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  They walked south from the ruins of Central Park to find which theater was operating.

  They found it close to Capital Square, what used to be Times Square. The ticket office was closed with a handwritten note stuffed into the broken window apologizing that the show would not go on.

  “They used to say that the show must go on!” Sue declared, slamming a fist into her hand.

  “Times have changed,” Skippy replied. “A lot.”

  The Werewolves took a disappointing walk around mid-town, pounded two different groups of muggers, both too drugged up to be any real threat, and passed small teams of uniformed Peace Enforcers who carried electrified batons.

  Arc rods, they were called.

  They stopped for a nice dinner, but it was crowded and after a long wait, turned out to be overpriced and not as good as they hoped.

  Timmons started to laugh.

  “How many times did we see this exact same thing? A new place would open. A few people would rave about it. Everyone would flock to it, then the quality would suck. In the immortal words of Yogi Berra, no one goes there anymore. It’s too crowded.”

  Vancouver

  The two Werebears stopped hunting elk. They turned their attention to the Werewolf pack that was hunting elk. There weren’t supposed to be any Weres in the area.

  Gene stood on his back paws and roared. Bogdan sniffed the ground and pointed with his muzzle. The small pack wasn’t far. Only three of them. Gene was unconcerned. He would not have cared had there been ten. In his mind, one Werebear was easily worth ten Werewolves, as long as one of them wasn’t Charumati.

  Bogdan lumbered into the brush, sniffing and watching as they bore down on the Were.

  ***

  Kaeden and Edwin started running as soon as they heard Gene’s roar. In Werebear form, they couldn’t answer their comm device. Kae expected the devices were somewhere near the pod and nowhere near where Gene and Bogdan actually were.

  The roar helped clarify things. They weren’t far.

  Kae took the lead, carrying his rifle with two hands as he plowed through the brush, vaulted over a stream, and pushed to run faster. He didn’t want to give the Werebears too much time to move.

  Gene roared again. Much closer this time.

  ***

  Gene went left and Bogdan went right. The Werewolves were in a glade ahead, still in human form.

  When Gene appeared, they changed. Three shaggy black Werewolves snarled, showing their teeth and moving apart, but moving as one. Bogdan burst into the clearing and the Werewolves were boxed in.

  They looked for a way out. One moved forward as the other two turned away.

  A shot rang out as Kaeden fired his rifle into the air. “STOP!” he yelled with everything he could muster. “Silver bullets, and you probably already know that Werebears are faster than Werewolves. Your only choice is to talk with us. Change back into human form, please.”

  The closest one changed. A tall man, good-looking, as Werewolves had a tendency to be. He looked from Gene to Bogdan to the two humans with rifles pointed his way. He walked across the glade to where he’d left his clothes. All black leather, making him look very much like a Forsaken. Maybe that was his shtick.

  As he adjusted his hat, Kaeden’s patience ran out. “If you don’t start talking, we start shooting. Uncle Gene? How about a Werewolf snack?”

  Gene growled, but shook his massive head. His small round ears wiggled as he adjusted them to focus on the two in Were form.

  “We’ve done nothing wrong,” the man said, his face lost in the shadow of the wide-brimmed hat.

  “Why do you dress like a Vampire?” Kae asked.

  “It’s comfortable for me,” he replied.

  “Fair enough, but creepy. Why do you think we’re judging whether you’ve done something wrong or not? What makes you believe we’re the Were police?”

  “Aren’t you?” the Werewolf dodged.

  “I’m getting tired of you not answering questions. You seem to be the alpha, so order those two to change back into human form. You have five seconds.” Kae and Edwin aimed at the Werewolf.

  Five seconds passed. He stood resolute. Kae shot him in the leg with a silver bullet. He howled in pain as he tumbled to the ground.

  “Change,” Kae ordered the other two. The air shimmered around them as their nanocytes went to work, converting them from Werewolves back into human form.

  Edwin gasped at the two stunning women who appeared naked on the other side of the glade. They smiled and turned back and forth as if modeling.

