Lord of the Drach

by Patti Larsen

  “No sign of her,” Charlotte said, grim and angry. Now I understood the mother remark about Tippy. As much as I wanted to comfort her, I knew she wouldn’t accept such an overture, especially in front of Iosif. “But, we thought you should know about Olena.”

  Not “Mom” or “my mother”. Olena. So, Charlotte had made up her mind already. So like her, all or nothing. Though I could hardly blame her after everything she’d been through. And yet, this was her mother we were talking about.

  I thought of my own and the hurts we’d handed each other through the years. But it would take a giant disaster for me to hate my own mother.

  Like selling out my people to the highest bidder, maybe? And getting my brother—in Charlotte’s case—on death row?

  Okay then.

  I stood, Charlotte joining me, Iosif a little slower, less eager. “I need to talk to her, Charlotte.”

  My werefriend nodded. “I’m coming with you.”

  Are you sure that’s a good idea? Sass’s mind touched mine.

  The look on Charlotte’s face told me I wouldn’t be able to stop her. “Just let me deal with it, please?”

  She didn’t respond. Not a good sign. I turned and scooped the silver Persian from the table to his surprise.

  I assumed you’d leave me behind.

  I think I’ve proved otherwise lately. I hugged him. Besides, I need someone to keep an eye on Charlotte.

  Think I’ll stay a cat for this one, he sent as I reached for my magic. No one notices me when I’m just a feline.

  Smart boy.

  The wide, green lawn of the werepalace entrance stood empty and quiet. I crossed without pausing to the vast entry, the wide, marble staircase leading up to the giant double doors past curving white pillars. The wereguards flanking the entry didn’t twitch as I strode by, Charlotte beside me. That was a good sign at least. I hoped it was, anyway.

  But, as we entered the Faberge egg interior of the grand foyer of the palace, the anxious and stooped form of the former wereking set my nerves on edge. Oleksander, though Charlotte’s grandfather, had refused to ascend the throne after Danilo’s deposing, leaving the werenation to Olena and Danilo and Yana’s oldest son, barely three. I still wished the old wereking had taken the throne back. From the aged look to his face, the way his whole body seemed, at last, to have caught up with his years, I realized things were far worse than I’d imagined. Oleksander had become an old man in a matter of days.

  He embraced me, trembling slightly, pulling away with tears trickling into his silver beard. “I know why you’re here,” he whispered. Refused to meet Charlotte’s eyes. “Please, spare my family, Sydlynn Hayle.”

  “Grandfather.” Charlotte’s sharp voice cut through his sorrow. “She will pay for this.” She stormed onward, for once leaving me to chase her to the end of the carpet, to the large doors leading to the throne room, past the anxious wereguards who stared at the floor in shame.

  They knew. They all knew. And had done nothing about it. The loyalty of werewolves still staggered me and made me so angry I could have brought the whole damned place down around their stupid freaking furry ears.

  If not for the tiny child sitting on the throne. Who reminded me of my own kids, formed a knot in my throat, rage building past my grief for Prince Yanis while Charlotte glided with deadly grace toward the tall, beautiful blonde behind the throne. Olena watched her daughter’s approach with a detached expression. They looked so much alike, though as I neared I realized the difference.

  Charlotte had become lychos, embraced her full wolf, her full power. Olena had lost her humanity years ago and never got it back. It showed in the calculating look in her eyes, in the wolf like stare she leveled at her daughter. How had I missed it?

  You didn’t, my demon sent sadly. We all felt it. Never trusted her.

  We just didn’t know why, my vampire sent. But our fiery sister is correct.

  So sad, Shaylee sent. What will we do with Charlotte?

  “Mother.” Charlotte’s voice shook. “Tell me it’s not true.”

  Olena’s head tilted to one side, a decidedly wolfish gesture. “You know it is,” she said, voice calm and low. Charlotte’s voice. There had been a time I thought my werefriend emotionless, cold. I had no idea what cold really was.

