Why the hell did Herc name me as heir? Rhona was perfect.
“You better head out first,” she said.
I fixed the red cap on and set a scowl in place. Thinking of Rhona’s expression, I injected some sadness into my eyes and left the manor. Tilting my chin, I strode through the midst of the gathered stewards.
Everyone was in attendance by the looks. Only one representative from each family was required on Tuesday evenings, but I couldn’t condemn their curiosity or their need for reassurance.
People nodded at me, moving out of the way. Crap, what I’d give to be Rhona. The way people looked at her. They respected her ability in Grids. They knew her.
I wanted that so much.
Ignoring their adoration, I moved to the front and stood at ease beside Pascal. She slid me a look, but I didn’t allow my mask to waver.
“Is she coming?” the grey-haired marshal asked.
I cracked my neck. “She wouldn’t miss it.”
Shame swirled in my gut for an instant before I banished it. Seriously, how much shit could someone take?
Just this once I wanted someone else to do the hard stuff.
There had to be some perks to having an almost twin.
The crowd quietened, and I watched Rhona walk out of the manor. She smiled at those gathered, stopping to talk with a few on the way. Shaking hands and touching shoulders, she moved through the crowds.
I mean, yes, I probably would do that…
But creepy.
What if we’d actually grown up together?
Oh, and I had to play my part. “Three cheers for our new head steward! Hip-hip!”
The first hooray was carried by those closest to me, but the second was triple the volume, and the third was a boom that rivalled the starting cannon in Grids.
Rhona reached me and we hugged.
“Did you just give yourself three cheers?” she whispered.
“Couldn’t pass up the opportunity.” I held her tight. What would I do without her? “Thank you.”
“Always, remember?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Always.”
Without a care in the world, my sister continued to the stage and microphone, and no one batted an eyelash.
She tapped the mic. “Stewards of the Ni Tiaki. Welcome to our tribal lands. Welcome. In the last two weeks, we have faced the loss of a much-loved leader. We lost a man who dedicated his life to this cause. Before we go further tonight, I’d like to lead a minute’s silence for Hercules Thana. Please, link hands and join me.”
Rhona deserved to say these words, not me.
I held Pascal’s hand and turned to find Wade on the other side.
The minute was a slight breeze and a rustle of trees set against the last notes of bird song. Exactly what Herc deserved.
But Sascha’s voice edged into my mind. He was dangerous for you.
Lie.
Herc wouldn’t have killed me. He wasn’t a killer.
“He’s with us in the air and in the trees.” Rhona’s voice broke. She cleared her throat. “He remains with us in the company of our ancestors for all time. To my father, Hercules Thana.”
I murmured his name with the other stewards, wondering if the horrible shame filling me would ever ebb.
Wade ran his thumb over the pads of my palm, and I yanked free, shooting him a glare.
“To this week’s game.” Rhona’s voice boomed across the manicured lawn.
Was this how she saw me? How everyone saw me? If not, they wouldn’t just stand there, hanging on her every word, right?
Seeing myself through another person was weird. Humbling. And I felt stupid for freaking out. My tribe didn’t want to see me fail.
How easily I’d forgotten that we were all linked.
The stewards were my community.
My people.
“The Luthers expected us to choose Timber,” Rhona said. “As you know, I chose Water. There’s a wealth of knowledge within the head and strategy teams that I must adjunct with my own learning to truly serve you as a leader. That learning starts with Water. I can’t deny that there has been massive change in our tribe. The wolves are circling, wondering if my father’s death has weakened us. This week, I have an unusual request. This week, we won’t focus on winning the grid.”
Murmurs broke out.
Her voice swelled. “Instead, we will show the Luthers that we are one. That we are not shaken. That their vile actions in Sandstone have only brought us closer. Made us more determined. This week, we win by showing the Luthers we are united and strong.”
She beamed at the cheering audience, and I watched on, heart stuck in my throat.
Valerie and Nathan took her place on the stage to run through the final strategies, and I released a breath, forcing myself to remain relaxed under Wade’s rapt attention.
Bastard suspected a switch.
Behind Rhona, I strode back to the manor.
Closing the door, I turned to find her already stripping off. I tore off the red hat.
“You think they believed it?” she muttered.
I’d nearly believed her. “Yep, we’re good. Thanks.”
“You know that was a one-off?”
I nodded. Oddly, now she’d been me, my fear had dissipated. I was more than capable of addressing the stewards. “I just had a moment. It won’t happen again.”
Pulling up my jumpsuit, I waited for her to shove the cap on, and we exited the manor again.
Wade was there in an instant, taking my hand. He ran his hand over the pads of my palm again.
“Funny thing about you and Rhona,” he whispered. “Rhona has callouses, and you have wimpy musician hands.”
Dang it. “Yeah, I had a freak out. Keep it to yourself.”
“I’m just upset you didn’t get drunk and set the dummies up again.”
So was I, but leaders didn’t get the luxury of openly losing the plot.
Wade looped an arm around my neck. “Come on. The Freys are here to see you.”
Oh, shit. I forgot about them. “Right now?”
“Right meow, baby girl.”
