I’d come to the emergency meeting because of my relationship with Kaci. No other enforcers had been included, ostensibly to make sure they got enough sleep. But we all knew the real reason. The Alphas didn’t understand the new information, and they didn’t want to look stupid in front of their subordinate Pride members.
I couldn’t really blame them. I didn’t understand, either.
“This is how Dr. Carver explained it to me, using mostly generalities and layman’s terms,” Michael said. “The reality is quite a bit more complicated, but for our purposes, I think the preschool version will suffice. Agreed?” He glanced around the table, receiving mostly nods.
Paul Blackwell harrumphed, gripping the curve of his cane between his knees. “So long as it’s the truth and it makes sense. I won’t listen to any of this theoretical nonsense.” Blackwell trusted science about as well as he trusted strays, and he understood it even less. He was like the first caveman presented with fire, frightened and angered by things he couldn’t comprehend.
Michael’s excitement faltered, but he recovered quickly. “No problem. Okay, now we all know about the recessive werecat gene, right? How a human has to have been born with that in order to be infected by a scratch or bite. Are we all on the same page?”
Everyone looked at Blackwell, who was most likely to answer in the negative. “Right, right.” The old man twisted his cane, and the rubber tip squeaked as it ground against the hardwood. “I remember the recessive gene. What I don’t understand is how it got into humans in the first place. I never was satisfied on that point…”
As if the gene’s existence was debatable. The old turd was even grouchier without his beauty sleep.
“It’s not in all humans, Councilman Blackwell. Remember? The recessive gene is actually pretty rare. And we’re not entirely sure how it got there. The working theory at the moment is that we’ve actually been putting it there ourselves, by…well, breeding with humans.”
“Toms can’t breed with humans, boy!” Blackwell shouted, face flushing in anger, and I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. “That’s the part of this whole thing that never made any sense.”
“I know that’s always been the assumption.” Michael folded his hands on the table and stared back at the old man with more patience than I could ever have summoned. “But Dr. Carver and Dr. Eames think we’ve been wrong about that one.”
Blackwell slapped his cane, and it fell over, smacking Malone’s knees. “Oh, balderdash!”
“Paul…” Daddy’s voice was stern, which no doubt irritated Blackwell even further, considering the two decades he had on my father. “We’ve been over all this before. Those genes got into the human DNA somehow, and who else could have put them there but us?”
Blackwell scowled, and I couldn’t help grinning. The source of his irritation was obvious, and he wasn’t the only one suffering from it. He was no doubt wondering how many bastards he’d sired from whatever human women he’d known before conquering Mrs. Blackwell’s heart and bed.
Any one of us could have put his mind at ease about that one, but no one bothered, because he was being a royal pain in the ass. But the fact of the matter was that while human-werecat breeding was now considered possible, it was also considered very rare.
Over the past several hundred years, werecat toms who had no shot at marrying a dam and starting a family had consoled themselves with human women willing to share their company and their beds. Dr. Eames’s theory held that a rare few of those unions resulted in the birth of a human baby carrying that mysterious recessive gene, which was then passed on to the next generation.
In fact, I knew of at least one tom several years back whose ex-girlfriend claimed rather loudly that he was the father of her child. He assumed she was lying, naturally, and dumped her for cheating on him. And rumor has it that since Dr. Eames’s discovery, he’s been trying to get back in touch with that woman to find out the truth.
That poor tom was facing some serious problems, but Paul Blackwell likely had nothing to worry about. However, just in case, every tom in the country had recently been told in no uncertain terms to either buy stock in Trojans or get familiar with the concept of celibacy.
Considering that most of them couldn’t even spell celibacy, the popular choice was pretty obvious.
Blackwell’s scowl deepened, and he crossed thin, wrinkled hands over his chest. “It still sounds suspicious to me, but for the sake of expediency, I’m willing to move on.”
