Leader Of The Pack

by Karen McInerney

  “I’m sorry, Sophie.” The pity in my mother’s voice made it worse somehow.

  “Thanks.”

  “Did he at least take his ring back?”

  I looked down at my hand. Until now, I hadn’t even thought about it. As if aware I was thinking of it, a little flash of heat emanated from the silver band, which made my skin prickle with fear. I tugged at the ring, anxious to erase any last trace of Mark. But it was still stuck fast. “No,” I said. “It won’t come off.”

  She sighed. “We’ll still have to deal with it then. But we can talk about that later. Where are you, sweetheart?”

  I glanced up at the front of the Kwik Stop and read off the address.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Take care of yourself.”

  I hung up and went back inside the store, where I grabbed a king-size Snickers bar, a bag of Doritos, and a Diet Coke. By the time my mother pulled up in her ancient Volvo, I was so full I felt sick—but my heart was still hollow.

  “Thank the goddess you’re okay, Sophie. Sending you out with that creature was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I’ve been trying to keep tabs on you all night,” my mother said when I’d relayed the night’s events to her.

  “I think that’s the last we’ll see of Mark. Or Asmodeus, or whatever you call him,” I said, wondering exactly how I was going to explain my client’s sudden change of heart to my boss. I twisted the ring on my finger; it had become uncomfortably hot again.

  “Don’t name him,” my mother whispered, her hands gripping the wheel so hard her knuckles turned white.

  “What? Why not?”

  “It draws them,” she said quietly.

  I glanced down at the ring. The heat had subsided, but clearly my mother was right. The ring had responded to the name. And the last thing I wanted to do was draw any more attention from Mr. Demon from Hell.

  I might be much better off without Mark in my life—at least on a personal level—but what was I going to tell Adele? That the CEO of Southeast Airlines, my star client, was a full-fledged demon who had demanded I turn my soul over to him in exchange for helping my werewolf father escape execution for murder? That would fly about as well as a Greyhound bus.

  I pushed morbid thoughts of packing up my office and moving to a cubicle next to Sally’s out of my mind. After all, my career trajectory really wasn’t the top priority on the agenda right now. The rising sun glared through the windshield, flashing on the mirrored pentacle dangling from my mother’s rearview mirror and making me wish I had my sunglasses.

  “Yes, your demon friend is gone—for now,” my mother said. “But we’re going to have to do something about that ring.”

  I closed my eyes against the glare and took a swig of warm Diet Coke. “To be honest, I’m more worried about the trial right now.” I hoped Heath had been able to work some magic with the Code.

  “I thought your father said he had a plan.”

  “He did,” I said, “but even he isn’t too confident about it.”

  My mother reached over and patted my hand. “All you can do is your best, my dear. But I’m glad that you’ve had at least a little time with him.”

  Something about her tone of voice scared me a little bit. “You sound like it’s a done deal already,” I said. “Did the cards tell you something bad?”

  My mother pursed her lips, which was not a good sign. “The spirit world is unclear regarding your father’s situation,” she said.

  I studied my mother’s rounded face. “What did the cards say, Mom?”

  She kept her dark eyes on the road, which was also not a good sign. I was perpetually having to remind my mother that when driving, focus should remain on people—and objects—outside of the automobile. Now, though, she wouldn’t look at me. “Like I said, my dear. It’s impossible to tell.” She reached over to pat my hand again. “Why don’t you rest, or try to get some sleep?”

  “Fat chance,” I said, leaning my head back. But staying up all night warding off demons and trudging along highways is hard work, and the thrum of the car lulled me to sleep before we even made it to Johnson City.

  I woke to a knocking sound.

  “Who is it?” I said, sitting bolt upright in bed, disoriented. I was in my childhood room, with its familiar smell of old house, hairspray residue, and a base note of herbs from the shop downstairs, but I had no recollection of getting here. Then last night’s events came rushing back, and panic set in. I was supposed to meet with Lindsey and Heath this morning. Had I overslept?

