Arasinya stiffened. “All creatures of the Realm have a right to access the Ju'Dng stones. The Red Caps must accept that.”
“So, they should just hand over these stones, whenever you need them?” I lifted an eyebrow in question, swiftly realizing Fae politics were just as difficult to negotiate as human. “With no restitution, nothing given to them to compensate them for stealing their asset.”
“It is not stealing. And that is not the way of the Fae,” Goren said tightly. “Little One, you do not know of what you speak.”
“This is why you keep them controlled, I assume? They can't be autonomous, because to give them independence would be to give them freedom to keep the stones for their own use, and not share?”
“It would be disastrous for the Realm,” Goren agreed.
“Not if you compensated them.” I took the bottle from Patrick's mouth; he'd fallen asleep and snuggled against my body.
“They have no right to the stones!”
I shrugged. “Seems to me they have every right. In our world, if a country has an asset, it has the right to exchange that asset with another country and receive compensation in return. We can't just go into another country and take what's theirs.”
“The Realm is different—” Goren started to protest, but my attention was diverted by Matt, who'd stumbled into the mess and was scanning tables. When he caught sight of us, he strode across the space, his movements agitated. “Charlotte, you need to come with me. There's trouble with Conal and his pack.” Without waiting to hear Goren's argument, I got to my feet and ran, Patrick cuddled in my arms.
≈†◊◊†◊◊†◊◊†≈
The Tremaine pack weren't difficult to locate. With Matt's guidance, I hurried through the forest, running with Nissa at my side. Patrick was tucked against my chest, protected from trees and branches as we ran. We'd been joined by Ripley, who'd evidently homed in on my distress and ran to meet us, his vampire-speed giving him an advantage. He'd brought Ben along, and it was he who pulled me up short when we reached the clearing. The Tremaine pack stood in a rough circle, shouting and baying at a commotion in the center of a makeshift ring.
Ben caught my arm. “Charlotte! This is pack business. You shouldn't interfere!” He turned on Matt. “And you shouldn't have told her!”
Matt's eyes glittered. “She had a right to know!”
I caught sight of Clint – he'd apparently arrived a few minutes earlier, and was being held back by a couple of the Tremaine pack, his arms gripped firmly behind his back. He struggled ineffectively, his eyes furious as he remonstrated with them. I turned on Ben, hardly able to believe what I was hearing. “Did you know about this?” I demanded.
Ben's gaze was calm, his features smooth when he responded. “We knew it would come to a head. The situation was untenable for Conal—”
“And this is the best way of resolving it?” I snapped. The spirits had informed me what was happening, in a disjointed, hesitant manner. It was obvious they hadn't intended on telling me either, but once Matt spilt the beans, they'd 'fessed up. At least, that's what I suspected. I wrenched out of Ben's grasp and pushed through the crowds. The pack was wild, most members shifted to wolf form and the musty, doggy scent of their fur overwhelmed me as I struggled through them. I could see bloodlust in their eyes, drool trickling from their fangs as they watched the spectacle.
“Charlotte, this is a very bad idea—” Lucas began, but I shut him down, rage leaving me incandescent.
“Shut the hell up, Lucas!” Fear was palpable in my heart and throat as I continued to push against the baying, howling wolves. This couldn't happen; I couldn't believe it was happening, and I intended to put a stop to the situation before it was too late. Betrayal, fear, anger… they all fought for supremacy in my thoughts.
Reaching the circular patch of ground in the center of the pack, I watched, horrified, as the scene played out before me.
Conal stood in the center, in wolf form, his eyes glittering with hatred. A quick glance revealed the injuries he'd suffered; he'd been bitten numerous times, and a large gash across his muzzle was still bleeding, spots of blood trickling through his long black fur and dropping onto the ground beneath him. To his right, I saw two other werewolves – presumably Kurt and Udolf Marrok. Even in wolf form, the difference between them and Conal was plain – where Conal was all strength, lean muscle and broad chest, both Kurt and Udolf's bellies were rounded, their bodies not as sharply contoured and muscled as Conal's. Even so, this fight was two against one, and it was clear it hadn't been easy for Conal.
