I took all of my raiders to the valley. I didn't need them all, of course, but no one wanted to be left out. It was tricky enough convincing the raiding teams that I didn't play favourites without excluding some of them from the outing of the summer.
I also took my mate. She had decided to stay the night at Lle o Dristwch, so she had filched my mattress and sleeping bag and I had slept in wolf form for a second night running. This time, I had slept beside her, close enough that she could rest a hand on the scruff of my neck. Come the morning, she had been determined to tag along, and I didn't see any reason why not.
And I took Dafydd, against my better judgement. He was very ill by then — scarcely able to walk, but he insisted. Tom was driving him, but the rest of us were walking. It was late evening, the light beginning to fade, and we were all being led by some fourteen-year-old scout who swore up and down she knew where the Alpha King was buried.
So far, the direction we were walking was identical to the route I would take to the valley. It was getting harder to deny that our destination might be Jess's reading spot. I was just finding it hard to believe that I had been sitting on my great-grandfather's bones all this time.
"You're American, aren't you?" I asked Makayla suddenly. She didn't have a strong accent, but there were occasional words that came out pitched wrong.
"Yeah," she told me, shrugging. "Jaz too."
"How did you end up here, then?"
She gave me a wonky grin. "We were wanted for all sorts of shit in California, so we moved to the east coast. Got into trouble there, too, so it was off to Canada. When they got sick of us, we tried the Dales and the Lake District. There's a bunch of packs over there, and they weren't friendly, so we came here. And I reckon we'll move on again before long, but this place has been my favourite since Yosemite."
"The English packs are shitheads," I agreed. We had spent most of the last millennium at war with them, but these days they were too busy fighting amongst themselves to trouble us. "But I don't know jack about the States. What's it like over there?"
"Different," Makayla assured me. "There are bear shifters — black bears, the little ones, mind. And a few mountain lions, jaguars, etcetera. The cats keep their distance, but the bears are always picking fights."
I could have guessed about the bears and the mountain lions. Any country with a predator roughly human-sized seemed to have shifters. I had no idea where the Shadowcats had come from, because their species was extinct everywhere except Anglesey, but the middle east would be a good bet, because most of them had dark hair and olive complexions.
"Wolves have run of Yosemite, Yellowstone, Mount Ranier, Glacier and Denali," she went on, "but half of that land is overrun with lupes."
"What the hell are lupes?" I asked.
She frowned. "Lupes. Lupines, you know?"
I only shook my head. Unless she meant actual wolves, I didn't have a clue.
"Well, we were born and raised human," she said slowly. "Our human side learns to control the shift — we are primarily human. We're lycans. But there's another type of werewolf. Their wolves are in charge, so they live like wolves. And that's the lupes."
"And they're just born that way?" Eira asked.
"No. Some lycans can become lupes and some lupes can become lycans. It just depends who gets the hang of shifting first. The socialisation in the first ten years or so makes a huge difference, so you guys don't get many lupes here, but—"
"There are exceptions," Jaz finished. "Dafydd has a few stories about wolves in human bodies trying to live amongst us. And failing, usually."
"Lupes are peaceful enough when they're left alone," Makayla agreed, "but things go hella wrong if they spend too long in human form. Same way we get unpredictable when we spend too long as wolves."
"Huh," I muttered.
The scout who was leading us turned around and caught my eye. "There's a river behind the hazels. Just follow it until you see the standing stones."
Well, there was no denying it anymore. Vik and Ivan were holding their little meeting in our valley. In a way, that gave me the advantage, because I knew the terrain very well. It didn't outweigh the annoyance that flockies were treading on our soil — hypocritical, I know.
"Thanks," I told her. "You can go back or stay with us. Your choice."
The girl nodded. I knew she would stay. She'd been making eyes at Mort the whole walk, and he'd done nothing to discourage her. He was walking with Kaitlyn: they had been hanging out since she'd started training with us, and she'd proved herself a very capable wing-woman.
So the scout dropped back to join them, and I stopped to wait for Jess. She had been deep in conversation with Lee, the two of them ribbing each other like old friends, but I didn't doubt she had recognised our surroundings.
"This is where we split," I announced. "Ian, Hannah, Stevie and Ewan stay here. Get pissed if you want, so long as you can fight come midnight. And no fires. Lee and Jaz are with me."
"Aye, aye, sir," Ian answered in a booming voice, and laughter echoed him. The group began to split, slowly and messily, with every raider moving towards their leader. I was left with about twenty-five shifters. The pack wolves would outnumber us, but that wouldn't matter.
Jess had reached my side by then. She was standing closer than she needed to, which was probably a good sign. "I didn't realise we were coming here."
"Neither did I," I told her.
She leaned into me, her head resting against my shoulder. "Are you going to fight them?"
"Only if they make me."
We had come prepared for a fight but not looking for one. Eira had her armour stashed in Tom's car, we were all wearing loose clothes in case we had to shift suddenly, and everyone had their knife. Well ... everyone except Jess, and perhaps that was an oversight.
I pressed the handle of my knife into her hand, and she raised an eyebrow.
"That's for you. Just in case," I muttered. "And we'd better disguise your scent, because I wouldn't put it past Ivan Lloyd to snitch on you."
Jess took the blade hesitantly, tucking it into her back pocket. "Now you don't have a knife. I don't want you getting stabbed again."
"Eira has a spare..." I let the sentence dangle in the hope she might take the hint, but my sister was daydreaming, and I had to nudge her and ask for it directly. She was smirking when she handed it over: the handle was worn and the blade was nicked. But it was sharp, and that was really the only quality I looked for in a knife.
