Leader Of The Pack

by Karen McInerney

  She said something else, but I’m not sure what. Tom hung up the phone and wrapped his arms around me. After years of working to get to the top at Withers and Young, suddenly the partnership I’d just given up was the very last thing on my mind. We’d spent the next half hour exploring possibilities that I’d only ever fantasized about. It had been a most pleasurable thirty minutes.

  Now, as we bumped down the road to the ranch, Tom squeezed my leg, reminding me that in a few minutes I’d be doing my first stint as the new Houston alpha. One of the first things I’d do, I’d decided, would be to move the headquarters to Austin. I glanced over at Tom, suppressing the thought that had kept surfacing since I’d made the decision to try out the alpha thing.

  It’s too soon to think about that, I told myself, hoping his mind-reading skills weren’t in full operation.

  In deference to my broken leg, Isabella had moved the ceremony to the clearing where the original bonfire had been held, in the center of the farmhouse compound. Just as it had been the first week, the clearing was full of werewolves, all of whom watched our little caravan with a look of curiosity and suspicion. You’ll have to be strong, Tom had told me. You’ve won the position, but you have to show them you can hack it.

  “I never knew there were so many of them!” my mother breathed as we got out of the car. Lindsey and Heath, who had been following in Lindsey’s Miata, parked next to us and joined us as we headed toward the gold and blue tent that until yesterday had been Wolfgang’s.

  A hush fell over the group as we made our way through, and I didn’t think it was just because I’d brought my human mother along. Even though I hadn’t officially been consecrated, or crowned, or whatever it was that made the whole alpha thing official, I made my way directly to the big wooden chair and plunked my bottom down on it, trying to look like I belonged there. My father took the throne next to mine, beckoning for chairs for my mother and for Tom. Wolfgang’s former underlings hurried to do his bidding.

  It seemed an eternity before Isabella took the center podium and got everyone to quiet down, and after several minutes of the entire group staring at me with an unsettling mixture of curiosity and hostility, I was starting to wonder whether I’d made the right decision. My father, seeming to sense my concern, leaned over and whispered, “Have no fear. You’re a natural.”

  Tom, too, gave me an encouraging smile. And a moment later, thankfully, Isabella got down to business.

  “Thank you all for extending your stay at the Howl,” she said. “As you know, due to unforeseen circumstances, there has been a regime change, and we are here to ratify it tonight.”

  There was a murmur among the crowd. The other alphas were watching me intently; I could feel their eyes like holes burning into me.

  “Luc Garou, alpha of the Paris pack, has bested former Houston alpha Wolfgang Graf in a duel. Although the throne by rights belongs to him, he has ceded it to his daughter, Sophie Garou, who then bested Elena Tenorio, who was a contender for the position.” I suddenly wondered what had happened to Elena and the pleather boys. Were they still here somewhere? Tom had told me not to kill Elena, and I was glad I hadn’t. But if she was still at large, I’d have to watch my back.

  Then again, as alpha, that came with the territory.

  Isabella turned to me. “Sophie Garou, will you please step forward?”

  I didn’t exactly step forward, but I managed to gather my crutches and hobble over in what I hoped was a regal manner.

  Isabella stared at me with impenetrable eyes. “Sophie Garou,” she said solemnly. “Do you accept the mantle of alpha of the Houston pack?”

  “I do,” I said. Since I no longer had a job, I’d decided to make it official—and, hopefully, permanent.

  “Have you selected a consort?”

  My eyes darted to Tom, who was watching me impassively. “No,” I said, feeling my stomach flutter. “Not yet.”

  “Will you lead and protect your pack, and swear to abide by the Code?”

  No one had told me I’d have to swear to abide by the Code. Although I didn’t think it would be too hard to limit myself to two murders per month. “I will,” I said.

  Isabella turned to one of her underlings, who handed her a document, a fountain pen, and a knife. She took them and then held them out to me. “Sign the document, and it will be done.”

  I took a moment to review the document, which pretty much summed up what she’d just said, and glanced around, hoping someone would offer me a nice rollerball pen. Unfortunately, however, rollerballs hadn’t been around when the Code was written. So I took the knife, reflecting that I’d donated a whole lot of blood to the werewolf cause over the last couple of days. Closing my eyes, I ran the sharp blade down my forearm, just as I’d seen Wolfgang do.

