Pride

by Rachel Vincent

  My father frowned, as if he wanted to disagree but couldn’t. Not a good sign. But they couldn’t really mean to leave Marc alone in the free zone forever. Or even for a couple of years. That was too long.

  “Come on, guys, there has to be a way out of this. The Territorial Council has more pointless rules and regulations than any governing body in history. I’m sure we can find a loophole. Michael, you get out all the old logs and records and search for a precedent, Marc and Jace can keep the wolves at bay, and I’ll…make some coffee.”

  At least that would prove that I was good for something other than getting people killed, concussed, or exiled.

  “Faythe…” My father reached out to lay one hand on my arm, but I jerked away from him.

  “No.” I shook my head vehemently and clenched my hands in my lap so hard my knuckles ached. “We can’t let this happen, Daddy. What did you actually agree to? Give it to me word for word. There may be some wiggle room in the phrasing. Did you happen to give a time limit for this so-called expulsion?”

  “Stop, Faythe.” Marc’s hand landed on mine, and I didn’t have the heart to pull away from him because I wasn’t sure how long I’d have to wait to touch him again. “It’s done, and we have some important decisions to make.”

  “Like what?” How long to make Marc pretend to be exiled before bringing him back? What to get him for a welcome-back gift?

  He sighed. “Who to bring in as my replacement.” His focus shifted to my father. “It should be someone we trust, and someone with a few years’ experience. I was thinking maybe Brian Taylor.”

  “What?” I whirled on him, and a sudden flash of fear left my nerve endings singed. “You won’t be gone long enough for that,” I insisted, clinging stubbornly to the resolve that I could get him reinstated. Somehow. “Some new flea will crawl into Malone’s fur and he’ll forget about you, and when he does, we’ll find a way to bring you back.”

  “Faythe.” Marc took my hands and squeezed them, and his eyes held mine. Wouldn’t let them go. “It’s done. With any luck, it won’t be forever.” He glanced at my dad again, and on the edge of my vision, I saw my Alpha nod. “But it will be for a long time.”

  “No.” I heard the plea in my voice and hated the sound of my own weakness, but couldn’t seem to squelch it. “Not now. Not after all this.” My voice broke, and when I paused to regain what little composure I had left, I saw that Jace was standing in the doorway, watching me in an agony all his own. “Maybe Marc could work from the free zone. You know, patrolling the boundary from the other side, or—” I choked back a sob “—chasing down rogues. Of course, he’d have to come home now and then to file a report…”

  “Faythe, I tried that,” my father said gently. “I don’t want to lose him either, and I did everything I could to put limitations on this. But Malone’s a stubborn bastard, and Paul Blackwell’s firmly in his corner on this one. And we don’t have any leverage. Marc can’t come back onto Pride territory while he’s in exile.”

  “Okay.” I nodded slowly, not because I understood, but because he’d just given me a solid obstacle to work around. A place to start. But I’d have to give it some thought. Come up with some leverage…

  “And while he’s gone,” my father continued, shifting his gaze from me to Marc, “we have to bring someone in to replace him. Not as the top enforcer, of course. I’ll bring up either Vic or Ethan for that. But we’ll need an extra set of claws…”

  I didn’t hear most of the discussion that followed; I wasn’t interested in replacing Marc. But ten minutes later, my father went into his bedroom and closed the door, behind which I heard him talking on the phone to my mother, probably calling in backup. We were shorthanded already, because of all the injuries, and it would only get worse when Marc left.

  In fifteen short hours.

  On the front porch, Marc squeezed my hand and gave me a lingering kiss goodbye, then Jace herded me down the steps. Now pissed, I stomped toward the lodge like a woman with nothing to fear and everything to prove, Jace jogging at my heels.

  When we were halfway there, Jace called out from behind me. “Faythe, would you wait? I need to talk to you.”

  “So talk. But make it fast. I have something to say to the tribunal, and I want to get it over with before I lose my nerve.” And anyway, I’d forgotten my jacket, and it was freezing outside.

