by Ian Thomas
Seth knew his friend suspected Carys of being involved. Had done since they’d first learned of the illegal kills. Stupidly, Seth had dismissed the suspicion, attributing it to Rufus’ infatuation. But that was unfair to his friend. And ignorant. At his core, Seth was doubtful of his paramour.
“Silence!” Gracchus said firmly. “Who was it?”
“Michael,” Seth replied. He saw pain flit across the regent’s face. The man had known the wolf, knew his lineage and place among Matteo’s wolves. “We found him on the street and delivered him to the Pack Lord.”
“Thank you,” Gracchus said quietly. Don’t, Seth wanted to say, don’t show affection for the wolves so openly. This will unseat him.
When further wails and cries lamenting their fate began, Seth sneered at them. Coddled children. Seemed easier for them to throw a tantrum than develop a plan of action. When the cries grew more urgent and heated, he looked to Rufus who had already turned to look behind him.
That was when Seth heard the cries properly.
“They’re here!”
Pivoting, he looked back at the stairs to see two figures approaching, hands raised. One wearing vamp-face.
The Pack Lord and the hunter.
Cautiously, they approached them. When they came alongside Rufus and himself he saw the trepidation on their faces. This wasn’t a warring party. A precursor to an invasion. This was an act of diplomacy. Seth just hoped the other vampires would recognize it as such.
The two men knelt.
“Lord Gracchus,” Matteo called out, head bowed. “Regent of the East Coast. Protector of this court. Shade of Lamia. Friend. I come in peace.”
“Rise, Pack Lord. We are honored to welcome you. We have heard of your loss. My condolences.”
Seth could feel McLachlan bridling at the formality. He’d never known the man to be quiet for so long.
“That’s why I’m here.” More cries and lamentations rippled around the room. “To assure you that we do not believe this venerable court is in any way connected to this tragedy.”
Thoughtlessly, Seth’s eyes fell on Carys. Why did he seek her out so quickly, he thought, already knowing the answer. Because she was the connection to this tragedy. While cleverer than he, she gave herself away in ways only her lover would see. Absences, distance, detachment, and most telling, less derision directed at Rufus.
“While that is comforting,” Gracchus replied, “you can see how my people remain unconvinced. Wandering in here unannounced like you are higher than us. We share the same territory. We are equals.”
Some read the accusations as they were meant, other vampires murmured dissent at being openly equated to werewolves. Namely Violet and Damon. As yet Carys had not reacted, Rufus’ baleful stare freezing her.
“Excuse the affront, your greatness. It was not my intention. We merely sought your counsel and wisdom, feeling it best outside of the full moon. When I am merely a man in your presence.”
Smart man, Rufus thought. As did the rest of the court. No doubt a strategy but an artful one to say the least.
“I am desperate,” Matteo continued. “For five years we have enjoyed peace between our kinds. And while I know the toll this has taken on your people, their compliance with the accords speak of their strength and willingness for peace.”
The Pack Lord’s acknowledgement of the vampires’ struggle was met with surprise, if mild scorn.
“And where was your compliance?” a voice broke through the murmur.
Not Carys, Seth saw startled. Damon swaggered from the vampires lining the room. Disappointed, Seth would have had more respect for Carys if it had been her to step forward. Sending Damon showed her hand. He'd suspected their dalliance. Apparently unrequited but nevertheless entertained. Such was their twisted push and pull, Seth could never have dragged Rufus into that brand of misery.
“Haven’t we talked about you wearing the big boy pants?” McLachlan asked. “If Dad finds out he’s gonna send you to bed without supper.”
“The dog and his pet filth.”
“Damon!” Gracchus roared. “You will keep a civil tongue or you not keep one at all.”
“I misspoke my liege, but there is more you don’t know.”
“And without your grandstanding they might have spoken of it,” Gracchus said, an inclination more for Matteo than to the court.
“What he said,” McLachlan said.
“Really?” Matteo muttered.
“Sorry. Damon’s just such a dick.”