  The pain seared me for a moment, then faded to a dull throbbing. I grabbed the pen as best I could with my bandaged hand and dipped it into the welling blood. Then I started to sign my name at the bottom of the document. By the time I finished a clumsy rendering of my name, it had taken four returns to the well, so to speak, and the cut was already starting to close.

  Isabella examined the document, then rolled it up and handed it to me. She turned to her underlings again as they handed her something small and gold. It was a ring, suspended from a long chain.

  “By the power of this assembly, I name you, Sophie Garou, alpha of the Houston pack, with all the powers and property associated with that rank.” She lifted the chain over my head, so that the ring came to rest against my breastbone.

  “Congratulations,” she murmured, her eyes twinkling, and then the silence was broken by a burst of applause from the Houston tent. I glanced over to see my father, who had risen to his feet and was clapping loudly, accompanied by my mother, Lindsey, Heath, and Tom.

  A moment later, the rest of the werewolves followed suit, and soon the applause thundered around me, accompanied by a chorus of loud, haunting howls.

  I was now alpha of the Houston pack.

  When everyone had gone, except for Lindsey, Heath, Tom, and my parents, who were snacking on leftover barbecue in the main farmhouse, I hobbled out to the porch and sat down on a rocking chair, examining for the fortieth time that day the ring Isabella had given me. I’d pardoned the three made werewolves, who had immediately petitioned to join my pack, and after meeting with the other alphas and the members of my new constituency to receive their congratulations—except Jean-Louis, who felt the need to leave immediately—I was exhausted.

  My father had spent the rest of the day filling me in on all the family history I’d missed and begging me to come visit him in Paris. While what he had to tell me was fascinating, and finally filled in the yawning void that had been his side of my family, I found myself having a hard time focusing. I was dog-tired, and I still hadn’t come to terms with everything that happened.

  Now, as I rocked on the porch, I stared at the gold ring Isabella had presented me. It was a signet ring, and on the face of it was a wolf with golden eyes and fierce, ivory teeth, which glowed slightly in the light of the waning moon. I shivered to look at it, and let it fall from my fingers. It came to rest on my breastbone again, feeling strangely heavy. As soon as I got home, I decided, I would head to the bank and put it in the safe deposit box. I didn’t want to lose it, but I didn’t like wearing it, either.

  As the crickets chirred around me, the screen door slammed shut. I could tell by the change in the air that it was Tom. He sat in the chair next to mine, and we sat in silence for a few minutes, staring at the moon.

  “How are you doing?” he asked finally.

  “I’m okay, I guess,” I said. “Tired.”

  “That’s to be expected. It’s been a long week.” He was silent again for a moment. “Are you still comfortable with your decision?”

  “I think so,” I said, turning to look at him. His eyes gleamed in the pale light of the moon, and I felt a stirring at the sight of him. “My father killed an old friend of yours yesterday. I’m
sorry.”

  He shrugged. “My sister loved Wolfgang. I felt I owed him a debt for being a good husband to her, and we have been allies in the past. But when he turned on you …” He trailed off.

  “Thank you,” I said after a long moment. The question I wanted to ask bubbled up inside me, but I pushed it down. Instead I said, “I’ve been wondering about the ring Elena ripped off of my hand. Will you go with me to see if it’s still there?”

  “It’s a long walk on crutches,” he said. “And with your hand wounded …”

  I hoisted myself to my feet. “I’ll manage.”

  And manage I did, but not without a good bit of discomfort. Even with Tom’s help, my hand was throbbing and my armpits were bruised from the pressure of the crutches by the time we reached the clearing where my father had killed Wolfgang the day before. I could still smell the coppery scent of blood.

  “It was over here,” he said quietly, walking over to the grassy knoll where Elena and I had battled. I couldn’t see the blood, but I could smell it.

  “I should have brought a flashlight,” I said, bending down to peer at the ground.

  “If it’s here,” he said, “we’ll find it.”

