Leader Of The Pack

by Karen McInerney

  If only it were that simple, I thought. “That’s the thing,” I said. “I’m pretty sure the trial is going to be fixed.”

  “Fixed? What do you mean?”

  As we sipped our tea, Tom and I filled my mother in on everything we had discovered over the last week.

  “So in other words, the presiding judge, Wolfgang, wants to see Luc executed,” she summed up.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “That’s not encouraging.”

  That was the understatement of the decade, in my opinion, but I held my tongue.

  “Have you talked to the Paris pack?” she asked. “Maybe they can come and help him out.”

  “We tried,” I said, “but we couldn’t get in touch with them.” I remembered the scene at the Driskill, and decided it was best to omit the gory details. And they were gory.

  “But it sounds like there’s plenty of evidence to indicate that someone else might have wanted this Grenier person dead. And no one saw your father commit the crime, so how can they prove it? There’s plenty of… what is it called? Reasonable doubt?” She looked at me. “Too bad we can’t call Marvin to defend him.” Her face softened as she said the name of her beach-ball-shaped attorney boyfriend. They’d met while he was defending her against a murder rap, and they’d been hot-air ballooning and spelunking on weekends ever since. I was always afraid he was going to get wedged in a cave entrance somewhere, like Winnie the Pooh trying to escape Rabbit’s house, but so far, he’d always managed to wiggle through okay. “Or if we could get that ex-boyfriend of yours to come and defend him,” my mother continued, picking up her mug and taking a sip. “He wasn’t your type, of course, but he was quite talented.”

  “Actually, Heath is working on the case right now,” I told her. “I should probably call him, in fact.”

  She set her tea down so fast half the contents of the mug sloshed out on the wooden tabletop. For the first time in years, I realized, I had actually startled her. “What? I thought… didn’t you break up with him because you didn’t want him to know about… well, you know?”

  “That wasn’t the only reason Heath and I didn’t work out,” I said, glancing at Tom out of the corner of my eye. Of course, it had been rather a large factor. But there had been other things, too … like the stirring I’d felt when I kissed Tom that one time. And Mark. Speaking of Mark, how the heck was I supposed to get in touch with him tonight? Maybe I’d excuse myself in a few minutes and sneak upstairs to use the phone … “Anyway, Heath kind of, well, found out accidentally.”

  “Did he see you transform?”

  “No, not exactly…”

  “Catch you shaving?”

  “No …”

  “Well, then, what happened?”

  “Lindsey told him,” I said.

  It was the second time in ten minutes that I’d managed to surprise her. “Lindsey? You’re kidding me! Why?”

  “Like I said, it was an accident—a misunderstanding. But it’s a long story. Mind if I run upstairs and use the phone? I need to get in touch with Heath and Lindsey, let them know what we found out tonight, and see if Heath’s found anything useful in the Code.”

  My mom blinked at me. “There’s a written copy of the Code?”

  “I’ll let Tom tell you all about it,” I said. “I’ll just run upstairs and call them.”

  “Why not use the phone down here?” my mother said, narrowing her dark eyes at me just a little bit. Like I said, having a psychic mother can be a pain in the rear sometimes.

  “I’m just more … comfortable upstairs,” I said lamely. “Besides, I want to visit my old room. Back in a minute!” And before she could ask me one more question, I left the pentacle-clad kitchen and headed up the creaky stairs to my old bedroom.

  As always, crossing the threshold of my childhood room was like stepping back in time. My mother left it just as I’d kept it—the sparkly scrunchies on the dresser, the ancient bottle of Vidal Sassoon hairspray, the extra razors in the top dresser drawer … even my Austin High letter jacket still hung in the closet. I’d always regretted not going out for the drill team, but I was always terrified we’d have a home game during a full moon, and I’d be the freak-show portion of the halftime performance.

  As I rounded my bed and reached for the phone, the pain of my hidden childhood washed over me. I found myself wondering what it would have been like to be raised in my father’s pack, to have known at least one other person who struggled with the excess hair growth, who was terrified a tail would sprout from her gym shorts as she spiked the final ball in the volleyball game. There would have been some comfort in knowing I wasn’t alone in the world—even if I did disagree with pack policies on human-hunting.

