Love and War

Yet again, the council wants to meet.

I’ve met with them three times since the start of the year, and it’s only May. They’ll have the same problems as last time and the time before that. Yet again, we’ll all leave pissed off and dissatisfied with no solution. In a month or so, Stone will make the same complaints, the council will be forced to meet somewhere in the human villages, and we’ll go through it all. Over. Again.

This is exhausting.

I look down at my steel-toe shoes as I walk and try to force away the frustration. The never-ending headache is pounding at my left eye today. Thankfully it's getting into the later afternoon, so the sun isn't as irritating as it was earlier in the car. The drive has left my legs stiff and back achy. It's nice to be out walking in the spring air, rather than trapped in a reflective box. It was a short walk from the hotel to the bar, and one I was willing to make.

“Any idea what’s going on this time?” Owen asks. He’s brilliant and quick, but damn, he gives others more credit than they’re owed.

“Same as always,” I reply. That’s as far as I’m willing to go. I breathe in deeply and exhale, feeling the constraint of the thin armor across my chest. We have to fit in with the humans, so I chose jeans and a deep crimson t-shirt when we left pack territory. That doesn't mean I trust the men I'm meeting with, or the humans I'm surrounded by. I've got a small silver knife tucked in my pocket, and Owen came armed too.

A couple of women walk past us going the other way. One of them giggles a little, eyeing us up and down. The other refuses to look at us. Owen gives them a little wave. I ignore them. Owen turns back to me when they pass, tucking his hands into his short's pockets.

“Look, I know you’re always irritated about something. But can you please let them try to figure this out without vetoing every single thing they suggest?”

I feel a growl forming deep in my throat and push it down. It isn’t Owen’s fault. He’s as tired of these meetings as I am. But Stone is not getting the annexed land we won in the war. And I am still king.

“He can give back what he stole, or he can go fuck himself,” I snap at Owen and glare back over my left shoulder at him. He immediately deflates, tired of hearing the same retort yet again.

He’s a bit shorter than I am, paler, freckled, but lithe and strong. A fair sparring partner built for endurance. He never stops, never falters. Today he's opted for khaki shorts, sneakers, a white shirt, and a denim jacket. He looks human.

I trust him to have my back. He’s done well as my beta. And he's the only one I'll allow to speak to me like this.

“Alright, I give up. Let’s get this over with,” he mutters and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets.

He wasn’t there in the war. He didn’t come home to a ransacked castle. He didn’t lose his entire family. He doesn't know what it's like to lose-

“What’s the name of the town we’re in?” Owen asks, stopping my thoughts.

“Hartford.”

“And the bar?”

"The Forge.”

“Alright. I’m gonna need a drink after this.”

I snort. Yeah, I probably will too. Or maybe just a run. My headache pounds against my eye and I blink deeply to clear the pain. When I open my eyes I glance down at my watch. It’s only three o’clock. We’ll be starved by the time this damn thing is over.

Cars drive past us, spewing that awful exhaust. It doesn’t help with the headache. I avoid cars as much as I can, but today it’s inevitable.

“Keep your eye out for hunters. The humans are still scared we’re going to invade their lands," I warn Owen.

Stone would have that too, if I let him. But I won’t. Owen comes up around my right and nods indifferently. He's more interested in looking at the trees planted along the sidewalk. He knows not to trust Stone, but I have to make sure he knows I am not trying to start another war. There can be no outbursts, no fights. Our people are still recovering from the war ten years ago. We can’t afford another one. The council (and my say) will have to be enough to keep him from taking what he wants.

Humans walk by along the sidewalks, blissfully unaware that we are not like them. It’s better this way. If they knew what we were, they’d fly at us with their silver bullets and swords, and we’d have to call in backup. It would be a bloodbath. They don't trust us. They don't like when we hide among them. They don't know what we're capable of, and what we're not. And we don't tell them.

For the sake of peace, every council meeting is held in human territory. No alpha gets the upper hand, and no pack wants a war with the humans. They far outnumber us.

As we turn the corner around a bookstore, I'm hit with the smell of wolves. Alphas.

“We’re here," I tell Owen. I can scent four others, not including Stone. Looks like we beat him. Good. I have no intention of standing for him when he enters. “Owen, keep an eye on Gabe.”

“Already planned on it.”

Good.

I stop in front of The Forge. There are three limestone steps up to the bar’s door. The steps have been scrubbed down recently, and I can smell the cleaner. Other than that, the hedges are overgrown, the windows smudged, and the sign on the door crooked. This place is frequented. Used. There will be other people here. We will not stand out. A couple passes by behind us, chatting, oblivious.

When I open the door, the small bell on top chimes. I glance around and see several humans, including a female barkeep. She's got her blonde hair pulled back into a tight, almost severe bun. There are old photographs of a coal mine on the gray painted walls. The wooden stools of the bar are scratched and worn. A bulb on the main overhead light is out. The smell of shifters wafts from what looks like a private side room, but the door is closed. Good. We have privacy. We won't be overheard.

I nod at the bartender, and she frowns but nods back anyway. Perhaps she suspects we are not what we say we are, but she won’t ask. If she can make money off of us, she’ll keep her mouth shut.

As Owen and I walk to the private room, the floor creaks. I can see patterns on the wood where people normally walk. This place is old.

Before I can reach for the door to the private room, it opens. It’s Michael Smith, an older alpha from up north. He bows his head, not too deep, not too shallow. Just a small show of respect. He has no stake in mine or Stone’s problems and is therefore neutral. His pack is small. I have no issue with him ... for now.

“Welcome, Alpha Adkins. Beta Foster.” He nods at Owen. “I trust you traveled well.”

“We did, thank you. Let’s get this meeting going.”

I step into the room and look around. It's an incredibly plain room. There are no pictures, no artwork on the walls. Just a plain wooden table and chairs, gray walls, and a single overhead light. It's incredibly human, and completely unfitting for the importance of the people in the room. It's exactly the place to blend in.

The other men stand out of respect and either nod or bow. Most of them are older than me. Some of them have grandchildren my age. It's not often that an alpha steps down to let the next in line take over. They don't always see me as an equal.

I motion for them to sit, headache pounding steadily away behind my eye, and they do. These men look tired. Some members of the council have traveled hundreds of miles to be here, leaving behind their families and their own problems to come and listen to Stone's.

The floor creaks loudly as I step around them and drop myself into the chair at the head of the table, headache pounding away.

Let's get this over with.