Shadowed

* * *

"I hate grounding him," Adele said once Ashe’s bedroom door closed downstairs.

"It’s like grounding an adult family member," Aedan nodded. "Hard to do and harder to enforce. I get the idea that Marcus wouldn’t have been so harsh with Sali if he hadn’t gone off with Ashe."

"What?" Adele stared at Aedan in alarm.

"I think he doesn’t trust what Ashe can do, somehow."

"But he’s gotten into those crime scenes because Ashe can do those things," Adele snapped, rising and hugging her arms tightly about her waist.

"He’s ex-special ops, Adele. He can respect a weapon, but he doesn’t have to trust it."

"You’re calling our son a weapon, Aedan? Listen to yourself."

"Do you think for one moment that others wouldn’t see him the same way? I spoke with Trace and Jason, Adele. They told me they’ve seen the way those two agents—Lawford and North—look at our son after he gets them into those crime scenes. That’s why compulsion will be placed; Nathan and I have discussed it already. Their Director is retiring, and if he thinks to place our son in danger, he’ll get a visit as well."

"Aedan, one day Ashe is going to be an adult and he’s going to make up his own mind. Would it be so bad if he worked for the government like some vampires and werewolves do? I imagine they’d pay him well for his efforts."

"My love, that decision may be taken out of our hands."

"You mean the Council, don’t you?"

"Or the Grand Master. He knows whatever William Winkler knows, you can bet on that."

"I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d rather see him work for the Grand Master."

"I’m hoping the Council doesn’t learn of his talents." It was Aedan’s turn to rise and pace. "Radomir owes Ashe blood debt and has promised not to volunteer the information, but if it is requested, he will not only be compelled to give it, he will be punished for withholding it." Aedan referred to the Council Enforcer who’d come the previous year to investigate the murders in the Cloud Chief and Cordell area.

"I’ll have nightmares, now," Adele moaned. "Tell me they won’t take my boy away. He’s so young. They can’t—they won’t," she didn’t finish. The possibilities were too horrible for her to consider.

"Vampire law states that someone must be eighteen years of age before the Council may conscript. That age should be raised, in my opinion. Meanwhile, we will attempt to keep the boy from their sight as long as we can."

"He’s not yet fourteen and already he’s lost so much of his innocence, going off to those crime scenes. Ashe has been hunted and shot by that psychopathic teacher and those aberrations he associated with—and now the Council may take my child away? Turn him into something even I might not recognize?"

"I was an Enforcer. Was I so terrible when you met me?"

"You’re different and you know it."

"Perhaps not. I have to go, love. Trace and Jason are waiting to be relieved."

* * *

Ashe floated over the five mobile homes lined up neatly in the pasture behind his home. His father was joined by Nathan Anderson as they walked toward the small tent Trace and Jason had erected to provide shade during warm afternoons. Ashe, as mist, had zipped past the tent, finding Marcie Pruitt there, talking with Jason and Trace about the worms they were having trouble with in the vegetable garden. He’d heard Marcie ask both werewolves if they’d like to come to her home for dinner. Jason accepted, Trace didn’t.

Figuring that his mother might check on him soon, Ashe swept through the nearly moonless night, misting through the roof of his home and then through the floor of the kitchen to get to his bedroom underneath. Sure enough, his mother was just about to knock on his door.

"Ashe, are you studying?" Adele asked through the solid wood of his bedroom door.

"Yeah." Ashe opened the door after becoming solid again. His computer showed a page depicting the Civil War in the background.

"If you want a snack before going to bed, let me know," Adele smiled at her son before closing the door again. Ashe knew she was checking to see if he were doing exactly what he had been doing—turning to mist and getting away from the house. Shivering a little over almost getting caught, Ashe sat down at the computer and began making notes on the Battle of Antietam.

* * *

"I overheard some discussion in Principal Billings’ office this morning—I think the teachers are beginning to pick their favorite essays and argue their case," Cori set her tray down, brushed long blonde hair back one-handed and plopped down next to Ashe during lunch.

"Hear any names mentioned?" Sali looked up from his tray of spaghetti and meatballs to stare at Cori.

"Not really," Cori hedged, using a knife to quarter the large meatball a cafeteria worker had set atop a mound of spaghetti. "But Mrs. Rocklin and Mr. Dodd are arguing for the same paper. And I heard the word him, so it has to be one of the guys."

"Bet it’s Rowdy," Sali muttered dispiritedly. Rowdy Hankins was a senior, an A student and had been accepted into Brown University. Word had it that one of the faculty there was a werewolf just as Rowdy was, and the Grand Master had cleared the way for the studious young wolf.

"Sali, don’t get all depressed," Ashe said. "Want my roll?" He pushed his tray across the table toward Sali.

"Sure." Sali grabbed the yeast roll off Ashe’s tray and added it to his own. "But a roll doesn’t make up for a cell phone," Sali stuffed spaghetti in his mouth.

"Yeah." Ashe began to wind lengthy noodles around his fork. "Man, being grounded sucks rocks."

"Losing the essay contest sucks boulders," Sali offered.

"It sucks in Regolithic proportions," Ashe countered.

"You know, I’m not even going to ask what that means," Cori speared a quarter meatball and ate it. "Marco will be here around the time you two come off your prison sentence."

"Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen," Sali sang off-key.

"Maybe we can hook Mr. Thompson up to the bars of your jail cell and bust you out," Ashe laughed.

"Mr. Thompson in a harness? Are you kidding?" Sali grinned at the imagery. "I thought people hooked horses up for that."

"Well, there’s no chance of getting Wynn or her mom, so you’ll have to settle for a buffalo," Ashe ate another forkful of spaghetti.

"Cause the itty, bitty bat is in jail too," Sali said.

"Hey, now," Ashe pointed his fork at Sali.