  Snap out of it, Sophie. I shook myself like a wet dog, trying to dispel my maudlin mood. Maybe being raised a werewolf in a human world wasn’t exactly a Norman Rockwell childhood. But being raised among my own kind hadn’t even been an option, so there was no use pining for a possibility that never existed. My half-human status, after all, was the reason we’d had to leave Paris—and my father—in the first place.

  The truth was, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be at home in either world. But if I wanted a chance to forge even a little bit of a relationship with the werewolf who had fathered me, I’d better quit mooning over the past and focus on finding a way to set him free.

  I grabbed my pink princess phone and dialed Heath’s loft. When no one answered, I tried his cell phone.

  He picked up on the second ring. “Sophie!”

  “It’s me. How’s it going?”

  “Not so hot, actually.” That wasn’t good news. “Did you find anything out tonight?” he asked.

  “All kinds of things,” I said, and filled him in on what I’d learned.

  “So there are other suspects,” he said. “That’s something. In short, we have a witness who has promised to tell the jury that the victim was a traitor to the Houston pack, and there are no witnesses who saw your father commit the crime.”

  “Innocent until proven guilty, right? And reasonable doubt. We have a case then.”

  “In U.S. law, we certainly would. The problem is, in the Codex, it’s all a bit hazy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The packs are given pretty free rein in terms of trial methodology. There are references to the types of trials that can be done, but very few details.”

  “So?”

  “So, the long and short of it is, I don’t know whether cross-examination is allowed, or even whether witnesses can be called. If you ask me, the werewolf community could use a good lawyer to update some of these rules and put everything in some semblance of order. It’s a mess.”

  “Does the Codex mention the Fehmic Court

  ?” I asked. “Because that’s where he’s going to be tried.”

  Heath was quiet for a moment. “Are you sure?”

  “That’s what Tom told me.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” he said. “From what I’ve read, that wouldn’t be my first choice. But all we can do is come up with the best case we can, right?”

  I heard a woman’s voice in the background. “Who’s with you?” I asked. My stomach flip-flopped. Had he told Miranda about me?

  There was a strangely awkward pause. “I’m at Lindsey’s place,” he said.

  Thank God. “Better not tell Miranda you’ve been up all night at Lindsey’s,” I said lightly. I knew Heath and Miranda had spent some intimate “working” evenings together before Heath and I broke up. Even though I was the one who had ended our relationship, it still stung a bit.

  He ignored my jab and returned to the matter at hand. Heath always had been a consummate professional. “Why don’t you run through the facts one more time, and we’ll meet in the morning and talk strategy. Is there any way you can get me in to defend him?”

  “I doubt it,” I said.

  He sighed. “We’ll have to rehearse the arguments tomorrow, then. I’m sure you’ll do fine; you always talk
ed a good game.”

  “Thanks, Heath.” Although I wasn’t sure it was a compliment. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay? And get some sleep.” I had decided to accept Mark’s offer to free my father; since there wasn’t going to be a trial tomorrow, I meant it. No sense trying to put together a case for a defendant who wasn’t planning to turn up for his conviction.

  “I will,” he said, “in a few hours. Take care of yourself, Sophie.”

  “Thanks, Heath. For everything.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  I hung up, feeling torn in all kinds of directions. Heath was so … so blasé about my hairy revelation. Had I made a mistake by not telling him? Could we have worked it out after all? Worry about it later, Sophie, I told myself. Once your father is free. I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind of the doubts that kept crowding in, and dialed Mark’s cell phone. He picked up before it even rang.

  “I knew you’d call.” His voice was low, commanding, and—as always—shiveringly seductive.

  “Mark. It’s Sophie.”

  “I know.”

  I glanced at the door; I couldn’t say why, but I knew my mother would have a conniption if she knew what I was doing. “Remember that offer you made?” I said in a low voice. “To free my father?”

  “Of course,” he said silkily.

