Wolf, en Garde

Chapter 1: Washington, DC For all the times Lyle had ever included the words “teeming with” in a thought or statement—which, when he considered it, were actually few and far between—none had been as accurate as his thought that the airport was teeming with people. From the smallest shrieking infant to the tallest ear-budded man, from the casual vacationer in their comfy travel clothes to the business people in their suits and skirts, every shape, size, and ethnicity was represented. It was the largest, loudest, most chaotic group of people that Lyle had ever been part of in his life. And it was f*****g amazing. He’d felt the buzz of the terminal before he’d been halfway across the jet bridge that brought him from the small plane that had carried him, his father, his siblings, and Randy, his father’s—partner, Lyle thought, and instantly diminished the word to friend—from the airport in Casper to their current stop in Denver. They wouldn’t be there for long, a mere hour before they’d step back onto a (hopefully) much bigger plane and finish their journey up to DC, and Lyle intended to enjoy every single second of it. The smells were intense and copious: hormones heavy with fear, anxiety, grief, and excitement; fast food, restaurant food, alcohol; cologne over sweat and perfume over fabric softeners. If he could have done it without consequence, Lyle would have forced himself into a shift right then and there. The thought of experiencing all those scents with a nose more educated than the one he wore at that moment was almost too seductive. His father wasn’t doing quite so well, which meant that, through proximity alone, neither was Randy. That fact was more amusing than it probably should have been, though Lyle was doing his best not to let his amusement show. His father, Vaughn, wouldn’t be impressed in the least if Lyle made those feelings obvious. Respect and subservience to the normal majority of their world was not just expected, it was insisted upon—to the point that when Lyle had wandered a little too deep into instinctual territory over dominating those around him, Lyle had been shipped off and brainwashed by the f*****g committee until he’d sworn up and down that he was wrong and was going to live within their rules. It had been a bullshit season for Lyle, that winter and early spring he’d spent in the clutches of the GDBCG (the Genetics Development and Biological Connectivity Group, who worked for the Committee with respect to research and rehabilitation), and Lyle had no intention of ending back there. Besides, the next time it might not just be a few months of parroting back rules and expectations. Next time, they just might decide Lyle wasn’t worth the effort and put a bullet in his head. They could do it, too. Without anybody ever lifting an eyebrow over what had happened. The door to the family washroom that Randy and his father had disappeared into with both kids in tow (to the utmost horror of both kids, who were, according to his sister Hannah, way too old to have washroom escorts), finally swung open. Randy stepped out first with Hannah in his arms, and Vaughn followed with his hand gripping Isaac’s as though someone or something was lurking within snatch-and-grab range. Those kinds of fears always made Lyle grin, even if most of the time he had to force himself to keep those grins internal. Neither Lyle nor his father would have any trouble chasing down a mere man, even in unturned form. Besides, Isaac and Hannah were no ordinary kids. At least, Lyle hoped they weren’t. Only time would tell. Theirs was not a gift that automatically got passed down to the next generation. More often than not, it ended up skipping one or two, and lately it seemed even that was becoming rare. As Vaughn was also a shifter, Lyle had been an oddity among rarities. At least, that’s what they’d told Lyle back in the GDBCG. Lyle wasn’t buying what they were selling, though. He was pretty sure the family trait had more to do with the fact that his mother had also been of the same…well, they’d want him to think ‘affliction.’ Problem. Issue. Curse. They’d never be able to convince him it wasn’t a blessing, though. And even in the GDBCG, there’d been the few behind closed doors that agreed with him. “You don’t know how lucky you are,” the one counselor had said. “This thing you have, I mean, my God! The power…the freedom! I wish…I would…” She’d bitten her lip and stared for a long second. “Well, let’s just say you might be surprised by the things I would do for you if you asked…” After she’d spoken, they’d been stuck in a moment of silence—a single, solitary minute when Lyle hadn’t been agreeing or nodding or making an effort to show that these people knew everything and he was nothing but an i***t, and the counselor had given him one of her looks. It was an expression that said she really was open to anything he’d be up for. Anything at all, even it if meant going against the things that damn committee was trying to get him to bow to. If he’d actually been the creep they’d been trying to convince him that he was working at becoming, he’d have taken her up on the offer. Worship me, he could have said. Bow the f**k down to me and suck my c**k. After all, weren’t s*x and domination what all those holier-than-thou wise men seemed to think everything had been about? He hadn’t, though. He’d let the moment pass as if it had never existed, and before long, they were back into their games of brainwashing the “aggressive” wolf before he got himself out of control and wrecked everything. Before Randy and Lyle’s father reached the carpeted area of their gate where Lyle already sat with his legs stretched out and slumped in one of the surprisingly comfortable chairs, they stopped, speaking briefly. Vaughn branched off to the row of shops that lined the corridor leading to the gate. Then it was only Randy and Hannah coming toward him, and Lyle groaned. There was a pleasant smile on Randy’s face, but a noticeable tension in the way Randy walked, as there always, always was any time Randy deemed a conversation with him to be necessary. A person might almost think it was a bad idea to turn into a wolf in front of somebody these days. Like there was some kind of problem with sprouting teeth and fur. Lyle snorted at his thought and turned to face the window in case he was unable to stop a grin from lighting on his face. He didn’t have to be told when Randy was close. He’d know that scent anywhere. Even after all these months it was still there, teasing him, poking at him, reminding Lyle that he’d f****d up and let Vaughn win. Taunting Lyle with the confirmation that Randy had chosen Vaughn over him and never looked back to wonder if was the correct decision. “Your dad’s going to grab a round of drinks,” Randy said, and Lyle heard him set Hannah into a seat and then flop into one himself. “Which means more washroom breaks on the plane. I sure the hell hope we all get put together this time. If I have to listen to your dad freak out over how long one of them has been in the damn washroom, I’m going to pop something.” Lyle turned his head, flashed a glance at Randy, and arched an eyebrow. As if reading the look for what it was, Randy grinned. “I mean pop something in my own head, smart ass, not pop your father. Not even airport rage can make me that foolish.” Lyle didn’t bother with a reply. He didn’t even work up a smile. If he got in trouble for his lack of social skills later, he’d blame it on exhaustion. His dad would totally buy that as a fair reason. Vaughn, after all, had been tense as f**k and damn near ready to pull out every hair since they’d first arrived at the airport in Casper. “You know me, I don’t much care for crowds,” his father had said as the five of them had walked through the all but barren corridors and made their way past the coffee shops and the convenience stores that made up Casper’s commerce. Lyle hadn’t been able to hold back his grin then. Not when the look that Randy had cast at Lyle had most clearly been a look of ‘we’re totally f****d when we get to Denver, you know that, right?’ It had been foreshadowing that none of them were surprised by. His dad really didn’t like crowds, was far too protective of his family, and had a sincere hate-on for any moment whereby he didn’t have the utmost control (in Lyle’s opinion, anyway). Randy’s voice broke through Lyle’s thoughts. “Cool story for you, Lyle.” Courtesy insisted that Lyle turn toward that voice, as much as he hated to do so. Randy leaned back in his seat, turned his head to check on Hannah and then adjusted her against him when he saw she was nodding off. “Did you know that this airport is rumored to be the headquarters of some huge conspiracy? Some say it’s governmental, that there’s this secret lab or testing facility on the property, but some people believe it goes much higher than that. We’re talking Illuminati or Neo-Nazi. A New World Order kind of thing.” Lyle rolled his eyes and looked down the corridor to see if his father was approaching. And I would want to know this why? “It has a lot to do with the layout of the buildings and the runways. Imaginative minds say it’s been designed to represent a swastika when viewed aerially.” Randy waved his arms in the general direction of everywhere. “And then there’s the artwork, of course: the gargoyles, those odd Tanguma paintings. Remember the one of the soldiers that Isaac was staring at? Oh, and hey, did you know that the blue mustang sculpture caused the death of the artist that created it? Crushed the poor bastard in his own studio or something. His sons had