Pride

by Rachel Vincent

  Though my forehead was smooth, and still completely human, sticking out of my normal, human eyebrows were several stiff white hairs on each side. Whiskers. I had brow whiskers. And cat eyes, in human sockets.

  My face held the single-most bizarre combination of features I’d ever seen. And by “bizarre,” I mean ugly as shit. But on the bright side, if the whole enforcer thing didn’t work out, I’d have a long career waiting for me in the circus.

  While the tribunal met in the dining room—I knew they were arguing because they’d turned on loud classical music to cover up their voices—I sat on the side of a bed in the empty first-floor bedroom, while Dr. Carver peered at my face with undisguised eagerness. “So, you can’t do this at will?”

  “’Aw eh,” I mumbled, forced to work around jaws more suited to chomping than enunciating.

  For an interpretation, Dr. Carver looked to Marc, who stood peering through a gap in the blinds at the darkness outside. “What’d she say?”

  “‘Not yet,’” Marc translated without turning. “She can’t do it on command yet, but she thinks she could, with some practice. She thinks we could do it, too.”

  Dr. Carver nodded, shining his penlight in my eyes. “I don’t doubt that.”

  Growling softly, I winced and closed my eyes against the light.

  “Try to keep them open for me, hon. This won’t take long.”

  I opened my eyes and kept them wide as his light traveled back and forth between my pupils. Tears formed to defend my eyes from the invasion, and when I could finally blink, they rolled down my cheeks. When the light went off, I closed my eyes and pressed the heels of my hands against them.

  “Here.” Something soft brushed my cheek, and I looked up to find Marc offering me a tissue. Smiling in thanks, I blotted my eyes, then wiped my cheeks, watching the doctor on the other bed as he scribbled in a notebook.

  “Your eyes themselves appear to have Shifted completely,” he said, finally looking up from the paper, though his pen was still poised over it. “And you have brow whiskers, though the bone structure above your nose is still completely human. What about your vision? How do you see things?”

  “’ike a aaa.”

  “What?”

  “Like a cat.” Marc settled onto the bed next to me, close enough that our knees touched.

  “Mmm-hmm. That’s what I thought. Let’s take a look at your mouth.”

  I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth. The tribunal had asked for a report on the examination, so I submitted, though it irked me to be inspected like a fucking show dog. It would irk me much more to be convicted, then executed.

  After noting the shape of my nose, the fact that my sense of smell was enhanced, and the number and form of each of my teeth, Dr. Carver let me Shift back. He wanted to watch, though, which was a bit unnerving. I’ve Shifted in front of my fellow werecats literally hundreds of times, but only once could I remember actually being watched, and that memory wasn’t exactly pleasant. I’d killed the guy who’d ogled—Eric—shortly thereafter.

  Dr. Carver was another case entirely, of course. He made notes, and commented on the relative ease of Shifting back to fully human form, in contrast to the difficulty I had doing the reverse. When the change was complete, he examined my human face, made several short notes on his yellow pad, thanked me for my cooperation, then headed for the door, clearly eager to report his findings to the tribunal.

  And suddenly I was alone with Marc for the first time in weeks.

  At first, neither of us spoke. Strains of classical flute and violin floated in from the dining room, and some radio announcer was giving a weather report in the kitchen, where Michael, Jace, and my father sat around the table, demolishing a huge platter of homemade nachos while they waited for the next update on the dead cop.

  Marc was looking out the window again. There was nothing out there; he was just avoiding me.

  Sighing, I got up and closed the door quietly, then leaned against it with my arms crossed over my chest. In all the years I’d known him—since he was infected at fourteen—he’d never once made an empty threat. He’d learned from my father that if you don’t follow through on your threats, people will stop believing you. The same goes for promises, as I’d learned the hard way.

  Yet for me, he’d bluffed Colin and a whole roomful of Alphas. And now he wouldn’t even look at me.

  From the kitchen, the weather report—calling for light snow overnight—gave way to another bouncy disco tune from the seventies.

  I inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. “Thank you.”

