Cry of the Wolf by Dianna Hardy

report, as soon as that grenade dropped I understood the wolves’ intentions and I fled the building the moment everyone rushed in, and the grenade exploded. There was a female wolf there – the Alpha’s mate is who Loretta believed her to be – but there was no indication at all that she was a storm-wielder.”
    Silence. “Fled the building, Amil?”
    Amil gritted his teeth. “Yes, sir.”
    “Not very loyal of you, was it?”
    But very astute as I’m still alive, sir. He kept his mouth shut. Tridents, for the most part, were a bunch of idiots, right down to the way they liked to parade the symbol of their species around: on the front of their buildings, on their clothes and letterheads, sometimes on their bodies as tattoos… I mean, come on! They were getting cocky in their indiscretion. Loyalty was one thing, but that was loyalty to a fault. Loyalty was useless if it got you killed. That didn’t make you loyal, it made you a schmuck. A dead one.
    Gabriel steepled his fingers together, still gazing at him, indomitably, as if he knew things about him even he couldn’t fathom. “I want to know who and where. There’s a she-wolf somewhere in Surrey who harnesses the power of creation. The one wretched thing we share with the wolves is the need for the storm. I want her locked up in a cage – our cage. Whoever she is, she’s our life-blood. That blood needs to be flowing in our veins – bred into our species – and her electrical maelstrom needs to be channelled appropriately.”
    “I’ll find her, sir. I promise you I’ll find her.” And he had no doubt he could keep that promise. He had the blouse – the one he’d secreted away. The one that had faint traces of his lovely Sarah on it, and the one that boldly carried the she-wolf’s scent. The storm-wielder.
    Storm-wielder. That boggled his mind. It didn’t seem possible…
    He’d have to be careful. He still didn’t fully understand why the wolf’s blouse had Sarah’s scent on it … and another one – the scent of a male wolf that wasn’t the Alpha Loretta had captured. Sarah’s had been the weakest scent – barely there – and he couldn’t tell if it was connected to the she-wolf or the male. There was a possibility the she-wolf was a friend of Sarah’s somehow… Yes, he’d have to tread very carefully…
    “Don’t disappoint me, Amil. Your background is … colourful; your entry into The Trident no less so.”
    He blanched. He didn’t want to talk about this.
    “Do you know why Dr Trident created us?”
    Because he suffered from delusions of grandeur.
    “Because of his need to perfect power. He saw the werewolf with all its weaknesses, and knew he could do better . You do want to be part of a better race, don’t you?”
    “Of course, sir. I strive for perfection in all I do.” No need to lie – that statement was true.
    Gabriel eyed him in silence, assessing him, then waved his hand. “Dismissed.”
    “Thank you, sir,” said Amil. He made no attempt to linger and strode out of the door of Gabriel’s office as quickly as he could without looking like he was rushing.
    An awful smell assaulted his senses, and he zoned in on an old, human woman sitting on a chair in the waiting area. She was way too old for mating – what the hell was she doing here?
    Damn it, Amil, you’re curious to a fault; always have been.
    This was true. He turned his attention away from her and got the hell out of there. He had other things to worry about.
    Stepping out into the afternoon sun, he let out a sigh of relief and looked at his watch. Ten past four. Shit. He’d have to rush after all.
     
    ~*~
     
    Lydia had no recollection of how she ended up lying face down on the soft earth. When had she let go of the pine tree?
    Lawrence was still on her – in her – his breathing less heavy, his wet cheeks pressed into her shoulder.
    Wet cheeks…
    She gave in, at last, to the urge that overruled all others and turned over in his arms so she faced