Cutting Ties

by C. M. Torrens

  He felt River slide up beside him and slip her hand into his. She was feeling his growing distress. He was not good in crowded places. She shot him a questioning look, and he nodded.

  She bled some of the tension away from him through the weave, and he felt himself relax. He normally didn’t like doing that, but he needed to stay calm if he was going to make any sort of impression on the clans.

  A woman dressed in a simple black dress approached and studied them a moment. “You always bring the most interesting guests to the party, Odin.”

  “I told you they were coming, Morgana,” he said.

  Baardsen shot Morgana a dark look, and she pretended he didn’t exist, but clearly they knew each other. Dante glanced at Angel to see his reaction, but he looked more amused by the whole scene. Politics was Angel’s favorite game, and Dante was sure he was missing something in all the odd exchanges going on.

  “Yes, but you didn’t say so many.” She shrugged and motioned through the house. “They’re ready for you. And you might want to put out that horrid pipe.”

  “Who made that stupid rule, anyway? I wasn’t here for it.”

  “It doesn’t mean you aren’t bound by it.”

  “It does today,” Odin said and led them through the house into a massive room in the center of the building.

  The room was packed with Nephilim. At the far side of the room was a long table with four men and three women. A round hearth stood a short distance in front of the table, and a glass roof was open to the sky. The walls were decorated in old murals of battles, and Dante’s eyes fell on several depicting shifters in chains.

  For a moment no one moved as the Nephilim turned to stare at them. He felt Evan and Trevor grow tense beside him, and River squeezed his hand tighter. Dante held his breath, half expecting an attack of some sort.

  “Move!” Odin snarled.

  He let out his breath as a hole opened up, and Odin led them to a spot to the right of the table where a bench sat. Odin turned to Angel. “Dante is the one with the claim. He’ll sit with me. Everyone else stands.”

  Angel made a face but took his place directly behind Dante. Dante sat down beside Odin and scanned the crowd. Whispers filled the room, and Nephilim milled about, trying to get a better look at them without getting too close. In the tight confines, there were close to a hundred, all packed into the massive room. Odin’s children kept a clear ring around them, glaring at anyone who happened to get too close.

  Angel bent to Dante’s ear. “Remember you’re representing the Packs as a whole. Do not look weak here. We can’t afford it.”

  Odin flashed Dante a reassuring smile. “You’ll do fine. Just be completely honest when they ask any questions.” He puffed on his pipe casually, and after a long moment, the seven at the main table took their seats.

  The room fell silent, and Dante cleared his thoughts, pushing aside uneasiness.

  “This meeting of the Council Elders will come to order,” the older man in the center said. His face was with lined with age, and he looked as tired as Odin.

  Odin whispered the names of the Elders into Dante’s ear, and he tried hard to remember them. The eldest was Bauninsheg, an Ancient, whom Odin spoke well of. Odin said the names of a few others and paused at Raina and Lorette. They were the youngest of the Council, and Odin stressed that he wasn’t sure how they would react to this claim.

  “We have a claim this day of Breach of Treaty against Alpha Dante’s pack. Alpha Dante will be speaking today. Make note of it,” Elder Bauninsheg said. He was the one in the middle. He looked old too, which was interesting. Dante wondered if he was just that old when he was made, or if they actually aged.

  The room was so silent he could hear the faint scratching of pen to paper as a young man to the left of the group scribbled something down.

  “The Council asks who confirms his claim.”

  Odin stood up. “I do.”

  “Odin can’t confirm a claim. He isn’t an Elder,” huffed a younger man at the table. It was Elder Lorette, a funny-looking male with small eyes, a long face, and a lot of teeth. He kind of reminded Dante of a horse.

  “I’m your Elder, am I not?” Odin said.

  Elder Lorette flushed. “Completely beside the point. You aren’t an actual Elder, Odin.”

  Elder Bauninsheg looked at Lorette. “Yes, he is. It is his choice not to sit on this Council. But he is an Elder. All of those who saw Eveline to sleep were granted status.”