  Kaeden might have lost focus too, but for the man on the ground writhing in pain. The women appeared unconcerned with his agony.

  “Maybe you’re not as important as you think you are,” Kaeden told the man on the ground before turning his attention back to the women. “Get dressed, please.” They shrugged and complied, pulling simple sundresses over their heads and belting them loosely around their waists.

  “Put your tongue away, Edwin,” Kae whispered. Edwin snapped his jaws shut and flexed his fingers, trying get blood back into them.

  “Where were we? Yes, can you two tell me what you’re doing here?”

  “Living,” one of the women answered simply.

  “What are you doing with him?”

  “He’s the alpha.”

  Kaeden closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The group was trying his patience.

  “Let me try a different question. Convince me why I shouldn’t kill you?”

  The women looked at each other, the simplicity of their answers would no longer buy them time.

  “Any other Werewolves in the area, Uncle Gene?” Kae asked. The Werebear shook his head. Kae turned to Bogdan. He shook his head and moved closer to the man on the ground, who finally stopped whining. Bogdan bared his fangs as he leaned close to sniff the injured man’s head.

  “Because we haven’t done anything wrong,” the women pleaded in unison.

  “But he has. He used his Forsaken look and changing into Werewolf form in front of the humans to terrorize them. That has never been allowed for anyone from the Unknown World.” Kae pointed at the man with the barrel of his rifle.

  He hissed at Kae.

  “What do you think about relocating to San Francisco?” Kae asked.

  “Sounds dreamy,” one of the women said as she smiled seductively at Edwin.

  Kae looked at the man. He was sweating heavily. “I can hear you breathing from all the way over here, Private. Get yourself under control.”

  “Yes, sir,” Edwin struggled to say as he gritted his teeth and fought with his own willpower.

  “Come with us, please.” Kae held out a hand for the Werewolf bitches to join him. The alpha held up his hands so the other two could help him to his feet.

  “Leave him,” Kae barked. The women shrugged and strolled past. Kae, Edwin, and the two women left the clearing. “Edwin, lead the way back to the pod.”

  Kae left Gene and Bogdan to take care of business. A Werebear’s roar was met with a Werewolf’s howl that abruptly ended.

  San Francisco

  “Anyone heard from Terry or Char?” Sue asked.

  “Has anyone tried to call them?” Timmons noted.

  Everyone shook their head. The Werewolves of San Francisco looked at each other. The newcomers shrugged and held their hands up. They didn’t know who Terry and Char were.

  “Who wants to tell them that we’ve taken in refugees?” No one volunteered.

  “We know it can’t be you two,” Sue said pointing to Butch and Skippy. They were always in the dog house with Char, so couldn’t be tasked with delivering bad news. Shonna and Merrit had no vested interest. “Me or you. Rock, paper, scissors.”

  Timmons rolled his eyes. They matched scissors and on the second pass, they both came up with rocks. Then Kaeden walked in.

  “You need to call your mom and tell her that you’ve adopted a pair of kittens,” Sue said.

  “Sure.” Kae pulled out hi
s device. Timmons slowly relaxed his rock hand and shoved it into his pocket, refusing to look at Kae.

  “Hey, Dad. How’s it going?” Kae asked innocuously. “Can I talk to Mom real quick?”

  There was a short delay before Char answered.

  “We caught three Werewolves outside of Vancouver. One of them was dressing like a Forsaken and terrorizing the population, along with a couple bitches he acquired somewhere along the way. Annika and Meta are their names. I think they’re Scandinavian. They’re not real talkative. The guy? Gene and Bogdan took care of him. The women are here in San Francisco with us. When are you coming home?”

  Char talked for a while and then clicked off. Kaeden looked down, frowning.

  “She take it badly?” Timmons wondered, feeling a pang of guilt.

  “Not at all, but they’re going to be a while. Terry and Char have stopped by a monastery while Aaron and Yanmei have continued searching.”

  The Werewolves snickered. Kae silenced them with a harsh look.

