by Eileen Wilks
“All Rhos are dominants, of course, but high dominants are different—and rare, fortunately. In my lifetime, I’ve only known two. A high dominant is incapable of submitting. Circumstances don’t matter. He will die rather than submit to another’s authority.” Even with a mantle enforcing that authority.
“Victor Frey,” Lily said flatly.
His eyebrows lifted. “Good guess. Yes, he was a high dominant, but he’s an extreme example of an extreme condition. The other one I knew—Finnen Ap Corwyn—was a friend. Not close, because he was Cynyr and lived in Ireland, but I liked and respected him.”
“Past tense?”
As usual, she’d plucked the significant detail from the pile. “Yes. He was killed in Challenge several years ago. I don’t know the circumstances; it was a Cynyr matter. But I assume he challenged because he could not submit. His death grieved me, but it didn’t surprise me. Or him, I suspect.”
“So high dominants aren’t always evil bastards, but they are über dominant, right? And that tendency is part of Leidolf’s mantle.”
“Über dominant sounds like über bully. The inability to submit to others is not the same as requiring everyone to submit to you. But yes, there is a certain approval of dominance built in.” In fact, Leidolf had a rep for throwing high dominants more often than other clans. It had been a Leidolf high dominant who founded the youngest clan—Ybirra—back in the 1800s, after leaving his birth clan. Tomás Ybirra had gathered enough strays to begin his own clan, though no one outside Ybirra knew how he’d acquired a mantle to unite them.
“So what you carry inclines you toward dominance, not conciliation.”
“Those who become Rho are not by nature conciliatory,” he said dryly. “What is it you’re trying to ask?”
She waved one hand vaguely. “It’s more trying to grasp than ask. I get the feeling dominance means something different to you than it does to me. Never mind. We started this discussion with me asking if what you carry helps you want what’s best for Leidolf. If you answered that, I missed it.”
“I’m trying to answer. It … the more clearly I feel a decision aligns with Leidolf’s best interests, the more what I carry aligns with that decision. If I’m unsure, or if I reach a decision more through my head than my heart, then it … withholds itself. My decisions for Leidolf are all coming from my head,” he said, his throat tight with frustration. “I want to do the right thing more than I want what’s best for Leidolf.”
“Wanting to do the right thing doesn’t count?”
“Not exactly.” He shook his head again, unable to put into words what he knew.
“I guess that explains how a scum like Victor Frey was able to use his power as Rho to do commit such major assholery. He didn’t give a shit about doing the right thing, and he was sure that whatever worked for him had to be best for everyone.”
That made his lip twitch. “I suppose it does, yes.”
“If the—” Her phone chimed softly from her purse. She straightened. “I’d better get that.”
Rule’s hearing made it easy to eavesdrop. The caller spoke in a deep bass—and deeply familiar—voice. “Lily, I apologize for disturbing you, but I need to speak with my Lu Nuncio.”
She frowned. “Isen, I don’t use my in-flight phone privilege for family conversation.”
“It’s a clan matter.”
“Unless it’s urgent—”
“I have spoken as your Rho only once before, Lily. I am speaking as your Rho now.”
Her frown lingered. Rule didn’t literally hold his breath, but it took an effort. Lily had been formally adopted into Nokolai soon after they were joined by the mate bond. Female clan had different rights and responsibilities than male clan, of course; they couldn’t Change and couldn’t be included in the mantle. But male and female alike had to obey their Rho.
Lily was not good at obeying. “All right,” she said at last. “But first, tell me what you know about Raymond Cobb.”
“Nothing personally. Benedict says he’s strong, but not fast. Competitive. He took second in pole vaulting and placed in shot-put at the last All-Clan.”
“Did Benedict say anything about Cobb’s control?”
“He considered it good. Please pass the phone to Rule, Lily.”
She grimaced, but did so.
Rule took it. “Yes?”
“The Lady has Chosen for your brother a second time.”
