"Where did you find this?" Damaris' eyes flashed red for an instant then cooled to their normal green.
"I found it in the one place only I would know where to look for it. But that's not important, what is is what does this name mean to you? You're the only one here that was older than Agnus, so of anyone you have a better chance of knowing who this was.
"This is a name I have only bestowed on one person in all of my years, my first-born son. But I was told he was dead, and since he was male, I gave it no further thought. Why would she write his name?" Her fingers drummed on the armrest of her seat for a few seconds, as she stared off into space.
"I have no idea, but she was killed by a Shapers blade which just complicates matters." That statement brought the high mother out of her musings.
"Are you certain, a shapers blade?"
"The cuts were too fine to be made by any other cutting edge. It was a Shaper; of that I have no doubt."
Damaris was shocked, and I felt for her, who would have done this? There was no sister that we knew of that would kill one of our own. Yet the evidence was right before us, Varden had no reason to lie, and I had examined the wounds myself and could collaborate his findings.
"This does not pass any further than the three of us, understood. We have to find out what happened and quickly. The pack of the mountains has just sent us a grievance against the Canadian pack, something about one of their border disputes. If word of this gets out those border conflicts will spill more the Lycan blood." She slumped in her seat, the weight she was under crushing her.
"And I have something else for the two of you." She looked from me to Varden then back again. "Since I am what shall we say, hesitant to send you two on a mission to the Lycans I have another matter that needs looking into." Sitting up straight again she continued. "One of the shapeless is no longer transmitting a location trance and does not answer any of our calls. This might be a technical problem, but with what has happened in the last few days I would feel much better if someone put eyes on her. I want those someone's to be you two." A broad smile split her face as she added. "I'm quite sure you two won't mind a few days away from the Sanctuaries prying eyes to ahem," she put a delicate hand to her mouth. "Train." Her eyes darted between Varden, and I until they settled on me. (Shapeless: Term used for a once member of the Sanctuary that has renounced her fealty and lives outside in the human world.)
"When are we to leave high mother?" I asked trying to shift the subject of her not-so-subtle inquiry.
"As soon as you can." She continued with a sigh. "I have the helo standing by to take you both to her last known location. It's in downtown Chicago." Her left eyebrow quirked up at me and it hit me.
"You mean Samantha, you're sending us after Samantha. After what Varden did to her, if she's still alive she might just kill him on sight."
"No not Samantha, I'm sending you after Brooke. We have already been in contact with Samantha, but Brooke has gone cold, and that's not like her at all. So get down there and find out what's going on." We turned to leave but Damaris stopped me before we took more than a few steps.
"And whatever you do, if you're going to meet Samantha, do it without him." She twitched her head in Varden's direction.
"What was that all about? I didn't have any problem with Samantha?"
My mouth dropped open, there was no way he could have forgotten what he did. It was a couple of weeks after I'd introduced him to the rest of his race and the shock of his existence hadn't even worn off yet when Samantha made her move.
Samantha was, I mean is, a woman who for all her life has gotten what she wants, especially from men. Long blonde hair, bright green eyes and the tight athletic built that all Shapers have, and you get a package that wouldn't go unnoticed at a Victoria Secrets fashion show. Add to that a superiority complex that leaves the rest of us in the dust and you have a woman that uses men like something just above toilet paper, and that's putting it mildly.
Once I had found Varden and brought him to meet everyone, he was quite the celebrity, for only one reason. In the last two thousand years no one had ever seen a full-blooded Shaper. Since there were no males of our race every Shaper born was to a Shaper female and a human male. So, none of us knew what a child with the Shaper genes inherited from both parents would be like. So, bedding Varden became almost a battle, with Samantha being its first casualty.
"You turned her down flat," I chuckled, remembering the look on her face when she had stormed from my room, where he'd been staying. She was in her most seductive, "I want sex outfit," face scarlet, her eyes like blazing emeralds.
That was the last time we saw her. She renounced the Sanctuary and went to live in Chicago. I guess the news of her failure spreading around the Sanctuary was too much for her to take.
"You kicked her out of your room like a common whore. How did you expect her to take it?"
"Oh, she wasn't a common whore, she was an uncommon whore." Varden responded as we left the receiving room. "She wasn't even a whore to think of it." He stopped to rub his chin.
"How so?"
"A whore gets paid for having sex, she wasn't going to charge me a thing." He took a quick step forward to avoid my slap then chuckled.
"What is it with you women? Why do you have this idea in your heads that every guy you see wants nothing more than to get you into bed, and will do anything to make that happen?"
"Experience, vast amounts of experience. For a lot of these women, you're the first man to ever turn one of us down in over forty years. Since the sixties and the sexual revolution, it's been ridiculously easy to persuade men to do what we want."
"Then I'm glad I'm the exception." He said while the elevator doors closed behind us.
Several minutes later we walked out the front entrance and towards the helipad. We took a left out the door and walked in the shade cast by the huge hardwood trees. There were oaks as big around as I was tall, hickories, walnuts, maples, and cherry trees. Each and every one of them planted and hand tended by a sister that lived on the grounds.
All my years growing up here I remember climbing amongst the branches of these tree. We use them for agility training, even forty feet off the ground the branches are big enough to run on. With enough training and practice I was able to travel from one side of the six hundred acres to the other without setting a foot on the ground.
Out from the huge tree trunks we began to see a tiny clearing. Upon getting closer the outline of a sleek helicopter came into view. The clearing had been notched from the forest from the center of where four tree9s' branches met. It was more like a tunnel that reached from the ground to the open sky above. Our pilots like to complain that it was only their very generous paychecks that kept them flying the, "green hole."
Varden was waiting for me when I reached the door to the helos cabin. But as he went to step inside, he froze for just an instant.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing," he answered, shaking himself. "I just felt something." Then he was in the door and strapping himself into his seat before I was even inside.
I could tell it was far from nothing. As we lifted off the ground Vardens eyes were glued out his window. He'd felt something, I just hope it was as he said, nothing.
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