The new meeting room was located in the middle of the west wing of the villa. The old furniture had been removed and a large crystal table had been placed in the centre with black swivel chairs in a crown. On the short wall next to the door a long table was covered with computers, monitors and other electronic equipment that Markus had taken care of himself and which he probably only knew how to use. That was also the control centre: all the cameras that monitored the perimeter and the house were kept under observation from there. That was therefore the Swede's playground, who, even before they moved in, spent most of his days in that room.
On the official day of their move, Christopher called a meeting. Around the table, Reag, Lucian, Andy, Ty, Leon, Markus and his brother waited in chairs for him to finally bring order to the chaos that had broken out at Oldgrove. In silence he stood up.
"There is no need for me to explain to any of you the grave situation we find ourselves in. You have all been present since the onset of this new threat posed by Nereus and his pack of strays. Unfortunately it was underestimated at first, but now we must annihilate it, and as soon as possible. Losses among the humans are mounting as their ranks swell. I know we are few in number, but I know the value of each one of you and I know we can do it. We will regularise the patrols in the city, but the key is to be able to find the lair in which they are hiding. From now on, martial law applies. Those who surrender will have the right to a fair trial; the others will be killed on the spot."
His eyes ran over the faces of his men, friends, brothers. He looked at them one by one. He knew he was sending them off to war and that some of them might not make it. He was now deciding for the pack, and the hardest part of that role was having to put people he loved at risk to protect others. In the hands of those few was the fate of many, many more than he wanted to think, for if Nereus' plans went ahead, it would not only be his werewolves who would suffer.
His gaze went round the table again: Raeg, tall, blond, with a charming smile; Lucian, his comrade-in-arms for many decades already, his blue eyes as cold as steel; Ty with his sideways coiffure, piercings in his nose, eyebrow and ears, but warm hazel eyes; Andy, with his open face and watchful eyes; Leon, with short blond hair and grey eyes that could only partially soften his military demeanour; Markus, with a clean face and angelic expression that could hide his great intellect; and finally Michael, the brother he had found. They were very few. But they should have been enough.
Of course, he would look for other werewolves to hire for this war, but he had to be shrewd in his choices: in every wolf there could be a possible spy hiding and he did not want to make the mistake of trusting the wrong person again.
His jaw clenched at the memory of Sabrina. Anger had not yet given way to grief; he was still furious, especially at himself, for what had happened.
***
Alex and Michael had seen very little of each other in those days. He had been busy with his brother setting up their new home, yet he had not let her miss a thing. She had spent those days resuming training, walking, reading and thinking. After much thought, she had decided that she would first go to London. She wanted to return to a big city, to lose herself in the anonymous crowd that filled its streets. The chaos of races and cultures. The smells, the lights... they were all things she missed. But she would not settle there. She didn't know if Michael would return to work in London, but she didn't want to risk meeting him. That would have been too difficult.
Dublin was the chosen city to start his new life. Yet another. Probably not even the last. She wondered if she would ever stop anywhere. She had no answer. This was the life she had chosen for herself, or perhaps that she had chosen it. It mattered little. She was alone and would remain so: that was one of the few certainties she had; another was that there were no certainties in her life.
A bitter smile barely lifted her lip. So why did she feel so tired? Despite her promise to Michael to stay, she could have left at any time. She knew that even if he avoided her she was constantly being watched, but she would have no difficulty in deflecting. However, she had continued to stall. It was as if she could not find the energy to face the new beginning.
In the new villa, she was assigned a room with walls covered in purple-red damask paper, a huge four-poster bed and a small balcony with a splendid view of the gardens.
"I know you will be staying for a short time, but I wanted you to be comfortable for the time of your stay here," Michael had told her when he led her to her new residence.
Alex had thanked him and he had left. Coldness and sadness had crept under his skin at seeing him go.
***
On his second evening in his new residence, Alex decided to go to the gymnasium room in the basement. He descended the steep stone stairs and opened the door. Michael was there working out with a stick. He was shirtless and his muscles darted under his sweaty skin as he moved with amazing fluidity.
A tremor ran down her spine and when he turned to look at her, she felt herself blush and bowed her head as she advanced into the large vaulted room.
"I didn't mean to interrupt you," he said, stopping at the edge of the mats that covered most of the stone floor.
"Why don't you train with me?"
She took off her shoes, grabbed one of the sticks from the rack and joined him. The first strokes they exchanged were polite. Textbook almost. Then Alex began to force. He knew Michael was holding back. After about ten minutes the sticks were clashing with hard sounds, and both were dripping with sweat. Their gazes were attentive and focused.
Michael was the best opponent she had ever fought against. She appreciated the fluidity of his movements, the absolute precision and calibration of his blows. Every movement was harmonious.
After about an hour they put the sticks away. He retrieved two towels and handed one to Alex, then began to wipe the sweat from his face and torso. "Congratulations," he told her.
She bowed her head slightly. "It is a pleasure to duel with you."
