Every Were Gets A Mate

Chapter 12

Cade swallowed audibly. "How has the government not noticed thousands of missing ex-military humans?"

"Fisher has been careful. The prospects arrive in groups no bigger than four, brought in from around the country by car. They aren't allowed to bring cell phones or anything electronic with them. They've already dropped away from society, no family or friends to report them missing, no job, so no employer to notice and no taxes to file. Most of them were homeless, no car to find abandoned."

"And the bodies?"

"Cremated."

We were silent for a minute before I added, "I've seen things in movies the last few years that make me wonder if the military puts GPS trackers in soldiers. It's possible, but I don't know if they do it. Cost might be a reason not to. But if they do, I bet they'd send alerts when the soldier dies showing where it happened."

Cade nodded slowly. "They haven't found anything like that in the remains?"

"I don't know. I only found out about this because I was eavesdropping on my parents and their friends when I was supposed to be asleep."

"Right. You said you hadn't been with your parents for years. So... other packs know about this? Did you get taken from your parents because they knew?"

I shook my head repeatedly as he spoke. "No, no. Well... I suppose they might have told their new pack. But I haven't gotten to the part of the story where my family and I come in."

"Oh. Sorry." He brushed his lips against mine and rubbed my back. "That was such a big bombshell, I thought it signaled the end and started asking questions. Please, go on."

I felt relief but wasn't sure why. Focusing on it made me realize some part of me had expected Cade to shove me off his lap and run for his life after that part of the story. I didn't have to reach to know that belief arose from the guilt I constantly felt. I was very glad Cade still wanted to hold and kiss me. He could still decide to run, but I had to tell him everything. Weres don't keep secrets from their mates, at least the sane ones don't. "My parents were born into Fury Pack. My father came from a very long line of Knowledge Keepers. Do you have those?"

"Not in Traveler, but in Black Hills, yes. They keep the history of the pack, they know all the rules and words, and anyone can go to them for advice."

I nodded. "Same. Growing up, my father taught me and my brother the history, rules, and words. They were drilled into us. I couldn't forget them if I tried."

Cade graced me with a little smile.

"My parents often held small meetings late at night with their most trusted friends. Tanner, my brother, and I liked to eavesdrop on them. I was eight-years-old when I first heard them discussing the turnings, the deaths, and speculating about how likely it was the government or military would find out about it. I had nightmares where the human military came. Bombs, fires, bullets, knives, blood... so much blood."

Cade cuddled me closer.

"Not many in the pack knew what was happening. The turned soldiers definitely didn't know about the true fail rates. Only one of them ever lived out of three or four, but they were told that everyone in other groups lived, that it averaged out. We never heard anyone speak of these things outside of our house. We didn't talk to our parents about it because we didn't want them to know we were eavesdropping and put an end to it. But I always suspected they knew, that it was Dad's way to train us, that he had done the same as a child. Tanner and I didn't talk about it even to each other, afraid we would be overheard."

Cade caressed my cheek. "Do you still have nightmares?"

"No, they stopped when I was ten, I think."

He didn't ask another question, so I continued. "Dad would get so angry sometimes, at himself, at the other adults in the meetings. He said he felt like one of the Germans who lived next to a Jewish extermination camp during World War II, knew exactly what was happening, and never said or did anything about it."

Cade winced.

"The others said Fisher would kill them if he had even a hint that they knew the truth, let alone that they were talking about it with others. And he did kill some of them. The ones he caught, or probably just suspected, never revealed the others. Trying to stop it was an instant death sentence. But my parents still felt guilty. And I felt that guilt too. I couldn't do anything because I was terrified of losing my parents."

Cade spoke firmly. "It was not your fault, Jess. You were a child."

"I know."

He frowned at me, clearly not believing that I didn't still carry guilt about this. "What could you or your parents have done? You couldn't call in the human police, government, or military without revealing the secret of our existence. There was no one you could go to for help, at least that you knew of then. You didn't know Traveler Pack existed."

"The adults tried to get word to the Council, but nothing ever happened."

The muscles of Cade's stomach and chest jerked once in an unrealized laugh. I looked down, fascinated and wishing they weren't covered. I wanted to see them, feel his skin, and discover how soft it was and if he had any body hair or scars. He spoke, pulling me away from these thoughts. I was surprised that such a small movement in his body could easily distract me from such a serious conversation.

Cade sounded disgusted. "The Council is useless. That's why I didn't even mention them. They did do something, put a sanction on Fury. They ordered all other packs not to allow Fury members to enter their lands or search for mates there and not to go to Fury to search for mates. It's the only tooth they have to bite with."

"Yes, my parents were very disappointed. And it made Fisher even angrier than he already was. When someone disobeyed him, spoke against him, or did anything to subvert his wishes, he would either kill them outright or banish them. I personally saw him kill six weres. He likes to shift and slice his claws through stomachs, so deep that things fall out with the blood."

I phrased it as nicely as I could, but that didn't tidy up the images in my mind. Sprays of blood arcing out several feet from the body. Floods of crimson down clothing. Ropes of intestine hanging down in shriveled loops, Fisher's victim trying to catch them and stuff them back inside the dark gashes as if it would save their life. It's not the intestines hanging out that kills you, it's the blood loss, and there is no way to catch all that blood and put it back inside.

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AN:

Again, I had this chapter yesterday but wasn't happy with it. But I think you like it when I'm happy with it, right? Grammar errors ruin the feel of stories for me. I'd never want that to happen to my wonderful readers! If you ever spot an error, I would love you for pointing it out to me so I could fix it.

Last night, for the first time, I ran the flea comb all over my cat and did not find a single flea! Knock on wood, throw salt over my shoulder, cross my fingers – the fleas might be gone. :)

Thanks for reading! Hugs for those who comment and vote! :)