  “Must not be a celibate monastery,” Timmons muttered under his breath. The others started snickering again. Kae stormed out.

  And ran face first into Edwin, who looked like holy hell.

  “What happened to you?” Kae snapped.

  Edwin gave a lopsided grin and popped his eyebrows up a few times. “You know. It. Annika is amazing. You ever have a Werewolf?”

  “DUDE! My mom is a Werewolf,” Kaeden snarled.

  “Sorry, sir. Sorry, shit. Oh fuck. I’m sorry. I need to go.” Edwin hurriedly limped away, holding a hand over the bruises on his arm.

  “Werewolves and sex! What the hell?” Kaeden grimaced, thinking about all the times he heard his parents. He shook his head.

  The thought gave him the willies.

  He headed for the logistics center to check in with Kimber, Marcie, and Ramses for the next training session that the reservists would take part in.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Haidong, China

  Terry almost spoke, but didn’t want another hairy eyeball from the Zenmaster. Terry couldn’t pronounce the man’s name or title in Chinese without insulting every Chinese speaker within earshot, so he stopped trying.

  The man seemed accepting of the title of Zenmaster in Terry’s exceptional case.

  They were also accommodating regarding Terry and Char sharing the same room. Terry didn’t know why. Maybe it was the new order of things. China had lost their way in the before time, starting the cascade of events that was the world’s worst day ever, the WWDE, where the vast majority of humanity died.

  It wouldn’t be Zen-like to separate the inseparable. Maybe they saw that in Terry and Char. Maybe they could see into the etheric dimension, see who pulled power from it.

  Terry and Char were linked in a way that made them both stronger, their whole greater than the sum of their parts.

  The Zenmaster allowed them their peace to help them find peace. Terry’s turmoil was from the lack of war, which gave him time to relive the negative events of his life. He remembered the good as well as the bad, but he only fixated on the worst parts of it all, always finding blame for something he thought could have been done better. Char’s turmoil was from her mate’s unwillingness to share the untold burden of the dead scattered throughout the wake of the Terry Henry Walton whirlwind.

  The Zenmaster led them through their meditations using pictures that he drew freehand with black ink on rice paper with a thick brush. With few delicate strokes, he detailed a journey through Terry’s mind.

  TH tried to focus, but his mind filled in the blanks on the page with color and dimensions, characters fighting for supremacy across a barren land. A woman and child, fighting for their lives.

  And losing. Terry coughed and choked back his pain. He looked back at the drawing and started again…

  Chicago

  “Have you seen any Forsaken?” Kimber asked, Auburn at her side. Nick Rixon insisted on coming along and stood behind the others, his rifle cradled in his hands.

  Gerry looked old and tired. “Not only have I not seen any, I haven’t heard of anyone seeing any. I am so sorry. Why are you convinced that your friend is here? It’s been two years. He could be anywhere.” Gerry was trying to be helpful, but it wasn’t helping.

  “I can feel it in my bones that he’s here somewhere,” Kim said. Gerry didn’t have an answer.

  “There’s a disturbing trend that started in Denver and has made its way here. The blood trade has arrived. We’ve already caught a couple humans who had trapped a Were and were systematically draining it of its blood.”

  “What did you do with them?” Auburn asked.

  “The humans? We gave them a taste of their own medicine. Slit a vein and let them slowly bleed out. We wanted to send a message. The Were recovered, but he hasn’t been the same.”

  “What do they do with the blood?” Nick asked.

  “If a human drinks the blood, they heal faster, live longer, look younger, the usual vanity issues that cause a great deal of grief. Remember Botox? Were blood is much better than that because it’s more than just skin deep. But once you drink it, you need to keep getting regular drinks or you go back to regular aging. Addictive like heroin and just as hard to get.”

  “I have no idea what Botox is. Or heroin for that matter,” Kim said.

  “I sometimes forget how young you old kids are,” Gerry said softly. “It’s good that you don’t know what that is, but it’s horrible that you will see its like in this new vile addiction.”