"Okay," Jess said. "But how do I fix my scent? Most of us can't turn that shit off, y'know."
She stank of Silver Lake. Ivan would notice, and he would probably tell Vaughan that one of his pack members was running around with Llewellyns, and then everything would go to shit. I took off my jacket and held it out.
"Sorry. It would also help if we, um—"
"If we what?" she demanded, eyes wide.
I choked. "No. No. I was going to say hug. The other thing would work, too, but that's not... No."
Jess took the jacket slowly. She seemed reassured, but the bond between us was suddenly taunt. That caught my bastard of a wolf's attention, naturally, and I could feel her wolf stirring to answer him.
"Shit, you two are weird," Eira muttered. She hugged Jess from behind, squeezing too tight and nearly knocking her over in the process. "There, have some rogue perfume."
Then, of course, Makayla and Jaz decided to weigh in, and my mate was soon half-buried under a crowd of laughing rogues. The males kept their distance because they could feel my wolf warning them off. If Jess noticed the gender bias, she didn't say anything.
When they finally released her, she put the jacket on. It reached halfway down her thighs. She didn't seem to mind — quite the opposite, actually.
"Won't you be cold?" she asked me.
"You can keep me warm," I told her, slipping my arm around her and pulling her closer. Even from so close, I could smell nothing except rogue and the curry we'd eaten for lunch. She'd be fine. The Lloyds would have their mates with them, too, so they wouldn't risk picking on mine.
We resumed walking, leaving the four raiding teams to cause havoc. I followed the trail along the river bank, not because it was the fastest or easiest route but because I wanted the twenty-five pairs of boots behind me to break it into a proper path so I wouldn't have to fight the brambles next time. Within fifteen minutes, we were peering at the standing stones through the trees.
It was packed. Ivan had brought a score of fighters and their mates, and Vik had brought nearly half his pack. Shadowless had been steadily gaining members — emigrants from other packs or rogues looking to settle, mostly — but they only had about sixty people so far. Most of the flockies were drinking, and they were making an awful lot of noise.
I could see the two Alphas in the very centre of things. They were sat on a fallen stone, side by side, with drinks in their hands. Vik had Lexi on his lap. Unfortunately, neither of them looked very drunk, but they weren't paying attention to their surroundings either. No sentries, no lookouts: the arrogance of flockies would never cease to amaze me.
I beckoned Mort and the two girls forwards. When they got close enough, I mussed up his hair and whispered, "You can start looking now. I want to know where they are and the number of guards. And if you're seen, the game's up, so tread carefully."
"Got it," Mort told me.
"Spread out a bit," I whispered to the others. Tom and Dafydd had found us, the old man leaning on his grandson. They were beside me, along with Lee, Eira and Jess. The raiders spread themselves thinner through the trees without making a sound. "And remember — we ain't here to fight. If you throw the first punch, I'll be throwing some at you."
They didn't argue outright, which I took for assent. I would have to trust Jaz and Lee to keep their raiders in line, because I couldn't watch everyone at once and, besides, I would be busy dealing with the Lloyds. Satisfied, I started walking towards the gathering. The line moved with me.
It was impossible to know which of the flockies saw us first. One moment they were enjoying themselves, and the next they were scrambling backwards, into the stone circle, shouting bloody murder. Some of them shifted on the spot.
"Nice party," Eira drawled. "Mind if we crash?"
Ivan and Vik were on their feet. They stared at the intruders, recognised us, then exchanged a wary look. My eyes fixed on Kat, who was standing behind her mate and grinning at me. At least someone was glad to see us.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Llewellyn?" Vik demanded. Lexi had put herself in front of him to stop him doing anything stupid, and I made sure to nod her a thank you.
The words were directed at me and not Eira, which was a dangerous mistake on his part, but I did answer, "Caradoc was my great-grandpa, too. I assume our invite got lost in the mail?"
Vik spat on the ground. "You can all get bloody lost."
"Nah," Eira laughed. "Not until we've had some fun."
"Fun? You're outnumbered two to one," Ivan said suddenly, taking a step forwards to stand beside his brother. They looked so eerily alike with their jet-black hair and tan skin. "What makes you think we won't just kill you all here and now?"
Lee threw me a questioning look. He would like to know the answer, too. I could feel the weight of dozens of pairs of eyes on me, rogue and packling alike, because they all wanted a damn good reason why they shouldn't kill each other.
"Actually, we're even," I corrected, "because Vik isn't going to choose between his brother and his mate."
We had Lexi's grandfather and brother with us, after all. If they got killed in the crossfire, I wasn't sure Lexi would ever forgive him. And, if the scowl on Vik's face was any indication, neither was he. And it wasn't just him. Half of the raiders with me had fought alongside Shadowless for weeks, and some of them were friends.
Ivan looked at Vik, who shrugged helplessly. I could see the ruthless calculation in both of their eyes. Obviously, if a fight started, Shadowless were not just going to sit on their asses. It was a little harder to predict what they would do — break us apart or pick sides individually. Ivan Lloyd was trying to work out if he could beat my twenty-five raiders with his pack members alone. It was possible, but not without taking heavy losses, and New Dawn didn't have many fighters to spare.
"You're counting wrong," I told Ivan. "I have fourteen men, yeah, but I've also got eleven girls and every single one of them could rip your lungs out. Your odds are shit, so you'd do better to shut the hell up and tolerate us for an hour or two."
And, then, without giving him any time to argue, I nodded at my raiders and they dispersed into the crowd. Some found spare bottles of alcohol and helped themselves, and some went to talk to friends from Shadowless, but most just huddled in small groups and eyed the packlings.
There wouldn't be a fight. Not until I was good and ready.