The waiting room reminded me of the office of a wealthy lawyer, including a water wall cascading into a fish pond. Sanders perked his ears forward, tugging at his leash so he could have a look. Small koi swam lazily in the crystal clear waters.
“Do you have an appointment?” the young woman behind the tall oak desk asked.
“No. We’re here to pick up Charles Desmond, his Third, and Alex Murphy,” Wendy announced.
“I’m sorry, but I haven’t been given authorization for that,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at us. “No authorization, no release. May I ask who is inquiring?”
Pulling out my phone, I dialed the Shadow Pope’s number from memory. With a triumphant huff at having figured out how to operate my cell, I held it to my ear.
“How may I direct your call?”
“Topside, please. It’s Mrs. Sanders from Seattle’s pack,” I replied, meeting the woman’s glare.
I counted my way up to twenty. The Shadow Pope answered, “Good afternoon, Sara. I hear you’ve been busy. What can I do for you?”
“Someone at a desk in some warehouse just told Wendy she can’t pick up her mate and son-in-law and that I can’t pick up Joseph. I thought I’d call before there was bloodshed.”
Both Richard and Sanders growled, and judging from the intake of breath, the Shadow Pope heard them. “I see. Who do you have playing bully for you?”
“Two cranky Alphas, sir. Two very, very cranky Alphas. While I’m holding their leashes, they could probably rip them out of my hands if they decided to.”
He laughed. “Give the secretary your phone, please. I’ll authorize their release so you won’t have to feed any Inquisitors to your Alphas. And yes, I’ll also authorize Joseph’s release. Very good work recovering them. I was quite pleased when Desmond informed me they were in your custody. Please thank the other ladies as well.”
I held the phone out to Wendy. “Give it to the nice secretary so we can bust them out of this joint.”
Obeying, Wendy handed the phone over, though she growled as she did so.
The conversation took less than two minutes, and grimacing, the secretary offered Wendy my phone. “Please come this way, Mrs. Desmond. Is one of you Mrs. Murphy?”
Lisa raised her left hand; her right twitched near her concealed holster.
“No murders,” Wendy murmured to her younger daughter. “Let’s go see your father and take them home. Hopefully, this time there are no surprises waiting for anyone.”
We were escorted into the warehouse, down a flight of stairs, and to a corridor lined with doors, which reminded me of a hotel. I came down the steps last, hanging back to make sure Sanders and Richard had enough space to navigate the stairwell without plowing someone over.
The stench of silver hung in the air, burning my nose and worrying a whine out of my wolf. I balked at the bottom of the staircase, and Richard and Sanders tugged at their leashes before halting and regarding me with tilted heads.
The others left me behind.
While there was nothing obviously amiss about the numbered doors, I froze in place, shivering as a sense of dread cramped my stomach. The place reminded me of Kent’s basement with its concrete floors. Although I couldn’t see any silver, the memory of chains dangling from the ceiling to cage me in slammed into me with the force of a fist to my gut.
Kent had done that, too, and I remembered falling against him, gasping for breath as he punished me for defying him.
Chattering among themselves, Wendy and the others vanished down another hallway, leaving me alone at the bottom of the stairwell. Sanders whined, licking at my hand.
“I’m okay,” I choked out, and the sour stench of my lie mingled with the acrid bite of the silver in the air.
Both Alphas glared at me.
I backed onto the landing at the bottom of the staircase, my heels bumping into the steps. I made it up three, coming to a halt when Sanders braced his legs and refused to budge a single inch.
My phone rang, but my hands were shaking so much I dropped it. The device hit the floor, and a web of cracks spread across the screen. “S-sorry.”
Sighing, my mate lunged at me, stood on his hind legs, and pressed his front paws to my shoulders, shoving me back. I slumped to the stairs, grabbing hold of his scruff to break my fall, only to pull him down on top of me. Burying my face in his fur, I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe.
Kent was dead, and I wasn’t a captive. I kept telling myself that, but no matter how many times I repeated it, all I remembered was the brush of tiny chains burning my skin, drifting unseen in the dark water filling my lungs.
A wolf howled, and I couldn’t tell if I heard it in my head, my ears, or if it came from me.
Someone touched my shoulder, and the smothering fear eased, replaced by the warmth of affection. No one spoke—or, if they did, I couldn’t hear them through the rushing in my ears, which was accompanied by the lingering pain of my healing eardrums.
Sanders shifted his weight, and the terror of being left alone enveloped me. I tightened my hold on his fur.
The pain of a rebuking nip at my throat quieted the noise in my head and ears.
“Sara, don’t choke your mate,” Desmond said, and while his voice was soft, the weight of his presence cut through the noise in my ears and head. “Loosen your hold. He needs to breathe.”
I didn’t want to let my mate go, but my hands obeyed my Alpha’s command. A whine burst out of me.
“He’s not going anywhere, Sara, not with you clinging to him like a burr. Take deep breaths. There’s nothing to be afraid of. If anyone tries to hurt you, Sanders will rip them to pieces. Richard and I will as well. Surely we three are capable of protecting you. It’s all over. You have nothing to fear.”
My mate matched my whines, and his nose was cold against my throat.
I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat clenched and cut off my breath. Shuddering, I secured my hold on Sanders, though I was careful not to strangle him.
I became aware of the murmur of conversation around me, but my concentration faltered, and the stench of silver once again filled my nose.
Something cold and wet splashed my face, streaming down the front of my shirt, and with a startled cry, I recoiled. Ice cubes lodged in my clothes, and the intense cold sent shudders rippling through me. At some point, I had lost my hold on my mate, and my panic once again surged.