  Kim nodded and frowned. “Please, Gerry. If you hear anything, please let me know. My team and I will be here as soon as humanly possible. Until then, we’ll keep searching. Joseph and Petricia must be found.”

  “I will pass to you anything I hear or see, Miss Kimber.”

  They shook hands and she nodded to Auburn and Nick that it was time move on. They headed back to the pod to plot their next search area.

  WWDE + 138

  Haidong, China

  Terry and Char sat on a veranda overlooking a small valley that lay before the green and brown of the mountains beyond. After a two-hour workout, they had their morning meditation and reflection, followed by a break before chores.

  “I miss coffee,” Terry said as he sipped his tea. “And beer. This monastery must have missed the memo with the recipe. They are way off the beaten path.”

  Char agreed. “At least we get a healthy diet of meat,” she offered.

  A year prior, there had been a food crisis. Terry and Char had offered to hunt and were successful in bagging a mountain sheep. It took their combined strength to maneuver their kill off the mountain and carry it back to the monastery.

  They feasted and celebrated, quietly, without undue emotion.

  Terry and Char had continued to hunt for the monastery, providing a steady diet of wild game. They were relieved from field duty.

  But Terry and Char did it anyway. Service to others was an easy part of the monastery’s training for Terry and the fields interested him. Pepe and Maria had taught him to appreciate a well-cultivated field and the love of growing things.

  That had been a long time ago, but Terry didn’t forget.

  Char got up from her small chair and took a knee next to her husband. “How do you feel?” she asked.

  “I think I may have pulled a muscle last night, but besides that, I feel good,” he teased while looking at her sparkling purple eyes. She couldn’t argue with that. He did feel good.

  “Stop it,” she said, not blushing because she wasn’t embarrassed.

  Terry looked back over the valley. “Are we doing the right thing?” he asked for the thousandth time.

  “We’re not going back until you can be who you were meant to be,” Char said softly, resting her chin on his shoulder to enjoy the serenity of the mountains nearby. “I don’t give a shit about the Were, the Forsaken, or the evil that men do. I care about you and my family. Everything else is a distant second.

  “I tho
ught taking over the NAPC was my destiny, one Werewolf to rule them all. Sure, I was good at it, better than the last guy. You know what, TH? I hated it. I may have been good at it, but I didn’t like it. Those people need a real leader. I’m an alpha of my pack because I’m the best, but when it comes to the world, those people need you. Clear your head, see the way forward, and embrace it. Everything that happened before prepared you for this moment.”

  Terry had heard it before. Char was his bedrock. Without her, his home was built on gravel.

  “Soon, I think,” Terry said.

  “Fucking sooner than that. I miss my kids!” Char stated in no uncertain terms, but emphasized her point by kissing Terry’s neck.

  “You better watch that language or Zenmaster will have you sitting in the corner wearing a dunce cap.”

  “Fuuuuuuck,” Char enunciated slowly. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuckity fuck. Fuckers.” Terry rubbed his stubbly cheek against hers. He opened his eyes and looked straight into the Zenmaster’s face. He didn’t look happy.

  Terry could never tell whether that meant he was unhappy or not. He couldn’t read the man.

  “I think he heard you,” Terry whispered.

  Char stood, turned, and bowed respectfully. “Zenmaster, I must tell you that your hugeness clearly knows no bounds. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have kitchen duty.” Char strolled away in the measured pace that the monastery had adopted centuries before.

  Terry was left alone with the man. TH wasn’t sure how old the bald man was. He could have been forty or one hundred and forty.

  “Zenmaster,” Terry greeted softly.

  “Let me tell you a story,” the man said in nearly flawless English. Terry was surprised, but he should not have been. He knew almost nothing of the Zenmaster, even after two years in his company.

  “When the terrible weapons flew, shattering the Earth, village turned against village. The strongest among us seized the power. My grandfather, a peaceful man who abhorred violence, left the field to take up arms against his neighbor.”

  “Peaceful men take up arms all the time, to defend what they have,” Terry offered.