by Petra Landon
Shifters had a tendency to think of local Wizard luminaries as somewhat toothless. The Wizards were not organized in the strict hierarchies that Shifters were — power was decentralized and hence diluted in the Wizard world, especially when it came to local Wizard communities. While the First Wizard represented their interests on the CoC and the GCW policed the general community, it was left to the individual Wizard Registries to handle the day to day needs and issues of their Wizard communities. David Hamilton was the ranking Wizard in San Francisco by dint of the relationships he’d built up over time and the respect he commanded amongst his brethren. Unlike an Alpha Protector who was the absolute authority in a Pack, David Hamilton led his Wizards with soft power.
Maartje looked unconvinced by Duncan’s words. To her, the power structure at the local level in the Wizard world seemed downright strange and useless. Whereas in a Pack, the Alpha’s command was law and his wishes paramount, David Hamilton’s influence on the Wizards in this city depended on what they chose to grant him.
“He’ll come through, Maartje” Duncan assured her. “He has the influence and connections to do so. Circumstances being what they are, I believe he also has the will.”
“I don’t doubt his will, Duncan. He cannot afford a war between his Wizards and us” Maartje countered. “He knows that. But to prevent it, all he has to do is prove to us that no local Wizard was involved in the assault. He’ll depend on the Alpha’s sense of fair play to handle the rest. The question is will he do more — help us trace the out-of-town Wizards and dig into why they went after the Alpha?”
“I believe he will” Duncan reiterated confidently.
“You think David will marshal his resources because of what the Alpha did for his daughter, Duncan?” Atsá asked perceptively.
“David Hamilton is a good man. He respects Raoul and he’ll do whatever he can for him. But there’s another reason, a more compelling one, that drives him currently. The Wizard world is in increasing turmoil. There’s conflict between the First Wizard and GCW, and increasing tension on the matter of investigating Lady Bethesda. By all accounts, the GCW, long the mainstay and bulwark against Wizard disintegration, seems to be fracturing at the seams, too. Jason makes no bones about the turbulence in the august body. And, he should know. The local Wizards, here and everywhere else, are not unaffected by this chaos. It’s not a good time to be a Wizard. David needs allies now, more than ever, if he’s to keep his Wizards from being collateral damage in the infighting at the federal level. His best ally in San Francisco is his alliance with Raoul and DiZeyla.”
Duncan paused to shoot the Shifters a look. “The Shifters are skeptical of this alliance. We are used to going it on our own. The only reason no one has objected is because Raoul decreed that he wants it. David is shrewd enough to know that the only thing keeping the alliance alive is the relationship he has with both Raoul and DiZeyla. He needs the Pack and he needs Raoul. David will help us because he needs the Chosen Alliance more than ever.”
In a different part of town, Mistress Franciszka glanced up as one of her trusted lieutenants came forward to present himself to her. One glance at his deadpan face was enough to signal the strong emotion he held in check. She straightened from her indolent position on the opulent daybed to sit up.
She held out her hand imperiously to him. “What is it?”
He came forward to gracefully kiss the pale hand. The Mistress was a stickler for the old ways and her Pure Bloods liked it that way.
“There’s something brewing with the Pack, Mistress” he said.
“Like what?” She looked puzzled, but not alarmed in any way.
The Shifters were always a little too hot-blooded about everything, in Franciszka’s opinion. It was in their very nature. And their cold and arrogant Alpha never did exert himself to tone down their drama, even though he could be very ruthless when his Shifters stepped out of line in other ways. No Pure Blood worth his salt would rampage like the Shifters did. It would be intolerable. The Pure Bloods knew how to get things done — one had to be subtle and cunning, not blood-thirsty and obvious during an assault.
“They’re being close-mouthed as usual, Mistress. But large numbers of the Pack are crawling all over a neighborhood on Russian Hill. Word on the street is that there was an assault on the Pack and that’s why the Shifters are trawling the streets.”
“What kind of assault?” She narrowed her eyes, showing the first signs of concern. Had Bianchi slipped back into her city to play his little games, she wondered. Because Raoul would not be so forgiving a second time around.