“Thank you.” Michael’s gaze met mine, and a grin flickered across his professional expression. “Anyway, what they found in Kaci’s blood sample was not one, but two of these recessive genes.”
My uncle leaned forward, drawing all eyes his way. “Which means…?”
“Which means she got one from each of her parents.”
“So she’s not a stray?” Malone asked, smirking at me from across the table. I smiled sweetly back at him because I was starting to see where this little detour was going, and the destination was worth admitting I was wrong. Way worth it.
Because Malone was wrong, too.
Michael shook his head eagerly. “No, she’s not. Her parents were human, but they both carried the recessive werecat gene, which means that somewhere in each of their family trees—perhaps generations back—is one of us.” He glanced around, beaming at each of us individually, looking for some spark of understanding. My father smiled, but no one else seemed to get it. And to be fair, my father had probably gotten the news—and thus the explanation—straight from Dr. Carver himself.
“Don’t you see?” Michael demanded, his voice rising in excitement. “This was bound to happen eventually. It probably already has happened. The human authorities would never have gotten it straightened out, and we would probably have attributed it to an attack by a stray, just like we did in Kaci’s case.”
My uncle’s eyebrows shot up, confusion and eagerness battling for space in his expression. “Attributed what to an attack by a stray?”
I sighed. “Michael, I don’t think they understand about dominant and recessive alleles.”
For a moment my brother looked stunned, as if surprised that the confusion could be attributed to something so simple. Then he smiled. “Of course.” He closed his eyes, thinking for a moment. “Okay, this is a bit simplistic, but if a person inherits the gene for blue eyes from one parent and the gene for brown eyes from the other, he’s going to get brown eyes, because the gene for brown eyes is dominant, and the gene for blue eyes is recessive. Brown eyes sort of trump blue.”
“So how did Jace wind up with blue eyes?” Blackwell asked, and Malone frowned, displeased by the indirect reference to his wife’s first husband.
Michael’s smile broadened. “I’m glad you asked that. Jace inherited the recessive gene for blue eyes from both his mother and his father, so there was no dominant gene to override the blue. And bear with me, these terms are all wrong.”
Blackwell waved off his apology; we were all fine with his terminology. “So what you’re saying is that the little tabby got two recessive werecat genes just like Jace got two blue-eye genes?”
“Sort of. There are actually more than two genes responsible. And I don’t think genes is even the right word here. But basically…yes.”
Enthusiasm bubbled inside my chest, tightening it so that I could barely breathe. I couldn’t wait any longer. They were dragging it out, and I wanted everyone else to be as excited by this as Michael and I were. “But instead of getting blue eyes, she got to be a werecat!”
For a moment there was only silence as everyone stared at me. Except Michael, who glared at me beneath furrowed eyebrows. Apparently he’d wanted to make the big announcement himself.
Uncle Rick was the first to speak. “Wait, let me see if I understand this correctly. Kaci’s parents were both human, but because they each gave her a recessive werecat gene…she’s one of us? A werecat born to completely human parents?”
I opened my mouth to an
swer, but Michael beat me to it, beaming. “Yes.”
“Other than being born to two humans, she’s just like one of us,” I said, glancing around the table in excitement, in spite of the early hour. “At puberty she experienced her first Shift, and since she had no idea what had happened to her, she didn’t understand that she could Shift back, much less how to do it. She’s evidently been in cat form ever since.”
“If all this is true—” Paul Blackwell left that if hanging in the air like a cloud of poison gas “—why wasn’t her sister one of us? The sister is older, right? So she should have gone through puberty before Kaci.”
Everyone looked to Michael for an explanation, as if they’d been wondering that same thing.
My brother shrugged. “The sister didn’t get both recessive genes. She might not have gotten either of them, in fact. Regardless, she clearly wasn’t one of us.”
“So what about the stray who attacked the sister and mother?” Uncle Rick sipped from an early-morning mug of coffee, which I was seriously starting to covet. “Was that just a coincidence?”
The stray who…?
