Wild Sign (Alpha & Omega #6)(9)

He pulled another file out with another thumb drive. “This is from the Cantrip archives.” He didn’t say how they had gotten it. “Cantrip has been fed information about you from various groups—some of them supernatural hate groups like Bright Future or the John Lauren Society. Some of them are other supernatural groups. One informant was a witch—and she provided them with the equivalent of a biology textbook. Her information was classified and only the very top echelon of Cantrip has access to it. There was a vampire, too, at some point. But he killed two of their agents and they killed him.”

Leslie cleared her throat. “There is information in there you would not want to be public knowledge.”

Anna didn’t make any move to take the offerings on the table—that would be for someone else to go through. Goldstein did not say who had told them where Anna and Charles lived, which would have been more interesting information.

Charles had long ago hacked into the Cantrip database. He probably had hacked into the FBI files, too. The wolves knew there were people in the government who understood just what the wolves were and mostly who they were. It was not the government Bran was worried about—at least not yet. It was the public in general—and what the public would urge their government to do.

“You’ve obviously had this information for a while,” she said. “So why the candor now? What do you mean to accomplish with this?” She waved her hand at the files on the table.

Goldstein smiled grimly. “Some of my superiors were quite stuck on Hauptman. It took some persuading to bring this here instead.”

Anna didn’t know what kind of reaction she was supposed to have, since the Columbia Basin Pack and Adam Hauptman, its prickly and extremely handsome Alpha, were the most famous werewolves on the planet—at least in the eyes of the purely human.

“Okay,” she said. Leslie’s face didn’t change, but from Goldstein’s expression, Anna knew her response hadn’t been the one he was looking for.

“The FBI feels that the various supernatural groups pose a threat to the public. We are reasonably certain if all hell breaks loose, our superior numbers and weapons will leave us the last ones standing. But that only means we all lose.”

“Yes,” Anna agreed, having heard variants on this assessment—albeit from the werewolf side—for years.

“We feel with allies to lend us knowledge, finesse, and firepower, we could avoid the zero-sum ending. We need a large group, one we can trust—and who can trust us.”

Anna must have made some sort of derisive sound, because Goldstein grinned appreciatively.

“For some levels of trust,” he agreed. “The FBI is a large organization—and our upper management is politically appointed. We have . . . not involved the political appointees at this point. We do understand why you might be less than happy to ally yourselves with us. That’s why I brought you our files, as a gesture of goodwill.”

“Not much of a risk,” Anna observed. “Since it’s all information about werewolves—and we already know all about werewolves.”

“Right,” said Goldstein. “But you can find out how much we know about you.”

Anna wasn’t sure she believed that last part even if Goldstein did. But she didn’t think that conversation would be useful.

She shrugged. “All right. So why bring it to us?”

Goldstein frowned at her a moment. He tapped a finger on the table and said, “I think our opportunity to ally with the fae died when that thrice-be-damned court let Heuter walk. Everyone in the courtroom, judge and jury, knew he’d raped and killed people who came from the supernatural groups. Everyone knew he’d raped the daughter of a Gray Lord and intended to kill her—and they still let him off because he was human and his victims were not. Do you remember the cheers from the courtroom?”

They had all been there.

His assessment of that situation was right on target, Anna thought. Gwyn ap Lugh, who went by the name of Beauclaire, was the most prominent member of the faction of Gray Lords who had been friendly toward humans. It had been his daughter who had been brutalized and scarred.

“Charles told me the world would have been better off if he’d just killed Heuter when he had a chance,” Anna agreed. “It wouldn’t have been just to kill a man who had surrendered—but what the courts delivered wasn’t justice, either.”

“I could have shot him, too,” Leslie observed regretfully. “I thought about it pretty hard.”

Goldstein grunted. “That ship has sailed. So, while we hope for a cease-fire with the fae, we are aware the fae will never trust us. My bones will be dust and Beauclaire will still remember a human court chose to protect their own monster rather than give a Gray Lord’s daughter justice.”

“That is a problem when dealing with immortal creatures,” murmured Anna.

“The only other large and organized group we know about is the vampires. It is difficult for a chicken to make an alliance with a fox—you never know when you’ll be eaten for breakfast,” Goldstein said.

And the vampires were still allowing the world to pretend they didn’t exist. It was easier for everyone concerned. An alliance would surely mean the vampires had to come out of the shadows.

“That left the werewolves,” Leslie said. “But we didn’t know how to approach it. We knew there were packs directed by Alphas. We even knew several of the Alphas very well—Hauptman, for instance. Then you and Charles came to Boston.”