SIX
THE thunder was all in Rule’s head. It was still loud, a crescendo of thought and feeling that held him silent for a long, stunned moment. “But that’s …” He leaned his head into his hand, rubbing his temples with one spread hand. “No. Clearly it isn’t impossible. Unheard of doesn’t mean impossible. He wouldn’t consider this good news, would he?”
“No. He’s asked that you not tell Lily.”
Automatically he glanced at her. She was making no pretense of not listening, but her human ears would give her only his side of the conversation. “That’s difficult for me, but understandable. Tell him I’ll delay a day or two, no more. How is he taking it?”
“Hard.”
“What about her? Who is she? Does she know yet?”
“We don’t know who she is. She doesn’t know about the bond. He was in wolf form, marking the boundaries of the wards Friar has set around his property, when he noticed her. He followed without her being aware of him, and confirmed that she was aware of the guards, and avoiding them. She was also aware of the wards.”
Rule frowned. “Gifted, then. A reporter?”
“Possibly, but very few of them do that sort of covert investigative work. I’m thinking she’s either a personal enemy of Friar’s, or she’s with a coven or other organization that’s threatened by Friar. If such a group exists, I want to know about it—but that’s a question for another time. What we know is that she’s young, Gifted, about five-seven, rather thin, with a limp. She wears glasses. Her hair is long, curly, of some medium shade.”
“He didn’t Change and talk to her?”
“In the shock of the moment when the bond hit, Benedict accidentally tripped the ward. It flashed, attracting the guards. To protect her, he drew them away. He circled back once he’d shaken them off and followed her trail to where her car must have been parked. No blood spoor, no sign of a struggle, no scent of the guards, so he believes she left safely.”
“He didn’t see her car, then.” Which meant they had no make, model, or license tag.
“No. But since he refuses to find out who she is,” Isen said dryly, “that doesn’t bother him.”
“Shit. He has to. He can’t let …” Rule stopped before he gave too much away. The distance restrictions imposed by the bond were unpredictable. Benedict and his new mate might be able to function normally. Or they might pass out at any moment. “That’s foolish in the extreme.”
“He’s not himself. He wanted to go to his cabin. I refused him.”
Rule contemplated that for a moment in silence. “You’ve told the Rhej?”
“I’ll hike up to her place when I get off the phone. If she has anything useful to say, I’ll let you know.”
“It must mean something.” He couldn’t remember there ever being two Chosens in a single clan, but he supposed it could have happened. But for the same man to be given a Chosen twice … Rule couldn’t make sense of it. There couldn’t be another Lily. It wasn’t possible. “When the unheard of happens, it’s good to know why.”
“We’ll need to talk about that, but maybe not on Lily’s dime.” A thread of humor lightened Isen’s voice. “She’s glaring at you right now, isn’t she?”
Rule looked at her. And smiled in spite of her narrowed eyes. “Not glaring, no. Vexed, though, and wishing for my ears.”
“If you’re going to talk about me on my phone,” Lily said, “put it on speaker.”
“I’d better go,” Rule said.
“I expect you had. T’eius ven.”
“T’eius ven.” Rule repeated th
e blessing automatically, bemused. Go in her grace, it meant—the Lady’s grace—or travel in her hunt. It was a common enough phrase, but Isen seldom closed a conversation with it. Perhaps this second Choosing had him thinking of the Lady. She was certainly one of many thoughts coursing through Rule’s mind.
He handed the phone to Lily. “Well?” she said.
“I’m asked—not ordered, but asked—not to speak to you about this matter yet. I agreed to wait a day or two.”
Her eyebrows drew down. “Was it urgent?”
“Perhaps not urgent, but important.”
“And I’m not allowed to know. Do I get to ask questions?”
“Only if you want to make me extremely uncomfortable.”
She considered in silence for a moment, then said, “Okay, back to Cobb. Tell me what else Alex said about him.”
“Hmm. Well, he never attended college. Leidolf lacks a fund for higher education—”
“Something you plan to change.”