  Marc turned from the window, and the blinds snapped back into place. “For what?”

  I frowned. He knew damn well what I meant. “For bluffing Colin. I’ve never seen you make an empty threat before.”

  He sat on the edge of the far bed. “You still haven’t. I wasn’t threatening him. You were.”

  Riiiight. “You’re walking a pretty thin line there, Marc.”

  “Yeah. I am.” He frowned in reproach. “I wish you’d walk it with me, just long enough to get the tribunal off your back.”

  No wonder they wouldn’t let Marc testify. He really would do anything to save my life.

  I flopped onto the empty bed on my back and stared at the ceiling. “What do you want me to do?”

  He leaned forward, both elbows resting on his knees. “If you play the game their way—just tell them what they want to hear—life might go a little more smoothly. Or at least last longer.”

  I huffed in skepticism, but hadn’t yet thought of an intelligent reply, when someone knocked softly on the door. “Faythe?” Jace called hesitantly.

  “Yeah, come on in.” I turned onto my side and propped myself on one elbow as the door opened.

  Jace glanced from me to Marc, then back to me, and his creased forehead relaxed. He was probably relieved to find us both clothed. Marc and I had rarely been alone together since we broke up, but in the past, privacy had always been enough of an excuse to make up.

  But things were different now. This time he’d dumped me.

  Jace smiled like he had a secret. “The tribunal’s ready to see you.”

  Based on his expression, I was guessing the news was good. They wouldn’t have told him anything official, but the kitchen was much closer to the dining room than the bedrooms were, so he’d probably overheard enough to warrant the giddy grin.

  Thank goodness.

  Five minutes later, I sat at the end of the dining-room table, yet again. Michael had gone back to our cabin to search for information on the hikers and the dead cop, so the chair on my right was empty. Dr. Carver and my father sat against the right-hand wall. The doc looked eager. My father looked deliberately uninterested, as if the future of our Pride didn’t depend on whatever the tribunal was about to say.

  At the other end of the long table, my uncle and Paul Blackwell flanked Malone, who stood and scowled down at me. I gave him a saccharine smile, gaining as much confidence from his displeasure as I had from Jace’s grin.

  No counting chickens, Faythe, my mother’s voice said from some distant memory. Nothing’s hatched just yet.

  And as usual, she was right.

  “As I’m sure you know by now, Ms. Sanders, this tribunal needs a simple majority vote to render a verdict. In light of your recent exhibition and Dr. Carver’s expert opinion on the matter, we’ve discussed the demonstration of your partial Shift and have taken a vote. Since each member is confident enough in his vote to swear that it will not change after further discussion or evidence, we are now ready to announce our decision.”

  My breath caught in my throat, in spite of my confidence a moment earlier. I uncrossed my arms and laid my palms on the cool surface of the table, but they were damp with nervous sweat and left wet smears across the wood.

  Uncle Rick smiled reassuringly at me, and I tried to smile back. But though I was in a roomful of people, I’d never felt more alone. Sure, the tribunal’s verdict was important to the entire south-c
entral Pride. Might even decide its future. But ultimately, I was the one who would live or die based on the next words spoken.

  “On the charge of infection of a human, our vote was unanimous. As one, we find you guilty.”

  My heart thumped painfully in my chest, and with each beat I could almost feel my sternum pushed out of line with my ribs. But I wasn’t really surprised. After all, I’d admitted to infecting Andrew. The real revelation had yet to come.

  “Some of us are ready to hand down a sentence right now. But because others—” Malone glanced at my uncle, on his far right “—evidently believe the infection was an accident, we have decided to forgo sentencing until we are ready to render a verdict on the second allegation.”

  “Wait, you’re not ready on the murder charge?” I sat straight in surprise. Then what was the point of all this?

  Malone’s scowl deepened. Apparently he was the only one who got to talk. “One member has yet to reach a decision about his vote.”

  I fully expected to see him frown at Paul Blackwell. But he didn’t. He glared at my uncle Rick.

