Book 1 - Page 11 (1/2)

”You told him that you were after her killer,” I said.

He gave an unhappy laugh. ”Like I could find him.”

He could. It was all a matter of learning to use his new senses, but I wasn't going to tell him that, not yet. If Mac did find his attacker, chances were Mac would die. A new werewolf just doesn't stand a chance against the older ones.

I patted his knee. ”Don't worry. As soon as we get word to the right people-and Adam is the right people-Leo's a walking dead man. The Marrok won't allow an Alpha who is creating progeny and selling them for money.”

”The Marrok?”

”Sorry,” I said. ”Like I told you, except for the occasional rogue, werewolves are organized into packs under an Alpha wolf.”

It used to be that was as organized as werewolves got. But the only thing it takes to be Alpha is power, not intelligence or even common sense. In the Middle Ages, after the Black Plague, the werewolf population was almost wiped out along with real wolves because some of the Alphas were indiscreet. It was decided then that there would be a leader over all the werewolves.

”In the US, all the packs follow the Marrok, a t.i.tle taken from the name of one of King Arthur's knights who was a werewolf. The Marrok and his pack have oversight of all the werewolves in North America.”

”There are more of us?” he asked.

I nodded. ”Maybe as many as two thousand in the US, five or six hundred in Canada, and about four hundred in Mexico.”

”How do you know so much about werewolves?”

”I was raised by them.” I waited for him to ask me why, but his attention had drifted toward the body. He inhaled deeply and gave an eager shudder.

”Do you know what they wanted with you?” I asked hurriedly.

”They told me they were looking for a cure. Kept putting things in my food-I could smell them, but I was hungry so I ate anyway. Sometimes they'd give me shots-and once when I wouldn't cooperate they used a dart gun.”

”Outside, when you were talking to them, you said they had others like you?”

He nodded. ”They kept me in a cage in a semitrailer. There were four cages in it. At first there were three of us, a girl around my age and a man. The girl was pretty much out of it-she just stared and rocked back and forth. The man couldn't speak any English. It sounded like Polish to me-but it could have been Russian or something. One of the times I was taking a trip on something they pumped in me, I woke up and I was alone.”

”Drugs don't work on werewolves,” I told him. ”Your metabolism is too high.”

”These did,” he said.

I nodded. ”I believe you. But they shouldn't have. You escaped?”

”I managed to change while they were trying to give me something else. I don't remember much about it other than running.”