“Remarkable,” Kenyon breathed. “Incredibly accurate. You can tell all that from shaking my hand? You can see them?”
I nodded and smiled, the tension in my shoulders relaxing a little. Closing my eyes, I mentally called Lope forward and gave Kenyon a description of her. “Your Grandmother Lope has dark skin, weathered from spending so many years picking cotton on the family farm. She has very green eyes and her hair is white, she has it braided and it lies against her back. She's wearing gold hoop earrings, a brightly colored shirt and her favorite shawl is draped over her shoulders. It's black with fringing and has a pattern on it; flowers I think. I think it's roses, in pink and yellow. And she's wearing a gold St. Christopher medallion on a necklace, says she never takes it off.”
Kenyon was nodding when I opened my eyes. “Absolutely correct. Grandma Lope wore that St. Christopher medal every day – she never took it off. She was buried with it around her neck. Whenever any of our family travelled, she would hold the medallion in our hands and make us rub it for luck.”
“See, Dad?” Conal stated calmly. “I told you she wasn't a witch.”
Lyell Tremaine exchanged a lengthy glance with Ralph Torres and Kenyon Douglas and I saw them both nod. He turned back to me and for the first time since their arrival, he seemed more relaxed and even smiled. “It seems I've misjudged you, Miss Duncan. I apologize. I will complete the introductions myself.” He waved towards the man standing next to Kenyon Douglas. “This is my Delta and head security officer, Phelan Walker.”
Phelan Walker was roughly six feet tall and slender, his dark eyes almost bordering on black. He gripped my hand firmly, his eyes intent on mine and I stumbled back from him as I heard a swell of urgent voices. I looked at Lyell Tremaine and my voice was shaky when I spoke. “It seems Mr. Walker doesn't agree with your opinion. I can't read his ancestors, but I'm receiving a warning from the other spirits. Mr. Walker has a knife concealed in a hidden recess in the bottom of his boot.”
Chapter 12: Tempers
I was yanked backwards with vampire speed as Striker grabbed me, pulling me back to our group without my feet ever touching the ground. Lucas wrapped his arms around me, with Striker and Nick adopting a protective stance in front of us, their backs to me. I could just make out Phelan Walker through a narrow gap between their arms.
“She's a liar!” Phelan Walker yelled. He took one menacing step towards us, but Conal and Ralph Torres grasped him firmly by the arms as he continued to vent his anger. “She's a whore, a witch-whore who will destroy our pack! She lives with bloodsuckers! She consorts with shifters! She can't be trusted!”
“Be quiet, Phelan!” The elder Tremaine commanded in a booming growl of a voice, which would tolerate no argument. Phelan Walker stopped yelling instantly, bowing his head to the ground in what seemed to be a submissive gesture.
“My apologies, Lyell. I am merely attempting to warn you and ensure no more of us are tricked by the witch-whore.” His voice was quieter, more subdued.
“We will see.” Lyell turned to Lucas. “My people were ordered to bring no weapons to this meeting. With your permission, I'll have Conal check to confirm who is telling the truth.”
Lucas nodded his agreement, his anger showing in the swirling silver in his eyes. His body was tightly wound, all the tension that had started to dissipate was back and I could feel it in the muscle of his body as I leaned against him.
Displaying open condemnation, Conal shoved Phelan Walker firmly in the chest, pushing him back onto the couch. Conal kneeled down, pulling the boots from the more subdued Walker's feet and carefully examined the bottom of each. He shook his head, and then looked up at his father. “Your Delta has failed to obey your orders. He's armed.”
Conal stood up, holding a small thin blade in his left hand, which he displayed to everyone in the room. He held it between his hands and snapped it into two pieces, stepping forward to offer it to Lucas.
Lucas took the pieces from Conal and the two men eyed one another warily before Lucas spoke. “Thank you.”
