by Ally Shields
Chapter Thirteen
Heads swiveled in her direction as Ari walked into the Magic Hall. The forty members of the Otherworld governing council, dressed in suits or other formal attire consistent with their race and gender, sat in three rows of raised seats, forming a semi-circle facing the massive south doors. The first row held the representatives of five of the six major magic races: sorcerers (including the witch clans), vampires, lycanthropes, elves, and nymphs. Demons, considered the sixth race, were not represented. There were no treaties with the devil’s offspring.
In front of and facing the arranged seats stood a small podium, and behind that a glossy dark wood conference table which currently had two chairs. Ari was surprised to see Martin occupied one of them. Even though the fight at the Were Fest had occurred in his part of the city, the combatants had been vampires, Ari’s problem. Martin nodded as she took the other seat.
Both Guardians were dressed in traditional white uniforms. No jewelry or accessories. Although rarely worn outside these halls, the uniforms were required for Council appearances. Ari smoothed her skirt a couple of times and waited.
The Magic Hall, unlike the modern offices and cultural center attached, was built of stone along grand lines. Its style was copied from 13th century cathedrals with statuary and elaborate adornments, many depicting magical events in history. It was a reminder of continuity. Ari usually enjoyed looking around, but this morning her thoughts were on the pending inquiry.
The gavel came down. The Council president called the meeting to order and asked Martin to approach the podium. Ari tried hard not to fidget.
Her counterpart was a lean elf of indeterminate age. Martin looked more like a philosopher than a keeper of the peace. The impression was deceiving. Like most of his race, Martin was strong and agile, highly skilled in martial arts. Ari had been content with a tie the one time they had sparred.
Martin’s voice remained firm and confident as he gave his report, detailing the events from the Were Fest. He concluded with the good recovery of the weretiger injured at the Second Chance Saloon. The representatives sat quietly throughout his presentation, but Martin was just the warm up. Most of the Council’s time had been reserved for Ari.
It was a rocky start. She’d barely reached the podium before Lucien, the vampire representative, began grilling her about the sufficiency of her guardian training. His clipped tone and manner put her on edge.
She assured him her instructors, including Yana, had been excellent. She could have elaborated, reciting her skills and abilities, but court protocol dictated brevity unless invited to continue by the questioner. Lucien scoffed at her conclusion, leading her through a recitation of various rules and mandates.
Ten minutes later, a broad smile stole across his face. “Excellent, Ms. Calin. I am surprised and delighted with the extent of your knowledge. Most admirable. So, you would agree that your primary mandate is to preserve and protect the magical races?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then can you explain why you chose to terminate a vampire named Lawrence? And,” Lucien held up a hand when she started to speak, “let me finish, Ms. Calin. And why you allowed an overpowering police force to gun down another vampire, known as Christopher?” He stopped, his eyes flashing with scorn. “Now you may answer, if you can. “
“The details are in my reports, sir, but basically both vampires were dangerously out of control when I arrived.”
“I’ve read these pieces of fiction you call your reports,” Lucien cut in. He rustled noisily through the pages. “I find nothing that explains your appalling actions. You would have us believe Lawrence killed himself, throwing his body on your knife,” he scoffed. “And not one word tells me why you did not diffuse the situation by negotiation or, if necessary, taking the two men into custody. For their own protection, if nothing else.”
The white-bearded Council president interrupted with his usual unruffled, unhurried manner. “Lucien, you must ask her a question, not make a speech.”
“Yes, Mr. President. Ms. Calin, how do you feel about vampires?”
The question caught her off guard. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s a simple question. Do you like them?”
“I don’t dislike them.” Ari’s answer was honest. When she heard it out loud, it sounded evasive.
Lucien heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Let me make this easy for you. Do you have vampire friends?”
Andreas’s angry face flashed through her head. Rita’s mulish pout. Victor calling her a bitch. “Not really. But I don’t have close friends in many of the races I protect,” she continued before he could cut her off. “It’s a matter of duty, not friendship.”