  Charlotte’s body twitched, the power of her magic surging as she openly fought the physical change to wolf. I was right about the difference in Sass. The wolf didn’t coexist with Charlotte, but was just another version of her form. Sassafras, on the other hand, existed in two places at once. I could see it even now, as I held him in my arms, the young man he’d become. Crystal clear with white sorcery flowing around him, dividing my vision while it made things all the more vibrant.

  Freaky. And a little scary. I’d thought the power I’d taken from Zoe didn’t have an effect on me. But, was I wrong? Was it just taking a bit to show up? I really needed a few minutes to sit and look inside, to see what was happening, chase down the paths of the power and where it was going.

  No time for that. Later. Right now, what I really needed was to focus.

  Charlotte had it covered. “It was you who sold the werenation out to the mafia.” Her words had bite, power behind them. “It was you who turned us over to normals. And Danilo covered for you.”

  “Your brother’s grief made it simple,” Olena said, as though telling us the weather was lovely today.

  Charlotte seemed to sag a little, appearing almost like Oleksander a moment. Here was the downfall of the werenation. Not their pride. But their inability to accept one of their own might betray them so badly. “Why, Mother?” I was certain my werefriend would hate herself for the plaintive note in her voice once she’d had a moment to think it through. When this was over. Maybe now she wasn’t even aware of it.

  “The werenation has been too long in the dark,” Olena said, perfectly reasonable as the wolf she had been and remained spoke. “I understood this long ago, Sharlotta. From the moment my wolf form claimed me. And swore if I ever regained human form I would see to it the world knew of us. And our superiority.”

  Here I thought it had been Belaisle who influenced Danilo. And, perhaps he had, at that. Through Olena?

  “I was wrong about you,” Charlotte said, sadness showing at last. “Those years you spent lost to us, they damaged you beyond repair. Didn’t they?”

  Olena didn’t comment.

  “Did you have anything to do with the kidnapping of Femke Svennson?” Maybe I should have stayed out of it, but we were here for more than a confession about the werenation from Charlotte’s mother. Femke had to be a priority.

  While Max’s small things chastisement whispered in my head. But Femke wasn’t a small thing.

  Was she?

  Olena’s attitude never changed. “Yes,” she said.

  Charlotte snapped, but I was expecting it, held her back as her wolf form surged to the fore. I let her shift part way, but held her from attacking her mother physically.

  “You arranged for my brother to be sentenced to death,” Charlotte growled through her muzzle, clothing straining against her partially altered form. “And kidnapped the leader of the World Paranormal Council.” Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Mother,” she gasped. “Tell me you had nothing to do with Yana.”

  No. Dear elements—

  “She was in the way,” Olena said simply, sealing her fate.

  I let Charlotte go. There was nothing else to do. While her nephew watched, Charlotte charged up the steps and dove for her mother as my heart constricted for Danilo’s kids. For poor, dead Yana, the werequeen, murdered by vampires, but by the helping hand of her own mother-in-law.

  Olena dodged Charlotte as though expecting the attack—why wouldn’t she? And stepped into a black tunnel before her daughter could stop her, disappearing while Charlotte lunged. Missing her mother by inches as the portal collapsed.

  Sorcery.

  Olena had help, apparently.

  Charlotte stood on the steps and
howled at the ceiling while the line of wereguards followed suit. She panted as she regained human form, the tatters of her clothing hanging around her. Little Yanis watched with huge eyes, not crying like a normal three year old, but close to it. She stared down at him, body shaking, head bowed.

  “Sharlotta.” Oleksander sank to one knee at the bottom of the dais as the rest of the werewolves echoed his action. “I beg you.” He gestured around him. “We beg you. There is no one else.”

  She looked up, met my eyes. Anguish at war with hate battling grief so deep I almost looked away. But didn’t. She needed me to see, just as she’d needed me to know what Andre did to her.