“Ah-hem,” Seth grunted. “Ears.”
“Right,” McLachlan replied. “But I’m not wrong.”
“Yes,” Matteo said, flustered. “There is indeed more. An old enemy has returned. Would that we could talk in priv–”
“What about the new wolf?” Damon demanded. Gasps and whispers swelled amid the vampires. “Don’t the accords preclude siring?”
“They do,” Matteo said, his voice uneven. “A further attack against me.”
“By this rogue vampire?” Damon chided, the crowd laughing raucously. “This must be some vampire. Able to sire werewolves now. Impressive.”
“Listen, Sparky,” McLachlan said frustrated. “Last I was here, y’all didn’t come off so well. Speaking out of turn and such. Seems that’s just your way. And sure we came in without the usual fanfare and rigmarole, but this is the Pack Lord of the East Coast and co-signatory of the Accords. Speak out of turn again and I’m gonna take umbrage if you get my drift.”
Apart as he always was from the communities, McLachlan’s rebuke silenced the room. His words and manner a caustic critique of their idiosyncrasies.
“They haven’t denied it,” Violet challenged.
“Really, Avril? Really?”
“Stop,” Seth hissed as the room erupted into cries of indignation. Some directed at Damon, but most at the two men in the middle of the room.
“Hayley was right,” Matteo said. “You shouldn’t have come.”
“Like I was gonna let you do this alone.”
“Silence!” Gracchus declared.
“My lord, might I speak?” Carys asked meekly.
The viper comes, Seth thought sickened.
“To what end?” Gracchus asked.
“Perspective, my lord.” He regarded her coolly, ancient eyes scrutinizing her but not closely enough to Seth’s mind. When the regent said nothing further, she took his silence as consent. “On one hand, we have a rogue vampire killing heedlessly. On the other a newly sired werewolf. Both in violation of the Accords.”
“That much we have surmised,” Gracchus said warily.
“A vampire acting with no knowledge of the Accords is merely a vampire in their nature. A wolf sired is beyond their nature. An act of deliberation and timing that speaks of intent. Especially when the new wolf is harbored at the Pack Lord’s residence.”
The uproar was deafening, a tide of indignation sweeping the room.
“Silence!!” Gracchus yelled again.
“My lord, these men desecrate your honor, this court, and the very accords you entered us into.”
“Well, that fucked us,” McLachlan muttered.
“My lord!” Rufus yelled. “My lord, please!”
What was he doing, Seth panicked. His friend stood forward squaring himself against Carys.
“This is a farce,” Rufus said loudly. Typically seen as composed and stoic, Rufus held sway of the court, his words bearing weight. “Selective truth to turn this court against your will.”
“Another wolf loyalist!” Damon shouted, the insult directed as much at Gracchus as Rufus.
“Hear me out. This man, this leader, has lost one of his own. He has been targeted by a vampire who threatens us also. Refusing to see that is at our peril.”
The silence lingered, leaving Gracchus to break it finally.
“Yet a wolf has still been sired.”
“As a rogue vampire threatens you, an outlaw wolf threatens us.”
“Your pup?”
> Matteo looked at McLachlan guardedly.
“Of a kind,” Matteo replied. “Colton has returned.”
The silence grew heavier. Nightmares, evil, and death. Those were all vampires associated with that name. What carnage he had wrought on wolves, he meted out in kind to vampires.
“We will speak in private,” Gracchus said directly to Matteo as an anxious tumult brewed among the court. Then addressed his subjects, “friends, we have heard grave news here tonight. Our court continues to be threatened. Yes, there are violations from both sides but there is no malice here. The evil comes from without. And, by the blood, the one truth I know is the accords must stand.”
A cheer went up. Not a resounding one, but a cheer nonetheless. However, as the court dispersed, wary eyes watched the Pack Lord and his friend.
Damon stood abashed. When Violet tried to ease his ire, he swatted her away. Carys didn’t dare steal a glance in his direction with Seth watching so closely. That would only expose her duplicity. Not that he needed any more convincing.
