Lycan Legacy - 4 - 5 - 6: Princess - Progeny - Paladin: Book 4 - 5 - 6 in the Lycan Legacy Series

by Veronica Singer

  I had a big smile on my face, proud of the endowment that Mason had snagged for us. I expected everyone to share my mood, but there were somber faces around the table.

  I didn't need werewolf senses to determine the source of their discomfort. A new man was seated at the head of the table. My seat. He had red hair, thick glasses, and a prissy attitude. Deployed in front of him was a stack of reports.

  Our new attorney, Briar Frostroot, sat at his left. Body language and scent told me he had nothing to do with this scene.

  "Thank you for coming," the newcomer said, and I hated him immediately. He had the same ‘I'm from the government and I’m here to help’ tone that Rooster had used at the mine.

  I used a touch of my loudspeaker spell. "No," I said, overpowering him, "I'll thank you to tell me who the hell you are and why you're interrupting my meeting."

  "I'm Director Whiton from the Department of Health and Human Services. We have received some disturbing reports. Your hospital is under probation. And this is hardly your meeting, young lady. This hospital is subject to the strictest control."

  "What reports?"

  "I would hardly expect someone without actuarial training to understand the ramifications of these complaints or the methodology used to arrive at our conclusions. You're only a high-school graduate."

  "'Only a high-school graduate’?" I said. "What makes you think that?"

  "We have impeccable sources. You don't have the training to understand these reports."

  "Try me." I showed teeth and the people on either side of him slid away as far as possible.

  What followed was a string of bureaucratic BS that ended with him saying, "So these morbidity and mortality rates are too far out of tolerance to allow this hospital to continue to function." He brushed his fingernails on his breast. "This recent donation can be better redirected to a more suitable hospital."

  “You think you can force us to give away a private donation?”

  “Well,” he held out his palms and shrugged, “if your hospital is closed down due to these infractions, it would seem a shame to simply return it to the Yates Foundation.”

  Mason had been right about money bringing out the scavengers.

  I looked at his printout. The math was simple compared to what Mason had drilled me on during training.

  "Is the Delta for our hospital negative or positive?"

  He seemed surprised. "Negative, much too far negative to be dismissed."

  "Excuse me for my bluntness. You want to steal fifty million dollars from our hospital because not enough of our patients died?"

  There were some giggles all around. Mr. "I'm here to help" turned red.

  I looked at the printout again. "So, speaking theoretically, if you were accidentally slip and fall out of that twelve-story window, and then croaked in the ER, our numbers would be better?"

  "Are you threatening me, young lady?"

  "More a promise than a threat, my lad," I said.

  "'Lad’? Is that supposed to be an insult?"

  "You stomp into my boardroom, sit in my chair, insult my intelligence, and then get offended?"

  I turned away before I did something regrettable. Briar murmured in Fae, "If I may intercede, milady?"

  I crossed my arms and nodded. Mason reached from behind and placed his hands on my shoulders. His way of offering support, but leaving the decisions to me.

  Instead of addressing the bureaucrat, Briar turned and addressed our insurance expert. "Don't all state employees have the same insurance carrier?"

  "Yeeesss," she said slowly. "The Nevada Public Employee's Benefits Program."

  "And we can choose whether or not to accept patients with PEBP insurance?" Briar asked.

  "Theoretically. But that would be a drastic move."

  "A drastic move," repeated Briar. "But perhaps necessary."

  "I like drastic moves," I said. "We can live without these assholes. We'll stop treating PEBP patients." There was a lot of head-shaking and murmurs of "No" from around the table. Except for Briar.

  I turned to him. "I can do that, right?"

  "We can. We'll get sued." He suddenly smiled and rubbed his hands together. "But while the suit is ongoing, PEBP members won't be able to use our facilities." His smile broadened, reminding me of a shark. "We can spin this as a positive, stating that we don't want to influence the outcome of the lawsuit."

  I grinned at Whiton. "See? Isn't that a creative solution? No windows involved. If you follow through on stealing our endowment, we'll change our acceptance policy."

  His face grew red as I leaned in and gave him my canine-exposing smile, the smile that frightened most humans.

  "Now you won't have to subject yourself and all your government flunkies to the ministrations of the hospital that has their statistics so far out of tolerance."

  "You can't do that! The EMTALA regulations forbid denying service."

  "Isn't that just for the emergency room?"

  My lawyer interrupted, "And it doesn't apply. We won't turn away any patients, they'll just have to pay full fees if they want to be treated at this hospital."

  I inhaled to be certain, then placed a hand on my heart. "That will be great. If you come here for that fatty liver disease or your thyroid malfunction, you'll have to mortgage your house to pay for the best care."

  I leaned across the table, getting into his personal space. He edged back slightly, unable to tear his eyes away from my impossible claws.

  "If you ever seek treatment in my hospital, you'll get the very best of care. We'll spare no expense to ensure a full recovery. And I'll spare no expense suing you for every penny you have. I'll end up owning your home in Henderson."

