“You’re pissing everyone off today, aren’t you, Tobias?” Wilson raised a wine glass in a feigned toast.
“Think about how you address the Alpha’s wife next time,” Creed growled. “Now get out of here, you little shit.”
Wilson could see the veins in the young lieutenant’s temples almost popping as the blood rushed back into his face, but Tobias would know better than to swap un-pleasantries with Creed. He scrambled to his feet and marched out of the room without another word. The only thing following him was his humiliation.
“Drive carefully, Tobias.” Wilson waved, finishing the last drop of his wine. “Don’t run over any landmines or anything.” He turned toward his advisor. “Damien, well done and thank you. If you could please escort my boy to the parlour, we will be waiting there for him.”
Creed gave a gentle bow and swept out of the room. Alicia and Wilson walked side by side towards the opposite door and along the vast corridor leading to the parlour.
“What are you going to do about all this?” Alicia asked, concerned.
“Whatever I have to until Nicholas is ready.”
“Will, stop.” She grasped his arm, halting him. “We have been over and over this. I know it isn’t something you want to hear—”
“You’re right. It isn’t,” he said, walking away from her. He had heard it for the last few hours. The meeting had been called by his lieutenants to discuss the rumblings in the pack. The rumblings centred on the notion of succession, something Wilson had made clear in no uncertain terms, time and time again. Still, the sycophants who called him Alpha to his face—yet old and weak behind his back—continued to bring their standard, off-the-rack offspring for his consideration. Nothing about them sparked Wilson. They were nothing more than pretenders compared to his son, Nicholas. Had he mentioned this, of course, the theory of nepotism would’ve taken over all discussion. So instead, Wilson humoured them, though it was becoming tedious. “My Alpha, may I present…” Or, “He experienced his first woman at fourteen…” Another, “My son killed his first foe before even I at the same age…” On and on it went. Wilson had kept them alive, prosperous and safe for almost twenty years when packs around the world were destroying each other, and now they were circling his leadership like hyenas over a carcass. Fuck them.
“You can’t keep ignoring this. It’s not anyone’s fault. These things just happen. Why can’t you accept that Nicholas is different?”
“I am the Alpha. Like all my ancestors before, I will choose who will succeed me. And I have. Our son is one of us; he just doesn’t know it yet. And I will be damned if I am going to let some piss-ant son of an underboss take the title away.”
They continued towards the parlour and stepped inside, finding it still empty.
“Let them fight over the title,” Alicia said. “You have said before you no longer want it. You are still many years away from stepping aside, but isn’t that why you want to train Nicholas now? I know how desperate you are. I understand. But they are desperate too. They want to plan…and to brag. This is all about ego, yours against theirs and is doing nothing but damage. Why can’t we return home Will, and just forget about all this?”
Wilson studied his wife carefully. Time as a werewolf had not been the most kind to her, not that it made him love her any less. With her too-sharp chin and wide-set eyes, she’d never been beautiful in the conventional sense, but Alicia had always had a certain striking quality about her that had attracted him from the very beginning. As they do with everyone, the years had weathered and muted her features, but her dark-blue eyes still sparkled fiercely from beneath her fringe. Normally, an Alpha’s wife was not permitted to question anything the Alpha said or did, but Wilson and Alicia had never had a by-the-book relationship. He had long relied on her wisdom and her temperament, which counter-balanced his own. Her advice often led to him debating issues internally, and frequently to him changing his mind. This had included situations involving their son.
Typically, if an Alpha married a human woman, he would turn his wife before she conceived a child, for the mother’s wellbeing. Werewolf pups had caused havoc on the human uterus in the past.
In his case, however, Wilson had discovered Alicia’s pregnancy months after they had spent a lone night together. Afraid of losing her humanity, she had argued relentlessly with him for fear of possibly endangering her son, and she’d refused to be turned until she was almost to term. An Alpha could bite his intended with force and would face no punishment, but this equalled rape in Wilson’s eyes. He just couldn’t bring himself to do such a thing.
While Alicia was turned before she gave birth, the fact that it was late in the proceedings had always haunted Wilson. Had it been so late that Nicholas’s development had been unaffected? Wilson was no geneticist. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about this? It was not as if he wouldn’t love the boy regardless. So why couldn’t he move on? Because if the notion that Nicholas was not an Alpha—perhaps not a wolf at all—got into his mind, he would have to accept it as being his fault. Or worse, hers. And that idea was abhorrent.
They had never been able to have another child and Wilson had most certainly wanted them. He couldn’t shake the fact, after all these years, that he had been too soft on Alicia because he loved her, and now was facing the consequences. It also meant that maybe, just maybe, the words spoken in hushed whispers that no one thought he could hear were true: that if Wilson could not father a wolf and let his wife dictate terms, he could not possibly be an Alpha of any worth. Wilson did not fear any challenge. He feared having to submit to the will of the pack as a failure, and break his bloodline for the first time in nine generations. He could not, he would not allow it to happen.
“To Sydney? Aside from the fact that you have never known me to run from anything, why do you think?” Wilson sighed. “Even if I were to consider it, you and I are too well known there. We would have to make concessions to the vampires that would shame us. Sydney is their city.”