  “I think I’m going to have to take you up on it,” I said, feeling my stomach turn over as the words left my mouth.

  “I’m on my way,” Mark said, a note of eager anticipation in his voice. I chalked it up to a desire to be helpful—and a desire to have a few minutes alone with me again. “Where are you?” he asked.

  I gave him directions to my mom’s shop. “But don’t come to the door. Can I come and meet you outside at about…” I glanced at my watch. “Say, one thirty?”

  “How exciting. A secret assignation.”

  “We’re meeting to break my father out of the garden cottage,” I reminded him.

  “Of course,” he said. “I’ll wait for you at the curb.”

  “One thirty,” I repeated. “See you then. I’ve got to go now.”

  “Till then, my darling.”

  I hung up. Even though the plan was to go and break my father out of werewolf jail, I felt like a teenager planning to sneak out of the house for an illicit snog in the backseat of my boyfriend’s car. Or limo, as the case may be. Before going back downstairs, I sat staring at the pink phone for several seconds, trying to clear my mind. I still had to spend at least an hour with my mother, and unless I was very, very careful, she’d be onto me in a heartbeat.

  When my mind was as empty as it was going to be, I checked my hair in my white-painted mirror—big mistake, since it was a disaster—and headed back downstairs, praying I could make it the next few hours without tipping my hand about Mark.

  “How’s Heath doing on the case?” my mother asked when I walked back into the herb-scented kitchen a few minutes later.

  “He’s still working on it,” I said. “Heath said the Fehmic Court wouldn’t be his first choice—apparently there are several other trial possibilities he’d prefer—but that he’ll put together as much of a case as he can.” I looked at Tom. “There’s no way he can represent my father at the trial?”

  “It is forbidden,” he said. “Humans are not permitted.”

  “But I can do it, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, then, I’d better get some shut-eye.”

  “Do you want to stay here?” my mother asked, eyeing me with a knowing look. “Something tells me you’d be safer here than at your place.”

  I glanced at Tom, who nodded. “That would be great,” I said. “Can Tom stay in the spare bedroom?”

  “Of course,” she said. “It’s right upstairs, across from Sophie’s room. I just put fresh sheets on it the other day, and there are some spare toothbrushes in the drawer in the bathroom.”

  “Thank you,” he said. A moment later, he followed me up the stairs.

  After showing Tom the spare bedroom, which was only a couple of feet from my own, I closed my bedroom door behind me and slipped out of my bloody clothes, thankful to be out of them.

  I waited until I couldn’t hear Tom moving around anymore, then pulled on my old flannel bathrobe and slunk to the bathroom to clean myself up. Granted, I hadn’t been at my best over the last couple of days, but that didn’t mean he had to see me in my holey flannel, too. Thankfully, the hallway was empty of gorgeous werewolves, and a moment later I had locked myself in the bathroom and flicked on the light.

  The vision that met me in the mirror was less than ravishing. My hair was beyond redemption—I might have to invest in a wig if the Midnight Satin didn’t come out soon—and although I’d gotten my face clean, flecks of Boris’s blood still stained my neck and chest. I turned on the hot water and stripped down, glad for a chance to shower. Not only was the idea of wearing someone else’s blood completely disgusting—not to mention totally unhygienic—but I was meeting Mark in a few short hours, and wanted to be at least mildly attractive.

  As I let the hot water cascade over my naked body, I tried not to think about the werewolf who was mere yards away from me. This was the second time I’d been naked in close proximity to him tonight, and I tried not to think about what he might be doing. Or thinking. The smell of my antique Clairol Herbal Essence wasn’t enough to cover his wild male scent, and I was sure he was just as capable of picking up mine.

  But he was Lindsey’s. And although I didn’t belong to Mark—his opinion to the contrary—I was certainly dating him.

  I spent a good twenty minutes washing off the remains of the blood and black eyeliner. The water stung the bite marks that Boris had left on my tailbone, and I was happy to have a chance to get them clean. I turned off the water when it started to turn cold; then I dried myself off, combed through what was left of my hair (Herbal Essence hadn’t gotten rid of the blotchiness either) and dug through the drawers, trying to find some makeup that wasn’t completely desiccated.