  “All of those who saw her to sleep are mad,” Lorette grumbled. “I demand proof. Pack Leader Dante, I call you to answer the demand of proof.”

  Dante got to his feet. “Alpha Dante,” he corrected.

  He saw Odin twitch a smile out of the corner of his mouth as he continued to smoke on his pipe.

  Elder Lorette made a face but nodded. “Fine. Whatever, Alpha Dante, I demand proof. Tell me how you’ve come to think the Sleeper has awakened. Did you see her?”

  “Not directly, no,” Dante admitted. “Our pack gathering was attacked last year with a mixed group of Pack and hybrids.”

  The Elders whispered among themselves a moment. The dark-haired woman, Elder Raina, was bobbing her head up and down in agreement to something, but Dante couldn’t quite hear what was being said.

  Elder Lorette spoke up again with a firm shake of his head. “Anyone can make hybrids.”

  Odin huffed. “No, Elder Lorette, they cannot.”

  “Still not proof by my definition, Elder Odin.”

  “Many of the alphas at our gathering were attacked and killed. Including my father, Alpha Victor,” Dante said. “These hybrids carried poison in their bite, making many very ill and killing many others. We were looking for those responsible and found a nest. Much of it was burned, but we did find several things that have led us to believe your Sleeper has awakened and was responsible for the attack at our gathering and the death of my father. Several packs have since been decimated, including cubs, all dead. We believe this to be the work of your Sleeper.”

  “You believe?” Elder Lorette said. “Many still believe in gods too, but I’m not a subscriber of myths.”

  “Neither am I, Elder Lorette,” Dante said and reached into his folder and pulled out a single sheet of paper. “This, however, is no myth.”

  He flashed the photo to the Council with a flourish, making sure more than just the Council saw the image before stepping forward and setting it down on the table in front of them. He dropped the folder of information down beside it. “No myth, Elder Lorette. I found it in the nest. I didn’t know who the woman was. I thought she was Pack. But when I brought it to other alphas, no one knew of her. It wasn’t until I showed the photo to Odin that I was told who she was.”

  “This other male, he looks like you, Alpha Dante.”

  “That’s because he’s my twin,” Dante said.

  “So… your brother is working with the Sleeper.”

  Dante frowned. “My twin,” he corrected. “We have not been brothers for a very long time. His name is August. I thought him dead over a decade ago.”

  “Why did you think that?”

  “Because I thought I killed him,” Dante answered simply.

  He expected a reaction to that, but none came. Perhaps their laws were more similar than he first thought.

  “And you blame the Sleeper for the death of your father, and not your own twin?”

  “It was the hybrids that killed my alpha and father. August is pack born. He can’t make hybrids. Only a Nephilim can make hybrids,” Dante pointed out. Packs didn’t have the ability to make anything. His people bred; they weren’t made.

  Memories of Victor started to cloud his mind, his slow deterioration and death at the end. The hybrids did that to him, not August. He fought to keep the memories at bay, focusing instead on the Elder.

  There was a long pause as the Council studied the photo and flipped through the paperwork he delivered.

  Elder Bauninsheg spoke up after a long moment. “And w
hat is it you want for this breach?”

  Dante stared at him long and hard. “I want her burned and scattered. I want what’s owed me. I want her dead.”

  “Denied!” bellowed a new voice from across the room.

  Dante spun to look as a man dressed in black stepped inside. The crowd parted like water to let him pass. His hair was dark and peppered with silver, and his eyes were pure black with emotion, but he couldn’t tell what emotion that was.

  “You will let this breach stand?” Dante countered, staring hard at the man. “It is my right to claim her death under the contract of the treaty. I thought your Elder Council held the weight here.”

  “I’m sure you think many things that may or may not be true, Alpha Dante,” the man said.

  Dante glanced at Odin. His face had grown tight, and his eyes hard. Nothing registered on his face, and he continued to smoke his pipe as if the newcomer suddenly appearing were a normal. And it might have been, for all Dante knew.

  “Ancient Shimon,” Odin greeted. “What brings you out from under your rock?”