“It may be their city, but it is my home. I know it’s been years, but I could contact my cousin for help. I could protect us if you’d let me.” Alicia said softly, her hand resting on Wilson’s arm.
“Protect us from something I can’t? What is that exactly?” Wilson replied, his voice rising.
A knock stopped the argument. Wilson growled. He sniffed in the direction of the door and it opened to reveal Creed.
“My Alpha, my lady, forgive me. Young master Slade has requested some time to freshen up before greeting you.”
“Is he all right?” Alicia asked, frowning.
“I believe so. Yet I asked if he was glum as I suspected, he replied only with ‘Girl trouble’. I daresay he is nursing a broken heart.”
“Ah, my poor darling. We’ll need to treat this with care,” Alicia said.
“With respects my lady, teenage hearts mend faster than we do.” Creed replied with a tiny smile before leaving the two alone.
“Well, at least that gives us some extra time to discuss what to do about this.” Alicia said.
“There is nothing left to discuss,” Wilson replied.
“Of course there is! I want us to both sit down with Nicholas over the next few days and chat about what he wants in all this. Have you even thought about that?”
“Of course I have. But how would he know what he wants when he has no idea what he is capable of?”
Alicia put her head on her palm, exasperated. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Will! Why can’t you move on and see what’s right in front of you?”
“One could equally ask why you are so quick to dismiss it.” Wilson grumbled and opened the liquor cabinet.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Alicia asked.
Wilson appeared to consider this as he poured himself some scotch. “I am not nearly drunk enough yet to forget I have wasted over six hours with a bunch of greedy fools, only to keep wasting my time with my lovely wife on the same pointless subject.” Wilson punctuated this with a che
eky grin and gulped the contents of his glass in one.
“You’re not taking me seriously. You’re not taking anything seriously. You always do this.”
Wilson sat on the edge of the table and upturned his hands as a sign of seriousness. “What do I always do?” he offered, stifling his grin and attempting to really listen.
“Make everything out as if it’s a joke. I have something important to say and then we just go round and round in circles. You just don’t see the danger. Your underbosses are getting restless, more so with each passing day that there is no decision from you. Tobias may be a pathetic excuse for a wolf but he is correct. You are stalling and causing more and more strife. Is this really about Nicholas, or is it about you?”
The words washed over Wilson like a chilled breeze. Did Alicia have a point? Should Wilson have given his son a wide berth to become his own person, not to live in Wilson’s constant shadow? How could a boy hope to grow and expand, werewolf or not, without the guidance of his father?
Wilson rose and walked towards his wife. “I will tell you this: the full moon is in just over a week. If this doesn’t work, if at the end of these holidays I see nothing different in him, then I will choose a successor and let Nicholas go his own way.”
Alicia looked at him suspiciously. Why the change of heart? He could hear her practically think it. In many ways, Alicia was perhaps the true Alpha of the relationship, a fact that made him love her more and hate her as well. “I will even send a message to Vincent in Sydney in the morning.”
“Asking what?”
“If Nicholas does not become an Alpha, I will ask out of respect what it would take for him to grant just the three of us entry into his city. I hold little hope that he will even reply, and if he does, I doubt we will be able to come to an agreement both of us finds suitable. Don’t forget this is all only applicable if my vision for Nicholas does not work out. But I will keep my mind open to the possibility. I promise you this.”
Alicia considered her husband for a few seconds. “Will, I swear… Even with the situations surrounding him, our history, the violence and all that, Nicholas is a good kid. The best. If you even think about putting any kind of pressure on him…”
Wilson shook his head. “No, no. This is merely just a test of my judgement, to see if I am right. He is my son no matter what.”
Alicia nodded tightly. “It might be a good idea to tell him that occasionally. Also, let me write the email? You suck with technology.”
“Deal,” he said, brushing his fingers across the fringe he loved so much.
“I don’t know why you changed your mind. But thank you,” Alicia said, taking the hand he used, kissing it and continued to hold it in her lap.
“You continue to teach me ways to be a better Alpha and father. I would like to think being good at one, helps me be better at the other. If I have forgotten reason and compromise, you remind me. Without it, we are nothing but the mindless beasts the movies say we are.”
*
Alicia did not wait for the next morning; she just waited for Wilson to fall asleep. Her email to Vincent was short and to the point, but with a rather massive yet deliberate omission. She asked him for allowances for two werewolves to occupy asylum in Sydney. Her judgement call could prove costly, as the last thing she wanted to do was lie to the Sydney vampire king and get caught, but it was important to her that Vincent not be told of her son’s existence just yet. Something—call it mother’s intuition—told her Nicholas might end up being used as a bargaining chip. She took her time in turning the computer off, knowing it was early morning in Sydney at this time. The soonest Vincent would likely read it would be when he woke up that evening. Alicia went to bed very apprehensive, but daring to dream.
*
I promise nothing. Send your envoys with your proposal if you wish, before or after the full moon. Do this and I will grant them the courtesy of an audience.
H.R.H Vincent Kent.
