Werewolf in Denver

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  He hated seeing Kate waylaid like that, but he couldn’t very well go to her rescue. He had his hands full with Neil Stillman, who seemed determined to be his new BFF, as they said in the USA. Climbing off the snowmobile, Duncan thanked the driver and started up the snowy walkway to the main entrance accompanied, inevitably, by Neil.

  “Everyone’s referring to you as King of the Woofers now,” Neil said.

  “Everyone?” As a Scotsman, Duncan had a built-in prejudice against the term king, which conjured images of British royalty. Centuries had passed, but a true Scotsman never forgot.

  “Well, the Woofers, I meant to say. They came up with it after Kate sent the Sniff saying you were no prince. So you’ve been upgraded.”

  “That’s just silly. I—” A feminine cry of dismay made him turn around. If Angela had caused Kate to cry out like that, he might have to interfere, after all.

  But no, Angela was the one who was upset, and covered in snow, to boot. The snowmobile carrying Kate zipped around the corner of the building, but Duncan had no trouble figuring out what had happened. He chuckled.

  “That was a bad move on Kate’s part,” Neil said. “You don’t want to make an enemy of Angela Sapworthy.”

  “I’m sure it was an accident.”

  “Come on, MacDowell. You just spent more than twelve hours with Kate, so you know what she’s like. Think about that for a minute and then tell me her little stunt was an accident.”

  “She wasn’t driving the snowmobile. How could she have engineered that maneuver on purpose?”

  Neil studied him. “Surely you’re not defending the Queen of the Howlers.”

  “Of course I’m not, but…what did you call her?”

  “Once the Howlers found out about your title, they had to give her one. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

  Duncan shook his head. “It’s childish. I’m going to put a stop to it.”

  “Good luck with that. It’s all over Sniffer and once something catches on, you can’t do much about it. Those titles have taken on a life of their own. I’ve already seen pictures of each of you with a crown Photoshopped on your head.”

  “Ridiculous.” Duncan sighed. “Well, I suppose I’d better get in there.” He started up the walkway again.

  “Duncan! Duncan MacDowell!”

  His shoulders hunched. Apparently even being covered in snow didn’t deter Angela from her appointed rounds.

  “Take my advice,” Neil said. “Give her a quick interview. She’s already leaning toward the Woofer side, and after Kate blasted her with a rooster tail just now, you’ll have her eating out of your hand.”

  “There’s an unappealing image.”

  Neil laughed. “Sorry.”

  “Duncan, may I have a quick word?”

  He turned and did his best to keep a straight face. Angela looked as if she’d been dipped in vanilla frosting. Snow clung to her spiky hair, clustered on her dangly earrings, rested in drifts on the shoulders of her turquoise jacket, and splattered like well-aimed snowballs all over her silver pants.

  But to her credit, she retained her poise. “I couldn’t let you go inside without one quick interview.” She turned to her cameraman and raised her mike. “As you can see, I met with a small accident following my interview with Kate Stillman. She’ll be getting the cleaning bill.” Angela’s laughter had a slight edge to it. “I’m talking now with her counterpart in this battle, Duncan MacDowell, and I’m sorry to tell you he did not arrive in a kilt as I’d hoped. Did you bring your kilt, Duncan?”

  “I did, but I won’t be wearing it until our formal dinner at the end of the conference.”

  “Wonderful! I’m sure all the females will be waiting for the moment when they can admire the King of the Woofers in full regalia!”

  “Just let me say, Angela, that I’m not comfortable being called a king of anything.”

  “And he’s extremely humble, folks! Is there a sexier combination than a great-looking Were with humility? I think not!”

  “Seriously, I would like to ask the Woofers to forgo giving me that title. I—”

  “Too late, Duncan. They’ve already held the coronation. They were positively jubilant at the way you came out fighting during last night’s Sniffer exchange. They’re also boasting of your gallantry in your last Sniff. Complimenting her on being a worthy opponent made her look ungracious by comparison. At least that’s how this reporter sees it.” Angela’s eyes glittered with malice.