Oh, shit. My eyes closed as comprehension settled through me, pinning me to my chair with a devastating weight. “There was no stray.”
Someone on my left moaned, and my head turned toward the sound even as my eyes opened. I was astounded to find myself looking at my father, whose face registered more shock and horror than I’d ever seen on it in my entire life. He’d clearly come to the same conclusion I had, but based on the confused expressions around us, no one else had arrived at that point yet.
“Kaci killed them.” My father said it because I couldn’t. I couldn’t make myself voice such a statement, even though I had no doubt of its accuracy.
“Nooooo.” Michael sat back in his chair, stunned.
“She didn’t do it on purpose.” Desperation to defend her made me break my horrified silence. “She couldn’t have. Put yourself in her place. She’s just turned into a huge cat—out of the clear blue sky—and has no idea what’s happening to her. She’s terrified and in horrible physical pain. Remember how badly it hurts those first few times?”
What was I thinking? No one else in the room was close enough to puberty to remember what a first Shift felt like!
“Anyway, it hurts like hel—like nothing you’ve ever felt, even though you know what to expect. Imagine if you have no idea what’s coming!” No one spoke, so I continued. “So there she is, suddenly covered in fur, swishing a tail she shouldn’t have, and before she’s even recovered from the physical trauma she’s smacked over the head with instincts she can’t possibly understand. Especially considering how badly her mom and sister were probably freaking out.”
My hands shook with the thought of what she’d been through, and with fear for her life as the consequence.
“Faythe…” Uncle Rick’s hand covered my fist where it lay on the table. He was trying to calm me, but it didn’t work. Nothing could.
“I’m just trying to make sure everyone understands. She didn’t do this on purpose. She couldn’t have. She had no idea what she was doing.”
“We know.” My father leaned forward, intruding on Michael’s personal space to get closer to me. “It’s okay. We know she didn’t mean to. I can’t imagine what that must have been like for her.”
“She’s only thirteen…” I trailed off as tears formed in my eyes, then rolled down my cheeks. I pulled my fist away from my uncle to wipe at the moisture on my face, too horrified for Kaci—not to mention her mother and sister—to worry about how weak my tears probably made me look.
Calvin Malone cleared his throat, and I looked his way through blurry vision. “I’m sure you’re right,” he said, and I thought I’d die from the shock of him agreeing with me. “I can’t imagine anyone here holding her responsible for her actions, considering what she was going through at the time.”
And that’s when the bitter truth sank in. If Malone tried to have Kaci executed, he wouldn’t be able to use her in his plot to take over the council. He was such a selfish bastard, and that time I couldn’t even argue with him, because by all appearances, he was giving me what I wanted. Sparing the tabby’s life.
“I think there’s something important to keep in mind here, Faythe,” my father said, but when I looked up at him, I found him facing the room in general, clearly directing his comment to everyone, though he’d addressed it to me. “Kaci has been through something horrible. Something truly unfathomable. And she’s had to do some terrible things to survive. But she has survived. She’s made it on her own, traveling several hundred miles across multiple geographical boundaries, with no idea that she could Shift back and ask someone for help. She fed herself, sheltered herself and protected herself under circumstances many grown toms would have found daunting. Kaci is strong. She’s a survivor. She’s just the kind of tabby we need, and I think with Faythe’s help we can get her through this.”
Wow. The positive spin he’d put on that one would have made a ballerina dizzy. And he’d managed to work my usefulness into it to boot. Damn, he’s good.
Heads nodded all around the table. The only Alpha who didn’t look pleased was Malone, who’d probably been planning to handle Kaci’s adjustment personally…
My father pushed his chair back and stood. “We can decide how to handle all this—and what to do with Kaci—later today. For now, I suggest everyone try to salvage what’s left of the night.” He turned to me. “That means go back to sleep.”
I nodded and was already headed for the door with Jace when Malone called me back.