“It’s unclear. Duncan Hawthorne is running the Pack from the Lair and Luis Beltran is running the investigation on the ground. There’s no sign of the Alpha.”
Franciszka took a deep breath, now clearly alarmed. She clicked her fingers imperiously and a few dark shadows from around the room materialized before her.
“Find out if Rafaelo Bianchi has made his way back to our city” she commanded.
The Vampires bowed, before making themselves scarce. She fell silent, her sharp teeth worrying at her lips while she pondered the matter furiously. The only semblance of a relationship she had with the other Chosen in this city was with the Pack. Raoul Merceau seemed to understand her and her compulsions, much more than she’d expected of a Wyr. Not that he didn’t come down like a ton of bricks if she so much as dipped a toe out of line, but he was always fair to her. If the Alpha was sidelined, even temporarily, then the relationship she had nurtured over time would be in jeopardy. Something needed to be done and quickly, she realized.
Back at the Lair, an unusually silent Hawk escorted a grave David Hamilton into the Pack Room. The Wizard murmured a greeting to Maartje and Atsá before making a beeline for Duncan.
“Thank you for your time, David” Duncan greeted him politely.
“Of course. How can I help?”
Duncan escorted him into the Alpha’s Room with a last glance at Atsá and Maartje. Hawk seated himself in the Pack Room to stare blankly into space.
After a few glances at him, Maartje took the bull by its horns. “Is it Tasia that has you so grave, Hawk?” she inquired.
The query served to rile Hawk, but he reminded himself that, despite her close equation with Atsá, she’d never attempted to run interference with either Sara or him. Except the conversation with Tasia, he amended silently. Even that, he now realized, had less to do with any malicious intent and more to do with misguided officiousness.
“Tasia’s not easily ruffled” he said evenly. “She has a good head on her shoulders.”
Maartje hesitated, directing a sidelong glance at Atsá.
“Was it bad, Hawk?” It was Atsá who asked. Hawk knew what he referred to — the room where Alph and Tasia had been caged.
Hawk felt himself stiffen, his usual reaction to interactions with his grandfather. Then, he remembered Atsá earlier tonight, standing tall in the Pack Room to speak up for the Alpha, throwing the weight of his considerable influence to back Duncan as a surrogate in the Alpha’s absence.
“Yes” Hawk said briefly, the images of the room with the mangled cage, his own memories of silver and the shell-shocked look on Tasia’s face, still fresh in him.
He took a deep breath before meeting his estranged grandfather’s eyes.
“What you did tonight in the Pack Room was well done.” He spoke from his heart.
Atsá’s expression remained unchanged but his eyes flickered briefly as if Hawk had surprised him.
“Raoul Merceau is the best thing to have happened to this Pack, Hawk” Atsá said quietly. “He’ll always have my support.”
Hawk was taken aback by the unequivocal statement. Nothing in Atsá’s actions had ever signaled this. Atsá and Maartje were Were-Alphas left over from the previous Pack, before the new Alpha had won command of it. While they’d made it clear to the Pack that they considered the Alpha a strong and effective leader and a formidable Shifter in his own right, this was very stron
g praise indeed.
“The Alpha is a Wyr who stands by his convictions. He does not hesitate to take unpopular stands, even when there are the easier paths to follow.”
Atsá made sure that he had Hawk’s undivided attention before he continued. “Just like he did when he faced down the Pack Council to accept Sara and you into this Pack. He could have walked away from this — it wasn’t even his battle to fight. But he did not. It has been a long time now since I admitted to myself that I was wrong then. I admit it to you tonight, Hawk. To both Sara and you. I was wrong. I appreciate more than you can guess that the Alpha insisted on doing the right thing then. And that Duncan stepped up to accept you into his were-pack. For that, if nothing else, they’ll always have my gratitude and support.”
A stunned Hawk’s eyes wandered from his grandfather to Maartje, who was nodding gravely, clearly agreeing with her friend and fellow Were-Alpha.
In the Alpha’s Room, David Hamilton was being given the shocking news by Duncan.