  Duncan groaned inwardly. Poor Kate. Her attempt to even the Sniffer score last night had worked against her. Or, if not, Angela Sapworthy would make sure that it did. He began to understand the part Angela would play this weekend, and it wasn’t small.

  He was in a no-win situation. If he told Angela that he’d wanted to send a more antagonistic post and Kate had talked him into a more civil one, then he’d either arouse suspicion about their relationship or get more points for gallantry. His best bet was to get away from Angela as soon as possible.

  “I really should get inside,” he said. “I hope they haven’t gone ahead with the council elections.”

  “Of course not. They wouldn’t consider having elections without you. Get on in there and claim your place, Duncan MacDowell.”

  If he hadn’t been so irritated with her, he would have laughed. She’d managed to dismiss him rather than the other way around. “Then I’ll bid you good-bye.” He turned and started up the walkway once again.

  “And there he goes, folks. King of the Woofers!”

  “Damn it,” he muttered, ducking his head.

  “Get used to it,” Neil said as he opened one of two large and intricately carved entrance doors. “Your subjects await you.”

  Duncan walked into the lobby and was immediately surrounded by a crowd of boisterous Weres, both males and females, wearing Woofer buttons and waving Woofer signs. Overwhelmed by the barrage, Duncan didn’t read any of the buttons or signs, but he heard the words of welcome. The language was English, the official choice for the conference, but the accents were from all over the world.

  As he fought to get his bearings, a female emerged from the crowd bearing a gold crown on a purple velvet pillow. A chant arose from the group. “King of the Woofers! King of the Woofers!”

  Duncan tried to protest, but he was shouted down. The female Were looked so happy to be presenting him with this crown, which someone must have obtained with a great deal of trouble on such short notice. He couldn’t figure out a way to refuse it without crushing her and ruining the mood of the enthusiastic crowd.

  And he wanted them all to be enthusiastic. They believed in the cause he held dear, and this weekend he hoped to convince the delegates to adopt a resolution to end the secrecy. Wearing a crown for a few minutes might be the price he had to pay.

  Kneeling down, he allowed her to place the crown on his head amid cheers from the group that surrounded him. When he stood again, some instinct made him glance across the lobby. Kate stood there watching the spectacle.

  She’d changed into a purple long-sleeved T-shirt with a logo on the front, no doubt the Howler logo. She was too far away for him to gauge her expression, but he could only imagine how she’d react to the idea of him wearing a crown. He wondered whether she’d been offered one yet, and what she would do if she was. Her gaze locked with his for a brief moment before she turned away, almost as if signaling that she’d seen enough.

  He had trouble believing that only hours ago he’d held her naked in his arms while he listened to her cries of pleasure. It seemed impossible, and the gulf between them widened with every passing moment. He despaired of ever bridging it again.

  Chapter 8

  Sniffer Update: @newshound—King is crowned but Queen has no tiara! Apparently royalty doesn’t suit everyone. #hailtotheking

  Kate was eternally grateful to Heidi for running interference with the Howlers. Someone had contacted Heidi about giving Kate a tiara, and Heidi had told them how much Kate would loathe wearing one durin
g the conference. Kate’s organization had always functioned democratically, and the concept of promoting her to the status of queen within a group united by an idea seemed wrong. Perhaps one day she’d be a pack leader with all the authority that implied, but the Howlers were a movement, not a pack.

  She’d just happened to be in the lobby when Duncan was crowned, and she’d hurt for him. He didn’t have someone like Heidi, whose official job was Kate’s assistant at Furthebest, but who served as Kate’s right-hand Were in so many other capacities, including monitoring the Howler movement. So Duncan had been stuck with a crown. Finally she hadn’t been able to watch anymore and had left.

  By the time everyone gathered in the lodge’s grand ballroom to open the conference and hold the election, she noticed that Duncan had found a way to ditch the crown. Knowing him as she now did, he’d probably done it with charm and grace so the hapless Woofers who’d thought it was such a great idea wouldn’t end up with hurt feelings.