  So this was the Ancient Odin had mentioned. Dante studied him more carefully. He didn’t look any different than anyone one else. Darklings came in all shapes and sizes and… ages, so it seemed. There was an odd, very faint scent to him, though. Darklings didn’t carry much of a scent and were hard to make out, but there was a slight tang of old parchment that seemed to stir around him.

  “You do,” Shimon said, his voice low and dangerous. “Plotting again, are we, Odin?”

  “Plotting? By the gods, she should have been killed eons ago. Her last rebellion was just the biggest issue we had with her in a long line of trouble since she went mad. We discussed this.”

  “We discussed nothing! You are plotting to kill your sister!” he snarled.

  “Plotting implies secrecy. I’ve made no secret that I thought she should have been killed. Not then and not now.”

  Shimon moved to stand in front of Odin. “You’re angry with me, I understand that.” He reached out to touch Odin, but Elder Bauninsheg rose to his feet quickly.

  “You will not touch him, Shimon!” Elder Bauninsheg snarled. “You’ve done enough damage to your son. I will not allow that here.”

  Dante’s eyes narrowed as he studied Odin and the Ancient Shimon. Odin’s face had taken on a slightly uneasy look, but he hadn’t moved away from Shimon. He wondered what kind of hold the Ancient had on Odin. Whatever it was, Dante didn’t like it.

  “Telling tales, are we, Odin?” Shimon asked.

  “He didn’t need to tell me anything,” Elder Bauninsheg said. “You’re here. That tells me enough.” Bauninsheg took a deep breath and stared hard at Shimon. “The Council will decide what to do with Eveline. Your way did not work. Odin and Alpha Dante’s claim is solid.”

  “Is it?” Shimon asked. “Alpha Dante, was it the Sleeper who physically attacked your alpha and father?”

  Dante frowned. “No, but the hybrids—”

  “Are her children, and we all know how one’s children can become a little unruly from time to time. And you said yourself that you tried once to kill your twin, correct?”

  “Yes.” Dante’s uneasiness grew as to where this line of questioning would go.

  “Isn’t it just as likely that my daughter’s children were acting on their father’s—your twin’s—instructions and not hers?”

  Dante glared at the man. “Possible, but I would think August would attack me, don’t you? His quarrel being with me.”

  “Maybe. Anger can make one’s enemies attack what another loves most. Did you love your alpha and father?”

  Dante fought to keep his claws from twitching. This was not going well. “Yes.”

  “There we have it, then. The evidence is weak against Eveline. Your request will be denied.” Shimon stepped closer, and Dante could feel Trevor and Evan grow suddenly tense. “I miss the days when you would have heeled at my side and begged me to bleed you.”

  Dante glared back at him. It took a great deal of self-control to keep his claws sheathed. His heavies twitched at his side, and he touched the pack weave to calm them. “Yes, you seem like the type who enjoys feeling much bigger than you are.”

  “I’d watch your tongue, Alpha. Things can change quickly.”

  Dante held his gaze. “Yes, they can. How long has it been since you fought in any battle, Ancient One? You might be a little rusty, I think. Two centuries, I’m guessing, if you even bothered to lift a finger in the war. Older doesn’t mean better, Ancient. Older only means older.”

  “One day I might put you back in your place, Alpha Dante.”

  Dante flashed a dangerous smile. “You could try, Ancient. But my children and brothers will fight with me. What will your brothers and children do?”

  “You’re a cute pup,” Shimon said. “But your request is still denied.”

  “We’ll see,” Dante said. “Justice is still mine to receive. And if I recall, the treaty even has your name on it, doesn’t it?”

  “You’re free to take whatever action you wish against the hybrids.”

  Dante turned to face the Council. “Is this the ruling of your Elder Council?”

  “The Council has yet to make an official ruling,” the Elder Bauninsheg said. “We’ll have to read through what you’ve presented. We should have a decision by dawn tomorrow.”

  Dante nodded and shot Shimon a hard look. “The Packs will get the justice we have every right to.”

  “We’ll need more proof,” Shimon said.