“Faythe…” I turned to face him, and the look on his face sent alarm tingling through me. “The tribunal will meet one last time while the enforcers clean out Radley’s ‘Pride.’ We expect to have a verdict by the time they get back.” Having dropped that bomb on me, Malone stared at me expectantly, like I was supposed to say something.
What, I had no idea.
“Um…thanks?”
Michael groaned, and Malone scowled. Apparently that wasn’t the proper response. Maybe I should have licked his fucking boots. But we both knew that wasn’t going to happen.
“This isn’t a joke,” Malone snapped. “It’s your future.” Or lack thereof. He was saying that last part in his head. I just knew it. “Go to bed. The least you can do is show up rested.”
Yeah, like I was gonna get any sleep after that.
Ten minutes later I followed Jace into the cabin to find Marc sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee in one hand. He turned to look at me when I came in, but I got the distinct impression that he’d been staring at the wall before that.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” I returned. Jace went straight to his room as I sank onto the couch facing Marc, crossing my legs beneath me. “Sorry to bail on you in the middle of the night. Dr. Carver called. Turns out Kaci’s neither Pride nor stray. She’s some kind of genetic-recessive something-or-other—”
“I know.”
I met his eyes in surprise. “You know?”
He handed me his half-full mug of coffee and I drank, pleased to discover that it was still warm. And perfectly sweetened, even though he took it black. “I heard you and Michael talking, so I called the doc myself after you left. He was already at the airport waiting for a flight back. He explained it to me.”
“You were awake? Why didn’t you say something?”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t go if you knew I was up, and I didn’t want you to miss the discussion.”
Sighing, I closed my eyes. Then I drained his mug. “Thank you.”
“You’d have done the same for me.” That wasn’t true, but it was a nice sentiment. If he’d been invited to an Alpha-only discussion without me, I’d have snuck along behind him to eavesdrop. “Did I miss anything?”
“Unfortunately, yeah. We think Kaci killed her mom and her sister. Not on purpose, of course. Probably out of fear and pain.”
Marc’s lips parted in surprise, then
he closed his mouth and nodded. “That makes sense, in a morbid kind of way. Anything else?”
“They’re announcing my verdict tomorrow.”
“Of course they are. Just as soon as I’m gone.”
“I’m sorry.” I set the mug on the coffee table, then took his hand in both of mine. “You’re going to miss the big offensive tomorrow, too. Of course, so will I. They’ll never let me go.” The council wouldn’t risk a tabby’s life for something as ultimately insignificant as clearing out a den of strays. Even a tabby they’d claimed to be willing to execute only days earlier. Apparently consistency means nothing to some people…
“Well, at least it shouldn’t take too long. Ethan came in while you were gone. They finally got some answers out of the stray you guys brought in.”
“Just now?” I glanced through the kitchen doorway at the clock hanging over the fridge. It was nearly six o’clock in the morning.
“A couple of hours ago. He and Reid had a few drinks to celebrate.”
Or to help deal with the fact that they’d beat the shit out of a perfect stranger for information. I knew Ethan better than any of my other brothers. He was good at his job and would do what he was told to do in the line of duty without fail. But he didn’t enjoy that particular aspect of the job. For his sake, I hoped my father had someone else in mind to replace Marc. It wasn’t fair to ask Ethan to take on such responsibility fulltime. Vic, maybe? I could see Vic doing it. But not Ethan, and definitely not Owen.
Marc frowned at the thoughts no doubt flashing across my face. He seemed distinctly uncomfortable thinking about what would become of the Pride after he was gone. I wasn’t comfortable with it, either.
“Let’s go back to bed.” So we did. By the time we finally fell asleep after another round of goodbye sex, the sun was coming up. But by then we were too exhausted to care.
Thirty-One
The next morning was hell.
Marc was gone when I woke up, and in his place was an envelope lying on his pillow. Inside was a folded sheet of lined yellow paper, probably torn from one of Michael’s legal pads.
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