  “It’s me,” my mother said, stepping into the room. “I wish you could sleep more, but Lindsey just called, looking for you. She said you and Heath have a meeting scheduled?”

  “What time is it?” I asked again.

  “Half past ten,” she said.

  “I’m late,” I said, pulling on the shoes that someone—my mother, probably—had lined up neatly on the side of the bed.

  “Can I make you a cup of wolfsbane tea?” she asked. “The moon will be full in about twelve hours, my dear, and the equinox is in just a couple of days.” I couldn’t understand my mother’s relaxed tone of voice. Didn’t she realize that my father would probably be condemned to death in a matter of hours?

  “Sure,” I said, even though the last thing I wanted right now was wolfsbane tea. A triple-shot latte would have been far preferable. “But only if you can make it really fast—I’m already late.” I ran my hands through my hair and winced as they stuck on something small and sharp. I examined a chunk of hair—dead grass and burrs. Lovely.

  “Oh, and I meant to tell you: Tom left an hour ago, but wanted me to tell you to meet him here at four.”

  To go to the trial, I thought with a sinking heart. God, I hoped Heath had come up with something good.

  “I’ll let you get ready now. There’ll be tea downstairs for you, sweetheart.” My mother gave me a quick, patchouli-scented hug and headed back downstairs. I sat on the bed for a moment, tempted to burrow back under the covers. But I was already late to Heath’s office, so instead I grabbed a brush from my old dresser and began removing bits of vegetation from my hair. When I’d de-grassed myself, I repaired to the bathroom for a quick shave.

  It was almost eleven by the time I made it to Heath’s office, dressed in a fresh T-shirt and the jeans I’d worn last night. I hadn’t gotten around to calling Adele to explain my absence, but I figured with the whole Mark blowout, it wasn’t going to matter; my job was probably toast anyway. “Sorry I’m late,” I said as I closed Heath’s office door behind me. Heath and Lindsey were sitting at a conference table, heads together over a xeroxed copy of the Codex. Heath’s familiar smell of CK1 and fresh laundry sent a twinge of longing through me. Not just for Heath, but for my former life.

  “How’s it going?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer.

  “I think we’ve made some progress,” Heath said, and he and Lindsey exchanged an unreadable glance.

  “What happened last night?” Lindsey asked.

  “I tried to get Luc out,” I said. “It’s a long story.”

  “Did it work?” Lindsey asked.

  I shook my head. “Unfortunately, no. And Mark and I… well, we parted ways.”

  Lindsey sat back in her chair, eyes wide. “You’re not seeing each other anymore?”

  “Nope.” I blushed a little bit. I wasn’t comfortable discussing my romantic life with my very recently ex-boyfriend in the room. “And I’m probably going to be short a client soon. But that’s not important right now,” I said, sliding into one of the unoccupied chairs. “Did you come up with any way to defend my father?”

  Heath ran a hand through his silky brown hair and sighed. “It’s a bit sketchy. Trial procedure is left to the packs’ discretion, which makes mounting a legal defense a challenge, to say the least.”

  “But you came up with something?”

  He let out a long sigh. “All we can do is raise doubts, I’m afraid. Show that others had motives.” Flipping thr
ough the xeroxed pages, he said, “It’s difficult, Sophie. I’m not a criminal lawyer by trade, which makes this a challenge in and of itself.”

  “But you’ve done a lot of trial law,” I pointed out. “That should help.”

  “That will help, but it won’t make it easy. Because of the unusual situation, I can’t cross-examine witnesses, can’t do discovery—my hands are tied. All I have to work with is what you’ve told me, and I can’t even present the case myself.”

  “Do we even have a chance?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer.

  “You’re sure there’s no way to get me in to defend him?” he asked.

  “Not unless you turn into a werewolf,” I said. “Heath, tell me the truth. Do you think there’s any way we can get him off?”

  “Honestly? With a hostile jury?” Heath looked me directly in the eye, and I could see the pity in his expression. “I wish I had better news, Sophie, but probably not.”