Lucien frowned at the uninvited explanation. “Answer the question only, Guardian. We don’t need a soliloquy.” He rustled through her reports again. “Didn’t you, in fact, take the easy way out? The option that was popular with your human friends?”
“There was no easy way. In fact, there was no choice. Christopher had already killed that night. Lawrence nearly killed the weretiger. They were out of control, no longer acting rationally. Whether that was drugs or something else, I can’t be sure. But I know what I saw.”
Lucien leaned over his table and stared down at her. “If you must continue with these long, unresponsive statements, at least admit this is only your opinion. Are you aware that no vampires have come forward to support your claim?”
“No, but there were lots of other witnesses. A whole parking lot of them that could give you the facts.”
“Humans?” Lucien nearly spat the word. “Apparently you value their word above that of the vampires. Perhaps they are also more worthy of your protection.”
“That’s not true,” Ari snapped, unable to hold back any longer. “I would have saved the vampires if I could!”
The hall grew silent at her outburst.
Lucien sat back and smirked. “This Guardian is not only unfit for her position but disrespectful of the Council. Perhaps her services are no longer needed.”
“Lucien,” the president said patiently, “If you have no more questions for Ms. Calin, I think we should move forward. The elves have the floor.”
Ari wanted to continue arguing with Lucien, deny his accusations, but she’d already pushed beyond the limits of court protocol. Further infractions might only serve to prove the vampire’s point. And he wasn’t going to listen. No more than Andreas the night it happened.
Ari relaxed her clenched fingers and turned her attention to the elf’s questions.
To her relief, the rest of the members were more understanding and less accusatory about the vampire deaths. What alarmed most of the Council were the potential dangers from Fantasy, the unknown source of its alteration, and the part played in these events by the Canadian werewolves. Steffan, of course, was a staunch ally throughout the proceedings.
After more than an hour of questioning, Ari was excused to wait for the Council’s decision. An attendant escorted her to the vestibule of the Magic Hall, just outside the thick arched doors. Now they would deliberate.
Expelling her pent-up tension on a long breath, Ari sank onto one of two stone benches. It wasn’t unusual for Lucien to be antagonistic. He had that kind of personality. But today had been over the top even for him. Ari was still steaming over his accusations when Steffan slipped out of the Council room.
“I don’t have long,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Lucien made a motion to have you removed. Don’t worry. It won’t pass, but I want to be there for the vote. While he’s still ranting, I wanted to fill you in on the latest rumor. If it’s true, it could explain Lucien’s nasty mood today.” He glanced around to make sure they weren’t overheard. “Someone tried to assassinate Prince Daron last night. I don’t have details, except I believe Daron survived.” He looked at the closed doors. “I better go. Tell Martin. See what else you can find out.” Steffan ducked back into the Council chambers, leaving Ari staring after him with a tho
usand unanswered questions.
That would explain Andreas’s absence from the club and the increased security. Stepping outside the building to use her cell phone, she wondered which side of this Andreas was on. Was he loyal to the Prince? Or part of an attempted coup?
Martin took the news in stride and said he’d try to gather the details. She promised to call as soon as the Council was finished. “If I still have a job,” she added with an uncertain laugh.
For twenty long minutes, she paced the confines of the vestibule, fretted about the Council’s decision, and chaffed against the inactivity. She needed to be on duty. If the vampire community became unstable, the entire city could suffer.
At last they summoned her to hear the Council’s decision. Ari avoided looking at Lucien. In fact, she didn’t make eye contact with anyone except the president until he read the decision. It turned out fine. Her reports were accepted and approved as submitted and her removal voted down upon a vote of thirty-nine to one. It was obvious who the dissenter had been. When she finally glanced at Lucien, his face conveyed nothing except disinterest.
Ari nearly sprinted from the room and had her cell dialing before she hit the front door. Martin answered before she heard it ring.