“Raoul was attacked on Friday night, David.”
The Wizard’s expression tightened. There was trouble in the Pack, as he’d suspected from Duncan’s cryptic pronouncements. This had consequences for every Chosen in San Francisco, more so for his Wizards.
“There was a Shifter party on Friday.” David frowned, recalling that Caroline had received an unlikely invitation to it. He wondered if the unthinkable had happened. Had Raoul, one of the strongest Alphas he’d seen in his lifetime, lost control of his Pack?
“Raoul was on his way back from the party when he was ambushed. They shot him with silver bullets, threw him into a cage and pumped him with silver for twenty-four hours until he escaped.”
David frowned, singularly alarmed for the Alpha. He was a powerful Wyr, but silver was extremely poisonous to Shifters. If he had suffered even half of what Duncan had just listed, Raoul was in seriously bad shape.
“How bad is he, Duncan?” he asked.
“He’ll be fine. Needs to sleep it off while it leaches out of his system. What concerns me is that Raoul was able to identify his captors as Wizards.”
David looked stunned. This he had not expected at all. “Are you saying that my Wizards attacked Raoul?”
“No, I don’t think they were yours, David. This was someone who had it in for Raoul. They were looking to destroy him.”
“You mean, with fatal exposure to silver?” Shifters were notoriously hard to kill, though prolonged exposure to silver might do the trick.
“No, they intended a much more heinous fate. When they ambushed him, he had Tasia with him.”
David nodded, puzzled by the reference. He knew Tasia as his daughter’s friend.
“They threw her into the cage with him, poisoned as he was, and put a camera on them to catch the fallout” Duncan said baldly.
“You …” David blinked rapidly. “You’re saying that they …” His voice trailed off. What Duncan said was too brutal to contemplate. No Chosen would be that unthinkably cruel!
“Raoul’s past is not exactly a secret in certain Chosen circles, David” Duncan said gravely. “Someone who’s heard the whispers, believed that if he closely recreated what had been done to Raoul before, he might succeed where others had not. They had a camera on him because they wanted to capture a Shifter losing control. If he had, even for a moment, he’d have savaged the Wizard placed very strategically in the cage with him. The choice of Tasia, as you can guess, was also not a coincidence.”
David stared in dawning horror at the Shifter. “Christ.” His voice was a mere whisper.
“Raoul is not your average Shifter, David. Had he been, they might have succeeded. As you can guess, the Pack is enraged. I’m hoping you can help identify the Wizards who did this.”
“Of course” David Hamilton said, somewhat mechanically. “Anything I can do.” He was still trying to come to grips with this. Chosen had always had their differences. In fact, throughout the ages, Chosen had rarely been united. But at the end of the day, they were Chosen — there were some boundaries you did not cross.
“He was held in a house on Russian Hill with six Wizard guards. They had to have had local assistance with the logistics, if nothing else. Will you help us, David?”
“Yes, I will.” David roused himself. “If any local Wizards assisted them, I’ll dig them out.”
“We have the address of the house.”
“Give me a few hours, and I’ll have something for you, Duncan” David promised.
“Thank you. Time is of the essence here. Plus, I’d like to give Raoul a name when he’s back on his feet.”
“How bad is he, Duncan?” David asked again.
Aware that Raoul held the Wizard in genuine respect — high praise from a man who disliked Wizards in general, Duncan was more candid than he would otherwise have been.
“Frankly, we dodged a bullet, David. He’ll be fine, but something has been unleashed tonight that the Pack, the Wyrs and this city will have a hard time coming back from.”
David Hamilton nodded slowly. He understood. Until they could uncover and punish the perpetrators, this would color every Shifter’s perspective.
“Tasia?”
“She’s fine. A little shaken up, of course.”
“Good. Caro will be worried.”
“Please keep Caroline away from the Lair, David. The Pack is adrift. Once Raoul is back at the helm, things will return to normal.” Duncan thought it prudent to warn David Hamilton of this. Caroline had a standing invitation from the Alpha to visit the Lair but right now, the Lair was not safe for either Tasia or her friends.