  “Wait a minute,” Lindsey said. “Sophie—that’s a brilliant idea!”

  I turned to look at her. “What?”

  “You could make him into a werewolf,” she said, “and then he could defend your father for you.”

  Make Heath into a werewolf? “But Heath doesn’t want to be a werewolf,” I said once I’d finally located my voice. “And even if he did, I don’t really know the details on how to do it. Besides, there’s no way to know if the Houston pack would let him in.”

  But Lindsey was like a dog with a bone. “How could they turn him down? It’s the Howl, right?”

  “I don’t know the rules …” I protested.

  “But I do,” she said, tapping the stack of copies on Heath’s desk. “All werewolves are allowed at the Howl. Made or born.”

  “Oh.”

  “Seriously, Sophie. Heath’s probably our only hope, and the only way we can get him in is if he’s a werewolf. You’ve got the blood. You just need to give him some of it.”

  “But that’s a huge, life-changing decision,” I said. “And it’s almost impossible to live with—trust me. You don’t know what you’re asking me to do.”

  Lindsey rolled her eyes. “Sophie, don’t get so preachy. You may think it’s awful, and life-changing, but I’ll bet a lot of werewolves would hate to lose their powers.”

  “But what about blood types?” I was desperate now.

  Lindsey shrugged. “It can’t take that much blood. I’m sure it will be fine.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing.” She waved my objections away. “It’s not a life sentence, anyway. If Heath didn’t want to stay that way, Tom could always unmake him. Right?”

  “I suppose that’s possible,” I said. “But what about the Code? Isn’t it illegal?”

  “It’s at pack discretion,” Lindsey said. “And since you’re not part of a pack, you’re not bound by any pack rules. You could turn half of Austin into werewolves if you wanted to.”

  As I pondered that unpleasant thought, Lindsey whipped out her cell phone and started dialing.

  “Tom,” she said into the phone a moment later. “It’s Lindsey. I have a proposition for you.” And before I could protest, she launched into her plan, concluding with, “If he wanted to change back, you could unmake him, right?” She paused for a moment. “Great. Now, what do we need to do?” She grabbed a piece of paper and scrawled something. “Okay. Got it. See you at four then.”

  As she flipped the phone shut, Heath and I stared at her. “It’s all arranged,” she said. “We just need to get some syringes and do a blood transfusion.”

  “But you haven’t even asked Heath if he’s willing to do it!” I protested.

  She turned to Heath. “Are you game?”

  “If it’s the only way to get me into the trial,” he said, “and if your friend is certain he can reverse the process, I’m willing to try it.”

  “But it’s a blood transfusion!” I protested. “It’s so dangerous!”

  “You don’t have tuberculosis or anything, do you?” Lindsey asked. When I shook my head, she said, “Well, then, I think we’re safe. I’ll just run down to the CVS on the corner, and we’ll get started.”

  “But what if someone comes into the office?” I asked.

  “I told the secretary I’m in a strategy meeting all day,” Heath said.

  “See? I told you we were covered,” Lindsey said.

  Before I could object, she was gone.

  Heath and I looked at each other. Now that we were alone together, closeted in his office behind a closed door, the room seemed incredibly small. “So,” I said, trying not to sound as awkward as I felt, “it looks like you’re going to be a werewolf for a day.”

  “It’s certainly been an interesting week.” He shook his head and straightened his silk tie. “All this is kind of hard to believe, isn’t it?”

  Since I’d spent the last year or two trying to hide the fact that I was a werewolf from him, I had to agree. “Are you sure it’s okay with you?” I asked. “It’s a lot to ask. And I know we’re not really, well, dating anymore.”

  He reached out to touch my arm, and I caught a whiff of Miranda’s smoky smell. Miranda. I had to tell him to watch out for her! “It doesn’t mean I don’t still care for you,” he said.