  After a lot of searching, I finally came up with some eye shadow and a tube of mascara that hadn’t solidified. After doing what I could with those, I rubbed some of the old Revlon lipstick I’d found onto my cheeks and lips. When I was finished, the result wasn’t exactly what I’d call glamorous, but since I didn’t look like the bottom of a shoe anymore, it was a definite improvement. I wrapped my old flannel robe around me and crept out of the bathroom.

  Tom’s door was closed, but a sliver of light showed beneath it. So he wasn’t sleeping yet, either. For the first time, I started to think about what Tom might be giving up in exchange for his association with me.

  He’d long had an alliance of sorts with Wolfgang, and obviously they had family history. And Tom must have no love lost for my family.

  Why, then, had he gone to such lengths to help me? And what was it costing him in the werewolf community to do so?

  I paused outside his door. I was dying to knock, to talk to him. But I couldn’t. I stood there a long time, listening to the creaks of the old house around me, before turning and heading across the hall to my room. I had just opened my door when light flooded the hallway behind me.

  Tom stood in his doorway, looking at me. He was still wearing my father’s jeans, but he’d taken off his shirt, and I caught my breath at the gleam of the light on his broad shoulders, and the hard planes of his chest.

  I pulled my robe more tightly around me. “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi.” We stood silent for a moment. The tension in the air was almost tangible. “I see you showered,” he said finally.

  “Yeah. Wanted to get the remains of Boris off me.”

  “Understandable,” he said.

  I took a breath, inhaling the sexy, musky scent of him, and found myself wondering what that tanned skin would be like under my mouth. Would he taste like he smelled? He was only three short steps away … “I want to thank you,” I said finally.

  “For what?”

>   “For standing up for me,” I said. “And my father. I’m afraid you’re making enemies on my behalf.”

  “Perhaps,” he admitted, shrugging just a little bit.

  “Why are you helping me?” I whispered.

  He didn’t answer for a moment. Time seemed to slow down as we stood there, in the upstairs hallway of my mother’s house. Me, and a werewolf. Something I’d never in a million years have dreamed would happen.

  Finally, just when I was beginning to think he hadn’t heard me, he answered me. “Don’t you know?” he said in a low voice.

  “No,” I said truthfully. “No. I don’t.”

  He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes fixed to a point on the wall next to me. “After Beate died, I became numb to the world. There were women—there were too many women, honestly.” He laughed a little, bitterly. “But there was never a connection.” He gave his head an abrupt shake. “Never. And then I met you, downstairs in your mother’s shop …”

  I swallowed then, and my heart beat so hard I was sure he could see it. But I said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

  “I felt something,” he said. He looked up at me, and the pain and intensity in his golden eyes made my body turn to putty.

  I took a step toward him, as if pulled by an invisible magnet. Now there were only inches of air separating us, and I could feel the heat of him, smell his desire. And my own. “What did you feel?” I breathed.

  He looked like he was about to say something, but then he paused. “It doesn’t matter,” he said shortly.

  Yes, it does matter, I wanted to scream. Instead I said, “Why not?”

  “Because I am entangled with your friend. And you …” He trailed off.

  “I’m with Mark,” I said quietly.

  He nodded.

  I wanted to tell him that I’d stop seeing Mark immediately, if only he would end things with Lindsey. But common sense prevailed. First of all, Mark wasn’t just the guy I was seeing; he was also the guy who, in about two hours’ time, was planning to help me free my father. Second, he was my client. Third, Tom was a werewolf. And I was still deeply conflicted about the whole werewolf thing. And even if I did manage to get over my werewolf aversion, things still wouldn’t be simple. If we ever chose to formalize the arrangement, we’d have to do the whole pack-approval thing, and I couldn’t imagine asking the werewolf who had sentenced my father to death to rule on my romantic life as well. Of course, Wolfgang hadn’t sentenced my father to death just yet—and if things went well tonight, he never would—but knowing he intended to was more than enough.