“Prince Daron didn’t suffer a scratch,” he said. “The attacker was one of his guards and was captured immediately. Don’t know what happened to the assailant, but I can guess. Either he can’t talk or won’t, because the court’s in an uproar. It’s assumed he wasn’t working alone, and the vamps are looking for conspirators under every rock. No one’s free of suspicion.”
“Attacked how?”
“Details are sketchy, and that’s one I haven’t heard. But I think we’re safe in believing Daron survived. If he was dead, the vamps would be tearing the city apart. The timing of this is suspicious, you know. Right on top of the vamp fights.” Tension crept into his voice. “The Otherworld community is primed to react. Rumors are flying about mind-controlling drugs and outside invaders. I’ve even heard the Magic Council itself might come under attack.”
“That’s ridiculous! There’s no hint of danger to the Council.”
“You and I know that, but once rumors start, they spread swiftly. They don’t have to be true.”
An hour later, Ari was still wondering how they could stop the escalating fear and suspicion. It called for something drastic. She couldn’t help the vampires, not unless they chose to involve her, but maybe she could get the drugs off the streets. That meant looking for the source. Which brought her to a confrontation with Molyneux and his Canadian wolves.
Ari considered her options. So far, this was primarily an Otherworld issue, and without sufficient evidence for the human legal system, Ryan and his cops were off the list. What she needed was Otherworld backup. Not Andreas. Whether he was still inclined to help or not, he had his own problems now. Steffan, on the other hand, would be the perfect choice.
Once again she drove to the suburbs. Steffan should be home from the Council meeting, and she wanted to talk with him in person. Outwitting Louie Molyneux and his northern wolves would require a lot of careful planning.
Chapter Fourteen
Steffan wasn’t only willing, he was eager to help. He wanted to set out immediately, but after weighing the risks involved, they put off the confrontation until the morning after the full moon, about forty hours away. They hoped to avoid a bloodbath by catching the Canadian pack members unaware, when they were exhausted and less alert after a night of revelry, running through the woods.
The intervening time was tense. Ari haunted the Olde Town streets and parks, determined to stop further violence before it happened. Yet every phone call, every message was potential news of some new disaster. The final night was the hardest. Steffan’s control over his inner beast was strong, but even he found it difficult to resist the call of the full moon. Ari worried that the Canadian pack might choose that night to commit further mischief. When dawn came with no new crimes reported, she breathed a sigh of relief.
It was nearly 6:30 a.m. when she met Steffan two houses from their destination. Steffan was edgy; staying in the night before had cost him. The five weretigers who accompanied him were in better shape. The moon’s lure affected their species less than the wolves.
Ari turned to take a look at the house, a three-story built around 1910. Shingles curled at the edges; dingy white paint clung to the frame, chipped and peeling. The upstairs shutters were closed, except for one on the third floor that hung by a single hinge. The yard hadn’t been mowed since mid-summer, and hostas in neglected beds had lost a battle to weeds long before the weather curled their leaves.
It looked deserted. An impression negated by the faint but steady pulse of Otherworld power seeping from the doors and windows. The wolves were home from their hunt.
Ari looked at Steffan and nodded.
They approached the front door unchallenged. Ari pushed the button and heard chimes inside. When no one answered, she tried again. More chimes. Finally the door opened a crack.
“What do ya want?” A bleary-eyed face looked them over, a scowl gradually forming.
“We’re here to talk with Louie Molyneux,” Ari said.
The wolf opened the door a few inches more, his body filling the space. His shoulders were so enlarged from weight lifting he virtually had no neck. His face held creases from heavy sleep. “Who are you?”
Steffan moved forward on cue. “The local wolf rep to the Magic Council.”
“And the rest of them?”
“The Guardian, and the others are local weretigers.”
“Why are ya here?”
The wolf was suspicious, but Steffan had experience in diplomacy. Ari let him carry the conversation.
