“Was this the first time you had heard the Accused arguing with his father?”
“No,” Warren replied softly, with a shake of his head. “I’d been in the room several times when Justin would come in, raging out of his head. Of course, most of those incidents he would be under the influence of alcohol or narcotics. It was brought to my attention that just yesterday afternoon, my cousin was picked up from a bar where he had been drinking with the Human clientele.”
“So the Accused was inebriated at the time of the argument with his father?” Thompson looked past Justin to the two men behind him. “Did you also say you found an empty bottle in the Accused’s quarters following the murder?”
“Yes, sir,” Gerard replied. Justin twisted around to look at him. “Randall Waylan had placed us on special duty to curtail his son’s substance abuse problem. We were ordered to make regular sweeps of his rooms to check for drugs and alcohol. Unfortunately, we missed this one because he had hidden it with something to mask the scent.” He shot a glare at Justin. “I consider it just another act of disobedience to the Alpha – and a major factor in what drove him to take his father’s life.”
“Then you don’t know anything about me,” Justin growled. “I don’t go on murderous rampages when I get drunk. I have fun, and then I pass out.” He turned back to the Council. “Which is what I did last night – after I saw my dad.”
“But you had been drinking prior to your argument,” one of the women on the Council said.
“Yeah, but not that much. You know it takes a lot to get one of our kind drunk.”
“The fact remains that you had been given direct orders to abstain from alcohol, and you defied this order,” Thompson said. He looked up and down the length of the table at his colleagues. “It’s now time to make our judgment. Council Leader Harris – you have the sentence. Please review and if you are in agreement, pass it along to the next member.”
A folded piece of linen stationery began to make the journey down the table, each person reading and giving a silent nod before letting it go to the next. Justin felt his stomach knot as no one contested. At last, the paper made it into Warren’s hands. As Alpha, he had the power to overturn the entire Council’s vote. Justin held out no hope for mercy after the things he had just said about his cousin.
Warren accepted the note. He adjusted his glasses again and began to read out loud. “’Given the Accused’s long and sordid history of criminal behavior and Pack misconduct, coupled with the evidence at hand and the eye-witness testimony, it is the decision of this Council…’” Warren paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “’It is the decision of this Council to pronounce a verdict of Guilty. The penalty for murder of a sitting Alpha is execution.’” He looked up at Justin as he recited the final line. “’To be carried out before the next sunrise.’”
Shock and panic hit Justin all at once. “No!” He looked around, wild-eyed. “This is all some kind of set up. I’m telling you, you’ve got the wrong guy! Someone is framing me!”
“Why would someone go to such lengths?” Thompson asked, smirking. “Admit your crime and accept your fate.”
“You’re just going to condemn me to death based on some bloody clothes, some footage where you can’t even see my face, and the misunderstood word of a so-called ‘witness’ you just named as the new Alpha?” Justin snorted. “God, this is exactly what I said to my dad! The Pack is living in the past, holding barbaric trials and putting people to death without even bothering to conduct a thorough investigation. If you people weren’t so fucking afraid of the Human world finding out about us, you could call in some real detectives, maybe even a forensics team, and they’d be able to prove my innocence in the same amount of time you took to pass sentence!”
Without another word, they all started to rise and leave the room through the door to the Council chambers. The only one to approach Justin was his cousin. “I’m sorry it had to come down to this,” Warren said with a sad shake of his head. “But you have to admit, you brought this upon yourself. Hopefully, some good will come from it. Your actions might set an example to the younger generation, teaching them what not to do.”
“Fuck you, Warren,” Justin spat. “You’re as backwards as the rest of them. Well, I’ll tell you the same thing I told my dad: the longer our race lives in the past, the less chances of its survival for the future. This whole ‘exclusion’ thing can’t continue. And I know that’s why I was set up – because I dared to speak the truth. Now, you’re all going to silence me.” He shook his head. “I fucking weep for our future.”
“Then you’ll be shedding tears in vain,” Warren said softly. “As of sunrise, you’ll no longer have a future.”
“You son of a bitch,” Justin growled, eyes flashing, and he lunged at his cousin. He took the slighter man to the floor before Gerard and Phil could jump in to break it up. Justin took a swipe at his cousin’s face and Warren’s glasses flew off, one of the lenses popping out and rolling under the table.
