"My Sentinel is currently high on a mix of cheese and carbohydrates," Ethan chummily told Gabriel.
"Respectfully, I'd ignore her if I were you."
"I'll leave that job to you. Perhaps we should get to the point?"
"Feel free."
Gabriel frowned, then crossed his right ankle over his left knee. "It might be best if I started at the beginning. Shifters are an independent bunch. I don't mean that we live a solitary existence—quite the opposite. We are organized into Packs, after all. But we tend to live in the margins of human society.
Vamps tend to think of us as a tent and Jeep crew, a hog and Harley crew, a rock 'n' roll and straight Jack Daniel's crew."
Although I'd heard that description, the only shifters I knew other than Gabe—Jeff Christopher, a shifter/computer genius and one of my grandfather's employees, and Chicago's Breckenridge family, who were as rich and well-heeled as they came—were exactly the opposite. On the other hand, the Brecks had tried to blackmail us. . . .
Gabriel shrugged, and his voice softened a bit. "That description isn't entirely untrue. And that means that from a temperament standpoint, Pack members are generally uninterested in humans, in other sups.
They aren't interested in strategy."
"What are they interested in?" Luc asked.
"Family," Gabriel said. "Their families, their children, the unity of the Packs. They're loyal, and to a one, they'll follow as the Pack decides. But that attitude can make them, let's say, insular." Ethan wet his lips, as if preparing to broach an uncomfortable subject. "There have been rumblings about the Pack's returning home to Aurora."
Aurora was the ancestral home Ethan had mentioned earlier, a remote town in the wilds of northern Alaska. From what I understood, it was where shifters congregated when they needed to get away from human machinations. It was also a place to hide out—to disappear to when things got rowdy . . . or when vampires got into trouble. It was their collective retreat when supernatural life got too sticky.
I'd been a vampire for less than three months. The drama was occasionally overwhelming, so I understood the urge to retreat. But I wasn't thrilled about the idea of being left behind.
To his credit, Gabriel managed not to squirm under Ethan's scrutinizing stare. But a low wash of magic filled the room, like a silent growl, unpleasantly acerbic. I fought the urge to roll my shoulders against the uncomfortable tingle. I also opened the telepathic connection between Ethan and me to offer up a silent warning.
He's getting angry, I told him. Tread carefully.
I'm willing to test the waters, Ethan answered back. That answer was surprising—Ethan was generally strategically conservative. I also used to think only he could trigger the connection between us.
Apparently, he'd just been ignoring me.
"My intent is to have the Packs convene; the ultimate decision on that will be made by the Pack leaders.
But assuming that conversation goes well, we'll convene, and we'll decide whether to remain among humans, or return to the woods. And if the Pack decides that we go," Gabriel weightily added, "then we go."
"Why now?" Ethan asked.
"We know the sorcerers are beginning to see things, that prophecies are beginning to bubble up.
Prophecies of war. Of coming battles."
Ethan nodded. We'd heard Catcher offer up just such a prophecy.
"Have you heard talk about underground groups?"
Ethan leaned forward. "What underground groups?"
Gabriel donned the expression of a man about to impart bad news. "Anti-fang groups. Humans who think vampires showing themselves is the first sign of some coming apocalypse . . . or the second American Civil War."
Ethan went quiet.
"We hadn't heard," Luc put in. "No rumbles, no chatter."
"Like I said, the movement is still underground. We've heard about meetings in eastern Tennessee, but it sounds like they're still rural, publicized by word of mouth, handwritten flyers, that kind of thing. But sooner or later, they'll go electronic. We'd prefer not to be here when that happens." Ethan sat back in his chair, but not before sharing a meaningful glance with Luc. I assumed they were talking silently about some strategy for getting information on the anti-fang groups.
"You'll understand my concern," Ethan said, "about your leaving. If you take your numbers, your skills, your power, if you merge back into the wild, then you leave us here."