Chapter 9 - Shawn
Something is seriously wrong here.
While I nod and smile, keeping Jackson by my side, I look around at the other people in the park, and my unease begins to spark into a fierce rage.
Some of these people are on the brink of poverty. What the fuck is going on?
I desperately want to talk to Leah or any of the other older pack members, but Jackson keeps me firmly in his little circle. I’m pretty sure Leah isn’t here, but there are a few older people sitting in the shade at the edge of the park, and I try to figure out a way to go to them.
I wouldn’t be able to ask them any questions in front of Jackson, anyway.
As he and Melanie lead me across the park with Sara walking behind us, I notice the cut of their clothes, their shoes, even Melanie’s makeup.
There’s no way any of this is homemade. What the fuck are they playing at?
“Come and sit down,” Jackson says, leading me to one of the tables. “We have a little picnic set up here as a welcome for you.”
“Many thanks,” I answer, trying not to sound sarcastic. “Make sure the children have plenty to eat first—and the elder folk over there.”
“Of course!” Melanie gushes, squeezing my arm. “That’s Jethro, Chris, and Agatha. I’ll go over and get them right now. We take good care of our elders here.”
“Commendable,” I reply, sitting down.
Sara sits down next to me, and when I look over at her, the pale sunlight is flickering across her face, making the gold in her dark eyes glimmer. She smiles at me, and it’s a radiant expression of joy. I can’t help but smile back, and she tilts her head towards me and squeezes my hand.
The affection feels good, but I know that she can’t have had such a massive change of heart in the last hour, and the exchange leaves a bad feeling hovering in my guts.
“Try this wine,” Jackson says, pouring me a glass of red. “It’s from my private stock.”
I swirl the glass a little, then take a sip. My suspicions shoot up sharply. There’s no way this is made in town.
Haven’t seen a single grape here, for a start, but I’m pretty sure I recognize this brand.
“Meet my friend, Henry,” Jackson says, gesturing across the table.
“Henry Morrow,” says a middle-aged man with gray-streaked dark hair. He rises to shake my hand briefly. “It’s good to meet you, Alpha Shawn.”
“Please, everyone, just call me Shawn,” I say. “Now—Morrow? Sara tells me you have cows?”
“A few, yes,” he answers proudly. “We produce milk and beef for the whole town. My wife personally makes butter and cheeses.”
“Try some.” The chubby woman next to him pushes a block of cheese towards me. “I’m Daisy, Henry’s wife.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I say, cutting off a piece of cheese. I pair it with a hunk of bread and mumble with appreciation. “Wow, this is good!”
“Thank you,” Daisy says, blushing. “I work hard for the good of the town—we all do.”
“I must admit, I’m very curious about your history,” I say, knowing I have to step carefully. “Can you tell me about the last few years with Alpha Talon? Or before that, back towards your early settler days?”
I’ve timed my question to coincide with the arrival of the three elders, and just as they sit down, Agatha looks up towards me.
I catch her eye and try a friendly smile, but she doesn’t return it.
Melanie fusses over them a little before coming to sit down on the other side of Jackson, who is next to me.
“I can’t tell you much about the early days,” Jackson says. “Perhaps Leah would like to talk to you about it sometime. I can tell you about our years with Talon, though.”
“Please, go ahead,” I say, filling my plate with a selection of the good food spread out on the table.
For poor folk, they have a hell of a spread set up—and they did yesterday, too.
“Talon’s father was an incredibly tough alpha,” Jackson says. “It wasn’t really his fault. For many generations, the alphas kept us safe from the dangers beyond Clover’s boundary.”
“Would you like to tell me more about that?” I ask.
“All I know is tales and superstition,” Jackson says. “Like most of us do. I assume you want to know more about how Talon led, though, considering you are taking his place?”
“Yes, exactly,” I answer, trying not to sound overly interested.
“Talon’s father was tough, like his father before him. I knew Talon when he was a young boy. We used to play together, didn’t we, Henry?”