  At first I thought it was a ploy—that Malone was just trying to upset me. But my uncle stared straight at me, not even bothering to deny the accusation. I arched my brows at him in question, and he nodded. He’d held up the vote.

  Disappointment and confusion swept through me like a chill wind, raising goose bumps on my arms and legs. Uncle Rick knew me better than anyone else on the tribunal. How could he doubt my innocence?

  “Later,” he mouthed, assuring me less than subtly that there was a method to his madness. I had no choice but to trust him.

  Uncle Rick leaned back in his chair, crossing thick forearms over a still-firm chest. “Tell her the rest of it, Calvin.” Though he spoke to Malone, he never looked away from me.

  My eyes narrowed as my gaze returned to Malone. What else could the bastard possibly have to say? They were canceling my birthday? Shaving my head? ’Cause there wasn’t anything else left to take from me, short of my life. And they were still working on that one.

  Malone inhaled deeply, and dread settled into his expression, which sent a flash of hope through me. “It appears you were telling the truth about…what you did for my son.” Reluctance was written in the wrinkles around his eyes and the downward cast of his mouth. He couldn’t bring himself to actually say that I’d saved Brett’s life.

  The councilman gulped thickly, like he was trying to literally swallow his pride. “You risked your life to help Brett, and for that I must thank you.”

  Not I want to thank you, but I must thank you. As if he had no choice. And knowing my uncle as well as I did, I doubted he had given Malone a choice. That must have been the part of the meeting Jace had overheard. The part that had put that secretive smile on his face.

  “Don’t misunderstand me,” Malone backpedaled. “That won’t sway any of my decisions on this tribunal. But if there’s any way I can take myself out of your debt, I wish you would tell me.”

  From the pained look in his eyes, I gathered that he meant that last statement literally. He didn’t want to thank me. He wanted to absolve his debt to me.

  Not the most heartfelt offer, but I’d take it.

  I watched Malone for several seconds, considering my options. And when the first flash of irritation crossed his face, I spoke. “Actually, there is something you can do for me.”

  “Yes?” Suspicion oozed from his voice like puss from an infected sore.

  “I’ve been twiddling my thumbs behind a desk for more than two months now. I’d like to help with the search. I’m finished testifying, right?” My uncle nodded, so I continued. “I’m not doing anyone any good hanging around here all day when I could be out helping. Besides, you guys must be tired of having me in your fur all the time.”

  On my right, Dr. Carver snickered like a teenager.

  Paul Blackwell frowned, rubbing one wrinkled hand over his bare, pointy chin. “You want to go back to work?”

  “Yes.” I nodded eagerly. “Here, of course. I’m not asking you to send me home. I just want a little fresh air. And I want to help with the search.”

  “No.” Malone didn’t even consider my request, though he was the stingy asshole who owed me.

  “Oh, come on, Calvin,” Uncle Rick snapped. I’d rarely heard him take such an openly hostile tone, and I’d never heard him take it with a fellow Alpha. “She’s not asking for a full pardon. Just a chance to do what she’s best at.”

  Gratitude flooded me, and I tingled with warmth. Did he really think enforcing was what I did best? Chasing down trespassers and patrolling our territory, rather than renting out my uterus for the greater good of the species?

  I shot my uncle a smile of thanks, which he returned with a nod of acknowledgment—an Alpha-move if I’d ever seen one. “Besides,” he continued, “is your son’s life worth so little that you can’t grant the cat who saved it a few hours liberty in the woods? Doing work for us? That’s practically community service, and she’s offering it in exchange for your debt. I think it’s pretty damn generous of her.”

  Malone fumed. I expected to see flames burst from his ears at any moment. But on his left, Paul Blackwell was nodding, probably eager to make up for the embarrassment Colin the Cowardly Lion had heaped upon his pride. And his Pride.

  “It’s too much freedom,” Malone insisted. “What’s to keep her from running?”

  My love for my friends and family? My obligation to my father and Alpha? My need for vindication? My honor? Take your pick. But Malone wouldn’t believe any of that.