  And, at long last, as though it were inevitable despite her best efforts, Sharlotta Moreau lifted her nephew from the dias and set him in his great-grandfather’s arms before turning and claiming her throne.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Six

  I sat with my werefriend, careful not to push her too hard emotionally. Struggled to keep my voice light, my questions on business. But I could feel the cracks in her veneer, the way the title—hastily bestowed, within minutes of her sitting on the throne, as though Oleksander didn’t trust her not to run—chafed around the edges of her psyche.

  Queen Sharlotta turned from the office window she stared out of to meet my eyes, redressed in fresh clothing, though, to me, every inch the ruler the werenation needed. The large, wood paneled room seemed to want to swallow her, but she shone too bright to let it. I just hoped that remained the case. “Now we have confirmation of the mafia’s involvement,” she said, my Charlotte no matter what title held her in thrall, “we can locate Femke.”

  “How are they blocking her magic?” They had to be keeping her from contacting us somehow. I refused to think she might be dead, lost to us forever. Killing her and hiding the body did make sense, though, as much as I hated to admit it. But until I held her cold, dead hand in mine I wouldn’t give up on her.

  “I’ll find out.” Iosif seemed altered by what he’d witnessed in the throne room. He looked at Charlotte differently, with a hint of awe, had lost the last of his smarminess. Now just a small man with a receding hairline and a look of pensive hope, he watched her with wide eyes and spoke with respect. “If they do have her, as we now know they must, she will be with Nikolay.” He turned to me. “The head of the Russian mob I answered to. Nickolay Vetrov.”

  “You do that.” I stood, hating to go. But Mom had to know about this and it didn’t seem right to tell her through mental touch. She deserved to hear it direct from Charlotte or me. And I was the only one available.

  Or so I thought. My werefriend gestured to Oleksander who hovered in the background. “I’m going to Hong Kong,” she said, while he muttered a protest. “I will not be the kind of werequeen who sits on the sidelines and allows things to happen to her people.” I almost cheered, despite the darkness of their situation. “I’ve summoned Sage.” Right, her mate. He’d support her no matter what she decided. But this would be a blow to both of them, considering the werenation didn’t acknowledge their mating. I firmly believed Charlotte would do away with that prejudice as soon as she had a minute. By force if necessary. And I’d be right there to back her up. “He will act as my Prince Consort and coordinate with me.”

  Oleksander simply nodded. Hurdle jumped. Awesome.

  Moments later, I was stepping through the veil and into Mom’s office, following Charlotte who led the way. Sassafras hummed a soft note of distress at the Enforcer power that enveloped us, pushing back with his own, but a gesture from Mom cut Quaid off.

  Quaid. What the hell was he thinking? I glared at him while Charlotte ignored him, shoulders back, nostrils flaring.

  “Council Leader Hayle,” she said in a voice that carried, echoing with power. “There has been a change of leadership in the werenation.” Mom didn’t comment, nodding for her to go on. “I have ascended the throne and take full responsibility for my people.”

  Syd, Mom sent, short and fast. What happened?

  Not pretty, I sent back. Just hear her out.

  Charlotte told Mom everything, including her own mother’s betrayal of Danilo.

  “You understand your brother is still complicit,” Mom said carefully.

  Charlotte waved off her politicospeak. “I care less about Danilo,” she said in her best cold werewoman voice, “and more about the future of my people.”

  Mom nodded again. “The WPC will support you in every manner possible,” she said.

  “That’s not why I’m here.” So much disdain. Mom flinched from it, though I could understand Charlotte’s position. My mother’s tone had to feel like condescension.

  Careful, I sent. She’s lost most of her family to betrayal.

  Mom cleared her throat. “Tell me what I can do for the werenation.”

  Charlotte unwound just enough I was no longer worried she’d snap.

  Thank you, I sent to Mom.

  “We have reason to believe,” Charlotte said, “Council Leader Svennson is in the possession of the Russian mafia, thanks to the interference of Olena Moreau.”

  Quaid surged forward, eyes and face hungry, almost mad with need. “Where is she?”

  It had to be eating at him, that Femke was taken on his watch. I knew how important family was to Quaid, how long he struggled with the fact the Moromonds used him after killing his parents and stealing him from them, the loss of his poor, mad sister, Mia. The betrayal of the Dumonts. Femke was his adopted family. Losing her while he was meant to protect her would be as bad to him as losing Gabriel or Ethie.

