Unwilling Ch. 09

~*George*~

Carmen, the youngest werewolf of the Banes pack, was fidgeting. Her being able to do that while sitting down in the most comfortable recliner George owned was a feat for itself, but she also made it look easy. "Do I really have to?" she asked for the third time, her eyes pleading more to Mary than to George, whom she had found to be utterly untouched by her unease.

Mary, being her aunt and thusly put in the most unfortunate position, sighed and threw another glance at George. His brows were still furred, and his forehead wrinkled with resolve.

"Yes. You know George is a good man, and he is still Beta. Only formally, but he can still pull rank if he wants to."

Mary sounded as unhappy as George felt about the situation, but it couldn't be helped. Being told his son was dead once had been enough of a wake-up call for George to stop making others' lives easier than his own.

Just two days ago Carl had called and told Mary that Darwin had changed allegiance. That he had broken the rules, and that Carl had had to kill him. Mary had tried to cover the phone and stop him from listening in, but it had been too late.

Now George knew that the pain of a stroke was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to the pain of losing a child. That day, George had thought his cowardice had cost him his son's life, and now that fate had given him a second chance, he wasn't going to throw it away just to save Carmen some trouble.

Her young eyes held some of the arrogant sullenness only beautiful teenage girls could afford, and she made an unflattering sound of protest, crossing her arms beneath her developing bosom. "People don't really talk to me, you know? I'm just the young girl allowed to sit in because of some archaic rules," she tried to argue, but George knew better.

"You don't need someone to tell you personally what went on, you just need to listen. And you did listen to what the others said about Darwin, didn't you?"

Carmen had the grace to look caught. No teenage girl had ever turned a deaf ear to rumors, especially not outrageous ones.

"Maybe," she huffed and blushed.

The blushing gave George a thought of a different kind, and suddenly he grinned. "You don't want to talk to me because I'm his father, is that it?" he pressed gently, and scratched his chin. Carmen having a crush on Darwin was surprising, but not unusual. Everyone knew Darwin was as handsome as he was gay, but knowing and feeling were two different things, more so for a young heart. As long as Carmen didn't get her hopes up on a future between her and his son, there was nothing to worry about.

Carmen turned crimson and ducked her head until her raven-black hair slid into her face, but didn't answer. There was no need to, her actions said everything.

With a touch of his fingers to the joystick, George wheeled his chair closer to her. He couldn't lean forward without the risk of toppling over, but he had found out over time that people reacted the way he wanted them to if he just moved as a whole. It made Carmen look up and meet his gaze.

"Listen to me, girl. I will not make you go against Carl's orders, and I will not ask you to do anything that could get you in trouble with him. But Darwin is my son, and I have a right to know what's going on," George said, pleading to her with his eyes but ordering her with his voice. "One day, Darwin is declared a traitor and pronounced dead. The next day, suddenly everyone's hunting for him, so he's very much alive. How did that happen?"

Carmen crumbled after a few seconds of staring. George could feel Mary's disapproving glance burn into the back of his head, but he didn't care.

"Well, obviously Darwin has a boyfriend-" Carmen began, and was promptly interrupted.

"A boyfriend?! Who? Is it someone from the pack? He never told me!" George ranted, and only remembered to breathe when Mary touched his shoulder.

The girl on the sofa made a surprised face, then hesitantly resumed explaining. "I don't know, really. I just know he has a boyfriend who seems to be an Alpha, and that Darwin lured that guy into Banes to overthrow Carl," she said, hesitated again, and then added, "which Carl found out. Are you alright, uncle George?"

The question was prompted by George's dumbfounded expression, and he didn't react to it until Mary touched his shoulder again. "What? Oh, yes, I mean, no. But I will be," he stammered. It all made no sense, no sense at all. To George, the story Carmen told sounded like a bad soap opera plot, not like anything even remotely related to his boy. Darwin would never do such a thing, never. He was a levelheaded young man, loyal and trustworthy, and Carl knew that. Carl had watched Darwin grow up. He had to know.

So why was Carl hunting Darwin?