  “You haven’t even looked at my proof.” Dante glanced back at the others. “Come, I think we’re done here.” He inclined his head to the Council. “I’ll await your decision.”

  The Packs moved around Dante, and they started toward the exit together.

  “Alpha Dante,” Ancient Shimon called out as he reached the door.

  Dante turned to look at him. “Yes?”

  “You’re a very young male to be leading your people in a discussion that could end in serious consequences.”

  “And you’re one very old male to be making comments that affect your people as a whole, Ancient One. Good evening.”

  Dante led the way out of the building, and they gathered around the van to wait for Odin.

  Angel nodded his approval. “You did well.”

  “I let the Ancient get to me,” Dante admitted.

  “It’s to be expected. Victor’s death is still raw in you,” Angel said softly.

  “But I can see his point, not wanting his cub dead,” Dante said, keeping his voice barely above a whisper.

  “They aren’t cubs when they’re made, Dante.” Angel pointed out. “The Elder’s reaction to the Ancient’s attempt to touch Odin was telling, though, don’t you think? Did you know he was related to the Ancient?”

  “Relations aren’t the same with them as with us. But I was aware of a relationship of some sort.” Dante ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “I wish I had made a better argument.”

  “We did what we could.”

  “Yes, but we need help finding her, at the very least. They can’t think these hybrids are a good thing,” Dante said, and they fell silent as Odin’s daughter Aalise joined them outside by the van.

  “My father’s working hard to get what he can from the Council for you, but we won’t have a decision until late tomorrow night,” Aalise told them.

  “And Shimon?”

  Aalise frowned. “You have to understand he is an Ancient, and while everyone knows he’s a bit mad, he’s dangerous to upset. A middle ground will likely be reached.”

  “No death warrant,” Dante guessed.

  “No, I don’t expect one, but we’ll see. Elder Bauninsheg is an Ancient as well but holds Elder status on the Council. He is one of the few who is willing and able to challenge Shimon. Whether he can influence the rest of the Council is still to be determined, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up. Bauninsheg is stern and strong, but Shimon is ruthless.” />
  The air went still suddenly, and Dante turned to scan the fields around the estate. Angel smelled the air, and Dante grabbed River’s arm and shoved her into the van. “Stay there.” He slammed the door shut. “Lock it! Don’t come out until I come for you.”

  “Dante—” River called, but he cut her short with a wave of his hand.

  Trevor let out a low growl and was already stripping out of his clothes. Lazarus, Angel’s top heavy, was a half second behind him. Aalise shouted something toward the house as dark shadows leaped onto the fence from downwind and started scaling the metal wall.

  “Hybrids!” Evan shouted.

  “Stay close!” Dante said and ripped off his own clothes so he could trigger his shift. The war had begun.

  8. Hybrids

  RIVER GASPED as a wave of hybrids leaped over the fence. Dante was rushing to shift as Trevor stood guard at his side. Evan was midshift behind both Trevor and Dante, who could shift far faster.

  River scrambled out of her clothes and triggered her own very slow shift into beast form. She was not nearly as fast as the others, and under stress, it was even worse. She forced herself to calm down and let the shift take her a bit at a time. First her bones stretched, and then muscles began to twist and turn as her body contorted into its new form. Fur tingled over her skin, covering her in a thick protective pelt the same color as her deep-auburn hair.

  Her beast screamed, relieved to be set free, and she fought for a moment to keep from pushing her true self too far away. She felt Dante call to the heavies through the weave and then heard the sound of angry roars and vicious snarls. Her beast growled, eager to taste blood, but she forced herself to remain inside the van.

  Jumping up on a seat, she stared out the window. Nephilim and shifters battled snarling creatures, and bodies were thrown this way and that in a blurring chaos of motion. She gasped as a battling Nephilim threw a hybrid through the air. It slammed into the van, shattering the glass and falling halfway through the window.

  The creature turned its head to stare at her and snarled. River reacted, lashing out with her claws and ripping into the wounded hybrid with her teeth before it could recover enough to strike at her.