“The Guardian and I would like a few words with Mr. Molyneux. The tigers are here to make sure it stays peaceful.”
The wolf gave a derisive snort. “So what’s the deal? What’s this about? Can’t you come back later?”
Steffan shook his head. “Our business is only for Molyneux’s ears.”
The burly wolf blinked at them. “Wait.” He closed the door and left.
Steffan turned to Ari and shrugged. “So far, so good. We wait.”
The group cooled their heels for almost ten minutes before the door opened again. The big wolf was back with three sidekicks carrying guns. He motioned them in. “Stop right there.” He pointed to a side table. “Now, your weapons go here.” He grinned. “Or I can search you for them.” Ari shook her head. “This is a peaceful visit, but I’m not giving you our weapons.”
The wolf puffed out his chest and stepped toward her. A door behind him banged open, and an older wolf appeared. Forties, closely cropped reddish-brown hair, compact, powerfully built. His age showed in the small paunch at the waistline. Slightly rumpled, he looked as if he’d just gotten out of bed. Despite that, his dominance was obvious.
“What’s the delay?” he demanded. The wolves signaled their submission with dropped gazes. Louie Molyneux had arrived to deal with the intruders directly.
“Weapons,” the big wolf said. “The woman refuses to be searched.”
Molyneux’s nostrils flared. He leered at her body, finally gave a dismissive jerk of his head. “These two only,” he ordered, pointing to Steffan and Ari. “The others stay here.”
Molyneux led them into the back of the house. Ari and Steffan followed, urged on by the three guys with the guns.
Ari wasn’t happy about leaving their backup behind. She was surrounded by an unseen number of hostile wolves. She opened her senses and immediately felt the Otherworld magic and smelled the wolves behind the closed doors. Memory surfaced, a rancid scent Ari recognized from the park. The teens’ attacker was on the premises. Somewhere very near.
Walking beside her, Steffan sniffed the air. He must have smelled the hidden wolves. So far nothing they hadn’t expected, although proof the Goshen Park attacker was in the house was an added bonus.
Molyneux opened a se
t of doors, and they entered a large library. Shelves of dusty books, a paisley rug, roll-top desk, wooden chairs. Shiny computer equipment covered the library table. He hitched his pants and dropped into a desk chair. Two wolves stood behind him; the others remained in the hall.
Once Molyneux was settled, he pointed toward the other chairs. “Have a seat.”
Steffan lounged against the door frame without speaking.
“No thanks,” Ari said. “This won’t take long.”
“Suit yourself.” Molyneux lit a cigar, took two slow puffs, and leaned back. “So what’s this all about? You said you wanna talk, so talk.” He put his feet on the desk and crossed them at the ankles. His small beady eyes bore into Ari’s. He puffed away. Ari decided he’d watched way too many American gangster movies. It sounded even funnier in a French accent.
Figuring he’d been told who they were, she dispensed with the formalities. “I understand you were at the Second Chance Saloon Sunday night.”
“Is that why you’re here? Heard it got crazy as hell after we left. The bloodsuckers killed somebody. Damn shame.” He puffed again.
Smoke began to fill the room and irritated her nose. Ari fought off a sneeze. “You talked with the vamps before the fight. Any idea what set them off?”
“Nope. Not a clue. Can’t help you.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Don’t rightly remember. Typical bar talk, I guess. Women, sports, beer.”
Ari prodded him about the fights at the bar and at the Were Fest, but Molyneux continued to profess his ignorance. When she pushed to know what happened just before the outbreak at the festival, Molyneux answered with increasing annoyance.
“Look, sister, I can’t tell you what I don’t know. Who the hell can predict what vamps will do?”
“How about telling me what you do know? About a drug called Fantasy. I hear you’re peddling the stuff all over town.” Ari had to give him credit. His reaction was almost invisible. Almost—but not quite. Molyneux’s eyes flickered for a fraction of a second.