Vic helped himself to another glass of whiskey. “And you’re positive you never told him you’re a shifter?”
“Positive.” Dellan met Vic’s direct gaze.
Vic nodded before taking a drink. “I’m glad you called me,” he said to Doc. “This is something we need to be aware of.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” Rael said suddenly. When Vic remained silent, he crossed his arms. “I think we have a right to know. Because this obviously concerns us.”
Vic became very still. “This is a need-to-know situation, and—”
“Fuck that,” Crank said, his voice harsh. “We know as much about shifters as they do, and that ain’t a lot, believe me. So how come no one knows anything? How come they have no fucking clue how many shifters are out there?” He banged the table with his fist. “We want answers, goddammit!”
“This is nothing to do with you,” Vic fired back at him. “You’re human, for Christ’s sake.”
Crank nodded. “And we just risked our lives to save a shifter. I’m thinking you owe us for that.” His face tightened.
Vic stared at him for a moment, then sighed. “I guess I can tell you a little of our history.”
“You know about it?” Rael asked, his heart racing. Finally some answers to the questions that had plagued him since puberty.
Vic smiled. “I should. I’m an oral historian.”
Crank snickered. “He said oral.”
Roadkill rolled his eyes, then addressed Vic. “Ignore the infant in our midst and tell us what you know.”
Vic leaned back in his chair. “As long as there have been shifters, there have also been oral historians. Our job is to learn by heart, retain, and pass on to future historians.”
“Like in Roots?” Crank asked. When Roadkill made an impatient noise, Crank scowled at him. “Hey, it’s a valid comment.”
“And a correct one,” Vic told him. “In case you haven’t worked it out, as far as mankind is concerned, shifters are a myth. There are writings about us, stories that date back almost a thousand years.”
“Does your oral history go back that far?” Hashtag leaned forward, his eyes shining.
Vic smiled. “It does. The general consensus among humans is that if there was a grain of truth to the stories, shifters have long since died out.”
“Except we know they haven’t,” Roadkill announced with a gleam in his eye.
“Exactly. We have survived, but not in great numbers. Only two shifters can produce shifter offspring. If a shifter mates with a human, the children will be human too.”
“Survived what, exactly?” Doc asked.
Vic fell silent.
“Vic?” Dellan’s voice was quiet. “What can you tell us?”
Vic stared into his glass. “One thing remains unclear—when shifters first emerged. That is too far into the past. It’s thought that shifters existed in great numbers until the arrival of man.”
“Let me guess.” Horvan’s brow furrowed. “They tried to wipe us out.”
“Yes, and they almost succeeded. Those who survived spread out to all parts of the world. Where the oral history proves less shaky is the story of the two brothers.”
Hashtag sighed. “This is fascinating.”
Vic took another drink before continuing. “They had very different ideals, and even their names pointed to this. Ansfrid, which means divinity and peace, lived up to his name. He wanted to live in harmony with mankind. His brother, Ansger, did not.”
“What does Ansger mean?” Rael inquired.
Vic paused. “Divinity and spear.”
“Oh fuck.” Crank reached for an empty glass and filled it. “We’re not gonna like this part, are we?”
“Ansger wanted to rule over mankind, thinking men weaker than shifters. It is said the brothers couldn’t bear to live together, and they split. One bloodline mated with whoever they loved, human or shifter. The other chose to mate only with shifters.”
“I don’t like the sound of this,” Dellan murmured.
“Me neither,” Doc added. “Because all this brings one word to mind, and it’s not a word I like.”
“Doc?” Rael shivered. “What’s wrong?”
“This business of shifters only mating with shifters. In other words, they were trying not to water down the gene pool. And the next step would be weeding out the inferior genes, the weaker genes.”
“Are we talking… eugenics?” Hashtag gazed at Doc with wide eyes.
“I don’t know.” Doc turned to Vic. “Are we?”
“We don’t know.” Vic finished his drink. “Since the split, there’s been little information on what the Gerans are doing, beyond snippets and rumors. Nothing that’s verifiable, at any rate.”
“Gerans?” Horvan frowned.
Vic nodded. “That’s what the followers of Ansger became. I’m a Fridan. We follow Ansfrid’s example.”
“Oh, I really don’t like this,” Crank announced. “Different bloodlines, gene purity, followers, cloak-and-dagger bullshit….”
“Ansger and Anfrid were apparently very charismatic men. They drew followers from all kinds of shifters.”
“Yeah, but from the sound of it, there are ‘followers’ out there who think all shifters are equal, but some are a little more equal than others.” Crank shuddered. “And before you know it, you’ve got a civil war on your hands.” He peered at Vic. “What else can you tell us?”
“Believe me, I’ve said more than I’m allowed to already.” Vic shook his head. “Anything else I say would be hearsay, rumor, and innuendo. As an oral historian, I won’t sink to that. I’ll follow up, sure, to ferret out the truth, but I won’t be the one to spread misinformation.”
“Is that it? Are you done now?”
It was obvious to Rael that Crank and Vic were never going to be bosom buddies.
“Actually? Could I stay a while? I have so many questions for you.” Vic’s eyes shone. “We know so little about mates, and for there to be three of you….”
Rael looked to Horvan and Dellan. What do you think?
Horvan nodded. I think he needs all the help we can give him.
Roadkill sighed. “Well, what’s one more mouth to feed?” He winked at Rael. “We can always give Crank a smaller portion.”
“You could sure as hell try,” Crank said with a growl.
“Then I can stay? It wouldn’t be for long because I have places to be, but for a day at least.”
Rael liked this new Vic. He’d gone from being a menacing, brooding figure to an eager man, excited to learn more. Despite his actual age, Vic gave the impression of being younger.
Rael smiled. Well, Crank did say Vic is a baby for his species.
It was as if Crank read his mind. “Hey, wait a minute, Mr. Oral Historian. All that guff about how it’s your shark that keeps you looking so young? That shit don’t add up.”
Vic arched his eyebrows and folded his arms. “Oh?”
Crank pointed at Horvan. “After he told us about shifters, I got curious. I went online and looked up bears and lions. Bears only live about twenty-five years. Lions don’t even live that long. So by your reckoning, they should already be dead.”