“I’ll make sure of it” David pledged with a purposeful air.
Their business concluded, Duncan escorted him to the Pack Room. David had a quick word with Atsá and Maartje before they walked him down the stairs.
Hawk waited for them to be alone, before addressing Duncan. “Sara called a few minutes ago” he explained briefly. “Alph woke up and had a bite to eat. She says he’s looking good, just needs to build up his strength.”
“Good.” Duncan allowed his relief to show on his face. Raoul was back in control and that was very good news. Now that the hard part was over, he would heal quickly, his superhuman metabolism powering his recovery. “How’re the ladies holding up?”
“Sara’s fine. Tasia is sleeping. The drugs they gave her are making her sleepy, but she should be fine.”
Duncan nodded. Tasia’s recovery could rival that of a Shifter. They’d been given ample evidence of this on a couple of notable occasions.
“Sara asked for a change of clothes for Tasia and her” Hawk remarked. “If you don’t need me here, Duncan, I’ll run some stuff over to Alph’s place.”
Duncan hesitated before coming to a decision. After what he’d been put through, Raoul deserved a chance to heal without further assaults on his hard-won control. Duncan was the only one who knew what a horrible coincidence his attackers had hit on by choosing Tasia to be the Alpha’s victim. If Raoul had lost control and injured her in any way, it would have shattered him; there would have been no way back for the Shifter. Like he’d told David, they’d dodged a bullet, in more ways than one.
Not that Raoul was out of the woods yet. Tasia seemed shell-shocked by what had transpired, though not hysterical or terrified. Duncan didn’t know what had happened in the cage. Tasia had merely hinted to him that all had not been well with the Alpha. She might decide that her association with the Pack came at too high a price and walk away again, like she had before when the Alpha had frightened her with his quintessential Shifter reaction during a disagreement. If that happened, it would be Raoul’s job to straighten out. But there was something he could do. He could give the boy peace and space while Raoul healed both his body and his mind. Hawk had a bond with Tasia. It troubled Raoul, Duncan knew, though the boy would never admit it. Dangling Hawk’s closeness with Tasia under Raoul’s nose while he recovered from his horrendous experience was a bad idea.
Raoul’s body would heal a lot faster than his mind, Duncan knew. The boy still carried the scars of the past. They colored his perceptions to events and people in his life. The experience he’d just endured would give most Shifters pause, but in Raoul’s case, it would also reopen the old wounds, deepening and picking at them. Duncan felt an old rage fill his belly. After years of watching over him, he had observed a change in the boy’s perceptions of the world and his expectations of it. Duncan’s fists clenched at the thought that this might push Raoul back into his shell.
His keen eyes noting the clenching fists, Hawk wondered what had enraged his normally unflappable Were-Alpha. Probably something to do with Alph, he guessed.
“Drop the stuff off to Joaquim and have Sara collect it from him, Hawk” Duncan directed.
“You need me here, Duncan?” Hawk inquired. He trusted in his Were-Alpha’s judgement and perspective.
It gave Duncan pause. He tried to explain himself to Hawk without betraying Raoul’s confidence.
“Raoul needs space while he recovers, Hawk” he said carefully. Distance from any Shifter he’d consider a threat in his precarious state, he added silently, hoping that Hawk got the hint. Sara did not count for she was not dominant and would not be considered a threat. It was one of the reasons Duncan had picked Sara to be Raoul’s caretaker while he fought his inner demons and grappled to balance his two forms. “Raoul might have some lasting effects. Let’s give him what he needs to heal.”
“I understand, Duncan” Hawk acknowledged soberly, his dark eyes grave. Alph would have all the space and any other assistance he required, Hawk pledged silently.
The door to the Pack Room rattled before the Shifter sentry peered in.
“There’s a leech downstairs requesting an audience with you” he said to Duncan. “Says the Mistress sent him.”
Hawk shot an astonished glance at his Were-Alpha.
Duncan frowned. “He’s asking for Raoul?”
“No, he asked for you, not the Alpha.”
“Is Atsá still at the Lair?” Duncan inquired.
