Chapter 2
Back in their condo, Briel distracted Fena by following through on the promise of a tent cave they made on the bed by tying the oversized bedspread to the tall pillars of the four-poster bed before crawling underneath.
In the dark, Briel held Fena close and tried to ignore the fear and uncertainty that swirled in her belly. It made her feel sick and scared, and she struggled to hide both because she knew if she was feeling these emotions, then Fena would be worse if she even suspected that Briel had no clue what she was doing. Warm breath fanned her cheek as Fena turned, blinking up at her in the cover of their “cave”.
“I wanna go home.”
Swallowing down the instant response of, ‘me too’, Briel tried to sound encouraging. “What? Aren’t you having fun? Look at all the things we got to do. We rode the metro and saw Union Station!”
Honestly, they hadn’t done much at all, because Briel was too afraid to be out in the open. The General had warned her that, if anything happened to him, people would come after her and Fena next. One of the downfalls of being his daughter, he’d joked. She hadn’t found it funny then and she certainly didn’t now.
The General. She ground her teeth against the memory of her father. They’d never gotten along, and in testament to her defiance, she’d never called him daddy, or father, or even Ben. No, he’d always been the General to her and she found it hard even now to muster any regret. By mere association, she and Fena were on the run. She grinned bitterly at the memory of his first warning of impending trouble, remembering how she’d argued that it was ridiculous.
“I don’t know you,” she snapped. “Yes, you’re my father, but you’ve never been there. Not growing up, not when mom died, not after. Even now all you’ve done is give me the lakeside estate, and only because you wanted me to raise Fena for you.”
She knew better than to expect shock, remorse, sadness, or any other emotion from her father. He wasn’t built like that. Expressionless, his eyes glinted with the only emotion she’d ever seen from him, that spark of annoyance that told her he’d had just about enough of her sass.
“I’m aware of my shortcomings, child.”
Child! Ugh! She hated how he called her that. She was twenty-nine years old for Christ’s sake!
“Do as I say, and everything will be fine.” He turned dismissively and strode to the door in that straight-backed fashion that spoke of too many years in the military.
Angry, Briel hurled at his back, “Fine? Fine! You’re talking about your own death and what we’re supposed to do after that! How would everything be fine? Do you even care about how Fena ends up?”
The General only looked over his shoulder with a bored expression. At least it was something. “Don’t be dramatic. She has you.”
“I’m her sister!” Briel jabbed a finger in his direction. She knew that, because she was a writer and worked from home, it made it easier for him to justify leaving Fena with her. “You’re her father. You’re the one who’s supposed to be there. She needs you, not me!”
His expression blanked and his cheek twitched just under his eye. It only ever did that when he thought of her, Fena and Briel’s mother. Quietly, he bit out, “It’s what she’d want.” He blinked and snapped back into his emotionless façade before commanding more firmly, “Do as I’ve said, Briel.”
Then he was gone, and Briel was left blinking back tears as she stared at the empty doorway.
That was how he’d said goodbye. He’d used her name for the first time in as long as she could remember, then left without so much as an ‘I love you’ or a kiss and admission of love for Fena.
With her mother gone, the General signed over the title of the family’s vacation home on Kingman Lake to Briel. It was an immaculate Estate with more rooms than Briel knew what to do with and a boat dock just out the grandiose double front doors. She’d only accepted because the place reminded her of her mother, and she couldn’t bear the thought of refusing the General and having him sell the place to someone else. Fena and the lake house were the only things the General had ever given her. Sure, he’d tried to indulge her by sending her money every month, but she’d never accepted a dime. She’d been determined to make her own way, and even when she struggled, she still refused his help.
The day she moved into the lake house, the General arrived with Fena in tow. He’d studied the boxes of Briel’s belongings in the foyer with an indifference that was irksome. But, when he made to leave without Fena, Briel had stopped him. Without so much as a glisten in his eyes, he informed her that he had no time nor means to raise a five-year-old girl. He’d waved to the house and offered, “Consider it a trade.” Then he’d left without even looking back. Poor Fena stared at the closed door and then up at Briel. It wasn’t a trade. Fena was worth so much more than some stupid-ass lake house.
The two had been together ever since, and while the General sent checks monthly for Fena’s care and keeping, Briel ripped up every single one. She’d keep the house, but the General could shove his child support up his ass! She and Fena got by on what Briel made from her writing, and it helped immensely that there was no mortgage to pay. Yeah, there were lean months when book sales weren’t so hot, but still she refused to accept any financial assistance from him. She was determined that they’d make it on their own.
“Sissy?”
Little hands grabbed both sides of her cheeks as her face was pulled until her nose was pressed against Fena’s.
“Sorry, Bubba. Guess I zoned out.”
“You’s always zoning.”
Fena rolled away to grab one of her dolls and Briel felt guilt bite hard. She needed to do better, and she vowed to. Once she got the money from Monroe, she’d take Fena as fast and as far as she could from Washington, DC with all its politics and plotting. With any luck, the men who’d killed her father would give up and wouldn’t look for them. Honestly, there was no reason to. She had no idea what her father could have been involved with that could have gotten him killed aside from those…Skin Walkers.