What was I wearing? Why was I nervous? They weren’t my real family anymore.
For a split second I had a great grandmother, two aunties, another uncle, and a grandfather—when Murphy was still my father.
Wade planted me in front of a small group.
I recognised Margaret, but her son and grandchildren were easy to spot. All of them had her straight nose.
I stared at the youngest man. He had to be in his late forties, nearly identical to pictures I’d seen of Murphy. My mouth dried as silence fell.
I just couldn’t tear my gaze from the man.
All I’d discovered before the world imploded was that Murphy visited Deception Valley to face his demons. A week later, he’d died in a rock-climbing accident, and Mum let me believe he’d abandoned us.
Margaret limped forward, leaning heavily on her cane. “Andie. It’s lovely to see you again.”
I tore my gaze from her son. “Margaret. The same to you. I’m sorry we haven’t seen each other sooner.”
She rested a hand on my arm. “No apology needed. A horrible shock for you. For us too.”
Of course. They’d lost a relative, too—their last connection to Murphy.
The surrounding groups quietened, and I squared my shoulders. “Will you join me in the garden? I have some questions, and I’m sure you have some for me.”
The family exchanged a look, and Margaret’s white-haired son stepped forward, linking arms with his mother.
“We’d like that,” he told me softly.
Wade patted me on the shoulder. “Good luck.”
I led them behind the manor where Herc and I first met to talk about Mum. Perching on the border of the herb garden, I waited as they sat at the wrought iron table. Some sat on the edges of the garden beds like me.
“I’ve always believed Murphy was my father.” The words slipped from my mouth.
Margaret smiled sadly. “Since we learned of you, so have we. My granddaughter tells me you weren’t aware of the subterfuge.”
“As far as I was aware, Murphy left us when I was three and never returned.”
The youngest woman—Murphy’s youngest sister—cut in. “He’d never do that to Ragna.”
Protective. I felt the same way about Rhona. “I know. But his commitment to her was also news to me. Mum always let me believe that he chose to leave.”
Anger flooded the faces of his siblings, though his father and grandmother remained thoughtful.
They deserved to know everything. “I spoke with one of Mum’s old friends who said she’d received a call from Mum after Murphy’s death.”
His father leaned forward. “Did Ragna say anything?”
“Asked where he was. Said he was meant to be gone for a week. To me, she only said that Murphy left to face his demons. That he couldn’t ignore them. She hated talking about him, and always gave me that same answer.”
The sister yet to speak burst to her feet. “How could she do that to him? Betraying him like that. He loved her so much. I thought she loved him too.”
I lifted a shoulder. “It doesn’t make any sense. Everyone says they loved each other more than anything.”
Margaret looked up at the sky. “They did. I’d never seen love like it. From so young too. If your mother hated my grandson in the end, it was only because he left her alone when he died.”
“You think so?”
“We can’t truly despise someone without having loved them first. And the harder we love, the more we loathe. Hate is the food of broken dreams and betrayal, after all.”
I wasn’t sure I agreed.
The father said, “What I don’t understand are these demons Ragna referred to. Murphy stayed with us during that time and never mentioned any issues.”
My stomach plummeted. “I was really hoping he had mentioned something. I keep wondering why my mum left this place. But now I know she wasn’t my mother at all, I can’t stop thinking about what happened all those years ago.”
“Murphy would never steal a child,” the youngest sister spoke again. “He couldn’t take the guilt. My brother was a good, decent man.”
Was she implying Mum wasn’t?
I took in her flushed cheeks. She missed her brother. “I wish I’d known him.”
Margaret tapped her cane. “Perhaps that was the demon he’d come to face. Maybe he had to explain everything to Hercules.”
“Do you remember who he went to see?” I leaned forward.
The son replied, “He visited all his friends, and Hercules Thana.”
I didn’t miss the way he’d separated Herc from all his friends. “Did Murphy say anything about the meeting with Herc?”
“Never, but I could tell he was out of sorts after.”
“How many times did they see each other?”
“At least three occasions that I’m aware of.” He lowered his gaze. “Before the last time.”
Before Murphy died.
Margaret interrupted the heavy silence. “My grandson was an expert rock-climber.”
“Mum,” her son hissed.
She shot him a dry look. “I’m too old to not say what I want. Manners take time I don’t have.”
“What are you saying?” That sounded like an accusation.
Rhona walked into the garden. “Hey, I was looking for you. Everything okay?”
Wade said this family wasn’t fans of the Thanas, and that was obvious by the sudden stiffness in their postures.
They hadn’t liked Hercules, and Rhona was lumped in there too.
The talking was over.
“Thank you for telling me more about Murphy. I know it doesn’t mean much, but I wish I’d had the chance to know him better. To every account, he was an incredible person.”
“He was,” the brother said hoarsely.
“If you ever want to know more—maybe see pictures—just let us know,” the youngest sister surprised me by saying.
I smiled at her. “I’ll do that.”
