Predatory

RIKA POV

“All right. All systems are go,” I inform Samson as I step away from his office computer. I’ve just finished upgrading the Commander’s security system for all his electronic communications. Between the VPNs and the layers of encryption and required authentication, it would take a very skillful, determined hacker to listen in on the call we’re about to make.

“Excellent,” Samson replies. “You ready, Drake?”

“No,” Drake admits. “But if the tech’s ready, we might as well get this over with.”

“Best chance we got for gettin’ Sasha outta HQ alive,” Samson reminds him. We’ve been over the plan multiple times, and Drake’s eye roll indicates he doesn’t think the repetition is necessary.

“Yeah. So you’ve said. I’m dialing.” He’s using the computer I’ve secured to make a video call to his parents. I’m a little surprised they have the reception and technology to receive such a call out in the middle of nowhere, Maine, but Samson assured me that WASP has spared no expense on facilitating ease of communication, and he has spared no effort on using all of WASP’s resources to the Underground’s advantage as best he can.

“Hello?” a gruff voice answers. A moment later, a stern man appears on the screen, bearing more than a passing resemblance to Drake. His face is more care-worn and his hair is long with a few strands of silver, but it’s not hard to believe that Drake is looking his future in the face, as well as the camera.

“Drake. You are…not who I was expecting to see on a call from this number,” Elder Eric—it can be no one else—continues. A woman who could be anywhere between the ages of 25 and 60 joins him.

“Hi, Dad. Hi, Mom,” Drake answers awkwardly.

“Drake! It’s good to see you. Alive,” the woman smiles.

“Of course he’s alive,” Samson interjects, stepping into the camera’s sight lines. “We always take care of our own.”

“Baryshnikov. Good to see you. You sure the time is right for action?”

“I think this is the best chance we’ve seen in years, the best shot we’re likely t’ get for a long time.”

“Because you’ve got a hell of a bargaining chip, from what I understand.”

“She’s not a bargaining chip,” Drake hisses.

“You should have mentioned, last time we talked, that the WASP operative you’re convinced is your mate is also the deadliest assassin in WASP special ops.” Eric looks absolutely furious, while his wife looks more concerned than anything.

“Who told you—”

“Son. Everyone in WASP has heard of Sasha Sukoshku. She has quite a reputation,” Drake’s mom tells him gently. “And she’s not…”

“No son of mine has any business taking someone like that as a mate. Especially not my heir. And the top brass are not pleased that Anselm’s gone and she’s meant to take his place. Berach, in particular, wants answers written in her blood.”

“She’s well aware,” Samson intervenes while Drake fumes and sputters. “She ain’t everythin’ the rumors have made ’er out t’ be. But maybe we’d best let ’er speak her own piece. Rika, we got that video ready?”

“Yes, Commander,” I answer, tapping a few things on my tablet to share Sasha’s call to action video to the secure computer, so that all of us can watch it. So far, Samson and I are the only ones who’ve seen it, and we were there when she recorded it.

Sasha’s face replaces Drake’s parents on the screen.

“She’s very pretty,” Drake’s mother remarks softly.

“Greetings, brothers and sisters, comrades in arms,” Sasha’s recording begins, solemn and official, as the head of WASP Special Ops ought to be. “I am Sasha Sukoshku, acting head of WASP Special Ops, and on this anniversary of WASP’s founding, I would like to remind all of you who we are meant to be, as members of the World Alliance for Supernatural Protection.

“This organization was founded after World War II, a conflict that devastated human and supernatural communities alike on a scale never before seen, and the likes of which I hope the world never sees again. As the name suggests, WASP was founded to protect supernatural creatures, from each other as well as from human hunters who would drive us to extinction if we did not keep our existence hidden from them. Over the decades since its founding, WASP has done just that, with remarkable success. However, in the past few decades, we have seen WASP turning on those it was created to protect, using its special operatives to execute those who violate WASP law rather than using less bloody alternatives to keep humans from finding us out, a troubling trend that I have not only witnessed first-hand but participated in.”

I know this wasn’t easy for her, but she turned out an incredible performance, letting her voice tremble with the weight of her emotions without allowing even the slightest hint of a tear to be seen.

“My father, Simon Sukoshku, and my whole family were executed for my father’s decision to relocate a community of incautious dryads away from human civilization, rather than executing those dryads,” recorded Sasha continues, grave yet compelling. “The former head of WASP Special Ops, Anselm Lange, oversaw those executions himself and subsequently eliminated the dryads my father spared. He forced me to take my father’s place in WASP, and since then I have followed his orders, executing those guilty of violating WASP laws, although never without regret. Until recently, when he ordered me to forswear my oaths of service and execute a supernatural being who had not been proven guilty of violating any laws.

