Page 12 of Aleko
He took them into the office. Pellos was back on the phone, so Alex led them to the conference room and pulled out the sliding whiteboard from behind the one that usually tracked all of their ships. This board had taped photos from the dive team’s robot. The wreck was difficult to see in the murky waters of the Aegean, but the stern with the painted nameSturmwolkewas clear enough.
Alex watched as the brothers took in the picture. Trevor passed his hand over his face, looking weary and older. Colin remained impassive, but Alex noted his hand was clenched in a white-knuckled grip around his bag strap.
“There it is then,” said Trevor at last. “You’ve done it.”
“I found it,” said Alex. “But what happens next is up to you. I’m none too anxious to send human divers down to it.”
“No,” said Colin firmly. “No, it can’t be humans. We can’t trust them with this. It’s best if it’s us.”
“I’m also worried about what effects it could have on Supernaturals. The last thirty years have seen some magical re-growth in the area, so we know the effects of the spell have fadeda bit. But I am not sure that you won’t get down to the wreck and lose all ability to transform. Or you know… just die.”
The brothers nodded. Neither appeared to be bothered by the prospects.
“Who’s running our boat?” asked Trevor.
“Sebastian and Pellos,” said Alex. “Luca, our wizard, is still in Syria, but he sent me a spell, and I set air bubbles.”
“No offense,” said Colin, “but can we trust them or any human magic-wielder?”
“Pellos is a member of my pack.”
“But he’s human,” said Trevor.
“I think I know who I’ve got in my head. Pellos is mine,” said Alex icily.
The brothers exchanged looks. “Then that’s what it is. Is this other one yours too?”
“Luca’s grandmother was Sofia Giavanese,” said Alex. “He has helped us find several artifacts and got the Nazi mission codes that allowed us to send Hudson to the Arolsen Archives. He’s not mine, but he’s been helpful.”
The two nodded. They all knew the members of the team in 1945. Two selkies—Brynn and Colwyn Green; one wolf—Howell Ash; one witch—Sofia Giavanese; and the fifth member, the American, Seth Reda. Alex thought Seth had possibly been another magic-wielder but couldn’t be sure. Howell had described him as a tricky red-headed bastard, but Howell had always kept his letters carefully scrubbed of details, and none of the pack’s research had turned up anything more definitive. But it must have been something. The team had been one of the best in the theater. No one made it on the roster without being able to kill a fuck ton of Nazis and warlocks. Alex had been fighting in the Pacific theater when he got word of his brother’s death, but it was the subsequent fallout from the bomb that had brought him to the brink of despair. After the war, he’d been a rejectand outcast, and it had taken him a long time to cobble together some kind of life, let alone one that could afford the finer things.
He knew that Trevor and Colin had faced similar challenges. They’d spent the last forty years in Australia, pretending they had forgotten. But they’d answered when he’d called. They also wanted to know what had happened. In the search for the truth, he knew that he could count on them. He was less clear on whether or not they would help him when he revealed his true goal: to reverse the spell.
“We’ll take precautions,” said Trevor, still looking at the photos. “One of us will remain human, and one of us will shift. We’ll take tanks just in case.”
“The air bubbles are stable,” said Alex patiently. “We’ve tested them, but we can back them up with tanks. I’ll be going down with you.”
“Youse gonna get your fur all wet,” said Colin, his eyes twinkling.
“I’ll risk it,” said Alex.
“When can we go?” asked Trevor.
“The boat’s ready. We can gather supplies and go out now. You know, unless you’re planning on getting tossed in jail again.”
Trever grinned. “I don’t know. Might be worth it. The translator… oooeee.”
“I’d defo be up in her knickers if she’d let me,” said Colin with a nod.
“A translator?” asked Alex. “The cops usually have someone on shift who can muddle through some English.”
“The place was choc-a-bloc with iffy hoons,” said Colin with a shrug. “I don’t think she was there just for us. Although, she did speak Welsh, so that was a bit of nice.”
Alex paused to consider his conversation with the brothers and decided that, in all probability, the policehadneeded a translator to get through the Australian dialect.
Pellos opened the door. “We’ve got a ping on Luca. Fucking Morse code. Said the computers have all gone out, but they expect to be back in port by tonight.”
“And you said learning Morse code was pointless,” said Alex, feeling smug to be winning an argument that was at least twenty years old.