He gave her a quick smile. “I do. Even had such a fund been available, though, Cobb might not have taken advantage of it. He seems to be a highly physical man. He competed in the last three All-Clans, and he tends to choose physical work. Carpentry and logging, in the past. Currently he’s a certified personal trainer and owns a small gym in Nashville.”
“That’s unusual, isn’t it? Mostly you guys stay away from human athletics. You’re too good, and it’s hard to rein yourselves in enough to pass. Unless his customers are all lupi?”
Rule thought of a certain Olympic swimmer and smiled, but said, “Generally that’s true, yes. I gather Cobb’s clientele is mostly human, but two nights a week he closes the gym to the public. Those are clan-only nights. There are a fair number of Leidolf in Nashville,” he added, “who need a physical outlet. He offers that at no charge, and in return the clan exempts him from the drei.” Rule hadn’t known of that arrangement until this morning, but that wasn’t Alex’s fault. Alex had never been privy to Leidolf’s financial matters—which were an unholy mess—and hadn’t known about the waived drei until he began asking about Cobb. “Also, Cobb had a child, a daughter, but she died about ten years ago. No sons, but he has a pernato grandson—”
“Hold on. Drei is your head tax. I know that one. But what’s pernato?”
“One without a lupus father.”
“Without … oh, you mean like the ones you call throw-backs or lost ones? Only these pernato are known to the clan.”
“Exactly. A pernato is lupus because of recessives in both parents’ genes. In this case, Cobb’s daughter proved fertile with a young man who is essentially human, but whose maternal grandfather was lupus.”
“A pernato grandson wouldn’t be considered full-blood.”
“It’s a distinction without a difference. Pernato are lupi. Sometimes they’re below average in one of our abilities, but there’s variance among the full-blood, too.”
“Why haven’t I heard about pernato?”
“Pernato clan are rare in Nokolai. Leidolf is known for throwing them more often than most. It’s one reason they’re the largest clan.”
“Plus they have a habit of absorbing smaller clans, though I don’t see how the—no, I’ll ask that later. This gym Cobb owns. Do you know its name and address?”
“I don’t have the address. It’s called Cobb’s Gym.”
“Not an imaginative guy,” she said, making another note. “You say his clientele is human except for those two nights a week. That suggests he’s comfortable being around a lot of humans a lot of the time, even training them.”
“It does.”
“It doesn’t suggest someone balanced on an unholy edge, teetering toward multiple homicide.”
Rule considered what to say. How much to say. He snuggled her close so he could speak very softly. “You read about the fury in that history of the clans the Rhej gave you. You asked me about it.”
“You’re talking about the berserker thing. One of the clans—I don’t remember the name—had a bad rep with the others because its members fell ‘into the fury’ too often. This was a long time ago, well before the Purge, and there wasn’t a lot of communication between the clans, so the Nokolai guy who wrote the history didn’t know the details, but—wait, stop, I’m sidetracking. Basically, you said, the fury is when a lupus goes berserker in battle.”
“That’s the short version. You need a longer one to understand what may have happened.”
“I’m listening.”
“Pack wolves and lone wolves fall into the fury easily—that’s one reason they’re so dangerous.” Pack wolves were clanless wolves who’d gathered in a small pack—something almost unheard of these days, since the clans allowed very few lone wolves. Lacking a mantle, they were susceptible to the fury. “Clan wolves are more protected, but in battle we can succumb, too, if we’re fighting two-footed and aren’t trained to avoid it.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Not when you’re wolf?”
“No. The fury is …” He spread his hands. “The fury is of the wolf, but the wolf doesn’t experience the fury. You might call it an unhappy blending of the two states arising from the way the man experiences the wolf during battle. It’s born of rage, but it isn’t rage. Just as anger may be born of fear, but isn’t fear.”
Her brow pleated in concentration. “You think it’s a truly separate experience. Not some composite of other emotions, but an emotional state humans don’t have.”