  “Well, you need to hear this, so stop for just a minute.” He grabbed my arm and turned me to face him, returning my glare with a very grave expression when I jerked my arm free. “I sat with Brett for a little while you were sleeping off that tranquilizer, and he told me something you need to know.”

  Jace was closer to Brett than to any of his other half siblings, but I couldn’t remember them ever sharing important information before. Or even much more than a greeting.

  I frowned, set on edge by the urgency in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

  Jace ducked his head for a moment, as if he was embarrassed to say whatever was coming. But then he huffed and met my eyes, new resolve shining in his. “I heard Marc tell you why your dad let him go—” which meant that wasn’t all he overheard “—and I’m afraid that if he finds out what I’m about to tell you, he won’t go, and Calvin will push for your execution. So I need you to promise me you won’t tell him.”

  “Jace, if it’s that important, Marc needs to know.”

  “I know.” His brow wrinkled as conflict flickered across his face. “But I’m not going to gamble with your life, even for this. So you have to promise, or I won’t tell you.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “You know I’ll find out eventually.”

  He nodded. “But I also know you don’t have time to play snoop right now. Not if you want to stay out of trouble, or be any real help to that poor tabby.”

  Okay, he had me there. “Fine, I won’t tell him.” Directly, anyway. “Spit it out.”

  Jace sighed. “When your trial’s over, Calvin’s going to make a motion to have your father unseated as the head of the Territorial Council.”

  Twenty-One

  “Have him unseated?” I searched Jace’s face for some sign that he was making a massively unfunny joke. But he was completely serious, and evidently every bit as angry about it as I was.

  “Yeah.” A cloud of steam puffed from his mouth with his answer. “Calvin claims to have the support of several other Alphas, though he’s not naming names yet. At least, not to Brett.”

  Yeah, well, I was pretty sure I could guess at least a couple of them.

  I closed my eyes in dread, curling and uncurling my fists to keep my blood circulating in the near-freezing temperature. “On what grounds?”

  “Withholding information from the Territorial Council. Because he went after Andrew, Manx, and Luiz—” the stray who’d slaughtered a series of human strippers in and around our territory “—without alerting the other Prides.” Jace rubbed my upper arms to warm them, and when I opened my eyes, he continued. “Cal’s saying Wes Gardner should have had the opportunity to participate. Rumor has it Wes is seriously pissed because we didn’t avenge Jamey’s death. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he’s one of the Alphas backing Calvin.”

  Wes Gardner was Alpha of the Great Lakes Pride, and his brother Jamey, an adopted member of our Pride, had been killed by Manx a couple of months earlier. We’d had every intention of avenging Jamey’s death, but when we found out he was killed by a pregnant, abused, and emotionally fragile tabby, things got…complicated.

  And my father had acted without consulting the Territorial Council for the same reason I’d gone into Kaci’s room without permission—using the official channels always takes forever, and while the Alphas are wasting time, people die. In large part because men like Calvin Malone are more interested in flexing their political muscles than actually helping those depending on them.

  That raging bastard!

  “We have to tell Daddy.”

  “Yeah, I’m going to tell him while you’re talk
ing to Kaci. But Brett wanted you to know first. He thinks he owes you for saving his life. And he said he’d keep his ears open, just in case.”

  I nodded, already walking again to get my blood flowing. “Thank him for me, please.”

  Jace smiled. “I already did.”

  Anger buzzed inside me so fiercely my skin tingled all the way to the lodge. I yanked open the front door and stomped past my uncle and Lucas in the living room, hell-bent on standing up to Calvin Malone for once. He’d threatened to have me executed, gotten Marc exiled, and was planning to usurp my father’s position on the council. If someone didn’t drag his corrupt ass back down to earth soon, the bastard would probably start to think he could fly…

  Furniture springs groaned as my cousin stood and fell into place beside Jace, making a show of support at my back like a member of some badass entourage.

  I marched down the hall and into the dining room, where Councilmen Malone and Blackwell sat at the table, scooping huge spoonfuls of homemade chicken and dumplings from thick, ceramic soup bowls with cows painted on them.