Just the thought of them sent chills blasting up her spine.
The General called her into his office one day, and it’d been so out of character that she’d hurried to Capitol Hill in record time. When she arrived, her father had secluded them in his office with almost paranoid care. It had scared her. Her father feared no man and no thing, but that day, he’d been different. He’d locked the door and unplugged his phone, his laptop, his computer. His e-pad and smartphone were taken to another room, and she’d watched as he’d circled the room pulling several small devices from under tables, lamp shades, and beneath window sills before crushing them under his scuff-free dress shoes. When he finally sat in the chair closest to her, he’d pulled her seat even closer and spoke almost too quietly.
At first, she’d thought he was lying. He told her of shapeshifters, and how they were gathering at secret locations. It sounded so damn ridiculous that she’d wanted to laugh, but she knew the General too well. He didn’t have time for stories and make believe. So instead of laughing, she nearly puked at the reality of what it all meant. He’d shown her video seized from the lab of what she could only assume was some military affiliate called the Megalya. The footage was shocking. There was a man being strapped down and tested on. He looked human enough, naked from his jean-clad hips and legs up except for a thin silver band around his throat. One of the male nurses, or technicians, or whatever in the hell they were, had failed to strap one of the man’s arms down securely. She’d watched in horror as that arm jerked free and changed right before her eyes. Claws shot through the tips of the man’s fingers and fur-covered muscles enlarged. He’d cut through the technician’s throat like a hot knife through butter before ripping himself free. Once he stood, his body broke and morphed into some sort of massive cat. It was like something from a sci-fi movie. The four other technicians were ripped apart in seconds before the beast changed back into a man and opened the door before stalking out and off camera.
As if that, hadn’t been startling enough, the General also informed her that he wanted to introduce her to someone. At first she’d balked, unsure why she—a regular citizen—should ever have access to this information, let alone be pulled into some covert meeting. But when the General wanted something to happen, it did. That night, she’d met a man. Monroe StoneCrow. She remembered thinking his name handsome and the man even more so. Monroe strode into the room exuding a predatory grace that made Briel instantly rethink her sudden crush on the him. His mere presence commanded respect, but something was different about him. Something felt very…off. She’d studied him quietly after she’d been introduced, and when her eyes landed on the thin silver band around his neck, she’d gasped and recoiled.
The primal glint in the arctic blue eyes that watched her over lips twisted into a smirk told her he knew that she knew exactly what he was.
In typical General fashion, her father dismissed her fear with an irritated wave of his hand, rattling off personal information regarding her and Fena to Monroe. At first she’d been appalled, arguing fiercely with her father. A lot of good it had done. As usual. Apparently, the two were working together against a common enemy, the Megalya she’d seen trying to hurt the man in the video. No, not a man. Skin Walkers, Monroe called them. Beings with the ability to shift to animal form at will. While the idea was fascinating, it was more terrifying than anything else. On the video, a Skin Walker had slaughtered four men in a matter of seconds, and a monster just like that one was standing within reach.
At the end of the meeting the General informed her that Monroe would be her contact if anything should happen. She’d resolved then and there to never contact the Skin Walker for anything. She’d been deeply offended that the General thought she’d simply trust a stranger, especially a stranger with the abilities this one had. Worse, she’d been so adamant in her stance against ever complying that she hadn’t paid enough attention to her father’s warning. A highly-decorated military General, her father was invincible in her eyes. It wasn’t until she’d seen the news coverage of his disappearance that she realized she’d made a grave mistake. A mistake she wouldn’t make again. Within the hour she and Fena were tucked into her car and barreling toward the metropolis of D.C. with plans of melting into the masses. She wasn’t a military mastermind like her father, but she knew enough to know they’d be safer in the city. The more people the better. She’d ditched her car, cell phone, and credit and debit cards. Luckily, she’d just gotten paid and had cashed her royalty check the day before, but that had been three months ago. Three months secluded in the hideaway the General had provided. While the pantry had been well stocked, she and Fena had gone through most of the canned goods and were now relying heavily on the boxes of MRE’s in the cupboards. It wasn’t ideal. Worse, the longer she stayed, the more she felt like the enemy was closing in. She didn’t know who or what to watch for, so she and Fena mostly stayed inside, but today she’d decided they needed to move. And to move, they needed money.
Leaning forward, she planted a kiss behind Fena’s ear and smiled when her sister giggled. Crawling out of the tent cave, she snagged the burner phone she’d bought with some of her rapidly dwindling cash from the bedside table. She didn’t use it for calls at all. Nope, internet only and even then she was cautious. She wished she’d listened more when her father droned on about technology and how easy it was to track people down. She was careful with her phone though, and was certain there would be no way for anyone to track her location even if she did log into the PayPal account she’d created to see if Monroe had wired her funds.
Shit! Still a zero balance, but she knew from sending funds to her editor that the transaction could take up to a few days. Deflated with the requirement to wait, she padded to the kitchen to pull out some of the hideous MRE’s. It wasn’t t-bones, but it’d do.