Council Enforcer Clyde Lassiter's POV
Snake Mountain Pack House
Zionville, North Carolina
The Pack prison was worse than most. An old mining shaft, it was dark and damp and chilly. There were silver-coated jail bars set deep into the rock about a hundred feet down. It was a long, twisting walk to reach them, long enough that daylight from the entrance didn't make it. Left alone in the darkness, with no contact with others and no concept of time, was enough to induce madness in a week or two. The prisoners didn't get fed and didn't have a toilet. If they wanted water, they could suck it from the damp spots on the rocks where the underground water seeped through.
It was a place to be punished before your death.
The smells of sewage, blood, armpits, and fear mixed powerfully in the stale air. I used the same trick cops used when dealing with the overpowering smell of dead bodies; I had Vick's Vapo-Rub dabbed under my nose. "How much farther?"
"Not much now," the guard told me. "Stay back from the bars. He likes to fling poo like some monkey at the zoo."
Wonderful. I thought back to the briefing I'd gotten from the Alpha and Beta earlier. Our prisoner was Rodney Edward Dangerfield, age twenty-two. We'd googled the Terre Haute, Indiana address on his driver's license and found an empty lot. We didn't get a hit on his prints, and he'd paid cash for his motel room outside of Asheville. He was a ghost, a were-coyote up to no good. "How'd you catch this asshole?"
"Luck," the Beta replied. "He was selling Ecstasy at a party near Appalachian State. One of our students there recognized the scent. She followed his car to his hotel room and called it in. Our warriors picked him up and brought him here." He smiled. "No one knows he is here, and no one ever will."
The Beta and his men interrogated him and got nothing. The Council sent me to see if I could do any better. Could I get him to break before his mind and body did?
I wasn't sure. I heard a low growl as our red-colored flashlights reached the cell, the light functioning to keep our night vision going. The prisoner was loose inside the cave spur, a silver-coated collar around his neck to keep him from shifting. Even if he did, the cell bars were numerous enough to keep him from squeezing out. "What do you want with me, you fucker? Too tired to beat me again, so you brought in a new guy?"
I grabbed a folding chair leaning against the wall and sat down a good twenty feet from the bars. "I'm not with these guys. I'm a Wolf Council Fixer," I told him softly. He stiffened at the news; we were the assassins and cleanup specialists of our world. "My authority comes directly from the Council, not from this Alpha. What is your name?"
"Jack." He walked towards the bars, stopping just short of where it would have burned his bare flesh. "Jack Meoff."
Whatever. "Jack, you should understand I'm your only chance to walk out of this place alive," I said. "The Alpha will never let you live, not after they caught you dealing drugs."
"And you'll just let me go?"
I nodded. "My priorities, and those of the Council, are different than those of a local Alpha. You give me one piece of information that I need. If it pans out, I come back here and let you go."
He tilted his head back and laughed at me. "Like I'd trust you."
"You should. You see, there is a were-coyote I want so bad that the Council will order your release. He's not a good person; this coyote worked with the drug cartels, and his associates ambushed and murdered two Pack wolves. In comparison, you're nothing. Give me his name and a way to find him, and you'll walk out of here. I'll personally escort you off this territory and put you back in your car." He was thinking about it. "You know what I am and who I work for. I'm your only hope."
He looked into my eyes, and I stared back at him. "I believe you," he finally said.
"Give me the name," I told him.
He broke into a smile. "Fuck you, Council Wolf, and all your Pack Wolf butt-buddies. I'll never betray one of us. None of us will."
I expected this, but I had to take the chance. Were-coyotes were famously secretive and loyal to each other. It was the only way they had survived as the Packs expanded across the country. What I saw in his eyes was not defiance but fear. He didn't have the information to trade for his life, and we both knew it."I'm sorry to hear that. I'll find him, and the Council will execute him. You'll suffer and die in here. No one will know of your sacrifice, and your death will change nothing." I stood up and put the chair back against the wall. "I hope it is worth it."
"I will go to my ancestors with honor, dog."
"You will. Goodbye, Jack." I waved at the guard and walked away, ignoring the insults and curses hurled into the gathering dark.
Neither of us said anything until we were out of the cave and heading back to the Pack House. "That wasn't what I expected out of you," the guard finally said.
"Beatings and torture don't work as you might think. Your prisoner didn't have what I wanted. You could beat an answer out of him, but by then, he'll tell you anything to stop the pain. A proper interrogation can take weeks, but at least you'll get the truth."
"What are you going to tell the Alpha?"
"The truth. Your prisoner doesn't know who the Cook is, so he's not Council business. Treat him as you will."
The guard dropped me off at the Pack House. I went straight to my room, placing the clothes I'd worn in a plastic bag and taking a good shower to get the smell off of me. I had just enough time to get dressed and meet with the Alpha before dinner. He was disappointed I hadn't gotten my answers but pleased that the Council would not interfere in his affairs.