to finish the piece. That’s kind of freaky, isn’t it?” “They teach you that in law school?” Lyle deadpanned. Randy shrugged. “I pick things up. I like to read. But wait, it gets better,” Randy promised, leaning forward with a grin. “There’s a plaque mounted on a time capsule with an inscription about contributors to a New World Airport Commission that, supposedly, doesn’t even exist as an actual entity. Dun-dun-dun!” Randy sang, grinning and narrowing his eyes. “Oh! I almost forgot the best part! Underground, like, under the airport, they’ve got this half-finished conveyor system. Think big rough tunnels with machinery and low lighting.” He gestured elaborately with both arms. “If that’s not enough to inspire some weird-ass fiction posing as theories, then I don’t know what is.” “People can make up a lot of stories about things they don’t understand,” Lyle said, shifting in his seat to stare Randy down. “You should know that by now. Or do I have to remind you about all the movies with their versions of the big bad wolf?” The amusement drained out of Randy’s face so quickly that Lyle wondered if it had been there for real. “I’m trying to be nice here, Lyle. Can we not just have a nice conversation? We’re going on vacation—” “We’re going to DC to visit your parents,” Lyle said, rolling his eyes. “That’s hardly a vacation.” “—as a family,” Randy continued as though Lyle hadn’t spoken. “We’re all tired, and we’re all cranky—” Lyle smiled with his teeth. “I’m not tired in the least. Or cranky.” “—so could we try to get along? Just for a little while? Could we try a little family cheer, maybe? If not for me, then for your father and your siblings?” Randy’s patience was wearing thin. Lyle could hear it in his voice. And wasn’t that just too damn bad? “We have plenty of family cheer,” Lyle said. He let his smile drop. “But you’re not family.” Randy’s expression hardened. “That was uncalled for.” Lyle shrugged, but as he spoke, he cast his gaze at Hannah to make sure she couldn’t hear. Not so much for the fact that he’d get s**t for saying it, because if Randy wanted to, Randy could make that happen regardless. But some things shouldn’t be heard by little ears. “No more uncalled-for than the fact that you’re sleeping with my father when we both know you would rather be with me.” All the fight went out of Randy’s body—everything from expression to posture. “Have we not been through this enough? It’s been almost three goddamn years. How many times am I going to have to tell you that I’m not interested in you like that? For one thing, you’re way too young—” Lyle swung in his seat so fast that he almost knocked himself out of it. “I’m not eighteen anymore, Randy. I’m twenty-one. So give it up with the age bull—” “And I am in love with Vaughn.” Randy said it the exact same way he always said it. Firm voice, pointed stare, and set jaw. It was an obvious truth, and yet it didn’t matter how many times Lyle heard it, the words burned. “I hate this,” Randy shook his head and lowered his gaze. “I hate when you do this. You force me to say the same s**t over and over again and then when I do, you make it seem like I’ve stabbed you in the chest.” Randy lifted his hand as if to touch that chest, and something deep inside Lyle’s guts fluttered into life. “Tell me the two of you aren’t arguing.” Lyle jumped, Randy dropped his hand, and they both turned toward the voice. Vaughn stood in front of the row of chairs, balancing a tray of fountain drinks in one hand, and gripping what appeared to be a new novel in the other. He frowned at Lyle, looking ready to take down mountain lions with his bare hands. “Seriously,” Vaughn growled, “I cannot even begin to put to words how badly I would manage any bullshit from the two of you right now.” He words made it seem as if he was speaking to both of them, but his eyes never left Lyle’s face. “We absolutely were not.” Randy rested his hand on Vaughn’s forearm and smiled, brilliantly. “I was just telling Lyle about all the weird ideas people have about this airport.” He turned to Lyle and caught Lyle’s gaze. “Right?” There was a lump in Lyle’s throat that was almost impossible to swallow, but he forced words around it, and even managed to prop his lips into a smile. “You bet.” Lyle nodded, and reached for one of the paper cups. “People are nuts, aren’t they?” “You got that right,” Vaughn grumbled. “But in a place like this, you can hardly blame them. I never did have much of an appetite for airports.” “Or people in general,” Randy teased. The two men smiled at each other, and while Vaughn passed out drinks and Isaac took a seat beside the dozing Hannah, Lyle pulled out his iPhone and shoved his ear buds in place. He didn’t need to turn on the music; the illusion of being absorbed in something other than conversation was enough.