XV
“What was that back there?”
“What was what?” Matteo asked in return, climbing into the passenger seat of the truck, engine idling.
“It go well?” Eddie asked from behind the wheel.
“That comment ‘of a kind’,” McLachlan pressed, ignoring Eddie and shutting the back door. “And that look?”
Matteo sat quietly. Which led McLachlan to recount the scene in the vampire court. Once the story was told, the three men sat in silence.
“This why Colton called me nephew before snapping my neck?” Eddie asked finally.
Matteo nodded, unable to look up.
“I–” He stopped himself. “I made a mistake. A maj–”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” McLachlan interrupted from the backseat. “You’re gonna chalk up siring Colton – the biggest, baddest big bad of all time – to a mistake? Seriously?”
Matteo looked to Eddie.
“I’m gonna have to side with vessel-boy on this one,” he said.
“Please don’t call me that.”
“Fine, sure, whatever, mistake doesn’t cover it. I get that. You want me to grab a fucking thesaurus and really purple this up for you. I fucked up. People have died. People will continue to die. Had blood on my hands for five hundred years, what’s a couple more?”
McLachlan was silent. The set of his jaw the only sign of his rage. Matteo knew he could list of names and numbers, lay Colton’s death list plainly before them and brutally put ‘a couple more’ into perspective. Eddie too. He’d been around longer. He knew better than most the older horrors Colton had committed. The lives lost, people tortured, brutalities committed long before the Pack War.
Matteo waited for it. Expecting it. Deserving it.
“Tell that to Dominic,” McLachlan said finally.
“And Daniel,” Eddie added, his voice tight. “Michael.”
“You don’t think I know that?!” Matteo yelled. “You don’t think I know all the names of Colton’s kills? It’s one thing to take someone’s like and carry that guilt. It’s something else to make someone who wantonly kills. That’s not the kind of guilt you carry, it’s one you live.”
The men were silent.
“So what’s he doing back?” Eddie asked, breaking the silence.
“Guessing it’s not to make up for missing five hundred Father’s Days?”
“Somehow I don’t think so,” Matteo said, looking at Eddie. The ghost of a smile on his lips for the first time.
“Maybe he’s expecting five hundred years’ worth of Christmas presents? Shit, that is one pricey little bastard you got there.”
“Pretty sure he only wants what he always does. Chaos, mayhem, and death.”
“That’s so last century. How about a new iPhone?” McLachlan suggested. “Tickets to Hamilton?”
“How did you turn the darkest secret of my long life into a joke?” Puzzled, Matteo looked at the two men. Their anger was just, but he saw their concern taking over.
“Because you think of it as your darkest secret,” Eddie said mockingly. “Who does that?”
“You’ve met us, right?”
“Well, I for one am relieved,” Eddie said. “Do you know how refreshing – no, wait – liberating. How liberating it is to know the great Pack Lord Matteo di Grazzi is not perfect.”
“So liberating.”
“I feel fifty years younger.”
“That’d still make you old.”
“I don’t care. He’s human. He makes mistakes.”
“Pretty big fucking mistakes.”
“But mistakes all the same.”
“Are you two both done?” Matteo demanded, struggling to suppress a smile.
“Depends. There gonna be another pity party?” Eddie asked.
“Cos you’re all out of peanut butter if you’re gonna spiral that badly,” McLachlan added.
“With friends like you…”
“Friends? Us?” McLachlan asked. “Wow this got awkward fast.”
“Just once I’d like to have a moment without sarcasm,” Matteo said.
“Then maybe go hang out with the vampires some more. Zero humor.”
Matteo was silent for a moment, thinking. “Gracchus has problems in his court.”
“Big ones,” McLachlan agreed.
“You’re not doing much better,” Eddie said. The other two men looked at him. “Blackthorne’s still in the city. Somerset’s gone rabid. Jason’s newly sired. And just wait for the you-siring-Colton-thing to come out. Probably not gonna go down well.”
