Werewolf the Forsaken - Tribes of the Moon
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You're Reading a Free Preview Pages 56 to 61 are not shown in this preview. We value you. Know that. You are not being buried. We need a man of your skill and knowledge on the policy end of this very new threat—because, believe me, the president wants smart people making smart decisions about how to handle all of this.
We need a military liaison to the secretary of state, given the potential international issues this paranormal problem raises. Sasha just stared at the screen, now so angry that she was seeing spots before her eyes. They were replacing her general and pulling her team off the mission? If you send an unfamiliar human team down there with a shoot first, ask questions later mentality, you are asking for military casualties. Even worse, you have no idea what long-standing retaliatory aggression this course of action might create.
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The moment we all learned about it, a phase-out strategy was set in place. But with rising political pressure and the growing public alarm, there is only one solution. The PCU has to go dark, and if there are still any targets of value out there in the New Orleans area—on North American soil, for that matter—they have to be eliminated. Sasha hesitated for a moment. Drawing on all the political correctness in her bones, she simply stated the jarring facts.
The fallout will be catastrophic, the recovery in half-lives. Your primary foes, Vampires and the Unseelie Fae, are immortal, sir. Pandemonium broke out at the table and on the screen. Finally, after a few moments, order was restored. General Westford, we expect your full cooperation in this transition, your request for retirement notwithstanding. He clasped his thick hands together, obviously enjoying the newly bestowed power that came with his secret new cabinet post as secretary of containment.
He glanced at the general to his left, making the man concede with a gruff cough. We have got to get this under control. Have you watched the news, General? Civilians are coming out of the woodwork with outrageous claims; everyone who can is trying to get paid for their fifteen minutes of fame. They have a clear mission—if they encounter anything, contain it or eliminate it.
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They are not going down there to negotiate with it. New Orleans Sir Rodney weaved, stumbled, and caught himself against a bedroom tapestry as he made his way toward the dining table in his master suite. I fear milord has been poisoned! She nodded weakly and then slumped against him.
I saw what that Unseelie black spell almost did to you. Unconvinced, Bradley stood with her and began walking with her. She stopped, turned to him, and smiled weakly. Nothing can get down here on the base.
Greenish, gooey phlegm bubbled up her throat and spewed into the toilet. The awful taste and hard, brackish smell made her close her eyes with a shiver. But she did feel better. She flushed the refuse away and then hugged herself. It was time to buy an at-home pregnancy test, even though she and Bradley had been pretty careful. She so did not need this right now, but if she was pregnant, then so be it.
This was unplanned. As she approached the sink, she shook her head and chuckled to herself. Okay, that was a sign to not do that.
Clarissa turned on the faucet, washed her hands, and then bent to splash cold water on her face. But when she lifted her head to dry her face with a towel, she froze. Her blue eyes were pitch black. Not one word. Sasha would not say one word until after the general said his final piece. She just stared at General Westford once the monitors went black. Fury made her fist her hands at her sides. The desire to flee, to just find a hallway shadow and be out, was so strong that she bit her lip. Under house arrest? The mere suggestion was absurd, even if the secretary did recant and give her the state of Colorado to roam—WTF?
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They could kiss her natural wolf ass! And they had fired her general—had reassigned her ally and mentor?
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She was going to tell her team the bullshit news, go back to her apartment, find Hunter, and then find the nearest bar. But not now, and not in front of the general. His eyes said it all, even if his tone of voice was gruff. The apology in them made her feel only slightly better. Those poor dumb bastards are gonna go down there and get themselves killed if they stumble on the wrong nest. He caught her inflection with a nod, acknowledging that he felt the same way.
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