The father approached as the family began to leave. He took my hands, leaning in. “No matter why Ragna and my son left the valley, I can assure you that Murphy intended to return to you both. He was leaving at 2:00 p.m. once their group returned from rock-climbing. There was nothing he wouldn’t have done for that beautiful, kind woman. And though he never told us of a child, I have no doubt he felt the same love for you, regardless of who your blood father might have been.”
This was all so fucked up. I’d hated Murphy for most of my life, then felt so hopeful after piecing together the timeline of his death. Now I just felt bitter that his death robbed my life of much-needed security. He’d left a blatant hole in this family’s lives—and mine.
I’d filled that hole with anger for twenty-one years.
I wanted Murphy to be my father again. Then Rhona would be head steward, and everything would be fine.
Mum would still be my mum.
Rhona lingered in my periphery, arms crossed. She was either oblivious to the Frey’s dislike or uncaring.
Probably the latter.
“Thank you.” I hugged the man’s middle tight and whispered, “Who went rock-climbing with Murphy and Hercules that day?”
He moved his mouth close to my ear. “One other steward.”
“Who?” I breathed.
“Pascal.”
5
I winced as another flag went up.
“That’s six hundred,” Pascal murmured.
From the high observation tower in the middle of Lake Thana, I watched the annihilation of our tribe in Water. The playing field was on a part of the lake tucked behind the hill where Herc’s will was read.
“Six hundred and one,” she said.
Ugh. Embarrassing.
You came here to learn. But still. Bet Sascha was having a fucking laugh over this. And his pack. Cheeks burning, I studied the surface below. The water was clear and with the calm evening, visibility was easy.
The Luthers used rope against us to great effect in this grid. My stewards had oxygen tanks, and the Luthers—stronger and faster swimmers—merely trussed up our players, safe in the knowledge they could breathe for the duration of the game.
Cliffs lined a small part of the lake’s perimeter. The stewards stationed there were safe, and they could fire at any werewolves within range. Of which there’d been a paltry number.
Problem one: The cliff couldn’t fit one thousand stewards. The battle had to occur in the water. Our weakness there in comparison to the Luthers was undeniable. The equipment needed to give us much-needed speed was horrendously expensive.
Herc had a Water savings account. I’d traced the equipment bought over the last two years. He didn’t choose Water because he wanted some defence when they eventually came here again, but that shit was costly.
Problem two: Our method of communication didn’t work here. Once my stewards slipped under the surface, they were on their own, so our plan couldn’t be adapted.
“Six hundred and two,” Pascal said.
She murmured, “Six hundred and three,” a second later.
Fuckers.
We were literally sitting ducks. I could see the Luthers converging on groups of us but had no way to warn my units.
The werewolves moved from one area of the lake to another with clear direction. They’d altered in response to our strategy too. Sascha had to be guiding them somehow. The wolves could talk underwater. There was no way they could be in sync otherwise, but we’d put frequency generators underwater that should block their ability to hear.
A puzzle.
That I intended to solve.
“Do they always do the same thing?” I asked Pascal, who was frantically tapping on her tablet.
Looking at her, a person would never guess this woman knew far more than she let on. Pascal had known about the will change. She’d been there when Murphy died.
&n
bsp; My grandson was an expert rock-climber, Margaret had said.
That’s why the Freys hadn’t liked Herc. They believed he killed Murphy. Even for stealing me, his eldest daughter, could Herc have done such a thing?
Sure, I’d seen him attempt to kill a werewolf. He was capable of the act against a Luther, but not against humans.
And even if he was, Murphy was Herc’s best chance of finding me again. Yet he’d never shown up on our doorstep. Herc never found out where Mum and I were.
If his plans were to find me, why kill Murphy before getting information?
Nope.
The Frey’s need to blame someone was understandable, but I didn’t swallow that Herc killed Murphy.
“Yes,” Pascal answered. “Always. It’s effective.”
She alone knew what really happened that day.
People had a sad habit of dying before answering my questions, but I had to handle this matter delicately. She was our marshal and part of the head team. Pascal held power in our tribe.
Being new around here, I couldn’t risk alienating her.
“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” I hummed. That was exactly the mentality that nearly lost us Sandstone. When one side held a grid for decades, they got lax. Sascha included.
I could figure this out. I just had to think outside the box and do some digging on how the Luthers were communicating.
Boom.
The final cannon blasted through the sky.
“Can’t say I’m sorry that’s over.” I blew out a breath.
She arched a brow. “Not the greatest morale booster.”
Agreed. Still… “It was important for me to see that.” Maybe we could have won Timber and had the choice of grid again, plus the extra income too. That path didn’t help us long-term when we had to come up against Water to win.
For most of the last ten years, the two sides had fought nearly exclusively over Timber. Something had to change.
Pascal slipped her tablet into a waterproof sleeve. “I go with the Luther marshal to check the final tally now. I’ll meet you back on shore.”
I heard the approaching boat. “Okay. See you soon.”
Clipping on my binoculars, I zipped my jacket against the slight chill in the air now that summer was leaving the valley. Only the tiniest sliver of the moon was visible in the night sky, and the sight gave me cheer. The wolves would stick to their lands for the next four or five days during the new moon.
Moon Claimed: Supernatural Battle (Werewolf Dens Book 2) Page 3