"I'm on patrol tonight, but I'd be happy if we had dinner together."
"Gladly."
"7 p.m. then."
She nodded and headed for the stairs.
***
The last few days had been really full and for that Michael was somewhat grateful, so he had not had to think too much about what had and had not happened with Alex. The night spent with her haunted him, along with her expression of panic as she told him that she had no intention of starting an affair with him.
He had decided to let her go. He did not know if that was what made him suffer even more than her decision. Every day it cost him an unspeakable effort to try to behave normally with her when he would have liked to embrace her and hold her close. But he knew it was the right choice, at least for the time being. At least until that war was over and his life was back to normal, she could not be part of it.
He shouldn't have even mentioned it to her, but it had slipped his mind at a time when all that blood was far away and the sweetness of her body so close. Over the next few days, he had fortunately managed to keep his will strong, greatly helped by the countless things to do and the preparations for his new home.
He had telephoned Roger and given him all his work citing serious family problems - wasn't that the truth? - but he would still have to return to London to sign the necessary papers for the transfer of his part of the firm. He was sorry to lose the job that had given him so much in recent years, but even in that he had no other choice for now. He had another few centuries ahead of him - he hoped - to resume his work as an architect. Who knows if he would even have time to win Alex back.
Dueling with her that afternoon had been torture. Her determined gaze, her body moving swiftly and precisely, her smell so sensual... he closed his eyes as images of her flashed through his mind and the hot water ran over his head and down his body. Finally he shut off the water jet and stepped out of the shower. He was going to set her free that night. He could not keep her there any longer, and he doubted that she would stay and wait. He would accompany her wherever she wanted, and then leave her....
***
She found him waiting for her at the top of the stairs. He was wearing black cargo trousers and a tight-fitting T-shirt, also black. It was his 'uniform' when he went out in the city with the others. She had seen him before, before he went out on patrol.
He smiled at her. A barely-there moustache and a short beard framed his lips. He stood beside her and led her into a small room where a round table near the window was set for the two of them. He pulled out her chair and seated her.
"Have you decided where to go?"
"London. At least for a while." She wouldn't tell him about Dublin. She didn't want him to find her again one day. Even though he would have no reason to look for her. She was leaving. She was giving up whatever there might have been between the two of them.
"Good. I'll arrange a safe flat, then make travel arrangements."
"It is not necessary."
His eyes did not move from hers. "It is. I don't want you to be kidnapped or hurt."
She smiled at him. 'I know how to disappear. I don't want you to think about anything. I don't need anything."
"You lost everything when you had to leave your flat..."
She raised a hand to stop his words. "I travel light. I don't need anything. I only waited..."
"... because I asked you to. And I'm grateful. But I can't let you leave like this. In the fire you lost your bike, your blades..."
"These are items I can buy back. I will leave the day after tomorrow. Alone."
He shook his head. "They wouldn't let you out of the city."
"Then I will accept a ride to the station."
"Let me at least accompany you all the way to London."
"Your brother, your friends need you here. I am able to take care of myself."
Michael's hand tightened on the napkin in his lap. Trying to argue with her was frustrating as well as absolutely pointless. If he tried to antagonize her again, she would probably have left overnight without even saying goodbye to him. He made an effort to appear calm and sketched a smile. "We'll do it your way." Or at least that's what you'll believe.
He would never have let her go by train alone to London. He would have followed her.
***
Back in his room, he took his Glocks with the bullets of synthesised werewolf venom and the daggers with blood-coloured blades. Steel was also treated in the same way as ammunition: it was the only way to make their weapons lethal, and in that war, being deadly was vital. So far they had taken no prisoners. No trials were scheduled. The five werewolves of Nereus who had been intercepted had fought tooth and nail - literally - and had given them no alternative but to kill them. Raeg still bore the marks of one of those fights.
He put on his chest holster and placed the two blades in it with the handles pointing downwards, then put on a black jacket to cover the paraphernalia he was carrying.
Andy was already waiting for him in the driver's seat of the BMW X3. Before sitting in the car Michael lifted his gaze to Alex's window, as he did every time he went out. The light was off but his eyes could see it. He wondered what she was thinking, if she finally felt free, because he felt as if he had weights on him. Then he looked down and got into the car.
***
The alleys on the outskirts of Oldgrove were deserted or inhabited by Friday night fauna: junkies, drunks, the homeless. The lone wolves of the area had either joined Nereus' pack or left: not everyone wanted to take part in a war.
Michael and Andy moved silently through the backs of clubs and darker streets, creeping into abandoned buildings, now inhabited by outcasts. Of werewolves there was no trace.
"It may sound paradoxical, but this apparent calm makes me far more nervous than the certainty of a confrontation."
"Yeah." Michael's eyes darted over the plucked hedge into a small public garden. Going out every night, ready for a confrontation that didn't happen, was increasing the tension in the small group, whose aggression was growing out of anger and frustration. For days, he could no longer sleep well. It was probably also due to the thought that Alex would soon be gone. His reflections were interrupted by a metallic smell creeping into his nostrils. He froze suddenly. "Do you smell it?"