Udolf and Marrok circled him, and a quick glance established they were both more seriously wounded than he was – but the fact that they were continuing to fight at all left my heart in my throat. I glanced across the howling, yelping crowds, their enjoyment of this terrible scene distressing.
“Angel, I would suggest you return to camp,” Nissa hissed, grabbing my arm and trying to tug me away. “This is not for you to see; this is werewolf business. Conal will not thank you, or your father, for interfering.”
Stunned into silence, I shook my head, unable to tear my gaze away. This wasn't right – what they were doing – it was madness. I'd struggled to believe what the spirits told me at first, but when we'd drawn closer, I'd realized they were telling the truth.
“Nissa is right,” Ripley spoke from my other side. “Pack business is conducted privately, Charlotte. None of them, especially Conal, will thank you for coming out here to witness their way of dealing with troublemakers.”
I remained silent, watching Conal edge back and forth, his gaze focused on the two wolves. He wasn't aware of my presence, his attention concentrated on the Marroks', predicting their next move.
One of the Marroks shot forward in a long, smooth motion, sinking his fangs into Conal's back. The second Marrok seized the opportunity to approach, keeping low on his haunches, and latched his fangs into Conal's right front leg. Conal growled ferociously, shaking from side to side, dislodging the first wolf from his back. The wolf rolled off, scrambling in the mud to regain its feet, as Conal turned on the second. He sank his own fangs deeply into the wolf's neck, and from this distance I heard bone crunch beneath his grip. The wolf shrieked, the sound sending a shiver running down my spine, but Conal didn't let up, in fact increased the pressure of his hold. Whether it was Kurt or Udolf, I couldn't tell, but whoever it was began to spasm under Conal's death grip, claws scrabbling helplessly on the mud and debris beneath his paws as he fought to regain a foothold and prevent his imminent death.
Bile rose in my throat when Conal wrenched his head away from the attack; blood, and a good portion of flesh hung from his mouth when he lifted his jaw skyward and howled, letting the detritus of the kill fall from his mouth to the ground in a squelchy, nauseating lump. All around us, the other wolves howled along with him, and the Marrok brother at his feet breathed his last.
The body of the second wolf started to shimmer and crouched on the ground revealing Udolf Marrok. Fur and claws receded, until the man squatted where the wolf had been, completely naked. I couldn't look away and watched in horrified fascination when he crawled towards Conal, his head low to the ground, in what I recognized as the werewolf act of submission to the Alpha.
Conal watched, his huge, black-furred body panting in the early morning light. Ever closer Udolf creeped, head dropping lower with each step, his submission complete.
“Charlotte, please…” Ben urged, tugging at my arm again. “You don't want to see this.”
I shook my head. “He won't—” I whispered, but even as the words left my lips, I knew what was coming, what Conal would do. What he had probably always known he would do, right from the beginning of this debacle with the pack.
When Udolf reached Conal's front paws, Conal stared down at him for a long minute, then lifted his muzzle skyward and howled once more, the sound echoing out and being picked up and carried by his pack. I thought I heard whimpers from Udolf, but from this distance, and drown
ed out by the baying of the pack, it was hard to know whether the sound came from Udolf, or whether it escaped my own lips.
Conal swiped one enormous paw at Udolf, simultaneously pushing the man onto his side, and disemboweled him. Udolf began to scream, a loud, guttural sound, as his entrails slipped from inside his gutted belly and flowed out onto the ground like so many sausages, steam rising from them as the warmth of his insides met the coolness of the morning air.
I stumbled back, a soundless scream erupting inside my head, and I saw Conal lower his head and begin to gorge on the dying body of Udolf Marrok. Even as I sought purchase on the muddy ground to escape what I was seeing, the other members of the pack padded towards the dead and dying men, saliva dripping from their jaws as they prepared to enjoy the feast resulting from Conal's victory.