  We searched the area for a good half hour, pushing the bunches of grass aside and sifting through dry leaves, but the ring was nowhere to be found. Finally, after the fourth time through, I decided I’d had enough.

  “He must have taken it back,” I said.

  “Good riddance,” Tom growled.

  I was glad it was gone, but worried that I couldn’t find it. Privately I resolved to come back when it was light. If Mark hadn’t somehow retrieved his magic ring, I needed to know it wasn’t where someone else would discover it.

  The pain was so bad I was gritting my teeth by the time we were halfway back to the main farmhouse. “Let me carry you,” Tom said softly.

  “But the crutches …”

  “I’ll come back for them,” he said, gently removing them from me. When he’d leaned them up against an oak, he gathered me into his arms, and I let my head rest against his chest as he carried me back to the farmhouse.

  We had almost reached the porch when the question burst out of me.

  “Tom,” I said. “Will you be my co-alpha?”

  He stopped, looking down at me. Then, without answering, he kissed me.

  “Is that a yes?” I gasped when he released me.

  “It’s a definite maybe,” he said, and although his rejection stung, the glint in his eyes made my heart leap with hope.

  “Will you at least think about it? And stay awhile?”

  “Of course,” he said, and kissed me again.

  I woke in Tom’s arms, sometime in the middle of the night, feeling like something had brushed against me. Disentangling myself from him, I sat up, eyes scanning the room, adrenaline rushing through my veins.

  Nothing.

  I considered waking Tom, then decided against it; instead, I reached for my crutches and hoisted myself to my feet. I hobbled to the window, sniffing hard, and caught a whiff of smoke.

  My body on full alert, I glanced back to the bed, where Tom was sleeping, and followed the scent to the bathroom, where I closed the door and flipped on the light.

  The light was harsh, and I shielded my eyes, but not before I caught a glint of something on the bathroom counter.

  It was the moon ring Mark had given me.

  I pulled back the shower curtain, half expecting to find a demon there, but the bathtub was empty.

  I stared at the ring for a long moment, pulled by the pearly sheen of the inset moon, the gleam of the silvery band. Using a washcloth, I gingerly picked it up, afraid to touch it with my own skin. I flipped open the lid of the toilet and held the ring over it.

  I don’t know how long I stood there, alone in the bathroom, holding the washcloth-wrapped ring over the basin of the toilet. Finally I stepped away, closing the lid and bundling the ring more tightly in the rough terrycloth. I stared at the bundle for a moment; then I wound a rubber band around it and tucked it into the back of my toiletry case, zipping it closed.

  Then I turned my back on it, flipped the light off, and hobbled back to my bed.

  And Tom.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank yous go first and foremost to my family—Eric, Abby, and Ian—for all their love and support; also to Dave and Carol Swartz and Ed and Dorothy MacInerney, for everything. Thanks also to Bethann and Beau Eccles (and Mara and Sam), who are such dear friends I consider them my adopted family; to my sister and the rest of the Potters; and to my fabulous grandmother, Marian Quinton (and Nora Bestwick).

  Many thanks to Jessica Faust, agent extraordinaire, who has been my partner throughout. Thanks also to Kate Collins, Kelli Fillingim, and the rest of the team at Ballantine for all their work to bring Sophie to the printed page; and to Thea Eaton for all her help on the Internet front.

  My deepest gratitude, of course, goes to the friends who help keep me sane—particularly Dana Lehman, Susan Wittig Albert, Michele Scott, Debbie Pacitti, Leslie Suez, Njambi Wanguhu, Mary Flanagan, Melanie Williams, Jo Virgil, and all my friends at the Westbank Library and my local coffee shop and bookstore. Thanks also to Austin Mystery Writers for their support and critical eyes: Mark Bentsen, Janet Christian, Dave Ciambrone, Judy Egner, Mary Jo Powell, and Manfred Reimann.

  Leader of the Pack is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A Ballantine Books Mass Market Original

  Copyright © 2009 by Karen MacInerney

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  BALLANTINE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  eISBN: 978-0-345-51509-4

  www.ballantinebooks.com [http://www.ballantinebooks.com]

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