  Even though Kate hadn’t been at the lodge to oversee final preparations for today’s session, she was pleased to note that the staff had followed the directions she and her grandmother had given them. They’d set up the room with two blocks of folding chairs facing the dais and an aisle down the middle. A number of chairs were lined up on the dais, as well, and a lectern stood in front of them.

  Kate had yet to see her grandmother or any of the other luminaries such as Howard Wallace; his sons, Aidan and Roarke; or Cameron Gentry, the pack alpha from Portland. Howard, whose sons had both mated with humans, was a favorite with the Woofers. Kate assumed Duncan would nominate him. She was scheduled to nominate Cameron, who was friendly to the Howler cause.

  Because neither of them was here yet, Kate wondered if some backroom politicking was going on. She wouldn’t put it past her grandmother to engineer something like that.

  She was curious to meet the Wallace family. They were all registered with the exception of Fiona, Howard’s mate. She’d stayed in New York to take care of Emma and Aidan’s little girl, Iona.

  Kate looked at the crowd of delegates, a few more than two hundred Weres, with a glow of satisfaction. Her grandmother had been the driving force behind this conference, but she’d turned much of the planning over to Kate. Together they’d made it happen, and this room full of colorful accents and excited delegates gave Kate a thrill. By holding the first-ever conference of Weres from around the world, who had gathered to debate the issue of Were-human interaction, they were making history this weekend.

  And now it was time to lead her Howler delegates to their seats. Glancing around, she discovered that Duncan and his followers were already heading toward the chairs on the left side of the aisle. By default she led her group over to the right.

  She felt strange not being able to go over and talk with Duncan, but she didn’t trust herself. She might say something that would let his followers know how much she actually liked him. She dared not let her followers in on that secret, either.

  Seeing both groups together for the first time fascinated her, though. Woofer males outnumbered females nearly two to one, and the opposite was true of her group. Her followers were predominantly female. She’d known that about her organization before, of course, but she hadn’t realized Duncan’s group was the polar opposite.

  She noticed other differences, too. Early this summer, her group had adopted a logo and ordered T-shirts, long-sleeved for winter and short-sleeved for summer. Everyone sitting on her side of the room wore a long-sleeved purple shirt with a black howling-wolf logo surrounded by the group’s name—Honoring Our Werewolf Legacy—in white. A few had brought signs to wave, and some wore buttons with a red circle and slash over the WOOF acronym. But for the most part, the shirts made the Howlers’ statement.

  The Woofers, on the other hand, had no shirts, but their side of the aisle bristled with homemade signs, which they waved at the slightest provocation. They also had buttons galore. Someone had been busy dreaming up slogans such as Lose the Legacy and Love Your Human Neighbor. A few delegates had created lanyards so they could display a long line of buttons. Those with button-filled lanyards clanked when they moved.

  Heidi, sitting on Kate’s right, leaned toward her. “What a bunch, huh?”

  “We really are completely different from them.”

  “Yeah. We’re classy and they’re not. Oh, look. Here comes your favorite cousin. Wonder which side he’ll sit on?”

  “Depends on who he wants to suck up to.” Kate turned to her assistant. “Did I just say that out loud?”

  Heidi grinned. “Yep. But I don’t think anybody heard you except me, and I am the soul of discretion.”

  “I know, and I appreciate it more than I can say.” Kate gave Heidi an affectionate glance.

  Heidi laughed. “Must be time to ask for a raise.” With her short brown hair and a smattering of freckles across her pert nose, Heidi could pass for eighteen instead of her actual age of twenty-eight. Many underestimated her because she looked so young, but a first-class brain was hidden behind her ingenue facade.

  “Neil’s not choosing either side.” Kate felt a headache coming on as her cousin proceeded up the aisle, climbed the steps to the dais, and crossed to the lectern. “He’s commandeering the mike. He must have lobbied for that with my grandmother while I was stuck in the cabin. Damn it.”

  “Somebody has to run the show,” Heidi said. “It can’t be you, because you’re the leader of one of the factions.”