Alicia stared at the email reply. She did not know what to make of this. To most, it would seem just a begrudging invitation. Alicia sensed there was more to it, however. She sensed something else, too. If not danger, then something close akin. Vincent didn’t want a proposal via email. He was actually inviting members of the pack to present it in person. She would have to be extremely careful, and yet she didn’t know exactly why.
The last confrontation between werewolves and vampires had occurred long ago, but neither side had forgotten nor forgiven. The two species maintained an uneasy peace out of hatred, respect and also because war did not accomplish anything. Both species needed to live and needed to do so without stepping on each other’s toes.
Australia was the last country that had enough overwhelming vampire presence to be able to refuse entry to werewolves. Vincent Kent was at their head, citing a concern for human welfare. All who knew him knew full well that was a farce. Still, Vincent’s word was law for Australia. Each state had its own governance, Melbourne even had its own monarchy, but they all answered to Vincent. Now he was accepting a request to talk things over, even possibly accepting the Alpha and his family. Perhaps the criticism he had received from other heads of state internationally had finally gotten to him?
No, Alicia didn’t believe that. Vincent did not bow to pressure. There was something more to this. She would organise her envoys, a handful of werewolves, and humans as well, to offer a proposal of asylum. She would inform them of the exact proposal. She would also inform them of a plan B if everything went to hell.
Chapter 3
Who’s Afraid?
Present Day – Sydney
Alex walked alongside Dante into the Raven Apartments block, located in Surry Hills. They passed four armed guards patrolling the outer perimeter and another two just inside the entry doors. The doors and an entire awning-like entryway around and above them were made of glass. Inside was dark, lit only by the moon shining through the glass.
They strolled into the spacious lobby and up to the reception desk. Alex could smell rich leather, and noticed the tidy two-seater couches set in squares all around her. A tall woman stood behind the desk. She looked austere, her hair in a tight bun and her business suit neatly pressed. Alex guessed she was maybe in her mid-fifties. She looked up as they approached.
“Good evening, Dante,” the receptionist said in the most put on, velvety soft voice ever.
Dante nodded in greeting. “Samantha. This is Alex. I’m here to see Herschel.”
“I don’t suppose he knows you’re coming?” Her velvet tones had hardened, leaving Alex to wonder if she was the reason.
“No,” Dante replied.
Samantha sighed as if it was a huge effort, yet smiled as she picked up the phone, eyeing him. Dante for the most part was just friendly to her. Alex thrust her hands in her pockets, noting that Samantha was completely ignoring her. Seems like it is me.
“Good evening, Mr Rasmussen, I— Well, yes actually. He just walked in. That’s why I am calling. Yes, of course.”
Samantha hung up. “He was expecting you. I’ll escort you to the elevator.”
“It’s really not necessary,” Dante said. But she obviously wasn’t listening, walking behind the desk and over to the lift buttons, waiting beside yet another guard. “How’ve you been?”
“Very well, thank you,” she replied, with a huge smile showing all her teeth.
Somewhere, an angel must be getting gonorrhoea, Alex thought. She flicked her eyes over Samantha, who looked ready to pounce and devour Dante. Was she a vampire? How did she know Dante? Alex tensed and with a sickening feeling in her stomach, wondered if maybe they had been an item once. The thought bothered her more than she wanted to admit.
The elevator arrived and the doors opened, not really relieving the tension.
“Thanks for the help. Take care,” Dante said simply, leading Alex inside.
“The offer for my number is still wide open, Dante,” Samantha said with a smirk, turning on her heel just as the doors
closed.
Alex snorted. “I think somebody has a crush.”
Dante tensed his jaw. “She is a vampire groupie.”
“There’s such a thing? How long have you known her?”
“We met several years ago, at a nursing home.”
“A nursing home? What were you doing there? What was she doing there?”
“Visiting an old friend. She was a former high-end call girl sent by Vincent to lure me back to the fold. At the time, Vincent thought because of her circumstances, I might be swayed in trying to help her—she had been bitten by one of her clients and became obsessed with finding more of us. This caused her to come to the attention of Vincent, who put her to the test: get me back into the family and he would make her immortal.”
“Ah… So she failed then?”
“Yes. And though he didn’t turn her, as per his law, he obviously thought she would be of some use, so put her here. These apartments have always had my kind living in them, and Samantha is their liaison.”
“Is that why there are so many guards here, to protect her?”
“It’s a good question. There was never this many before. Must be a recent development.”
Alex glanced instinctively at the ceiling of the elevator. It’s not like she expected something to crash down onto the roof, but the feeling that she was surrounded by hundreds of the undead at this moment made her feel uneasy. She tried to talk to keep her mind occupied. “So, Samantha wanted to be your donor?”
Dante breathed out sharply through his nose and made a face like he was tasting something bitter. “She wanted me to feed on and sleep with her, but I politely declined. Though unfortunately this didn’t stop her getting what she wanted.”
“Wait, what?”
Dante sighed, obviously not happy to reveal this particular memory. “I was weakened after a fight at the home. Samantha found me and gave me her wrist. As I frantically fed, I became aroused, as all males of my kind do, and she used this to her advantage.”
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