He shrugged. “The closest analogue in humans seems to be the berserker state, which is why I explained it that way before. The fury is raw and red and dangerous. In its grip, pain has no meaning. We lose all intentions but one: to kill our enemies. And everyone within sight or scent of us is the enemy.”
She tipped her head. “You’ve experienced it.”
“As part of my training, yes. I was fourteen.” He smiled ruefully. “The fury is uncommon in adults, but not in adolescents—who are, as the saying goes, all balls and no brain. We have to experience it to learn how to avoid it, so it’s triggered in us intentionally, in a controlled situation.”
“What happened?”
“I thought I was in a normal practice bout, but Benedict had arranged for two opponents to attack me from behind quite … unexpectedly.” At fourteen, he hadn’t yet attained certa, the optimal battle state, which rendered the fury impossible. Back then, no one knew if he would. Many lupi didn’t, so they had to learn other ways to avoid the fury. By Changing, for example. You couldn’t fall into fury if you were wolf.
“Is an unexpected attack a trigger?”
“Triggers vary, but Benedict knew me well enough to have a good idea of what would work with me. Ah … let’s just say he was right. My opponents were well-trained adults, of course,” he added. “Not other youngsters. They knew what to expect, so the moment they smelled it on me, they got out of the way and Benedict pinned me until it passed. Then he, ah, spoke firmly to me.”
“Firmly. I’ll bet. Does it pass quickly, then?”
“It depends on the situation. Benedict pinned me so I couldn’t fight. Fighting feeds it.”
“You think that’s what happened to Cobb. He fell into the fury.”
“If the information we have about what happened is correct, I have no other explanation. He didn’t Change, so he wasn’t beast-lost. He seems to have had no reason to kill, much less to do it so publicly.”
“Lupi don’t just go nuts sometimes?”
“Define ‘go nuts.’ We aren’t subject to psychoses, hallucinations, or other physically based forms of insanity.”
“But you are—sometimes, in some situations, for some individuals—subject to the fury. Something triggered it in Cobb. A threat?”
“I don’t know. Adults don’t react like adolescents, except …” He shifted his legs restlessly. “Some lupi, like some humans, have what you might call anger issues. Those who carry habitual anger, if they also have trouble with control, might slip into furo without being engaged
in actual battle. Such clan are usually brought to live at or near Clanhome.”
“Nokolai does this, too? They bring the angry ones to Clanhome?”
He smiled. “If you’re worrying that the lupi you meet at Clanhome are dangerous, don’t. When such clan have more contact with—I will say with their Rho”—because he couldn’t mention the mantle—“they’re calmer, more able to control themselves.”
She looked down at her notebook, but obviously was consulting her thoughts, not the few things she’d written there. When she looked up at him again, her expression was carefully neutral. “You aren’t living at Leidolf Clanhome.”
“No.” And it gnawed at him. That he was doing the best he could didn’t mean it was enough. A Rho should live among his clan. They needed the sight and smell of him. They didn’t have to like him—which was just as well, because many Leidolf couldn’t stand him. They still needed him.
“But what you carry doesn’t depend on proximity. The clan still feels it, even when you’re on the other side of the country.”
“In the most important sense, yes. But I can’t use it directly from a distance, plus there’s a psychological need, especially for those whose control isn’t great. They need to know someone can control them, if necessary.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “They find that calming?”
“I understand that you wouldn’t. But yes, they do.”
Rule and Lily had been flying to North Carolina, where Leidolf Clanhome was located, about once a month. It was all he could do … and it wasn’t enough. “Alex has been keeping an eye on those within Leidolf who have trouble with control. Cobb wasn’t among them. He’s an angry man, but his control has been excellent.”
“Until now, and according to Alex.”
“Yes.” And Alex was shaken by what he considered his failure.
“Will you be able to tell if Cobb was in fury when he attacked? Will you smell it on him the way Benedict smelled it on you?”
“Not so many hours after the fact, no. But he’ll tell me what happened. If he fell into the fury, he’ll know, and he’ll tell me.”