  He tried blustering, "You can't threaten me! I work for the government!" Then he added, "How did you know I live in Henderson?"

  Briar interceded, saying, "I believe you will find that the legal definition of a threat implies an illegal action. I am certain we are on solid legal ground; thus this statement cannot be construed as a threat."

  But Whiton persisted. "We'll tie this hospital up in reviews and inspections. You'll have to close down. We won't stop until we raze this place to the ground!"

  "Now that, my dear sir, is a threat," said Briar. "A threat that will cause enough negative press that you'll be voted out of office."

  Like pricking a balloon, Whiton's bluster faded. He shook his head and responded, "I'm not an elected official. You can't vote me out of my job."

  "But the man who gave you this job is elected," said Briar. "Perhaps it's time for new leadership in the governor's office?" He crossed his arms, leaned back, and smiled. "I wonder how many of your PEBP clients are registered voters?"

  I retracted my claws, happy with this outcome: sending Whiton back to his office with his tail between his legs. Then Briar proved his worth by doing something I would never do.

  "There's an alternative," Briar said. "An alternative with a positive outcome for all concerned." The way his voice trailed off had everyone leaning forward in anticipation.

  "Alternative?" asked Whiton.

  Briar pursed his lips, as if savoring a treat, and looked up to the ceiling.

  He continued, "Assume, for a moment, that you didn't come here today to abscond with a fifty-million-dollar endowment; not to utter preposterous threats to 'raze this hospital to the ground;' not to threaten us because we have more positive outcomes than any other hospital in the state.

  "Assume you had come here to praise us for our success, to request we allow other hospitals to learn from us, to congratulate us on obtaining an endowment that will enable us to treat more patients."

  Briar leaned forward and said with passion, "Assume you came here to negotiate a considerable discount for those covered by PEBP. For all those voters."

  Briar looked at me and quirked an eyebrow. "Say fifteen percent?" I nodded acceptance.

  Briar waved a hand, "Of course, the governor will take credit. Which will undoubtedly ensure his re-electi
on. But anyone of any substance will know it was you here in the boardroom who spearheaded the negotiation."

  Whiton was an ass, but he wasn't stupid. "Counselor, you took the words out of my mouth. I'm happy we came to a mutually positive outcome."

  16

  "So, Luna," asked my therapist. "How many people did you kill this week?"

  "None that didn't deserve it," I responded.

  Dr. Ana Gabriela Patrizia, M.D., D.O., Wiccan, fortuneteller, and my witch-doctor therapist, raised her eyebrow and commented, "An evasive answer usually indicates that the truth would be viewed negatively."

  Then she waited, matching my gaze. As she was a devout pacifist, her stare didn't trigger an assault reflex from my wolf side. Even the wolf knew she was only trying to help.

  To avoid her gaze, I looked around her office. The walls were painted in a calming beige color. Only I knew that solid concrete was behind that paint. The carpet on the floor had a futuristic pattern that concealed a powerful pentagram symbol; the center of the pentagram held the comfy couch I sat on. The door appeared to be a solid wooden door, but was solid steel with a veneer. Retractable bolts in the door allowed this room to contain almost any supernatural.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled. The cinnamon cookies that Dr. Patrizia stocked for her clients were still warm from the oven and made my mouth water. I smelled Dr. Patrizia—the combination of her scent, her light perfume, and that indefinable odor that confirmed she was a witch all combined to mark her.

  I opened my eyes and watched the doctor. She could wait a long time for an answer, perfectly comfortable sitting in her chair just outside the pentagram, one pantsuit-covered leg crossed over the other. On a table next to her sat the plate of cookies, cookies I wouldn't get to touch until the session was over. Did that make her a Pavlovian? Or just a woman with a good sense of what motivates patients?

  Her dangling foot started tapping, the only sign she was growing impatient. I decided to answer. She already knew I led a dangerous life, knew many of my secrets; what were a few more?

  "Killed? Not many at all," I said.

  "Killed or injured, then," she said. Not giving me much wiggle room.

  I looked down at my fingers and counted. "Well, there was the supervisor of the roofing crew that tried to rip off my neighbor. Several members of his crew." I halted, then corrected myself. "Wait! Several of the crew were taken out by my pack. Only four of the crew, plus the grandmother. So, five? I think?"

  "You counted higher than five on your fingers when I asked you the question." Oh yeah, she was also very observant.

  "Oh. Downtown, a mugger tried to steal my purse. Does he really count?"

  "They all count, Luna."

  "Okay, they all count. It was six." I hesitated a moment. "Six humans."

  Dr. Patrizia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Six humans? And the others?"

  "A Fae assassin showed up on my doorstep, draped in invisibility and carrying a silver weapon." I growled.

  "What happened to him? Was there a chance he wasn't sent as an assassin?"

  I pulled up my maternity top and showed her the jagged scar where the assassin had stabbed me with a silver dagger. Even now, it was angry and red. Looking at it brought back the rage I had felt in the moment.

  "Once she stabbed me, I knew it was me or her. She came within a hair of killing my cubs."

