The Dark Edge Chronicles - Clan War

An Unusual Guest

Narcist was cataloging the data she had finished decrypting from the Galway safehouse's security logs when she heard the door open. Her hand was already on her sidearm when Lash's voice boomed from the entryway.

"You can stand down," he rumbled. "I am sealing the door behind me."

Narcist was about to nod and settle back into her work when a strange scent just caught the very edges of her sense of smell. Then she had her sidearm in her hand and she was leaning out of the security room with it aimed at the door. And at the strange woman that was standing beside the dark giant that was the Wolf of Frankfurt.

"You know I trust you, Wolf," she said, her voice pulling both Lash's and the woman's attention to her.

"But, I have to ask: why would you bring a werewolf into our safehouse?" A brow lifted slightly.

"Unless she's dinner."

"No, not dinner," Lash replied in English for the woman's benefit. "This is Bronwyn Locke. And she wants our help against the White Flames, who are slaughtering entire packs in Central and South America."

"Help with White Flames?" Narcist let her weapon drop to a neutral but ready position as Truk stepped into sight from the safehouse's kitchen.

"Not to overstate the obvious here, boss, but we need help with those bastards ourselves," she bluntly pointed out, now also speaking in English. "With Ventru being pressed, we don't have the resources to extend."

Obviously picking up on Narcist's careful wording to avoid revealing too much of the situation to a stranger, Bronwyn nodded in appreciation.

"I know you're trying to be careful in revealing the exact state your clan currently is in, but it isn't necessary, miss." She blithely went on as Narcist mouthed the word 'miss' with a raised brow.

"I'm fully aware of the pogrom against Ventru."

The gun came back up.

"So you're here to take advantage of our weakness, then," she said, flipping her safety off with her thumb.

"Wow," Bronwyn said with a frown, looking over at Lash. "And I thought you were trigger happy."

"It's been a day," Lash said before looking back at Narcist. "Stand down, Narcist."

He didn't say it loud, or with any particular force. But the tone of command was unmistakable. And, as soon as he said it, Narcist dropped her gun once again, thumbing her safety back on as she did.

For his part, Truk kept his hand away from his sidearm. But it didn't detract from the amount of menace he gathered around himself as he strode down the hallway. By the time he strode past a frowning Narcist, he looked like he was going to jump across the intervening space and bury his fangs in the werewolf's neck.

For her part, if Bronwyn was worried that the seemingly enraged Truk would attack her, she didn't show it. She returned his fierce gaze with a mild one of her own, hands clasped behind her back.

And then Truk was an inch from her nose, eyes blazing. For a long moment they stared into each other's eyes, the vampire looking ready to strike, and the werewolf looking like she was taking a walk in a park.

Just when it looked like Truk would indeed strike, he abruptly smiled ear to ear.

"I like this one," he said in English, taking a step back and out of Bronwyn's personal space. "She's feisty." He then stuck out his hand human-style.

"I'm Truk."

The werewolf took his hand without hesitation and gave it a firm shake.

"Bronwyn," she said, her smile returning.