“My eye!” Warren cried, immediately covering the right side of his face.
“You’re not fit to be Alpha!” Justin snarled at him in disgust. Suddenly, he felt someone grab him from behind – and that’s all it took to make his adrenaline spike to the level needed to force a transformation. Justin could feel his face contort and extend into a lupine muzzle. His hands grew larger, sprouted long brown hair and deadly claws. Whipping around on his attackers, he snapped his jaws and came within a hair’s breadth of biting Gerard’s cheek. He swung at Phil and sent him flying across the room.
Samuel had the presence of mind to keep his distance as he pulled out his phone. “Code Two!” he shouted. “We’ve got a Rogue!”
Warren, still on the floor, scrambled backwards and crouched under the table in fear; Justin saw the scratch under his eye and snorted. As much as he wanted to belittle his cousin for being a coward, he knew he had to flee – he could already hear the alarms going off around the community with the initiation of total lockdown. He spun around, seeing the other Betas changing to their wolf forms in order to match his strength. Justin had only one recourse: escape by whatever means necessary. And right now, that meant going through the nearest window. His leather jacket provided adequate protection as he covered his head with his arms and leapt. Glass shattered, flying in all directions. Justin started to run the moment his feet hit the ground. He could see others coming, running across the compound. He glanced back and saw Gerard and Samuel following him through the broken window.
Justin cut through manicured yards, weaving his way to the nearest wall surrounding the small neighborhood. He knew the ornamental spikes topping the brick and mortar barrier would be electrified, with enough current to knock an adult werewolf on his ass. Spying a tree near the wall, Justin jumped up, grabbed a branch, and swung himself up and over like a pole vaulter. He continued to run, deep into the small wooded preserve. By the time he reached the nearest road, he had shifted back to his human form. At this point, he didn’t need to draw any additional attention to himself. It would be dark before long. Now, he just had to figure out which way to go.
“Into the city,” he told himself.
Chapter Three
After her run-in with Ceara and Tynice, Savannah took out her frustration on the kitchen, channeling her anger into something productive. By the time she finished, every piece of stainless steel gleamed. Savannah looked around and smiled. They should stop by more often, she thought. “Nothing cleans like woman burning off a ton of pent-up aggression.” Switching off the lights, she left the restaurant and headed upstairs.
The apartment above the café had been Savannah’s home her whole life, but the building itself had been in her family for two generations. Her maternal grandfather, Papa Martelli, had purchased it back in the Seventies when he came home from serving two tours in Vietnam. Back then, the restaurant had been known for serving up some of the best pizza on Chicago’s south side. Twenty years later, he hired a young Afric
an-American man named Charles Goode, a fellow Marine who had just returned from fighting in Desert Storm and had a wife and two little girls to support. Papa had rented out the apartment to Charles in addition to giving him a job.
At the same time, Savannah’s mom, Alma, had been helping her father run the family business. She and Charles soon forged a friendship, and when his wife walked out on him and their two young daughters, she had been there to offer consolation. Eventually, they fell in love and once Charles’ divorce had been finalized, they got married. A year later, Savannah Goode was born.
When Papa had made the decision to retire, he sold the property to Daddy and gave his blessings to reinvent the pizza parlor as The Goode Soul Café. Charles and Alma had continued to live in the apartment above the restaurant, raising their family of three girls. Eventually, Tynice and Ceara went off to attend college out of state. Savannah had elected to stay in Chicago. She attended a local school so she could help in the restaurant between classes. She had been there to take care of her mother when she got sick. She had stayed after Mom died, knowing Daddy would need someone to help him keep the café going. Two years after losing his beloved Alma, Charles suffered a fatal heart attack.
Now, Savannah lived alone. Some days, she felt like the proverbial B-B in a boxcar, rattling around in a four-bedroom apartment that took up two floors. After Daddy passed, she had proposed splitting the apartment in to several rental units; she would live in one and continue to run the restaurant. But Tynice and Ceara, who still had some say in the property, had been against the idea. If Savannah had been a different person, she would have thought it unfair that Daddy had arranged to have them share a property that had once belonged to her grandfather. But Savannah understood her father’s reasoning. He had not been blind to the animosity in his house, the resentment his two older girls felt for their stepmother and their half-sister. When he wasn’t sweating over a hot grill, he would be doing his best to keep the peace. Savannah knew he had hoped that co-owning the restaurant would give his three daughters the opportunity to mend the rift between them. Poor Daddy, Savannah thought. He went above and beyond to make them happy, but he should have just learned to accept that some people can’t or won’t ever change.