I opened my eyes.
Desmond captured my wrists in one of his hands. With the other, he took hold of my chin, turning my head so I was forced to face him.
“Sara, look at me,” he ordered, and unable to resist his command, I met his gaze. “Is it the silver?”
I shuddered, and once again, I hung helpless in a curtaining cage of the bright metal.
“Alex, carry her up the stairs. I’ll keep hold of her hands in case she struggles,” Desmond said, and his hold on my wrists tightened. “Sara, just keep looking at me. Deep breaths. The silver is in the walls. It can’t burn you, not unless you decide to go digging to reach it.”
While I was aware of Desmond ordering Alex to pick me up, the feel of his hands on my back made my skin crawl, and in my panic to escape his touch, I threw myself at my Alpha. With a startled curse, he let go of my wrists, caught hold of me, and tumbled backwards. We didn’t have far to fall, but the thud of impact drove the breath out of my lungs. Desmond grunted and lost his grip on me.
Gasping, I scrambled upright and made it two steps before colliding with Sanders, who captured me in his arms. He wore a bathrobe, which reeked of bleach. “Easy, Sara. I’ve got you,” he murmured, working his hands through my hair to secure a hold on the back of my head, pressing my face against his shoulder and neck. “You okay, Desmond?”
“If your mate invites you to meet her in a stairwell, decline,” was Desmond’s surly reply. “I’ll live.”
Through the bleach clinging to the scratchy bathrobe, I could smell my mate’s worry tainting the sweetness of his cinnamon scent. Sanders said something to me, but the deafening rush in my ears swept his words away. With him so close to me, I couldn’t smell the silver. My breath left me in a sigh, and like a puppet with all of its strings cut, the tension flowed out of me, and I slumped bonelessly against him.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
A scent reminiscent of cracked eggs left to rot in the sun woke me, and I flailed to escape it. I gagged and shuddered as my stomach churned. Someone held me in place, and for a horrifying moment, I thought I was going to vomit. Everything spun around me, and I clenched my eyes closed.
“I think she’s awake,” Sanders announced in a rueful tone. “Please take that away before she throws up on me. Hell, take it away before I throw up on her. That stuff is vile, Desmond.”
“Make the ride stop. I want to get off,” I groaned, and instead of lashing out like I intended, my arm flopped onto a soft cushion. The plush texture distracted me, and I cracked open an eye.
Desmond knelt beside me holding a small jar, which was the source of the putrid smell. Shaking his head with a smile, he capped it and set it aside. “I told you it’d wake her up. You fainted, Sara.”
I stiffened at the memory of the choking fear and stench of silver.
“It’s okay, Sara,” Sanders said, massaging the side of my throat with his thumb. A pleasant tingle swept through me, and I relaxed under the influence of his touch. “If I had known the outpost would scare you, I never would have let you go down there. I’m so sorry.”
“There’s silver in the walls to help contain Fenerec lacking control, Sara. Unless you are in one of the suites and tried to break out, the silver can’t harm you,” Desmond said. “It’s obnoxious and a bit uncomfortable, but otherwise harmless.”
Wendy stepped into the living room from the kitchen and hovered behind her mate. “It’s my fault. I should have remember she’s never been in the holding wing of an outpost before. I’m the one who is sorry.”
I heard the frustration in Desmond’s sigh. “Will the two of you please cease trying to accept responsibility? You’re going to drive me insane. I already sent both of my whining daughters to their rooms for doing that. Please stop.”
“Liar,” I accused, and after a frightening amount of effort, I reached over and pressed the tip of my finger to Desmond’s nose. “They shoot people or zap them or something. They don’t whine.”
Desmond growled and seized my finger between his teeth.
I tried to pull free, but he bit down hard enough I yelped. “Get it off, get it off!”
After a long growl, Desmond released me. Taking hold of my hand, my mate wiped my finger off on the couch. “That’s disgusting, Desmond. You got slobber on my mate. I’m going to have to decontaminate her now.”
Wendy giggled. “That’s not nice.”
“Neither is biting.”
“She shouldn’t have put her fingers in my face.”
“Wendy, please housebreak your mate.”
“He breaks enough things; he doesn’t need to break the house, too.” Laughing, Wendy sat beside me, rubbing my back. “Are you feeling better now? We were worried when you wouldn’t wake up. Charles thought it’d be best if we got you away from the silver, seeing how young of a puppy you are.”
“I think so,” I mumbled, my face heating up from my embarrassment. “Sorry.”
“You’re not the first puppy to panic when introduced to the holding wing. You won’t be the last,” she replied with a faint smile. “All new Fenerec Inquisitors spend a week in one to get used to it, though usually they’re at least a year old before they’re subjected to it. All things considered, I think we’ll insist that you don’t have a week-long vacation until after your puppy is at least a year old. I’ll be happy to help Sanders watch your little one while you’re doing your time. It’s really not that bad, especially if you like reading or quietly relaxing.”
I rolled over onto my back, staring up at my mate. “There’s too much silver there. I don’t want to. You’re a big, strong, manly Alpha. Tell them no.”
He smiled down at me, brushing my cheek with the back of his hand. “When the time comes, I will give His Eminence a call and point out you’ve spent enough time caged in silver to last a lifetime. We’ll fight bitterly, I’ll lose and annoy him. In a terrible turn of events, I’ll be forced to spend an entire week in confinement with you. I’m sure I can think of something we can do to fill the time.”