  “What if she goes in human form?” Dr. Carver suggested, and I wasn’t sure whether to thank him or curse him. I didn’t want to go in human form. I hadn’t fully Shifted in more than a week, and tripping over twigs and vines on two feet wasn’t going to soothe the need crawling beneath my skin. The urge to Shift was so strong in me now—perhaps strengthened by the partial Shift—that I felt distinctly snappy and irritable. It was like having an itch in the middle of my back, just out of reach. I could scratch all around it, but until I hit the right spot, it wasn’t going to go away. I needed to Shift.

  But that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, because Malone was nodding slowly in favor of the doc’s suggestion. “Yes. She can go in human form, but only for tonight. Supervised, of course. She’s not to leave her partner’s sight.”

  Uncle Rick nodded. “Done.”

  My father cleared his throat, drawing attention to the right side of the room, where he still sat next to Dr. Carver, who appeared amused by our informal negotiation. “There’s no one left here to partner her but Marc and Jace.”

  Malone scowled. We all knew he neither liked nor trusted Marc. And he could barely stand the sound of his stepson’s name. “Send them both.”

  My father nodded. “The three of them can replace two of the teams out now. We’re going to need someone rested enough to go back out tomorrow.” He paused, turning toward the closed hallway door. “Marc!”

  The door opened instantly, and I grinned. Marc had been listening from the hall, and I had no doubt Jace was with him. “Yes?”

  “You and Jace are going to rejoin the search. With Faythe.” He stood, smoothing down the front of his suit jacket. “Go see if Michael’s found out where the cop died. If he has, start there. I want Jace on four paws, and you and Faythe on two feet. If anyone’s at the scene, send Jace into the trees to get close enough to pick up the killer’s scent. Don’t get yourselves spotted, and don’t make any trouble. Understand?”

  Marc nodded, and behind him Jace’s mop of brown waves bobbed in unison.

  “Grab something quick to eat before you go, and take a tranquilizer with you. If Faythe makes a run for it, shoot her up and drag her back.” My father’s eyes sparkled in mirth at Malone’s expense, and I laughed out loud.

  “No problem,” Marc said around a big smile of his own. If he thought he’d get away with knocking me out, he’d have tried it a long time ago. But he
knew better. He met my eyes briefly, then headed off down the hall, calling over his shoulder to tell Jace to make us a snack.

  My father was already halfway to the door, Dr. Carver on his heels. Malone stayed in his seat, staring at the table as the other Alphas pushed their chairs back.

  “Councilman Malone?” I said, and he looked up, meeting my eyes in annoyance. “Thank you.”

  He nodded once, curtly, then shoved his chair back and marched out of the room.

  My father paused in front of the door and gave me a nod. It was nothing big, and certainly nothing as obvious as a smile. Yet it warmed my insides as much as the thought of the fresh air I was about to breathe. My father had just acknowledged my gesture—and the effort it had taken—with a sign of respect and approval.

  And though I didn’t want anyone else’s opinion of me to hold value over my own, my father’s did.

  It always had.

  Six

  Shortly after seven, I set off toward the woods with Marc on my right, Jace on my left, a canteen of water clipped to my belt and a ham sandwich in each hand. Moonlight lit the yard around us, with no sign yet of the clouds in the forecast. My smile was so big it had taken over my face. I hadn’t felt so good in weeks, even with the tribunal withholding the verdict on my murder charge.

  Uncle Rick had explained the delay. He’d refused to cast his vote because Paul Blackwell still thought I was guilty, and two votes were enough to convict me. His delay had bought us more time to change Blackwell’s mind.

  My hiking boots crunched on dead grass, and the rich brown leather of my coat sleeves swooshed as they rubbed against my sides. I inhaled deeply and my smile broadened as crisp fall air brought with it the scents of pine needles, several species of forest animal, and wood smoke from some camper’s grill in the distance.

  No, I hadn’t been completely confined to the cabin. I’d walked to and from the main lodge several times since our group arrived in the mountains. But somehow the great outdoors smelled so much sweeter when I wasn’t dreading my return to captivity.