“The Code of the Werewolves? Lindsey, what is this?”
“It’s … it’s …” As I stood tongue-tied, watching him in horror, he started flipping through the pages. Had I spent the last year of my life struggling to keep my true nature under wraps, only to have him discover it six weeks after we broke up? “Mating customs, ruler succession, dueling…” He looked up at me. “What is this, some kind of joke book?”
“Sort of,” I said.
But he had stopped on a page near the end. “Execution procedures,” he read. “The prescribed methods are impalement with a wooden stake or shooting. If shooting is the selected method, it must be undertaken with ammunition containing at least fifty percent silver to ensure effectiveness.” He looked up at me. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s nothing,” I said, finally finding my voice. “Lindsey found it in a secondhand store the other day, and thought it was cool.”
He read further. “This looks real.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” I asked lightly, then glanced pointedly at my watch. “I hate to break things up, but it’s not the best time. It’s great to see you, but can we get in touch later? I’ve got a meeting to go to.”
“Sophie,” he said, looking at me levelly. “Why does it make you so uncomfortable that I’m looking at this book?”
“I’m not uncomfortable,” I said, while promising myself that I would never again consent to dating a trial attorney. Cross-examination was Heath’s specialty—and cross-examination was the last thing in the world I wanted to deal with just now. “I’m just a little stressed, that’s all. About my father,” I said, because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Why do you have this book?”
“Um … it’s not mine. Lindsey found it. At Half Price books.”
“I didn’t know you two were into weird stuff like this. Then again, with your mother’s magic shop, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.” He shrugged. “But that’s not why I’m here. I want to help you, but I need some more information. I can’t find your father’s name anywhere in the records.”
“That’s because …” Lindsey said, and stopped when I shot her a furious look.
“Because what?” Heath said. “Because he’s a werewolf?”
Lindsey just sat there with her mouth open.
Oh my God. This couldn’t be happening. Couldn’t be. Heath had been joking. And Lindsey, sitting there gaping like a fish. She might as well just go ahead and let the cat—or in this case the wolf—out of the bag.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said quickly.
Heath looked at the book in his hands. He flipped through the pages, squinting at the text. “This isn’t a joke book, is it?” Heath asked quietly.
“Of course it is,” I said.
He turned to Lindsey then, disbelief on his handsome features. “You think Sophie’s father is a werewolf,” Heath said.
Why, oh why had I dated a man with such excellent courtroom instincts?
Neither of us said anything, and after a rather awkward couple of seconds, he turned to me. “What’s going on, Sophie?”
Lindsey finally found her voice. “You need his help, Sophie.”
“No,” I barked. “Not that much.”
“He deserves to know,” she said.
I closed my eyes. Was she right? Or would he totally freak out if I told him?
“What do I deserve to know?” Heath asked. Even though my own eyes were closed, I could feel his just about burning a hole through me.
Well, what did I have to lose? The worst that could happen would be that Heath would think I was a crackpot. On the other hand, if he believed me and was willing to help, I might have a chance of getting my father off the hook.
Desperation won out. My eyes still closed, I said, “My father is a werewolf. He’s been arrested by the Houston pack, and is on trial for his life.”
Heath snorted a little bit. It seemed the crackpot scenario was winning out. “Where are they holding him? The Houston zoo?”
“In Fredericksburg,” I whispered, finally daring to open my eyes.
“Fredericksburg? But they converted the jail to a restaurant.” He looked at me with something like shock. “You are serious.” He looked down at the leather-bound book in his hands, then back at me. “This thing is real.”
Now what? I didn’t know what to say, so I just sat there, silent.
But Heath was still thinking. And studying me as if I were a paramecium in a petri dish. Or a defendant on the witness stand. “But if your father’s a werewolf, that means …”
I decided to exercise my rights under the Fifth Amendment—you know, that anything-you-say-can-be-used-against-you-in-a-court-of-law thing—and kept my mouth shut. I’d like to say it was because I was being savvy, but the truth was that I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. My mind was blank.
As it turns out, though, it didn’t really matter, because Heath’s legal mind was busily fitting the puzzle pieces together. “Those nights that you disappeared. All the shaving you had to do.”
I spoke almost involuntarily. “You noticed that? But I was so careful!”
He shrugged. “I just figured you had a hormonal imbalance. Evidently I wasn’t too far off the mark.” Heath ran a hand through his dark hair, obviously agitated. And who could blame him, really? “All those nights you didn’t show up. Like on our anniversary. I’ll bet that was a full moon, wasn’t it? And those trips you took from time to time, without telling me where you were going.” He barked out a bitter laugh. “I can’t believe I asked a werewolf to marry me.”
I jerked back in my chair, stung. “Would it be so awful?”
“At least I could say my wife was an animal in the bedroom,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this. A werewolf. I was dating a freaking fairy-tale creature.” He turned on me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t I tell you?” I shook my head. “Isn’t it obvious? I mean, how exactly was I supposed to bring it up? ‘Oh, by the way honey, I won’t be there this weekend; it’s the full moon, and I have to transform into a wolf?”