To get into the mood for tonight’s ritual, Savannah put on some soothing instrumental music. She found her smudge stick and lit one end. The act of using smoke to cleanse negativity from a given area had been practiced for centuries by tribal cultures; even the Catholic church would begin ceremonies by swinging a brass censer of frankincense and myrrh. In her studies of other cultures, Savannah found that a dried bundle of cedar and sage commonly used by Native Americans to be more appealing. Now, as she walked around the apartment, she let the smoke fill every room and give the air the earthy scent of Magic.
With her home prepared, Savannah then retreated to the bathroom. She filled the tub with hot water and a few drops of sacred oils. Tonight, she chose Attraction, Luck, and High Altar. She lit candles around the room before stripping off her work clothes and stepping into the tub. As she submersed herself in the soothing water, she closed her eyes and cleared her mind. Bathing, her mother had always said, was another form of cleansing – and not just for washing away the day’s sweat and grime. Savannah had learned to visualize her problems seeping out of her pores and into the water. She did this when she showered, too, picturing the water carrying her troubles down the drain.
After the bath, she toweled off and walked naked through the house to her room. She used to be more modest when she lived with her family, but once she had the place to herself she found she enjoyed the freedom of observing what Celtic witches referred to as “sky-clad.” One of the reasons she had installed tall potted shrubberies on the rooftop terrace had been for a little extra privacy on those nights when she wanted to dance nude under the stars. She didn’t feel any embarrassment about her body – she took pride in the fact that she resembled some of the effigies created by ancient people to honor the Mother Goddess, with her big breasts and hips. Being born under the Earth sign of Taurus made her appreciate all of life’s pleasures, whether it came to good food or the joys of being bare-assed in the comfort of her own home.
Her room sat at the end of the hall on the third floor. Big enough for a full-sized bed but still the smallest of the apartment’s four bedrooms, it had always been a reflection of her sensual yet eclectic nature. Decorated in rich shades of purple – the color associated with the Higher Self in Eastern beliefs – it also called to the Renaissance period of her Italian heritage: ornate masks in keeping with the Commedia dell'Arte, pastoral scenes of enchanted forests and mystic temples in gilded frames, brocade fabrics trimmed in gold braid, beaded lampshades, and crystal baubles. Over the brass and white wrought iron of the headboard hung garlands of silk roses entwined with a string of white lights, and the laughing face of the Roman god Bacchus at the center.
Her African roots could be seen, as well, in the hand-carved figures of elephants, lions, and gazelles adorning the shelves that ran along each wall just below the crown molding, and in the musical instruments hanging next to her closet – a kalimba and a talking drum – and the shekere, a gourd covered in a net of beautiful beads, standing in the corner next to her djembe. Along with her chest of drawers, an antique vanity with a large round mirror, and the old rocking chair that had belonged to her paternal grandmother, the space had always seemed crowded. Savannah knew she could always move to one of the larger rooms now that she had the whole house to herself. She had even considered taking the master bedroom, which had its own en suite bathroom. Mom and Daddy had no problem converting Tynice and Ceara’s rooms once they had moved out – one had become a sewing room for Mom, while the other had been turned into an office that she and Daddy both used when working on the bills for the restaurant. When it came to their bedroom, though… I can still feel their energy in there, Savannah thought, as she paused to gaze at the framed photo of her parents that stood on her dresser. It had been one of the last ones taken of them together, just before Mom had started her chemotherapy sessions. Savannah smiled wistfully. I know they’re gone, but they still come to check on me, to make sure I’m all right.