“Can they impeach a Pack Lord?” McLachlan asked.
“Guess we’ll soon find out,” Matteo replied grimly.
Starting the car, Eddie pulled away from the curb and headed downtown. Burdened, Matteo lost himself in the lights of the city as they drove. He’d run from his past long enough. Denying it hadn’t done him any favors. Rather, people continued to die at Colton’s hands. Matteo was the only one to blame. He knew that. He’d made the decision all those many long years ago. And while he’d never been the one to pay Colton’s price directly, he’d felt the pain all the same.
XVI
He hated lying to Dylan.
Up until now he’d never had to. Whenever the full moon rolled around James had alternated his lies. Between a dirty weekend away, recovering from a bender, or visiting family, he’d left town for a few days. He was lucky Dylan had never made the connection. Even as smart as he was.
Things were different now. Dylan had been attacked. James was in New York with his brother. Their lives were starting to overlap.
Was that a bad thing, James had wondered. Not from his perspective. No one outside Blackthorne’s pack knew he was a werewolf. What was left of his family thought him ashamed of their humble Irish ways now that he was a fancy lawyer in London. Freddie and Annie weren’t to know. They were his solace in a twisted world of raging egos and violence. Yes, worse than type-A lawyers.
Which left Dylan. A man whose life had already been impacted by the supernatural. He’d get it. He’d be the normal friend James had always wanted since being sired.
In return James could be his confidante. Knowing what he did about McLachlan, the Cult, and Julie, James had struggled to see Dylan put himself through that life every day. Slip his mask on, go about his life as though he wanted to be there, lie about himself to his friends, and repeat.
James’ resentment toward McLachlan had built up over the years. What had once been respect over McLachlan’s accords soon turned to ire as he saw how cut off Dylan was. Certainly not to the extent of a restraining order, but then Freddie could be dogmatic at times.
No, it was much easier to torture Dylan’s attacker constantly. Bleed him, let him heal, start over.
Problem came that James couldn’t hate Ben.
“When’re you coming home?” Dylan asked over the phone line. “I need a new lawyer. One that’s not out of his mind.”
“Not sure,” James replied. “Things are taking longer to tie up than I thought. And hey, Freddie’s only looking out for ya.”
He wanted to say he knew what happened. But couldn’t. Over the phone was the least decent way to do this. Dylan would get angry. Insults would fly. Sarcasm would get dialed up to an eleven. Actually, maybe over the phone was not such a bad idea.
“If he keeps it up, one of us is gonna be his divorce lawyer.”
“Dat’s a load of shite, we both know we’re repping Annie if it comes to dat.”
“True,” Dylan said. “She’s pretty pissed. Thinks he took this too far. But then she’s way more into family than he is. All good if he’s sleeping on the couch?”
“Of course. Are ya still in hospital?”
“Discharging today. Which means I get to live with him. Won’t that be fun?”
“He had yer best inter–”
“Don’t give me that best interests bull shit. He crossed a line. Family’s family.”
“Dat’s where I’m gonna have to disagree wi’ ya,” James said. “Not dat I condone what he did. Pretty arsey thing if ya ask me, but he’s as much family as yer brother is. As I am.”
“Hey, no one said anything about bringing logic into this,” Dylan replied. “Fifty points from Gryffindor.”
James was silent. He wanted to ask what Dylan thought of Ben. Did he hate him? Did he want to see him suffer? More than the torture they’d already inflicted? From what he knew of Dylan, James suspected his friend would see the machinations that had turned the wolf into a weapon. An already embittered werewolf, a spiteful ex, a convenient target. Hardly a martyr to the cause, Dylan would follow Ben’s motivation even if he didn’t respect it.
“Okay maybe twenty points,” Dylan said.
“Ya get dat’s fiction, right?”
“Maybe,” Dylan replied. There was an awkward silence. Dylan didn’t do awkward silences. Well, not intentionally. Did he know? Honestly, James looked forward to the day he could be honest with Dylan.
“I gotta go,” James said finally. “Work to do.”