Lindsey shrank into her chair, looking like she wished she could be absorbed by the upholstery. But I hadn’t forgotten about her. Not at all. “This is your fault,” I hissed at her.
“It’s her fault you never told me you were a werewolf?” Heath asked. “I don’t think so, Sophie. And how come you could tell Lindsey and not me?”
“I didn’t tell her. She found out,” I said.
“How? Did you suddenly sprout fangs over roast beef sandwiches at Subway one day?”
“Of course not,” I said. “I’m more careful than that.” Even though it had been touch and go with Heath while we were watching Pirates of the Caribbean last year. When the Kraken burst on the screen, the adrenaline rush had knocked my defenses right down, and it had been all I could do to control the fangs. “She followed me one night. I didn’t know she was there until it was too late.”
“When was this?”
“About six weeks ago,” I said. “There was a big werewolf problem out near Round Top.”
“Round Top? Isn’t that where your office retreat was?” he asked. “Wait a minute. Is your boss a werewolf, too?”
“No!” I said. “That was a coincidence.” I thought of everything that had happened last month—the ancient Aztec sacrifice ritual; my paw-to-paw battle with the leader of the Norteños; and last but not least, Mark’s surprise cameo performance, for which he arrived looking like a recently lit Duraflame log with wings attached—and decided not to elaborate. Finding out I was a werewolf was enough of a shock for one day. “It’s a long story,” I said lamely.
“When exactly were you going to tell me?” Heath asked. “I wanted to marry you, Sophie. I wanted to have kids with you. Were you planning on waiting until our baby woke up with a tail sticking out of its diaper?”
I crossed my arms across my chest. “So now that you know, you’re no longer interes
ted?”
“You were the one who broke it off,” he reminded me.
“And this is why,” I shot back. “Think about it, Heath. How were we going to explain it to your mom and dad? ‘I know it’s a bit unusual, mom, but think of the benefits—like being able to claim minority status on her Harvard application!’” I took a deep breath, then kept going. “And we both know you have political aspirations. Skeletons in the closet are one thing, but werewolves in the cradle? That’s a little tough to keep quiet. I mean, do you have any idea how hard it was for my mom to raise me? She spent the first ten years of my life paranoid I was going to sprout fur and bite the arm off one of my schoolmates.”
“That’s beside the point,” he said.
But I wasn’t done yet. “No, it’s not. You can’t control the change until you’re older—not unless you want to risk feeding your children wolfsbane tea all the time. And wolfsbane’s poisonous to humans, you know.”
He blinked. “That’s what’s in that herbal tea you’re always swigging down?”
I nodded. “It works for me—but I’m half werewolf.” The words sounded strange coming out of my mouth. Was I really saying this to Heath? “Our kids would only be a quarter, though—it might kill them.”
“Look, guys,” Lindsey interrupted. “I know you have a lot to talk about, and this is all kind of a shock, but Sophie’s dad is on trial for murder—or werewolficide, or whatever you want to call it. Can we focus on getting him out of the werewolf pen? Then, later, I’ll buy you two a bottle of wine and you can hash everything out.”
We both looked at her, and Heath sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just… a bit to take in, that’s all.” He looked at me for a moment, brown eyes filled with something like hurt. Which made me feel just awful. But honestly: What choice had I had?
Just when I thought I couldn’t stand it anymore, Heath broke eye contact with me and opened the leather-bound book. “I guess we’d better start by learning the code, then.”
“You’ll still help me?” I asked. “Even with … well, you know?”
He looked up at me, and his gaze was cool. “Like Lindsey said, we can discuss our personal issues later. The first priority is to get your father out of jail. I presume they’re keeping him in a jail?”
“Actually, they’re holding him in a place called the garden cottage.”
His eyebrows shot up. “The garden cottage? What the heck is that, a potting shed? Or a tea room?”
“More of a guest cottage with guards, really.”
“Doesn’t sound like a high-security facility.”
“Secure enough. There are guards, and they’ve got him chained to a chair. Plus the building is in a compound that belongs to the alpha of the Houston pack,” I said.
He blinked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. It belongs to whom?”
“The alpha of the Houston Pack,” I repeated, suddenly tired.
“Wait a second. You mean there are actual werewolf packs, right here in Texas?” he asked. “And they have alphas?”
“It was news to me, too. I just found out about it last year.”
“Christ. Exactly how many werewolves are there in this country?” Heath asked.
“I’m not really sure,” I answered, doing a rapid mental calculation. If there were 500 in the Houston pack, and there were other packs all over the country, there must be quite a few. “Thousands, I guess. Maybe tens of thousands. I have no idea.”
He turned to Lindsey. “Tom’s one too, isn’t he?”
She nodded. “How did you know?”
“The eyes,” he said, turning back to study me in a way that made me a little uncomfortable. Less like I was the former girlfriend he was longing for and more like I was sitting in a cage next to the monkey house. “He and Sophie have the same eyes. Kind of shimmery.” He paused, still staring at me, and I felt my face heat up. Then he asked, “Who else is one?”
“No one you know,” I said. “Well, there’s Koshka, one of the auditors downstairs. Only she’s a werecat, not a werewolf.”