The two men who'd been holding Clint released their grip on his arms, and Clint's shoulders slumped in defeat. The grimace on his face mirrored my own revulsion. He'd come out here to stop what was happening, as any good law enforcement official would – and failed. He caught my eye, and I knew, that for him, as for me, the memory of what we'd seen here this morning would take a long time to fade.
I hid my face against Matt's chest and sobbed, even as he, Ben, Ripley and Nissa drew me away, and we began the long trek towards camp.
Chapter 33: A Kidnapping
“You can't hide out in Zaen forever, it's nearly dark. Time to head back to camp,” Acenith announced, coming to stand beside me in the middle of the cobblestoned street and surveying the row of cottages I'd finished repairing. “Avoiding the situation between you and Conal will not improve it.”
I turned to face her, rolling my shoulders to decrease the tension in my muscles, but also taking advantage of the delay to compose a response. If I had my way, I'd hide out here forever to avoid facing Conal. I'd spent most of the day suffering stomach-clenching anxiety whenever a portal opened, bringing our people to work on rebuilding, or returning them to camp at the end of a shift. Each time a portal opened I wondered if Conal would appear. It was a relief when he didn't make an appearance, and I suspected he was avoiding what would inevitably be a confrontation, as much as I was.
Nissa, who'd been standing by a cottage wall and watching over me, nodded agreement. “Acenith is right, we should return.” My Fae friend had been a quiet companion all day. I suspected she wanted to discuss what we'd witnessed, but I'd remained doggedly mute. Everything was too new, too raw to rehash so soon.
“Let me finish the rest of this street,” I finally announced. “Then we'll head back.”
Acenith's gaze flicked from me to Nissa, and then on to the cottages I'd been working on, as she mentally calculated how much work remained. We'd been working our way from the center of the city, and this street was two in from the city's outer walls. Even by my own standards, I'd worked miracles in the past eight hours.
Acenith crossed her arms over her chest, and inclined her head. “If you insist. But then, we are returning to camp. Oui?”
“Oui,” I agreed with a feeble smile.
It had been a good hour or two before the nausea settled in my stomach after seeing the ritualistic contest between Conal and the Marroks. Needing time to digest what I'd seen (and that thought had only made me more nauseous), I'd left Patrick with Marianne and Gwynn, and joined the hundreds of people working on repairs at Zaen. I'd been frantically busy ever since, repairing structure after structure, while a veritable army of people and spirits worked alongside each other cleaning up the streets, sweeping away debris, preparing buildings for occupation and completing the multitude of tasks needed to facilitate our return. Gabby and her witchy friends were out in force, placing charms over each building when it was finished, and a group of them were placing complex enchantments over Zaen's reconstructed walls, ready for the attack which would no doubt come soon after our homecoming.
I'd worked furiously, moving from street to street, building to building, determined to complete as much as possible. It was a punishing schedule, and I'd brought painkillers along for the inevitable headache. Although focused on the tasks at hand, internally I'd died a thousand deaths, unable to comprehend Conal's actions. It didn't matter how I tried to rationalize it; I couldn't get past what I'd seen.
The thing was, I'd seen Conal kill before. I'd killed before. It wasn't the concept of killing I struggled to come to terms with – it was the fact he'd slaughtered his own men. Kurt and Udolf Marrok were by no means my favorite people – I loathed them and their behavior, and the trouble they'd caused. But they were two men who'd been on our side, part of our group. And they'd been murdered in cold blood.
Worse, was the fact that not only Conal, but his entire pack, the spirits, and my friends, had intended on keeping this from me.
The spirits remained inaudible, a gentle hush of whispered voices in my mind as I worked on rebuilding. Even Lucas, usually the voice of reason, was keeping his own counsel. I suspected they were giving me time, recognized that I needed to reconcile myself to Conal's behavior. Between the situation with the Tremaines and the problem with the Fae – who were apparently still using the truth as a counterweight to what they desired – I was troubled. I'd left this morning, telling Arasinya and Goren I wouldn't decide about the Red Caps until I returned – but I suspected I was avoiding that situation, just as much as I was the Conal conundrum.