“We did,” Henry agrees, smiling. “And his father was not too fond of it.”
“True,” Jackson laughs. “We were always going out into the scrub, pushing the boundary, testing each other to see who was the most afraid of leaving Clover.”
“An old game,” Henry says, chuckling.
“Talon’s father was lost to us early—a heart attack, they think. His widow died of a broken heart.”
“Tragic,” I mutter.
Sounds like there’s a hell of a lot of bad luck in this alpha line.
“Talon was too young to be alpha,” Jackson says. “But Leah put the burden on him, anyway. He was only sixteen at the time.”
“Was there any alternative?” I ask.
“There was,” Jackson says. “My own father stepped up to the task, but Leah would have none of it. Talon would lead us, and she convinced the entire pack to follow her decision.”
“It sounds like she commands great respect,” I say.
One of the older men looks up as if he’s about to say something, but he quickly puts his head down again.
“My father became Talon’s beta,” Jackson said. “Both of us served him and helped him in his difficult task. The problem with Talon is that he was too soft, too caring.”
A murmur of agreement sounds around the table, and Sara stares down at her plate as if she can barely keep her mouth closed.
“Terrible attributes for an alpha to have,” I say while thinking the exact opposite.
“Indeed,” Jackson said. “He cared so much about us; he became fearful of letting us run missions for supplies. He saw signs everywhere that the ancient evil was back, stalking us, and demanded we close the boundaries and stay within the town limit, even as resources began to dwindle.”
“And your father?” I ask. “What did he do about this?”
“He implored Talon to reconsider,” Jackson says. “In fact, he begged him to allow a few trained men to leave. But Talon refused. He was so afraid of losing even one person.”
“Tragic,” I say, hearing the falsehood in his voice. “Is that how you have come to where you are now, with so few resources?”
“It is,” Jackson agrees. “My father wanted to go further—to join us to the modern world, finally, to engage in trade, like the other packs, but Talon said it was too dangerous. He forbade my father to go, and said it would be an act of treason if he did.”
“That sounds extreme,” I remark.
“It was,” Jackson nods sagely. “And that is exactly why my father and two of his friends broke the rules and left. They did not return, and we believe, to this day, Talon had them killed.”
A loud clang next to me makes me jump, and I notice Sara has dropped her knife onto her plate. She glances up at me, and I can see she’s struggling to keep quiet.
I can’t wait to hear her side of this story.
“So, Talon went out and murdered them? Wouldn’t he have wanted to put them on trial if they broke the law?”
“That’s just it,” Jackson says sadly. “I think he was afraid to show the rest of the pack he was willing to go that far. He knew he was losing support, and executing anyone would have made it worse.”
None of this makes any fucking sense, but okay.
“Go on,” I say.
“Talon became convinced that we had to attack Eccles,” Jackson says. “He managed to convince the warriors and his mate that Eccles were responsible for their deaths, and we had to avenge them. That’s what led to the attack.”
Jackson looks away as if overcome by emotion. Murmurs echo around the table, coupled with somber expressions. I notice the older folk shaking their heads, but it isn’t clear if they are denying the story or agreeing with it.
“And I’m sure you were ready to take on the burden of leadership once Talon fell,” I say.
“Of course,” Jackson answers. “I did not want it, I never had, but I had already been filling in for Talon’s shortcomings for quite some time. The pack trusts me, you see. They depend on me.”
I bet they do.
Around the table, I see people nodding. Some actually smile at Jackson as if he’s the lord and savior.
You people have been trapped up here for too long!
“Well, I’m glad that I could come and take that burden from you,” I say. “Now you can remain a man of the people while I hold the position of alpha and spare you the responsibility of command.”
“And I am ever grateful,” Jackson says, smiling at me. The man’s ice blue eyes set me on edge, and I can feel an aura of threat emanating from him.
Like there is a deep crack in his soul where there is only malice. I can’t trust him.