Lyell Tremaine stared at his security officer, his grey eyes frigid. “You have failed me, Phelan. You allowed your prejudices to get in the way of the truth we have witnessed here tonight. You will leave this room immediately. Your punishment will be decided by the pack Elders tomorrow evening.”
Phelan Walker blanched, his head sinking low against his chest. “I was doing what I thought best for our safety.”
“Too often you jump to conclusions, Phelan. You prejudged these people, as we all did, but you are unwilling to respect the truth of what Conal told us, when we have been given clear evidence. You have greatly offended both Miss Duncan and her friends with your blatant disrespect. Leave. Now. You will wait downstairs for us.”
Conal strode to the door and held it open, whilst Phelan Walker nodded to his pack leader, bowing his head. He trudged slowly towards the door; his shoulders slumped, and carrying his boots in his hand. When he'd left the room, Conal shut the door and locked it behind him.
I realized I was trembling, my teeth beginning to chatter with the shock of what had just happened. Lucas held me close, rubbing his hands up and down my back. He kissed my forehead softly and looked down into my eyes, his thoughts not requiring words. He was proud of me and he loved me. I knew in that instant that he would do anything necessary to keep me protected from danger. When he loosened his grip, Striker and Nick relaxed their stance, stepping to either side so I had a clearer view of Conal and his pack.
“Miss Duncan,” Lyell began. “My Delta has brought shame on our pack by bringing a weapon with him to this meeting. I ask for forgiveness.”
I nodded, still not composed enough to speak.
“We outnumber you now. Will I remove one from our group?” Lucas questioned.
Lyell shook his head decisively. “No, that won't be necessary.” He looked across to me, his grey eyes softening. “Miss Duncan looks somewhat shaken. Might I suggest she sits down?” He glanced back at his group. “Perhaps we could all sit down to finish the meeting.”
For the first time since they'd arrived, Lucas permitted himself a tiny smile. “That would be agreeable.” I noticed though, that all the vampires' fangs were still run out. Clearly, they hadn't relaxed completely either.
I found the courage to speak. “I'd prefer you to call me Charlotte.”
“Alright. Charlotte it is, then.” Lyell Tremaine settled on the couch while Nick and Rafe busied themselves locating extra chairs for everyone. I wasn't sure if only I noticed, but we were all maintaining exactly the same positions as before, only now everyone was sitting, rather than standing. Lucas guided me to an armchair and settled me before he sat on the arm, his hand gripping mine possessively.
The last of the Tremaine Pack remained standing; he was American Indian, of average height but solidly built. “Lyell, I believe it would be wise to allow Charlotte to shake my hand, so she can confirm for herself that I can be trusted.”
Lyell nodded his agreement. “Of course, and I think it's high time you shook my hand, also.” He crossed the room and allowed me to shake his hand, then introduced the American Indian man as Zeff Brooks. In both instances, I was immediately in contact with their ancestors and received no troublesome messages.
When everyone was settled again, Lyell Tremaine crossed his legs and scrutinized me with undisguised interest, making me squirm a little in my seat. “From what I understand, you didn't make contact with Phelan's ancestors?”
“I've come to the realization tonight that I don't receive messages from anyone who poses a threat to me,” I explained carefully. I looked up at Lucas, knowing he would be interested in this revelation. “While I was in the bathroom, I opened my mind to the spirits. I have no spirits related to Laurence Armstrong, or Gerard DuBonet in my head. But I could hear Conal's ancestors. I talked to them and they helped me understand why. I'm… protected, or I guess, warned might be a better word – about people who intend to harm me. If their ancestors don't
come to me, they pose a danger.”
“Fascinating,” Ben seemed pleased with my announcement, turning to Lyell to explain. “Charlotte has only embraced her abilities in the past few months. The capability has always been there, but as is often the case with humans, she feared the gift. Since she's been living with us, she has actively encouraged the relationships between herself and her spiritual contacts, to the point where her ability is increasing exponentially. Knowing that she can identify people who intend to endanger her will be a valuable aspect of her gift, a way of protecting herself from harm.”