Much to my chagrin, Conal was waiting for us when we stepped back through the portal an hour later. Clean shaven, wearing fresh jeans and a t-shirt, he was leaning against a tree when we arrived. The bruises and scars from the fight were readily visible, a stark reminder of what I'd witnessed earlier.
Acenith pressed a brief kiss to my cheek. “Don't be too hard on him. He did what he needed to do.”
Nissa simply nodded in my direction, then Conal's, before she slipped away.
“Hey,” Conal said cautiously when I approached. “How did things go?”
“Should be finished up in a day or two.” I came to a stop in front of him; suffering such intense discomfort I couldn't meet his gaze. The memory of him tearing out Kurt's throat replayed unbidden, followed by the vision of Udolf's entrails spilling into the mud and I trembled, rubbing my hands over my arms. “I need to go to Patrick.”
“He's fine,” Conal responded quietly. He reached out, but I stepped away, avoiding his touch. Conal's hand dropped to his side and hurt flashed in his black eyes. “We need to talk.”
“Can it wait? I need a shower, and I want to cuddle Patrick, grab a bite to eat.”
Conal gripped my arm and tilted my chin with his fingertips, so I had to meet his piercing gaze. “No, Charlotte. I don't think it can wait.”
I would have preferred to put this conversation off – probably forever – but clearly, Conal wasn't allowing that option. “Fine.”
We walked a little way from camp in the rapidly-falling darkness, guaranteeing we had privacy. Conal apparently suspected there would be yelling, and no doubt wanted to ensure we could talk without interruption. I could barely see him, but knew he was seeing me perfectly. Deeply uncomfortable, I crossed my arms and leaned against a tree trunk, it's branches full of long, thin leaves creating a pleasant scent when the gentle breeze blew.
“I wish you hadn't gone out there,” he said. “It was pack business, nothing you should have been involved in. Matt had no right to tell you.”
“Matt did the right thing. He and Clint were the only ones who did.”
“And that should tell you something, Charlotte.” I imagined Conal rolling his eyes when he spoke. “Matt and Clint are human. They can't possibly understand werewolf customs.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, assaulted again by a vision of Udolf Marrok's stomach torn open, his intestines spilling out.
Conal lapsed into silence for a few minutes, then asked the question I'd been dreading. “Are we okay?”
“I'm not sure.”
The hush between us built, taking on a density which I suspected could choke
me. I didn't know what to say, couldn't get past the images which were imprinted on my memory seemingly forever. He made no attempt to touch me again, remained half a dozen steps from where I stood. The moon appeared from behind the clouds, revealing him in the shadows and I could see his face, his expression, the pain in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was low. “I had no option. To take the pack back, I had to proclaim my authority.”
“I don't understand why you needed to kill them!”
“To leave them alive would have damaged my authority as Alpha. I had to prove my strength, my domination over the pack as a whole.”
“They were members of your pack!” I argued. “I'll admit, I didn't like them, but how can you kill people you know? How can you leave Kurt and Udolf's wives widowed? Their children without their fathers?”
“I have no choice!” Conal said, his voice growing louder. “I had to eliminate the competition. It was the only way forward.” He scraped his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I knew you wouldn't understand.”
I turned on him. “How long have you known?” I demanded. “When did you know, this was what you'd have to do to keep your position as Alpha?”
His silence answered the question before he responded. “From the beginning. The only way to deal with a challenge is to re-establish my authority to the challengers, and to my pack. It's the way it's always been done. It's the way it will always be done.”
I rubbed at my arms, powerless to dispel the chill I'd suffered all day. “It's barbaric. What you did to Kurt, that was bad enough, but to kill Udolf the way you did… to… to…” I lapsed into silence, unwilling, or perhaps even unable, to vocalize what I'd witnessed.
Conal's calm veneer snapped. “I did what I'm supposed to do, Charlotte! You were the one who wanted me to lead the pack! You wanted the situation resolved – and I've resolved it!” he yelled. “I did what needed to be done, as Alpha of the Tremaine Pack. It's no different to what the shapeshifters do, or the vampires, to resolve conflicts!”
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