  When I appeared in his peripheral vision, Malone froze with his spoon halfway to his mouth, then lowered it slowly. “Miss Sanders.” He nodded, acknowledging me politely, which shot my anger to the next level. His civil tone meant he knew he’d gotten rid of Marc and could now afford to be magnanimous. Slimy little pricks like Calvin Malone were rarely friendly under other circumstances. “What can we do for you?”

  Several colorful answers popped into my head, but I kept my reply to the point, because if Paul Blackwell hadn’t yet officially gone over to the Dark Side, one more outburst from me might very well send him there. My stand would have to be calm, and mature, and reasonable. Otherwise it would be very short-lived

  I took a long, deep breath. “Jace said you needed something from me.”

  Malone’s jaw tightened at my word choice. I’d said “needed” instead of “wanted,” to emphasize the fact that they did need me. And if Malone expected my help, he was going to have to ask for it. Nicely.

  Jace’s stepfather nodded stiffly. “The tabby—”

  “Her name is Kaci Dillon,” I interrupted, my pulse spiking in petty satisfaction when his hand clenched around his spoon. That was just one more piece of information he wouldn’t have had, if not for me.

  “Of course. Kaci seems to have bonded with you, and we want to know where she’s from and who her Pride is. And how she got here.”

  What, no pretty please?

  I sucked in a deep breath and glanced over my shoulder, glad to see Jace and Lucas still had my back, even if they’d stopped near the doorway. “Fine.” My focus narrowed on Malone. “I’m going to do this for you. But you’re going to do something for me in return.”

  Malone’s face flushed in fury. “You’re in no position to ask for anything.”

  “I’m not asking.”

  Behind me, Jace chuckled, and the corner of my mouth quirked.

  “What do you want?” Blackwell asked before Malone could come up with an original threat to my life or freedom.

  “I want permission for Marc to visit the Lazy S every other weekend. Conjugal visits, if you will.” I couldn’t stifle a smile that time. Malone’s whole reasoning for getting rid of Marc was to try to force me into a relationship with someone he considered more suitable for fathering the next generation. Preferably one of his sons.

  My request would derail his entire evil scheme.

  Malone’s face went from “maraschino” to “red dwarf” in less than a second. “No. Absolutely not. An exiled tom has no business on Pride land, and no business with you.”

  “Fine. Go question Kaci yourself.” I spun on one heel and was halfway to the door before Blackwell called after me.

  “Don’t you dare walk away from us without being dismissed!”

  “Why not?” I turned to find the council’s senior member standing, one wrinkled hand on the table for balance. Let’s find out where the swing vote stands on the matter of my death sentence… “Aren’t you going to have me executed no matter what I do?”

  Surprise registered on the old man’s face, followed by a flicker of confusion as he glanced at Malone. Did that mean he’d participated in Malone’s capital punishment bluff, or only that he knew about it?

  I couldn’t tell. “Knowing that leaves me with no motivation to do what you want. What are you going to do, kill me twice?” I spared a glance over my shoulder at Jace as I borrowed his phrase, then turned back to the Alphas. “Next time you want to manipulate someone, remember to leave the poor bastard a little hope to keep him cooperative. Simple, but effective.”

  And apparently completely beyond the ken of Calvin Malone, who looked ready to burst from the pressure building behind his fake-reasonable mask.

  I shrugged and propped both hands on my hips, eyeing Malone. “So, do we have a deal, or are you ready to go up there and make nice with Kaci. I hear you two got along famously.”

  For several moments, no one spoke, and I could read indecision on their faces as Malone and Blackwell stared at each other, trying in vain to make a decision without discussing their options in front of me. But the Alphas were screwed, and they knew it. Or at least, Malone did.

  Before he could use Kaci in his little coup, he had to make sure she didn’t have a troop of angry brothers and enforcers coming after her. And if she didn’t, it wouldn’t hurt to get on her good side, to ensure her cooperation. But he couldn’t do either on his own. He needed me. Not that I really had any intention of helping him.

  “Fine. You find out where she’s from, how she got here, and what Pride she belongs to, and we’ll let Marc pay you a visit.”

  “Every other week…” I insisted.