“Talon was a good man,” Sara chokes out. “He tried hard to take care of us.”
“He did,” Jackson agrees. “And it was the death of him.”
I look around the table, and I don’t need my years of black ops training to read the people sitting with us.
There are some who look at Jackson with complete adoration, as if the sun is shining directly out of his asshole.
The rest—like Sara—are keeping their eyes down so they don’t look directly at me.
Even though I have complete trust in my own skills, I suddenly wish Rex and the others hadn’t left so early this morning. I know they wanted to get back to their families and clear the area to make the Clover pack feel less threatened, but it’s left me feeling exposed.
I don’t think Jackson can outright challenge me and still keep his good boy image, but he could certainly arrange an unfortunate accident for me.
“The first thing I’ll do is send for some supplies,” I say. “I’ll call in some of our head producers and guild leaders so we can raise the standard of living for everyone. Then we’ll talk about joining Clover to the modern world.”
“That sounds great,” Jackson says, smiling. “I feel very lucky to have you with us.”
Lurking in his cold gaze, I can feel terrible deception, and I get the feeling it suits him just fine if the town stays isolated.
He looks like he’d love to be king out here, with every single citizen at his mercy. Damn, it must have fucked him up to have a bunch of black ops military toughs take Talon’s place!
“We are lucky to have you,” Sara says to me. “If we had to lose Talon, then it’s good to have his place taken by someone who is kind.”
“Here, here!” Henry says, raising his glass.
A few others follow suit, and we all toast to Sara’s words.
As we finish our meal and start to mingle, I try to maneuver towards the three elders, but Jackson keeps getting in my way, with his mate Melanie always trying to stay by my side.
“Come over and talk with my other good friend, Hank Norville,” Jackson says, trying to lead me across the park. “He grows wheat and produces all our cereals. He’s an absolute genius—”
“Actually, I was hoping to speak to the elders,” I say, trying to push past him. “I’m very eager to hear your early settler stories, as well as what things were like under Talon’s father.”
“Of course!” Jackson says. “It might have to wait for another time, though. I’m sure the old folk are tired by now. Melanie?”
“Yes!” she says, unsticking herself from my side to hurry over to the elders. “I’ll get them on their way home, and maybe you can talk to them tomorrow. We shouldn’t put too much stress on the poor old dears.”
“Of course not,” I mutter. “You’re absolutely right.”
Well-played, you two. You’ve made an art out of making your way look like a sainthood, and anyone who argues against you is a monster.
As Melanie ushers the elders from the park, Sara takes my hand and leans on my arm a little. I look down and see she’s smiling, but her eyes look pained.
“Are you having a good time?” I ask her.
“Of course,” she says, smoothly. “The pack has done a lovely job of putting together a welcoming party—especially Father.”
“Thank you,” Jackson says to her. “You of all people know how hard I work to keep the pack happy and safe.”
This slimy bastard is standing there smiling like he didn’t sell me his only child!
A look passes between the two of them, and Sara tightens her grip on my hand.
“Come on, Shawn,” she says. “Let’s go and see Father’s friends. I’m sure they have important news for you about their supply for the year.”
“Of course,” I answer, following her. Jackson quickly falls into step beside us.
For the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, Sara stays by my side, smiling and laughing while keeping hold of my hand. I want to relax and enjoy her affection, but the longer it goes on, the more it begins to grate on me with its insincerity.
She’s putting on an act—and a damn good one. I’ve had double agent training, and I almost fell for it.
When I watch her tilt her head back in laughter, the sunlight cascading over her golden hair like a river of gold, I allow myself a little slack.
She’s so beautiful, I’m severely handicapped in my ability to read her. I want this laughter to be real…
Every moment that passes deepens my suspicion that something is severely wrong in this town. I follow Sara’s lead, laughing and joking to put Jackson at ease, but feeling the whole time as if I’ve already begun fighting a war.