"Blood."
The two looked at each other, then sprinted following the faint effluvium. They passed a junction and flanked a high red brick wall. Near a black gate opening in the darkness Michael stopped and motioned Andy to stand behind him. Andy nodded, his Sig Sauer already in his fist. After a moment's wait, Michael advanced with the Glock in front of him. The smell of blood was now strong, combined with the unmistakable scent of sex and wolf.
Beyond the gate, they found themselves in a graveyard where grey tombstones interspersed the slightly sloping ground. Like in a B-movie horror movie, Michael thought as he moved forward, peering between the tombstones. He had come close to the entrance of the church when he finally saw the source of those smells. A young woman was lying on the ground, her neck bent to the side with a still bleeding wound. Standing beside her was a werewolf. He stood still and seemed fascinated by the gushing blood from the human's jugular. Michael flattened himself behind a tombstone, imitated by Andy. The two werewolves sniffed the air, but the aroma of blood was too strong and covered any other scent there might be. Their eyes peered into the night to verify that the stray was alone. Then Michael came out into the open with his gun drawn.
"Stand still and raise your hands!" he shouted as he advanced slowly. "If you surrender, you will suffer a fair trial."
Andy had spread out to his left and was aiming at the target with his Sig.
The werewolf turned first towards Michael, then towards Andy. The muzzle was slightly elongated, as if about to change shape, the fangs pronounced and the eyes glittering with excitement. The muzzle twisted into what appeared to be a grin. The werewolf ducked, as its limbs began to lengthen.
Michael fired. But something hit him in the shoulder from behind. He turned around and something else stung him in the leg. As he fell to the ground his eyes spotted three werewolves armed with rifles on the roof. He raised his arm to fire, but his muscles did not respond to his brain's command.
His eyes then rested on the narcotic dart sticking out of his thigh. A trap. They had fallen into a stupid trap. As his vision began to blur, Michael looked for Andy and found him lying on the ground a couple of metres from him.
The last thing he heard was the thud of the werewolves' boots jumping off the roof of the small church.
***
It was four o'clock in the morning. Alex looked out onto the balcony again, but there was still no sign of the car in which Michael and Andy had left. The others had all returned. The last ones had been Lucian and Ty, half an hour earlier.
Unable to wait any longer, he decided to go downstairs. There was no one in the lounges. Without hesitation she headed for the surveillance room. When they had moved in, Michael had shown her all the rooms in the house, even those strictly reserved for werewolves. The door was open and everyone was inside. Markus was sitting at a desk, concentrating on a computer screen. Behind him Christopher kept his eyes fixed on the screen. His jaw was clenched.
"What happened?"
Everyone turned around, then their eyes went to the leader of the pack.
"We can't talk to Michael and Andy."
"Found it!" Markus' voice brought everyone's attention back to the screen. "St. Peter Church."
"Ty, Lucian. Go."
The two did not wait for the leader to add anything else. At a determined pace they walked out the door, past Alex. She watched them go, then returned her gaze to Christopher. "Markus has tracked Andy's mobile signal. The boys are catching up with them."
She nodded, but her anxiety inside grew. Why don't they answer their calls?
"It's not necessarily that something has happened to them," Christopher told her as he approached. "It is possible that they are engaged in a fight and that is why they cannot answer their mobile phones."
Alex nodded. She didn't feel serene, but Christopher certainly had more experience in these matters than she did, although she feared he was only trying to reassure her. "Can I stay?" she finally asked. She would not be able to sleep until Michael was safely back at the villa and she had no intention of going back to her room.
He smiled and motioned her to make herself comfortable. She found an armchair in the opposite corner of the room and sat down.
The twenty minutes it took Lucian and Ty to reach the church passed slowly and quietly. When Christopher's mobile phone rang, everyone straightened up in the chairs where they were sitting. The leader of the pack listened in silence, but Alex was not unaware of the emotions that flitted across his face. Anger and concern. "Come back."
"Michael and Andy are not there. Both of their phones were destroyed, but the GPS on Andy's was saved. They found narcotizing bullets."
"Bloody bastards! A trap!" Leon's voice broke the silence that had fallen at that announcement.
"We will find them."
"How did they get them?" Alex's voice was cold, like the chill that had descended on her.
"They used a decoy." Christopher approached her. "You'd better go and rest now. When I have news I will let you know."
Alex stood up. "I will not stay and wait."
"There is nothing you can do."
"Why am I only human?" His voice overflowed with anger. "I do not have your strength, but I know this city. I want to help."
He shook his head and raised a hand.
Alex retreated a step. "Don't even think of using your powers on me!"
Christopher lowered his arm. "You would only be in our way."
Alex quivered. "Let me at least stay. Let me know what is happening."
The confrontation lasted a few minutes, finally Christopher nodded. "He's fine."