"Carl had Rayne, Dennis and Greta catch Darwin's friend from college, and I think they are out right now to find Darwin and his boyfriend to bring them in for sentencing. But you're not supposed to be there," Carmen added, fidgeting nervously. Her gray eyes flashed through the curtain of raven-black hair like little stars on a night sky, always away from George's searching glance.

"George, please calm down. You know what happened last time you got this worked up!"

It took Mary's worried voice to snap the old man out of hyperventilating with rage. Of course, he couldn't shut off his anger on command, as much as he wanted to.

"What does he think, that I'd provoke a revolution, a palace revolt, if I'm there?!" he finally yelled at nobody in particular. "What in god's name has happened to Carl to make him act like this!"

His speeding heart made his pulse thud painfully through his paralyzed side, and for a moment he thought the shooting pain would be the last thing he ever felt. But what would happen to Darwin if he died now?

As a disabled man, George had always known people were holding back around him for his sake. He may be partly paralyzed, but he wasn't stupid, or blind. It had bothered him for a good year, especially in the beginning when he had had to fight to utter a single sentence, and had to be fed and washed and clothed by nurses, unable to do anything but drool and scream silently inside his head. People had listened to his stuttering, halting speech, taken one look at his distorted face, and ceased really talking to him. It wasn't cruelty on their part either; it was a fact of life that nobody liked one-sided conversations.

It had been a frustrating, depressing time, but hard work on his part and getting over the shock of the changes on part of everyone else had slowly mended that wound.

Other things would never be mended, and George knew. He knew his son, Darwin, kept secrets from him. He could see it in his eyes, could tell by the dark circles around them, and by the way he kept to his bed on some days. He just couldn't do anything about it. Doctors had told him to not get upset so much because it could cause another stroke, so he tried to keep calm. But fear of another stroke wasn't why he always hesitated to ask Darwin what was bothering him, no; the real reason was so much more cowardly.

Whatever it was that had bothered Darwin for so long- and kept bothering him-, wouldn't be fixable by a broken man, like George was.

And George was afraid, so afraid. If he made Darwin talk, Darwin would tell him his secret. It had to be something bad, something really awful, to torment him so much; and if they talked about it, Darwin would get his hopes up. He would expect him to help, and that was the one thing George couldn't give. It was something he should be able to do as a father and as the late pack beta, something that went without saying for every other father and son, but not for him. So he hadn't asked.

Having to let Darwin fend for himself like that had worn George down like a leaden weight on his neck for months, but that night he decided it was enough.

"Call Graham, uncle George. He was supposed to tell you," Carmen pleaded, and her voice was shivering with suppressed tears. When he looked at her, he could see fear written plainly on her face. This time, the guilt was strong enough to calm him down, and with him coming down, the two women in his living room also seemed to get calmer.

"I'll do just that, then," he huffed, letting Mary pat his shoulder. There were a lot of things he'd want to ask Graham.

~*~

Forty-five minutes later, George fought another kind of rage as he tried not to smash his phone. Graham was being nice, but in that dodgy kind of way only guilty people showed. Of course, he stressed, George's exclusion had nothing to do with him being the one voice speaking in Darwin's favor, and everything to do with him being of fragile health. Carl, so Graham said, was worried how George would take their decision, however it might turn out, so he'd ordered him to stay away.

Somehow, this bothered George more than the shame over his own fragile state. Some changes in life came sneaking in undetected, slowly and over time, but Carl actively keeping George away from pack business was new; not something he hadn't seen coming at some point in time, but definitely new. All the time since his stroke and all through his recovery, George had been hard-pressed to keep Carl from overwhelming him with constant visits and pleas for attendance. There had been no meeting or big decision Carl had wanted to keep George away from. Over time this had ceased and become more sporadic, but at no point in time had Carl ever plainly told him to stay at home, to not attend.

When had their relationship changed this much? George didn't know.

Maybe the outrage he was feeling wasn't anything more than camouflaged self-pity, but something just seemed... odd. Not overly so, but just on this side of not right.

Graham interrupted his thoughts. "Is Carmen still visiting with you?" he asked, sounding nervous and trying not to let his nerves become audible. He failed miserably, but not being able to lie convincingly was one of Graham's more endearing traits.