  “No, but it was supposed to be Grandma Elizabeth. She hasn’t declared allegiance to either side, and she—”

  “Are you sure about that? I read an interview where Neil said he supports the Woofers and so does his great-aunt.”

  Kate’s jaw clenched. “He supported the Howlers a few weeks ago. He flip-flops like a spawning salmon. And I know for a fact that Grandma Elizabeth is not taking sides. She made that very clear when I asked her if she wanted a Howler T-shirt.”

  “I’m just reporting what he said. Or rather, Angela was reporting what he said.”

  “And of course Angela wouldn’t bother to check it out with my grandmother.” Kate sat there fuming as Neil fiddled with the mike. “Grandma Elizabeth would have been the perfect MC. She’s not going to accept a leadership position in the council and she’s respected by everyone. Somehow Neil talked her out of doing it, the rat.”

  “And now it’s a fait accompli, I’m afraid. He’s assumed the position.”

  “So he has.” Kate glared at him, hoping he’d look her way, but he studiously avoided doing that. She supposed the delegates would be impressed with him, at least initially. A large Were with broad shoulders and an athletic build, he spent many hours in the gym sculpting his body. He preferred gyms with mirrors.

  He tapped on the mike. “May I have your attention? Welcome, delegates! The Stillman Resort and I are proud to host the First Annual Werewolf Conference, known to all by now as WereCon2012. It’s an historic event, and you should all give yourselves a hand for being here!”

  Kate grimaced. “Barf.”

  “Put a pleasant smile on your face. Angela’s cameramen are prowling around and chances are she’ll leap on any chance to catch you scowling.”

  “I hate it when you’re right.” Kate plastered on a silly smile. “Better?”

  “That looks fake.”

  “Because it is.”

  Neil cleared his throat. “Our first order of business this morning is electing a president of what will become the first ever Were Council. Do I have any nominations?”

  Duncan stood. “I nominate Howard Wallace, of New York City.”

  The Woofers greeted that statement with cheers and cries of woof, woof, woof.

  Kate sighed. “They just upstaged us. We don’t have a cheer. We can’t very well howl for our candidate, can we?”

  “Why not?”

  Kate stared at Heidi. “Because it would sound stupid?”

  “Couldn’t sound any more stupid than woof, woof, woof.”<
br />
  “You have a point. Okay, pass the word around. Are you good at this? Because somebody has to start the howl, and I’ll be making the nomination for Cameron.” Kate also didn’t want to admit that she’d feel ridiculous throwing back her head and howling like an idiot. It was one thing to do it in wolf form, but quite another to do it now.

  “Leave it to me.” Heidi leaned toward the person on her right, and whispers circulated quickly through the Howler contingent.

  Meanwhile Howard Wallace made his way from the back of the room toward the dais amid wild cheering from the Woofers. A barrel-chested Were in his late fifties, he had high cheekbones, a square jaw, and thick, snow-white hair. Kate could understand why Howard commanded respect.

  She wished Cameron Gentry had the same noble bearing. In the search to find someone to carry the Howler standard, Cameron had been the only one of any stature in the Were community who was willing to devote the time and energy necessary to fill the position. She and the Howlers had tried to convince themselves he’d be fine.

  Neil shook Howard’s hand before turning back to the mike. “Do we have any other nominations?”

  Kate stood. “I nominate Cameron Gentry, of Portland, Oregon.”

  Right on cue, her followers began to howl. It made a terrific racket, but an impressive one. Kate fought the urge to laugh as the Woofers, obviously taken by surprise, stared openmouthed at the Howlers, who were…well…howling.

  For one precious moment she met Duncan’s gaze and he gave her a wide smile. He also made a small gesture, one that she doubted anyone else saw. He stuck his thumb in the air for about a second. His approval shouldn’t matter to her, but she felt giddy knowing she had it.

  Cameron Gentry also walked up the center aisle from the back of the room. As Kate watched him, she swallowed her disappointment and smiled encouragingly before taking her seat. But Cameron Gentry was no Howard Wallace. A slim man who was graying at the temples, he had none of Howard’s air of command.