  “Likewise,” I said. I looked into his chocolate-brown eyes, breathed in his familiar smell. This wasn’t going to be fun, but it was necessary. “Heath. There’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Another revelation?” He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m kind of afraid to ask. Are you going to tell me you’re half vampire, now, too?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Good,” he said fingering his collar. “Because I’m having enough difficulty with the whole werewolf thing as it is.”

  “Actually, it has to do with Miranda,” I said not sure exactly how to proceesd. I mean, exactly what was I going to tell him? That his current girlfriend was not just an attorney, but the supernatural henchwoman of Asmodeus the demon, who had sent her to seduce him away from me?

  “What about her?” he asked.

  “Have you ever noticed anything … I don’t know. Strange about her?”

  “Don’t tell me she’s a werewolf, too.”

  “No,” I said, thinking, she’s a demon, actually. “But I’m being serious. Ever notice anything a little weird? Like a higher-than-normal body temperature? Or a smoky smell?”

  He shook his head. “Not that I can think of. Why?”

  I sighed. “If I tell you, you’re not going to believe me.”

  “I believe you’re a werewolf,” he pointed out.

  “True. But this is different.”

  Heath’s brown eyes widened. “Is Miranda a vampire?”

  “Actually, no,” I said hedging.

  “Come on, Sophie. Spill it.”

  “Okay,” I said. “As long as you won’t think I’m crazy.”

  “You forget, Sophie. I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours trying to come up with a defense for a centuries-old werewolf. I think I can handle it.”

  I took a deep breath and blurted, “I think she’s a demon.”

  Heath blinked. “A demon?”

  “Yeah. Like an incubus, or a succubus, or something.” I took a breath and kept going. “She knows Mark—my client, the one I broke up with last night? Well, it turns out he’s a demon named Asmodeus, and he’s been around for forever. Since medieval times, and earlier, even. And she, well, he told me they—he and Miranda—work together a lot.”

  “You’re telling me I’ve been dating a succubus?”

  I nodded. “I think so. Her real name is Lilith.”

  “Lilith,” he said thoughtfully. “Interesting. Isn’t there a Lilith in the Bible?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve ever read it. My mom isn’t exactly Catholic, you know. But the point is, you have to be careful with her.” I reached over and gripped his arm. “This is serious stuff, Heath. Mark tried to entrap me into selling my soul last night,
in exchange for him setting my father free. I’m afraid Miranda—or Lilith, or whatever her name is—might do the same thing to you.”

  He shrugged. “I doubt it. After all, my father’s not in werewolf jail, so she wouldn’t have the leverage.”

  I resisted the urge to kick him. “Heath. I’m being serious here.”

  He gave me a wry smile that tugged at my heart. We’d had some good times together, Heath and I. “I know, I know. It’s just a little hard to swallow. Demons? I mean, werewolves are bad enough …”

  “Watch out. You’re going to be one in a few minutes, if Lindsey has her way.”

  “About Miranda, though…” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter? You’re dating a demon, and they’re incredibly bad news. Just ask my mom. She’ll tell you.”

  “Miranda and I broke up a few days ago, actually. It wasn’t working out. I mean, the sex was great, but there wasn’t much more to it.”

  More information than I needed, thank you. “Ah,” I said in kind of a choked voice. “Well, then. I guess that’s taken care of.”

  “Anyway, she’s going to transfer to a firm in Seattle.”

  “Then why do you still smell like her?” I asked.

  “I smell like her?”

  “Yeah. Kind of smoky. Mark has the same scent.”

  “We were in a client meeting together this morning. Maybe that’s it.”

  I relaxed a little. “That makes sense.”

  Heath pulled his arm from my grip and leaned forward, looking suddenly serious. “While we’re talking, Sophie, I’ve got something I’d like to ask you, too.”

  “I’m all ears,” I said.

  But before he could say another word, Lindsey burst in, brandishing a red-and-white plastic CVS bag. “Got the syringes,” she said, closing the door behind her and turning the deadbolt. “The woman in the pharmacy did give me a funny look, though. I guess people don’t usually come in asking for the biggest syringes they’ve got.”