There were strange crunching noises in the background, then George heard a few muffled voices talking, then a shuffling of feet and the clank of a door followed.

George frowned. "Yes, she is still here. Do you want to talk to her?"

"Yes. Wait, no, it's alright. Tell her the meeting starts in fifteen minutes," Graham mumbled distractedly. "And sorry again, George. I know this sucks, and I hate to do this to you."

Swallowing his anger, George said his good-byes and ended the call. For just a few moments, he relished the silence. He sensed there wouldn't be many more moments like that in the near future.

"What did he say?" Carmen whispered. She sounded like a rabbit trying not to attract the wolf's attention, and failing at it.

The look George threw her was enough to make Mary take a step closer to her niece, and he had to take a deep breath and concentrate on relaxing to wipe the grim look out of his face.

"Listen, Carmen. That meeting starts in fifteen minutes. Mary's going to drive you over there and come back, but she'll pick you up as soon as it's over. I want you to find out everything there is to know about what's been going on with Darwin, but you mustn't do or say anything that might arouse suspicions. If Carl asks about me, tell him how angry I was at being left out, but do not mention that you told me about Darwin's boyfriend. And if anything dangerous happens, or something that might endanger you, call. Understand?"

By the look on Mary's face, George would get a stern talking to later. But Carmen nodded hastily, and that was enough of a compensation for him.

As the two women drove off, George watched them disappear into the night through the front window. The days of cowardice were over.

~*Rayne*~

"I don't understand," Darla said, her left hand gripping the mug of coffee tightly. "How are Darwin and this other guy, Harry, not like me?" Her eyes were surrounded by dark blotches, her skin was pale and looked feverish, and Rayne could see her ribs still hurt by the way she sat, motionless. Only parts of those signs of distress were his fault, the rest was obviously from just not sleeping very well.

Rayne sighed. How had he gotten stuck with babysitting again? Ah, yes. It's still better than having to go shopping.

"You feel it when you look at them, how they move, how they look at you, don't you?" Rayne asked, wiggling himself deeper into the easy chair he had occupied for their talk. "They are different from you and me, and different from Jared. You can feel that, right?"

Darla nodded grudgingly, picking at the armrest of the sofa she was sitting on. Her right thumb left small spots of blood where it touched the upholstery, but they were nearly invisible on the brown cloth, so Rayne didn't comment. It wasn't his home, after all, she could bleed wherever she wanted to.

"They are submissive werewolves, which means..." His voice trailed off. How was he supposed to describe something beyond any description to someone who had no idea whatsoever about his world? With a shake of his head, he decided to start anew. "There are three types of werewolves that we know of. Alphas, dominants and submissives. Each one of those types has their own purpose in a pack. You and me, we are dominants. We're supposed to be the army of a pack, the soldiers, those who protect and fight. Whatever curse made us the way we are, gave us the instincts to do so. We're always on the look-out for threats to our pack and to our dominance, always trying to better our position in a pack, to find out where we are in a hierarchy, and to defend our place against anyone challenging it."

"So we're kinda like high school jocks?" Darla asked in a small voice, but there was a lilt of humor in those words. She was unsure if jokes were okay, but unable not to make them. To Rayne this was a good sign, so he grinned and nodded once.

They had been sitting like this for the last fifteen minutes, ever since Rayne had caught Darla trying to sneak outside behind his back. She had said she wanted to fix the window because it was cold and that she had to do it from outside. She had tried it from the inside, and all she got for her troubles were a few cuts on her fingers. He believed her. She had also said she wanted to fix it because she planned to stay in 'her' room the whole time Darwin was home, but that was unacceptable.

Harry and Darwin had gone to town for shopping, and Jared was walking the perimeter to look for weak spots in their defense. Rayne had decided to use their alone time to teach Darla those basics she should have gotten from Jared, or anyone else but Rayne, for all he cared. It was better than having her climb out the broken window or try to sneak out behind his back again.

"Since dominants like us are so preoccupied with ranks, hierarchy and being the damn hardest son-of-a-bitch around, this often leads to troubles. If the members of a pack in-fight too often, their tempers rise too much and the fights for rank and position escalate. Think of it like this: If all the people around you are a potential threat to your life, and you have to fight them at a daily basis over basic things like a spot to sit in and a glass of juice, at some point you decide to make sure they'll never bother or hurt you again." It was one of the problems Rayne had to fight against every time he joined a new pack.