“Conal tells me you can make the spirits appear corporeally and do your bidding. Is that right?” Lyell questioned. He was leaning forward on the couch, hands clasped between his legs.
“I think so. I've only attempted it once and it was my mom who helped me, I haven't attempted it again.” I exchanged a look with Lucas, remembering how annoyed he'd been when I'd asked Mom to trip a waiter at the wedding. It had worked, and the waiter had tipped his tray of drinks over the girl who'd been shamelessly flirting with Lucas. I'd known it was childish, and silly to be jealous, but you can't help how you react sometimes and I'd honestly been amazed to discover it would even work.
Lucas smiled softly at me, apparently recalling the same event. “Go ahead, Charlotte. Show them.”
I closed my eyes, deciding to ask one of the new spirits who'd joined me to help. I located Conal's Uncle Felix, one of the spirits I'd spoken to earlier. Like Conal, he had a mass of unruly black hair and the same canine-like black eyes. He listened as explained what I wanted him to do and nodded eagerly, suggesting his own improvements to my presentation.
I found Conal when I opened my eyes and smiled warmly. “I have your Uncle Felix; he's going to do something harmless to each of you in turn.” I laughed aloud, enjoying Uncle Felix's whispered asides in my ear. “He has a wicked sense of humor.”
Uncle Felix had appeared corporeally and he moved along the row of werewolves. He tapped Conal on his right shoulder and Conal instinctively turned, to see who'd done it. Uncle Felix had already moved along the row, gently tugging on Lyle's earlobe and Lyle swatted at his ear, turning as Conal had, to try and see the invisible troublemaker. Before he could turn back, Uncle Felix had tweaked Ralph Torres on the nose, making him let out a startled yelp. Moving on to Kenyon, the playful spirit tapped out a drumbeat on Kenyon's knees and everyone could see the material of his pants moving, although I was the only one who could see Uncle Felix. Lastly, he caught Zeff's hand in his own and shook it vigorously. Uncle Felix gave me a little salute and a grin, and then dissipated into a white mist that disappeared within seconds.
“Damn,” Conal said, “that was exactly the sort of mischief Uncle Felix always loved. I saw this ability when I probed your mind, but to experience it in real life is unbelievable.”
“And leaves us with a predicament,” Lyell said heavily.
“I know Charlotte will never use this to harm us. She went above and beyond what could be expected of her to stop Armstrong learning her secret,” Conal reminded his father.
“I can see the clear evidence of her denying Laurence Armstrong what he wanted,” Lyell responded, his eyes grazing across the mass of bruises and cuts on my face. “You've handled your enforced imprisonment with honor, Charlotte. Many men, physically stronger than you, would have broken under such duress and given away the secrets they held.” He sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his chin. “However, there are others who would covet what Laurence Armstrong failed to take. I have to wonder, although it gives me no pleasure to do so, what will happen if your vampire friends decide the power you hold is too tempting? It would be a powerful weapon indeed, against not only our pack, but also many others. What happens if the vampires decide to create you to their kind?”
“That won't happen,” I stated firmly, letting him hear my determination.
“You have the innocence and trust of the young, child,” Ralph Torres responded. “Vampires have attacked and killed, created new vampires for thousands of years. They are dangerous and don't hesitate to use something if it will give them an advantage.”
“Werewolves have killed and maimed for a millennia, also. You are not any more innocent than the vampire,” Striker stated coldly.
“How can you be trusted with her, when her blood pumps so perfectly through her veins? The scent of her must be enough to drive you wild,” Conal said, his eyes cold and firmly fixed on Lucas. “You could create her and call it an accident.”
“As you could be trusted, wolf? Knowing that at the full moon, you could attack her and turn her to your kind?” Lucas retorted with a growl.
I squeezed Lucas's fingers, uncertain how to stop this and worried that both Lucas and Conal were lurching towards a fight that would become far more personal – less about the werewolves fears and more about two men fighting over one woman.