“This was not a directive I could follow. With such leadership, WASP no longer operates according to the purpose for which it was founded, but rather devours its own. I believe in the ideals of WASP. I believe in protecting all supernatural creatures from human ill will, but these executions can in no way be construed as any kind of protection. For this reason I disobeyed a directive from my commanding officer. For this reason I dueled with him, and because my cause is righteous I prevailed. And for this reason I now call upon you, upon every supernatural being who seeks to live in peace, without fear of harm from any quarter, to rise up with me and bring this policy of executing our own to an end.

“Anselm was not alone in enforcing this doctrine of paranoia. If we do not stand up for ourselves and our rights, these executions without just cause will continue, and I may well be the next to fall, because I refused a direct order out of my own deep commitment to justice. Join me in a peaceful march on WASP HQ to demand reform. Together, we can change WASP back to its true form. Together, we can make it the World Alliance for Supernatural Protection again. Together, we can create a just society where none need live in fear. Join in this protest, for yourselves, for your loved ones, for justice!”

Sasha’s face fades away, and a few lines of text scroll across the screen like the Star Wars intro, detailing the time and place of our intended protest. I close the video out, bringing Drake’s parents back into view, their faces inscrutable. A heavy silence hangs over the room.

“Simon’s daughter,” Eric remarks after several long, uncomfortable moments.

“Yeah. Had we known any o’ his kittens survived—” Samson replies.

“No sense talking about could’ve beens. We are where we are.”

“She’s…very well-spoken,” Drake’s mother observes. “And, if she truly believes what she said—”

“Serena.” Eric’s voice is a warning. His wife says nothing more, but I can tell she and Drake are having a moment without any exchange of words.

“So you’re planning to send her back on the anniversary of the founding. Poetic,” Eric says, his attention trained on Samson.

“I thought so. Our allies agree. Everyone’s gearin’ up for a day of reckonin’.”

“So I’ve heard. I’ve been a little concerned you decided my fighters and I weren’t necessary to this operation. So what part is it you want my pack to play?”

“Sasha’s call to action will be sent to all WASP special ops just in time t’ get them there around the time she’ll be meetin’ with top brass.”

“More than a chance they’ll kill her at the first sign of trouble.”

“They’re likely to try.”

“Our stealth troops can get her out, though, Dad,” Drake cuts in. “You’ve trained them well enough.”

“Son, do you have any idea how tight security is at WASP HQ? Especially around the top brass?”

“Yes. The most skilled architect of their security and surveillance systems is one of Sasha’s partners. We’ve been working closely with her.”

That’s my cue. “Elder Eric, a pleasure to meet you, albeit remotely. Rika Van Der Meer, at your service,” I introduce myself. “I can get you any and all information you need to accomplish what Commander Baryshnikov asks of you for this mission. Blueprints, security codes, recommended strategies—”

“You’re Anselm’s pet tech wizard,” Eric interrupts. It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes. That reputation can’t die soon enough. “And you’re working with us, rather than trying to avenge him?”

“Never cared much for Anselm, sir, and Sasha’s….” How can I explain what she is to me? A friend, almost a daughter, a teammate….

“Your pack,” Serena provides.

She sees much, despite the distance and differences that divide us.

“Yes, that…is better than any explanation I can offer,” I agree. Terms that will make sense to Eric, anyway. “I will give you anything you need for the chance that she’ll survive implementing this plan.”

“The way I see it, you got the only warriors with the skills t’ get ’er out alive. An’ I’m sure your son would be very much obliged to you for doin’ so,” Samson adds.

I’m beginning to wonder if Eric’s face can form expressions other than stoic and irate. If Sasha’s message didn’t affect him, I don’t know what will.

“Dad. I know she’s not…what any of us hoped my mate would be,” Drake admits softly. “But whatever else she may be, she’s the key to bringing about the change we’ve wanted to see for so long. She really believes what she said in that video. She wants to make sure no more families lose an Uncle Stephen because of WASP.”

At last, a crack in Eric’s composure. Serena lays a hand on his arm, and the two of them exchange a look.

“You’ve wanted a chance like this for too long to throw it away because of one young woman’s past,” Serena persuades.

“All right, Baryshnikov, I’ll play your game,” Eric relents. I bite my tongue to keep from expressing my joy and relief aloud; Drake seems to be having a similar struggle. “Let’s talk specifics. How, exactly, do you see all this going down?”