A new member was a threat to everyone, so every single dominant member had a reason to provoke and attack them. Every measure against such a thing only lead to dead ends for the new members. If you told a group of dominants that every new member would start at the bottom of the hierarchy, and that they weren't allowed to rise beyond a certain point, it did help keep the peace. Unfortunately, it also helped keeping potential weak members in power, and better fitting dominants out of the higher positions.

Sighing, he took a sip of coffee and put his mug on the couch table. "This is where submissive werewolves come in. They aren't meant to fight and protect territory, and they aren't particularly motivated to rise in a hierarchy. It's something about how they act and move, that lets us just know they aren't a threat to us. Submissives keep the peace by the one way no modern country was ever able to: They just project it, and it rubs off on everyone around them."

At Darla's puzzled expression, Rayne laughed softly. "No, not that Ghandi kind of peace you are thinking about. There's nothing Zen about submissives, although I knew a submissive yoga teacher once who made me fall asleep within ten minutes of stretching. It's more like," he sighed, shrugging, "they act like a buffer between us, like a safe haven where we don't need to feel threatened. If you are surrounded by submissives, you know you're safe, and it calms those instincts to fight and protect your status. They know your rank in the hierarchy without threatening to take it away from you. They don't do in-fights for power because they have their own social structure, so there's no need to keep an eye on them all the time. Even if you attack them to put them in their place, they just roll over and show their throats, which makes it almost impossible to harm them any further. The only reason a submissive might join a fight is a threat to the pack as a whole." He made a short pause, then he added, "And the only reason to harm a submissive is them being a threat to the pack."

For a moment, Carl's face appeared before Rayne's eyes, and he shuddered violently. Carl had found reasons to harm a submissive, and Rayne had helped. Knowing how wrong it had been, how crazy Carl's reasoning was, only made the shame worse.

Luckily, Darla's unperturbed voice disrupted his train of thoughts. "Is that the reason you had to run from Banes?"

It was such an innocent question, but still so hard to answer. "Yes, and no. It's hard to explain, because there are so many abnormalities that led to where we are now, but I'll try. Every healthy pack consists of an alpha and a bunch of dominant and submissive werewolves. Ideally, there should be just as many dominants as there are submissives, but that's hardly ever the case. A few more dominants than submissives are okay, more submissives than dominants can make a pack weak. And of course, every pack tries to get the mixture just right, sometimes with force. It's not that unusual that submissives are wooed away or stolen, and in some cases another alpha comes into a territory and tries to take over altogether."

Rayne hesitated, trying to figure out how to proceed with his explanation. Forcing hours and hours of education into a few meager sentences was not an easy task, but he had to give Darla at least enough knowledge to understand Darwin's position, and not get into trouble with Jared.

"Whenever another dominant enters a pack's territory, he has to ask for permission first. Anything else would be considered a hostile takeover and dealt with appropriately. Alphas are never welcome, but there have been a few cases where an Alpha was allowed to travel through, or to stay for a while as long as he or she kept away from pack members."

Darla's face lit up at that, and she nodded. "So Jared was allowed to stay?" she asked, frowning thoughtfully.

"Yes. There's a special clause for students and college graduates, because most of them are way too young to be a real threat to a seasoned alpha. That clause can be revoked, but it's there, and it was the reason Jared was allowed to enter Banes territory at first."

Her questioning eyes fixated on Rayne's face. "And he was, well, uninvited because he bonked Darwin?" she asked, grinning at her own words. "I mean, now that he's Darwin's boyfriend, that counts as 'wooing' away a pack member, right?"

"Again, yes and no. It's the reason Carl told his pack, but it's not really what made him go after us in the end. There are things going on in the Banes pack, strange, bad things. A lot of people got hurt or died, and Darwin somehow got the brunt of it, but nobody really knows the whole picture. Darwin won't talk about it, but what I've seen is enough for me to choose Jared's and Darwin's side. And as hard as it may be to believe, Darwin is one of the good guys."