Chapter 129

Sarah POV

Later that day, after the press conference, Zane and I and the girls sat down to watch this must-see documentary from Melissa Thibodaux, a quite beautiful alpha from a friendly neighboring territory who had an amazing online presence (a million subscribers on YouTube) and a mission to help wolves of all ranks (except omegas, I noticed) live better lives.

“For centuries, the Abrigan Mine has offered up rich deposits of coal for the Cavendish Territory, both for domestic use and for trade. At first, the mine was mostly worked by wolves, but human workers slowly increased over time, and, sad to say, that meant the diminishment of worker conditions over time.”

The camera zoomed back from her perfectly symmetrical face to pan over the tiers that sloped up from her position, making it clear she was on the lowest level of the mine for her report. Then we went back to a close-up. She had perhaps the purest blue eyes I had ever seen that weren’t in Zane’s face.

“Just a few days ago, Pack Alpha Zane Cavendish and his household’s human goddess-mother, Sarah Astor, discovered things at the mine were not as they seemed on paper.”

There was a series of jump cuts to various scenes around the mine of ancient equipment, bad food, close sleeping areas, and a straining wooden frame in what I recognized as a now-closed shaft.

Then the screen showed the smoke spewing out of Shaft #18A.

“This shaft fire was likely started as a protest by one of the miners here. I have been told no one was hurt by the fire because the shaft had been closed. However, I know for a fact that standing here, breathing in those fumes, has left my throat raw and my eyes watering.”

“She should stand somewhere else, then,” Chloe said.

I laughed. “I agree, but her point is that there were people who couldn’t stand somewhere else.”

“Is that true?” Chloe asked.

I thought about it and then looked at Zane, who shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

Chloe grunted.

The documentary then featured a doctor who talked about how susceptible humans were to blank lung and other illnesses, which I found a little distasteful because the doctor was a werewolf and seemed to think humans were “fussy.”

But then the footage cut to a human doctor who talked about how humans and wolves were equally susceptible to what he called “pneumoconiosis” and “silicosis,” which, she explained, were respiratory diseases caused by the inhalation of super-fine particles from the coal mine itself as well as diesel engines.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re human or wolf,” she said. “You breathe it in and your system starts to shut down.”

Thibodaux took back over then and went through some of the miners’ quarters onsite, which were basically tents with too many cots shoved together.

Then Shotz showed up. I gave a little cheer, and Zane, who had been looking thunderous, shot me a little smile.

“Now, as I understand it, you approached Sarah Astor on you own. Is that right?” she asked him.

“Yes,” he said, and I noticed his overalls were very clean. I supposed Thibodaux’s crew had seen to that. “She was very nice.”

“And she told you they were going to shut down the mine?”

“No, no. She told me the opposite,” he said with some feeling that I confess I found gratifying. “She said the mine was important and they’d figure out a way to keep it going, though I didn’t see how.”

“What do you mean?”

Shotz shrugged. “The mine’d been played out for a while now. I figured they close it up.”

“And then she told you about the geothermal project?”

“Not then. She just said she’d be looking into what could be done.”

“You must have found that frustrating at the time.”

“Not really. I mean, I could tell she meant it, and when they started talking about the geothermal plan, I knew she’d come through for us.”

Thibodaux smiled, and I was again struck by how lovely she was. “And do you intend to learn more about the geothermal projects?”

Shotz shrugged. “Of course, but the basic idea is pretty simple. These mines, a lot of these shafts, they’ve been closed for decades. There’s steam in there, and where there’s steam, there’s power.”

“Of course.” Thibodaux turned to the camera then for a tight close-up.

“And that’s all I have for now from the Abrigan Mine. For The Twilight Bark, this is Melissa Thibodaux.”

“The what?” Zane asked as the screen went to an ad and he muted the TV.

“It’s the name of her channel,” I said.

He thought a moment. “The movie, 101 Dalmatians?”

“Got it in one.”

“Sounds kind of facile.”

“She’s got over a million subscribers,” I said.

Of course, we looked over the comments following the video, which is how I learned about some T-shirt merch that featured the sentiment, “All One People,” which I guessed was a reference to my news conference.

The comments were overwhelmingly positive, and I found myself nodding.

“She’d make a good member of the team,” I said.

“I suppose.” Zane looked down at his daughters, obviously to ask their opinions, and saw they’d gotten into a hand-slapping game and were quietly giggling. He shrugged at me.

“We can use them as a marketing focus group in a few years,” I said.

“Hooray.” Zane cocked his head. “How about we invite her for tea?”

“Tea?” Grace said, her head whipping around so fast I was surprised her head didn’t snap off.

“A proper tea?” Chloe asked, no doubt thinking of cucumber sandwiches. But all I could was laugh. It was all my fault, after all.

Still, I confessed to myself I wasn’t crazy about inviting Melissa Thibodaux to the house. But then I scolded myself. She was beautiful.

Zane was going to meet a lot of beautiful wolves in his life. That was just how things were.

“Bedtime,” I announced, meaning it was tooth brushing and pajamas for the girls. We ended up in their room, and we finished The Mummy Market.

Personally, I was glad to be done with the thing. It was about some siblings who learned they could go to a market to “buy” a new mother, each featured in her own booth showcase, but each one turned out to be wrong for them. The outdoorsy mother was too “gung-ho,” and so on.

Finally, they “bought” the mother who had an empty booth, and she adapted to suit the children’s needs. They kept her.

That wasn’t how life worked, I thought. I completely understood the appeal of the book to children, particularly two little girls who had lost their mother, but no person was some sort of blank canvas for others to paint on. Privately, I took the book out of rotation.

We’d try The Little Mermaid book next.