  Or me?

  I reached out to him, but he blocked me as he’d been blocking me the last little while. I tried not to hold it against him as Charlotte spoke directly to him at last.

  “We’re still looking,” she said, staring down her nose at him, though out of her own anger or because of the way he’d been treating me I had no idea. “When we locate her, we’ll let you know.”

  “Not good enough.” Quaid spun on Mom, shaking in his anger and eagerness. “Miriam.”

  Mom frowned at me. We need in on this, Syd.

  I know, I sent. Just be gentle. She’s in no shape to be pushed around.

  Speak for yourself, Charlotte interjected. You want in, Miriam? Respect the werenation.

  Mom nodded, abrupt and professional. “The Enforcers will partner with you in this search,” she said.

  “Considering the Enforcers and this entire council were reticent in accepting this as a possibility,” Charlotte shot back, “it’s on the werenation to complete the search.”

  Politics. I was going to knock both of their heads together.

  “Might I make a suggestion?” We all turned to find Iosif shivering as if freezing, eyes huge. Quaid’s glare alone set him aquiver like a bowl of jelly, but Charlotte gestured for him to go on. “A small group might be wisest? Myself, for one.” He sounded like he was shocked to be offering. Gulped and went on. “I can sneak two others into the organization as my bodyguards. We can uncover the location of the missing person,” he cleared his throat as Quaid growled, “and then organize a retrieval.”

  Charlotte didn’t get to say a word. “Agreed,” Mom said almost instantly. The new werequeen turned and met my mother’s eyes before nodding slowly. “Quaid,” she turned to my husband who almost leaped in eagerness.

  Mom. I hit her with power and disapproval. Bad idea.

  He’ll go even if I tell him not to, she sent. Now hush.

  Sigh.

  “And Sage.” Charlotte nodded once, as if to herself. “The perfect pair of bullies.”

  I felt better knowing her levelheaded mate would be there to counter my own if something went wrong.

  “And no one,” I prodded Quaid with power, “acts on anything,” I prodded him again while he threw up shields that did nothing to block me, “without a plan and permission.”

  Mom’s magic flickered around my husband. “Agreed,” she said after a moment. And a private conversa
tion with him, obviously. He didn’t look happy, but at least he was listening.

  Would wonders never cease?

  Not sure how you managed that, I sent to my mother as Charlotte turned away. You’ll have to teach me sometime.

  I’m not finished with you, young lady, she sent to me, sharp and angry. We still have to talk about the Belaisle situation.

  It was very, very hard not to snap back at her. Instead I retreated, leaving them all behind, only Sass in my arms. The office door swung shut behind me as they discussed their plan of action. A plan I intended to stay out of.

  At least, until they found Femke. Then I’d go in and get her. Personally. Might piss off my husband, but screw that. He was already mad at me.

  Instead, I carried the silver Persian to my mother’s temporary quarters, following the familiar touch of my father’s power, until I passed through the plain wooden door and into a long, low room. Dad stood from the sofa where he sat with Galleytrot, coming to embrace me. I had about half a second to deposit Sass on the other couch before Dad’s arms crushed me against him.

  “You okay?” He leaned away, blue eyes worried.

  “Shouldn’t I be?” So much had happened in the last little while. Which awful thing was he referring to?

  “Your mother was furious,” he said. “I thought she was going to disown you.”

  Ah. That awful thing.

  I crossed to Galleytrot, gave him a scratch behind his ears while Sass settled on the sofa to groom his paws and face. Not that I thought even for a second his show of casualness was anything but.

  “She’ll get over it,” I said, sighing out my frustration. “Sorry you’re always in the middle of it.”

  “There was a time,” he said with a smile, “I could go back to Demonicon to escape you two.”

  “Hardy har har,” I said.

  “I know you’re under a lot of stress, cupcake,” he said. “But so is your mother.”

  Duh.