“You leeches can't be trusted with her safety,” Kenyon argued, his voice relatively calm. “You consort with shifters, which can only increase the danger she's in.”
The power in the room was increasing with every new retort and accusation. I could feel it from both sides - the heat and almost electric static from the werewolves and something similar from the shifters, but alongside that was a cooler, less biting form of energy. I'd never felt it before, but knew instinctively it was coming from the vampires and it was a slow-moving but powerful force of its own, travelling across my body like thick liquid spreading across my skin. The feeling was so intense; I almost looked down to see if my arm was damp. Everywhere the energy touched began to feel cooler, tingling in a different way to the werewolves and shifters power and the combination of the two was disconcerting to say the least.
“We'll protect Charlotte with more honor than you dogs ever would,” Nick growled, as he and Rafe got to their feet, their bodies rigid with anger. There was an increase of the tingling hot energy across my skin, it rolled over me like a small wave at the beach, seemingly innocuous but with a strength hidden beneath the surface.
“What sort of life is it for her, with you? You're all dead, leeches. Every minute with her must be a temptation for all of you. Her blood must smell sweet to those who constantly crave it,” Conal snarled. It was becoming apparent that I was right and Conal was about to make this very, very personal.
“I love her. I would never hurt her,” Lucas stated coldly. His fangs were fully run out, his eyes a swirling maelstrom of fury, so much silver that the dark blue of his eyes was almost drowned out.
“You? A bloodsucker with a stone cold heart? You'll never be able to love her, as she deserves to be loved. You can't even give her children. I can and I would love her and cherish her, as she deserves to be loved. By someone with a heartbeat.”
“Not that it's any of your business, wolf, but Charlotte understands why we can't have a child. She accepts it because she loves me unconditionally. She only kissed you because she was frightened and alone. She feels nothing for you!” Lucas had also gotten to his feet, his posture stiff and his eyes flashing. He let go of my hand and I rubbed my arms, trying to get rid of the cold trickling and warm sparking power that was still washing over me.
“I'll bet you haven't bedded her. You can't fuck her without killing her! She provides too great a temptation for you! It would be impossible for you to keep from draining her!” The veins in Conal's neck were clearly visible, pumping with tension as his neck muscles corded.
“Stop! Stop! STOP!” I shrieked loudly, jumping to my feet, my heart hammering wildly in my chest. “You're driving me crazy with all this energy! It's crawling all over my skin!”
That got their attention and Lucas looked down at me, his eyes wide. “What did you say?”
The room descended into a deathly silence with both sides showing the signs of increased tension. The vampires were crouched in obvious battle stance, along with the shape shifters. On the other side, the werewolf pack was standing in readiness for a fight.
“I said,
your energy is leaking all over the place – all over me. I don't like the sensation and I can't get rid of it.”
“You felt our power?” Ben questioned and he sounded shocked.
“Yes, yes. I feel your power, cold and liquid running across my skin, it feels like it's burning but it's not, not really.” It was a struggle to explain exactly how it felt, but Ben seemed satisfied with my answer.
“And ours?” Lyell asked.
“Yes. You and the shifters feel hot, like a mild electrical shock tingling through my arms.”
Conal glanced at his father, at almost the exact same moment that Ben and Lucas were exchanging a bewildered glance. Lyell was the first to speak. “She cannot be human, not completely. There's something other about her.”
I looked from face to face, tears running down my cheeks. “I don't care about any of that right now. What I care about is that you're all fighting and you're all saying you're on my side, but you're energy is overwhelming me.” I took a deep breath, willing myself to calm down. “There is an old proverb. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend'. It seems that saying is tailor-made for this situation.” I turned to Lyell Tremaine. “Mr. Tremaine, it seems we have to come to some agreement in this situation, but I'm not willing to do it with all these people here. I won't be treated like some possession to be fought over.” I glared angrily at first Lucas, then Conal, sending them a clear warning about their behavior. “Would you agree to reduce the numbers, now you know I'm not a threat to you?”
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