Series of Death, Draft 02, CH 55 (Patreon)

Trembor grabbed onto a conveyor as he tripped over one running at his feet again. At least this one hadn’t cut him.

He was lost. There was no denying it. What he should do was turn around and follow his scent back, but that way was Marlot.

You didn’t leave me any choice.

Marlot, and getting things his way all the time, no matter what others wanted. He growled to himself.

He banged his shoulder and cursed. Even now, alone, the wolf was the reason he was getting hurt. Trembor was surprised the wolf wasn’t on his tail, the light flashing between conveyors to tell everyone where he was—where was everyone?—but more likely he expected Trembor to be the one to come back, tail between his legs. Smirking as he waited for Trembor to beg for forgiveness.

He ducked under yet another conveyor. Either they were infinite, or he’d gotten himself going in circles. There was no way the building had been this large.

Why was he letting the wolf stop him from doing the smart thing? No, it wasn’t the wolf that kept him going; it was what he represented. The acknowledgment he’d made the same mistake he had all those years ago. Trusted a smile, a tender touch, an intoxicating scent. Marlot had drudged up memories of Gorrek, and now those memories wouldn’t leave him.

Maybe if he’d killed him back then, he’d have been able to put the memories away completely. Serene had advised him to do it, or let her do it on his behalf. Maybe he should look the male up now and do that. If he was even alive. There was no way he’d cowed every male he’d gotten involved with since then.

He banged his knee and cursed.

Then he cursed the wolf. Why had the wolf turned out to be an abuser? Why had he dug his claws in so deep?

Why was he back in the rows of shelving?

For a moment he thought he was among shelves in a different part of the complex, but he saw the flickering of lights from the windows of the raised office in the distance. Back where he started.

He cursed.

There had to be another place, this was just too obvious, but without a map of the building, he could walk around all day and not find where Bo was being held. The office was a trap, Trembor was certain of that, but it was also a place to start with.

On reaching the other end of the shelves, he stopped and checked around again for anyone waiting for him. The dock area was devoid of people. The question of where everyone was hiding was hounded by Marlot’s comment about this being the work of one person, a hunter no less.

It couldn’t be one person.

This was the work of an organization.

He growled and headed for the stairs. What did it matter who did this? In the end, so long as Bo was safe, he’d deal with those behind it afterward.

He checked the metal stairs, and they looked solid, no bolts removed or indications the struts had been weakened. He told himself he was paranoid, and then that he was justified. The people behind this had killed a cub to frame his brother. They could do anything. The person was still pacing, their shadow moving back and forth. This close he was confident it was a hare, one with a lame ear that flopped about as they turned.

He stayed below the windows as he reached the gangway and inched to the door. He wanted to look in, but the surprise was his only advantage. The hare wasn’t alone, Trembor was sure of that, there was no way they thought they could take on a lion with only one hare. And if Marlot was right, and he’d been brought in, then they wouldn’t have just one person waiting for them.

The walls were flimsy, a sense of privacy more than any security. whoever worked in that office didn’t worry about a disgruntled employee eating them. He put his shoulder to the door and anchored his feet. He’d have seconds to take down the hare so he could deal with whoever else was there.

He slammed the shoulder in and the door broke open. He pounced on the walking hare before the white-furred male could even slow his pace. They crashed down and Trembor had his claws embedded in the plastic neck before he realized something was wrong.

He was sitting on top of a white mannequin with long ears attached to the top of the head, one of which had partially broken off.

He looked around quickly, cursing himself for falling for a decoy, but there was no one else in the office to take advantage of it. Something bumped his feet, and he kicked out, sending a small motorized cart flying across the room to lands on its back, wheels turning. He noticed the track running the circuit before the windows he and the mannequin were lying before.

What was this?

The office had a bank of monitors opposite the windows visible from below. They were what caused the flickering as they switched from one view to another. He forgot about the mannequin and why this had been set up to attract his attention and headed for them. Security cameras meant he’d be able to find out where everyone was, where his brother was. This would let him turn the tables on those criminals.

The screens showed the inside and outside of the building; the images changing every few seconds. The first thing he noticed was that there were a lot of conveyor belts. Unless the cameras only showed that, it was what comprised most of the inside of the building.

He cursed and looked at the control. He thought one of the screens had shown the inside of a lit room with someone sitting in it, but before he focused on it, it was gone. He hadn’t even caught what camera identifier had been. Without knowing that, he had to wait for it to cycle through again. In the meantime, he searched for people through them.

And searched.

As far as the cameras showed, there was no one in the building.

“No,” he told himself. “They’re just hiding.” They knew where the cameras were and that he’d come up here so they were staying out of sight. But why make sure he’d come up here? So he’d see his brother was in trouble, of course.

