousins, or other relatives or friends visiting the house?”
“Some visited, but only my grandparents and I lived in the house. The pastor used to say that I was expected to work for them and care for them, so I would be a help to them when they got older. I thought that everyone lived by that, because when I was at school, no one thought that was strange.”
“You were at school when you were taken?”
“No. I stopped going when I was ten. I could read the Bible and write my name, and my grandfather needed my help on the farm. That wasn’t unusual where we lived. All kids left school at ten, so they could either learn to run a house if they were girls or work on the farm if they were boys.”
Starting to sound more like a cult than anything else. “What was your grandparents’ family name?”
“Jorgenson.”
“That pastor’s name?”
“Father Jorgenson.”
WTF? Red flags were waving so hard in Devon’s head that he was getting dizzy with it. “Was the pastor related to the people who raised you? A brother, nephew, cousin, or something like that?”
Those wrinkles were back on Wren’s forehead. “Everyone was a Jorgenson. Even the person who ran the grocery store or the schoolteacher.”
Huge extended family, maybe? “I truly appreciate you answering the questions. This will all be super helpful, I’m sure.” Devon didn’t know if it would be or not, but he was doing what he’d been asked to do, and Wren was answering.
“I don’t need your fake assurances. Just get all the questions asked.”
Clearly, Devon was still – understandably – in the shit. “Do you remember where you lived? The name of the town, or the store, or the school, perhaps?”
“Jorgenson Valley, just outside of the town of Jorgenson. The state began with an I.” Wren’s eyes squeezed tighter shut. “I can’t remember which one. Iowa maybe. Illinois. Something like that.”
Remote, in other words. Devon didn’t know the area well, but that wasn’t his concern. He had another thought. “Would you say that the pastor was the town leader? Someone that everyone went to for advice or rulings when someone commits a crime?”
“He was the ruling authority over everything at the church and in the town.” Wren wrinkled his nose. “He was always sniffing me, and he smelled strange. I didn’t like him. If anyone didn’t behave properly in the eyes of God, he was the one who administered the punishments at church every Sunday.”
Devon didn’t see the need to ask about those punishments.
He wanted the conversation over. He could sense the emotional distance between him and Wren was worsening to the point his bear was ready to come out and smother Wren in furry hugs if something didn’t happen soon. Not the best idea in a hotel room.
“Just one more thing,” he said. “I promise this is the last question. It sounds like you were living in a cult-like situation, and there’s a good chance your pastor was a paranormal, which is why he knew you were, too.
But that’s for the agency to worry about.
I just want you to think back. In your years growing up in Jorgenson, can you remember any instance where a young person disappeared?
Perhaps they had been at school one day, and then no one saw them again, or something like that. Did that ever happen?”
Devon was looking to see if there was a pattern of disturbing behavior in good old Jorgenson, or if Wren had been singled out because he would’ve been due to shift around the time when he was taken away.
“Yes. You’re talking about the Reckoning.
” Wren nodded. “That’s what the pastor used to call it.
It happened all the time. Most families had lots of children.
All the five-year-olds would sit down in a group, and the pastor would explain how it said in the Bible that having lots of children in a family was important, but it was the rule that children must obey their parents, or the pastor, in all things.
“The Instructions – that’s what that side of things was called – would happen every week for ages.
We were told how to dress, how to speak respectfully, how to keep quiet, work hard, and have sober habits.
There were a lot of rules, and we were quizzed on them every week.
When we could get them all correct, our last lesson before we could start attending school was about the Reckoning. ”
“Do I want to know?”
“Apparently, you do.” Wren still wasn’t looking at him – it was as if he was a seated statue, his eyes closed and his face now lacking all expression. Devon hated it.
“The Bible says that all children have to be obedient to their parents and the pastor. No exceptions. Anyone who did not follow the rules we’d been learning would be deemed unfit for God and the community, and would suffer a Reckoning.
They would be judged, removed from their home and the community, and no one would ever be allowed to speak about them again. It would be as if they never existed.”
Holy shit balls. “You’re talking about kids. Where did they go?”
“That was never explained. But if someone had misbehaved, they would be punished in front of the congregation and then, usually within a day, a black van would appear in front of the house affected, two men in black suits and masks on their faces would take the child or person concerned, and life went on as though that person never existed.”
Devon felt sick. “You were five when this was explained to you?”
Wren nodded. “Children under five are learning and growing, and it’s understandable if they don’t know how to behave properly. But once they’re five, they’re capable of controlling their behavior which is when they need to learn to be a productive member of the community.”
“I’ll let the agency know,” Devon said, still wondering how many children had been involved in the “Reckoning.”
“Remember that was all a lot of years ago. I don’t know what things are like there now…and I don’t want to know.”
Devon stroked Wren’s hand – the skin was chilled despite the room being warm. “Are you all right?” Can I hug you? Devon wasn’t even sure if the message went through. It seemed the chameleon had learned to block him.
“I’m not sure how I feel.” Wren shook his head. “You said that mates couldn’t lie to each other, but that’s what you did by not telling me about this earlier, isn’t it? You didn’t tell me the truth or share what was bothering you.”
“It was a lie by omission, yes.” Devon swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “I was protecting you.”
“Hmm. It seems you don’t trust me to make decisions for myself, either, despite you telling me I could.
” Wren’s eyes finally opened. They were filled with tears.
“I hope you got everything your agency wanted. I’m sure you’ll be busy now, making a report, calling Cyrus or whatever you need to do.
I need to shift – my chameleon is quite insistent - and I need to sleep.
Don’t worry. I won’t break the bed by turning into an elephant. ”
Tugging his shirt over his head – one of Devon’s, which had been the only thing he’d been wearing - Wren swiped away his tears with it before dropping it on the floor.
Devon saw the shimmer as his shift started.
A second later, a big black panther sat where Wren had been.
The cat curled his lip up to show his teeth, and a low growl emanated from his chest. Devon braced himself, even knowing mates would never hurt each other. But he needn’t have worried.
Standing up, the cat gave him a long look before very deliberately turning around, showing his back as he settled down on Wren’s side of the bed.
Lying his head on his front paws, the cat closed his eyes as he slowly flicked his tail up and down.
No one could do a “fuck off and don’t touch me” better than a pissed-off cat.
Devon’s own eyes were filled with tears as he reached for his phone.