  Malone shook his head stiffly. “Once a year.”

  I laughed in his face, and enjoyed every second of it. “Once a month, or I walk.”

  Jace’s stepfather growled and glared at me, and started to shake his head again. But Blackwell elbowed his fellow Alpha into silence and watched me with shrewd, glinting black eyes. “Once every six months. You either take that and consider yourself lucky or I’ll fly my granddaughter out to bond with this new tabby, and you can kiss your lover goodbye forever.”

  Shit. I knew when I’d been had, and judging by the way Blackwell’s face screwed up in disgust when he called Marc my lover, that time had come. Still, I’d stood up to Malone and pissed him off. And I’d kept him from completely cutting Marc out of my life.

  I beamed over my victory. “Deal.”

  At the end of the upstairs hall, I snatched a bundle of my own clothing from the tom posted at Kaci’s bedroom door, one of Paul Blackwell’s enforcers, whom I barely knew. I had no idea how he wound up with the outfit I’d sent Jace for earlier, but I was glad he had it, since I’d completely forgotten the poor girl was still naked.

  The garments tucked under one arm, I knocked on Kaci’s door. There was no answer, so I knocked again, then turned the knob and slipped inside. Kaci was curled up on the floor in that same corner, still huddled beneath only the thin blanket, in spite of the late-November chill. The steady rise and fall of her small chest told me she was asleep.

  I set the clothes on the nearest bed and dropped to my knees several feet from the sleeping tabby. I was afraid that if I woke her suddenly, she’d be frightened and disoriented, and I’d have to restrain her. She’d been through enough without having to fight me. So I waited.

  My gaze was drawn to her face. She looked so…normal. Other than the fact that she was sleeping on the floor. And that she was too thin. And that she had mud and twigs caught in her hair. But her face could have been the face of any thirteen-year-old on the planet. Those well-formed lips and long, thick lashes could have belonged to a junior-high softball pitcher. Those thin fingers, now clutching the blanket to her chin, could play the piano in another life. And perhaps they would again, someday soon.

  But the pessimist in me seriously doubted it. There was something unus
ual about this girl. Something different from every tabby I’d ever known. Maybe it was that she was an orphan. Maybe that was enough to account for the fierce determination to survive I’d glimpsed in her eyes each time fear faded from them. But I couldn’t help thinking it was something else. Something connected to the reason she was on her own, instead of surrounded by the usual cocoon of brothers and enforcers.

  As I watched, her eyes twitched behind her eyelids and her fists clenched around the hem of the blanket. She grunted in her sleep, and I was troubled by the obvious fear in such an inarticulate sound. My hand reached out before I could stop it, and I brushed a strand of dirt-caked hair from her face. She looked so fragile, so defenseless, and my urge to protect her was so overwhelming I couldn’t breathe without tasting it in the air.

  I stroked her hair one more time and suddenly realized her chest was no longer rising. She wasn’t breathing. I pulled my hand away as panic flooded me. She’d gone stiff, her legs straight beneath the thin blanket, knuckles white where they gripped the hem. Oh, shit! Was she having some kind of seizure?

  Then a small, quick movement drew my attention back to her face. Her eyes were open. She wasn’t seizing; she was waking up.

  Fear crept into those huge hazel eyes, but still she didn’t move. She’d frozen in place, like I couldn’t see her if she didn’t move.

  “Kaci?” I tried to project calm concern, to keep from setting her off, but it didn’t work. She jerked into motion at the sound of my voice, backing away from me until she sat with her spine pressed into the corner, growling deep in her throat and glaring at me as if the fierceness of her expression should have scared me away.

  Maybe it would have, if she’d been in cat form.

  Damn, she doesn’t remember. The realization hit me with a jolt of amazement. She’d just woken up in a strange place, after weeks spent in cat form. She had no idea where she was, likely didn’t remember who I was, and probably had yet to realize she wasn’t furry.

  “It’s me. Faythe.” I reached for the bed behind me without taking my eyes from hers. My hand found soft, fuzzy material, and I pulled the sweater slowly into view. “I brought you some clothes.”