“A werecat?” Heath asked, running a hand through his rumpled hair. “Jesus. You mean to tell me there’s more than just werewolves?”
“No wonder she always smells like cat pee,” Lindsey said. “How come you didn’t tell me?”
“It never came up, I guess. But we’re kind of getting off topic here,” I said, trying to steer them back to the matter at hand. Lindsey had been right; this wasn’t the ideal time to discuss the subtleties of the werewolf world—or, for that matter, the werecat world. Which I knew squat about anyway. “Heath,” I said. “Thank you for your offer to help. If you’re still willing, I’ll take you up on it.”
“I’m willing,” he said, with a smile that made my heart ache.
“Thank you.” At least there was a trained attorney on the case. Now if only I could find a way to trade in the jury …
Heath raised the Codex. “I’ll need a copy of this to get started, though.”
“No problem. You just have to swear you’ll keep it hidden.”
“It’s not exactly something I’d leave lying around on my desk,” he said, with a pointed glance at Lindsey.
“It wasn’t on my desk, it was on my lap. And you just barged in,” she retorted. I didn’t point out that she hadn’t been too quick to shove it under a folder or anything. “Can you make a copy for me, too?” she asked.
“I guess so. But you have to keep it secret,” I said, hoping that some more in-depth reading on the habits and predilections of werewolves might put the kibosh on her I-want-to-be-a-werewolf campaign.
“What are we up against?” Heath asked as he thumbed through the book.
“He’s charged with murdering a werewolf here in Austin,” I told Heath. “The victim is a werewolf who double-crossed him back in Europe, and the judge and jury are friends of the victim and sworn enemies of my father.”
“That’s encouraging,” he said dryly.
I sighed. “I know. My dad’s probably going to be found guilty. And I only just met him three days ago.”
“What’s the penalty?” he asked.
“Death.”
Heath paled. “Sophie. I’m so sorry.”
I pointed to the book in his hand. “It’s because it happened during the proscribed time—during the Howl. That’s why it’s so punitive.”
“What’s a Howl?”
“It’s kind of a werewolf convention, where a bunch of packs get together and meet,” Lindsey said, once again acting like she’d known all about this stuff since birth. I wouldn’t be shocked if she signed up to teach courses on werewolf protocol at the local community college. “This year, they’re getting together to talk about pack relations with Mexico,” she said.
I could see by Heath’s rising eyebrows that we were moving into another fascinating topic for him, but I steered him back on course. “Because of when it happened, the sentence is death. And according to the book in your hand, the penalty is execution with a silver bullet. Or wooden stake.”
He cringed. “God. That’s awful. And to think people complain about lethal injections being inhumane.”
I pushed aside an image of my father being spitted like a rotisserie chicken. “As you can imagine, any advice would be greatly appreciated.”
“Talk about a hostile jury,” he muttered. He opened the Codex and shifted into attorney mode; you could almost see the transformation. “Do we have alternate suspects?” he asked.
“One or two,” I said, and briefed him on what I knew about Charles’s affair.
“So it could be a spurned lover. Or maybe even Kayla.”
“She was supposedly in Galveston,” I said.
“It’s within driving distance. Does she have a solid alibi?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Do we know the name of the woman Charles was seeing on the side?”
“Uh, no.”
“We need to find that out. Also, I was thinking: Is it pos
sible that one of the alphas could be involved?” He shook his head. “Alphas. Did I really just say that?”
I couldn’t help smiling. “I know, Heath. I still have a hard time with it myself.” Unlike Lindsey, unfortunately. “But in answer to your question, I don’t know. Why would the alphas be involved?”
“You said that one of them was a sworn enemy of Luc Garou.”
“Then why not just kill him?” I asked.
“It was just a thought,” he said. “It may or may not have merit, but we have to consider all the possibilities.”
“I do know that the woman he was seeing was a werewolf,” I said, trying to be helpful.
He sighed. “Well, that knocks out the human population, anyway. When is the trial?”
“You see, that’s the sticky part,” I said, stomach sinking. “It’s the day after tomorrow.”
He ran a hand through his dark hair. “Jeez. That’s no time at all. Why didn’t you call me sooner?”
I glanced at the book in his hand. “Isn’t it kind of obvious?”
“I guess you’re right. Now, here’s what we need to do. I need you to find out who Charles was seeing and track down Kayla’s alibi. We need to see if we can pinpoint the location of the two alphas, too. Is there anyone else who might have wanted him dead?”
I sighed, thinking of my father’s rather assertive personality. “There’s probably a waiting list.”
“What opportunities do you have to meet with these people?”
“Werewolves,” Lindsey reminded us. We both ignored her.
“Everyone’s been at the Howl, out in Fredericksburg. I’ve been going undercover—that’s why my hair looks weird.”
“Why not go as yourself?”
“My last name is Garou. If everyone thinks he’s guilty, why would they want to talk to his daughter?”
“Good point,” he conceded. Then he cocked his head to one side. “What exactly do they do at a werewolf convention?”
“Just werewolf stuff,” I said, although I had no idea what that entailed. I suspected tonight’s assembly would be rather educational, though. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t I go make a few copies of this, and I’ll deliver them at lunch.”
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