On the sidewall, between two of the windows, he noticed a map and numbers on it. Matching one set to that of the image on a screen showing the loading doors, he decided they were where the cameras were located, so once he had his brother’s he’d know where to go.

His pad buzzed and when he saw his brother’s name on it, he hurried to answer. “Bo, are you okay?”

“RI Goldenmane,” a young-sounding voice answered, and Trembor cursed himself. Of course, it wouldn’t be his brother calling him. He’d been kidnapped. “It’s such a pleasure to take with you again. Our last meeting didn’t go as I’d hope, and I’m sorry for that.”

“Who is this?” It wasn’t the mole, but the voice seemed familiar.

The male sighed. “I guess we didn’t interact long enough. Let me try this.” The person who spoke was older. “Officer Goldenmane? I—I saw something. A body. No! I don’t want anything to do with it.” The male made the click sound of a kiosk disconnecting.

It was the word more than the voice that places it for Trembor. “You called in a body, called me directly, the coyote.” It was where he’d run into Marlot for the first time since returning. “You somehow got my direct number.”

“Time was of the essence,” the older male said, but his voice changed as he spoke, becoming younger. “RI Goldenmane, there’s a body in your territory.”

“Wait, that was dispatch calling me.”

The male chuckled. “It should be clear I am not part of your dispatch process, but I did not want the enforcers involved.” The voice now had an odd neutrality to it. This was one person talking, not the pad being passed around. “I couldn’t be sure the riot would be enough to keep your friends from assisting you if they were informed you had work to do. You have so many friends, Mister Goldenmane, and I needed this meeting to be intimate for it to have a chance of working.”

Trembor remembered mentioning the body to the officer he’d been talking to as a reason not to assist with the riot. This male had been lucky that hadn’t led to anyone joining him.

“Where is my brother?”

“Ah. He’s comfortable. I have no plans for him. He served his part. He got you here.”

“And why did you want me here?” Trembor growled in annoyance. He didn’t want to believe this was one male, but the voices, the timing. The bodies had been before Bo’s serious problems with the gambling house people. It was just him being in debt then. Could Marlot be right? One male, a hunter after him for some reason?

“Ah, I believe you misunderstand me. Not you, singular. You, plural.”

“What? You’re not making…” he trailed off as his blood ran cold. Marlot.

No, no, if this male had wanted to dangle Marlot before him, he would have used the wolf’s pad to call, not his brother. This was a… Only Trembor had blocked Marlot. The wolf could have hacked his way around it, if he’d really wanted to, but this male wouldn’t be able to, so…

Trembor’s blood boiled. “What have you down with Marlot?” he demanded.

“Finally, that is the tone of voice I was waiting for,” he said with satisfaction. “That controlled anger, ready to explode. Tap the F6 key.”

Trembor slammed his finger on it and all the screens turned off. Before he could demand anything they all came back on, but as one image, instead of multiple. That room he’d glimpsed, with Bo seated in a chair, head slumped forward. He cursed, but then searched the image, noting the camera identifier as a hare entered the scene, carrying Marlot over one shoulder.

The incongruity gave Trembor difficulty. How had a hare bested his wolf?

The hare turned and looked up at the camera, smiling as he dropped Marlot. Trembor wince at the pain that had to have caused.

“What did you do to him?” he demanded, nearly roaring the words.

The hare sighed and looked at the wolf. “What you should be more concerned about is what I will do to him, Mister Goldenmane. This was not supposed to be your duty, but the mission must adapt since this wolf has outlived his usefulness.”

“I will eat you,” Trembor growled, glaring at the image. “I will rip you apart if you so much as lay a claw on him, do you understand me? If you have hurt him, you better run, because I will make you suffer.”

“I do not run, Mister Goldenmane. And you have just stated how you can keep your wolf safe. He is yours, correct? Because I’m not certain I see a point in bothering with this if you aren’t even going to claim him.”

“Tell me where you’re hiding, and you will see what he means to me for the little time it takes me to rip your throat out.”

“Now, why would I make it that easy on you? No, if this wolf really means something to you, you’re going to be willing to work to save him. Everything you need to find him is where you are. Oh, but don’t take too long, I’ve been trying to get to this point for months now. My patience is running thin.”

The hare waved at the camera before the screens shut down.

“Come back!” he yelled in the pad, the other hand on the screen, wanting to touch his wolf.

“Tick Tock, Mister Goldenmane. Time is of the essence.” The call terminated.

What was that identifier? Trembor cursed as he contemplated punching the screens. He forced himself to calm down. He would rip the hare once he found him.

When he was confident he remembered the number, he located the camera on the map, inside a room on the other side of the building. Then Trembor was running.

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