Turning to her closet, Savannah took a moment to select her ceremonial garb for tonight. She chose a full-length velvet dress in ivory with white and gold spirals embroidered across the yoke and the hem. She slipped it on over her head and took a moment to check her reflection in the vanity mirror. She liked the way the off-white color contrasted with her light brown skin. She took a moment to fluff her still-damp curls, using her fingers to pick them out a bit. From her jewelry box she selected a black velvet choker with a large silver pentacle within a gold circle, and a beryl cabochon at the center. Her adornments included a pair of simple, large gold hoop earrings and the rings she wore on her index fingers – an onyx stone set in a silver band that Grandma Martelli had passed on to her for the left hand and a gold one etched with flowers and vines that had belonged to her mother for the right. Because it promised to be a little chilly tonight, she chose a wine-colored cloak with a hood to keep her warm during her incantation.
“Let’s get this party started,” Savannah told her reflection. She felt another rush of anticipation as she gathered up the case that contained all her ritual items and headed for the stairs that led up to the roof. She breathed in the cool evening air, taking a moment to look up at the heavens. The moon had risen higher, a bright white orb hovering against the indigo sky. The city’s persistent glow blotted out all but the most determined of stars and Venus, Savannah’s ruling planet, which she could see to the east. She smiled. Crossing the terrace, she made her way to the marble table at its center. Years ago, Daddy had surprised Mom with this space for ritual use, having arranged slate paving stones to form the pattern of a large circle within a square. At the four corners stood small pedestals for the four cardinal directions, each in their proper placement. Mom had been the one to start the fresh herb garden in large clay trou
ghs, and later put in pots with tomatoes that they used in the restaurant. Savannah had carried on that tradition, adding the privacy hedges, lavender, and even a few blueberry bushes that now lay dormant for the coming winter.
Lighting two large, three-wick candles, Savannah proceeded to set up the altar. She spread a white silk cloth over the cold marble surface. Upon this, she placed a small, cast iron cauldron that stood on three legs. “I call upon the Elements to join me on this night,” she announced, as she began setting out a series of earthenware bowls. A blue dish went in the place designated for the element of Water, which she then filled with clear spring water. A green bowl containing rich black soil represented Earth. In a yellow bowl, she set a small white votive candle for Air. She struck a wooden match and held it to the edge of a charcoal disk and watched as it sparked to life, coaxed along with a gentle stream of breath from her pursed lips. She set this inside the cauldron as the symbol of Fire. Reaching into her kit, she pulled out a small leather pouch with a drawstring and removed a pinch of crushed cedar and frankincense. She sprinkled this over the charcoal and smiled as it began to burn and release a heady, aromatic smoke.
The next order of business called for drawing a line of protection around the ritual space. Traditionally, salt – an ancient purifier – would be used. Savannah poured a handful into her palm and began to let it fall from her fist as she walked clockwise around the circle to lay down a continuous line. “I create this ring of protection,” she murmured, “to ward off any evil that might try to enter this sacred place.”
The last items to join the altar had the most significance. First came her athame, a special dagger with a six-inch blade with garnets set in the hilt. Next, her wand, which she had fashioned from a willow branch and carved with runes and alchemical symbols. Finally, she withdrew her Book of Shadows. With hand-stitched parchment pages and bound in tooled leather with gold leaf inlay, it had been passed down through several generations on her mother’s side. The first few pages had been written in Latin and Italian by the first Strega to own it. Over the years, English translations had been added. It contained sketches of altars settings, hand gestures, and other magical designs, recipes for special ritual foods and drinks, and even the notes and lyrics for songs to be sung during key ceremonies throughout the calendar year. Savannah smiled, reverently caressing the book’s cover before opening it to a page she had marked with a green ribbon. “’The Bonding of the Familiar,’” she read aloud. Her mother had performed this spell several times throughout her own life. Her first Familiar had been an orange tabby cat that had suddenly appeared on her windowsill; the last had been a little Dachshund-mix dog that they had found huddled against the restaurant’s front door the morning after she had sent out a summons. Savannah had been twelve years old at the time and she remembered that dog – which Mom had named Randolph after a popular local brand of sausage. It had followed Mom everywhere, and always seemed intuitive to her moods and even her health. Savannah had no doubt in her mind that Randolph had detected Mom’s cancer even before her doctors found it. He had been a great companion, though. Shortly after Mom’s passing, Daddy had let Randolph out and later found he had somehow slipped his collar and disappeared. They had tried to find him, put up posters around the neighborhood, offered a reward, even checked local shelters, but the dog had never been found. He came when Mom called, and after she left, so did he.
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