  Dr. Patrizia looked slightly green as I pulled down the top. "I thought you could heal from almost any wound?"

  "For a silver-induced scar, I would have to shift to wolf. I can't do that without endangering the babies."

  "I didn't know that. Still, you might have avoided violence."

  "No chance. She attacked as soon as she figured out that I could smell her. As for what happened to her, she's werewolf scat in the middle of the desert. She was alive when I turned her over to the pack, but she didn't last long as prey once we took away that invisibility suit and silver weapon."

  Dr. Patrizia shuddered at the anger in my voice and the image I had put in her head.

  "So, seven? Goddess, that's a lot."

  "There's more. I visited the Guildmaster of the League of Assassins in Fae. I asked him to stop sending assassins. He laughed at me. I presented my argument more forcefully. Neither he nor his guard survived the discussion."

  "That's very vague."

  "You don't want to hear the details."

  The doctor took a sip of water. "Perhaps not." She leaned forward. "How did these actions make you feel?"

  "How did I feel? I felt relief. Relief that these killers were no longer around to hurt me, the pack, or my cubs." I rubbed my belly and felt a kick.

  "You felt no joy in the killings?"

  I closed my eyes and recalled those intense moments: the blood-red rage of a wolf, the wrath of a mother protecting her children, the satisfaction of a job well done. "Not joy. Nothing like that."

  I rubbed the scar and blinked back tears. “I’m worried sick that the cubs might have been affected by the silver.”

  “Don’t worry, they’ll both be fine.”

  “Both! How do you know that?”

  “I shouldn’t have told you that. You know predicting the future has consequences.”

  “What else can you tell me? Will they be healthy? Will they grow up without suffering? Will they be happy?”

  “I’ve said too much. Anyway, my predictions come in flashes and jumbled images. All I can tell you-all I know is that they will be born healthy.”

  “You could have told me sooner,” I pouted. “Sonograms don’t work on me. Dad’s magical senses couldn’t penetrate my werewolf hide. We were worried I would have six or seven. It would have been nice to know I would have twins.”

  “I really can’t tell you any more than that. Telling people their future causes migraines.”

  “Okay, I won’t insist.”

  I looked away and used my ‘change the subject’ tone. “So, what do you think about blue for the nursery? Or maybe a light shade of pink?”

  Dr. Patrizia laughed and shook her head. “I’m not going to tell you anything! I just wanted you to stop worrying about the twins.”

  “Thank you, doctor. That’s one less worry.”

  “Let’s get back to your issues. Do you think you did everything possible to avoid violence?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  “Still, that’s a lot of violent interactions in a short time.”

  “I tried. I tried really hard. I gave every one of them a chance to do the right thing. Even the assassins.”

  I took a long drink of water to have time to think. What was that phrase Mike used? "I'm a warrior. Anyone who points a weapon at me gets what they deserve."

  "That doesn't sound like something you would say."

  "No," I admitted. "It's what Mike said when someone asked him the same question." I mused for a minute. "Although Mike said he has to confess whenever he kills someone in the line of duty."

  Dr. Patrizia tilted her head in query. "Do you think going to confession would help you?"

  "I've never been very religious. Just Sunday-school stuff when I was a kid. I don't know if I believe in God with a capital G." I took another drink of water. "Although Mason told me he once met an angel."

  "An angel?" The doctor sounded dubious.

  "You exorcise demons from children and bind them. Is it so hard to believe in angels? If demons exist, angels should exist."

  I nodded my head to indicate a free-standing cabinet against the wall. Hidden inside were magical traps, created by Mason expressly to trap demons.

  I tilted my head to listen. Yeah, my old demon was still there. Along with the others, he was whispering threats and blandishments to entice anyone to let them escape. Another reason Dr. Patrizia's office was built like a bank vault.

  "You know, I could get rid of all of those demons you have trapped here. Take them off your hands permanently."

  "There's still hope that they will change."

 
; I laughed. "What's that saying? 'A demon is just a sick angel.' I've never heard of a demon reforming. Maybe if they had an angel therapist?"

  "None of my sisters has ever encountered an angel."

  "Yeah, Mason said they don't interact with humans much." I mused a moment. "He also said that the 'angel' could have been a being from a higher plane that was masquerading."

  Dr. Patrizia shook her head. "Fascinating. I wish Mason could come to me for a few sessions."

  "Doesn't that mean you would have to drop me?"

  "You're right. You're my patient. Seeing Mason too would compromise our rapport."

  "Anyway, talking with you is much better than going to confession. I don't have to say any Hail Marys or get sprinkled with holy water."

  "Instead of penance, I want you to think of ways you could avoid violence. Just because you're good at violence, maybe a bit too good, doesn't mean that it’s always the best answer."

  "An alternative to violence?" I laughed and said, "Can't I just say some Hail Marys?"

  "I'm here to provide you with some insight and some tools so you don't have to resort to violence at every turn."

  "I'll try, Doctor. Hey, we just hired a new lawyer. He's good at conflict resolution. He already got the hospital agency to back off from closing us down."

  Her nose twitched, a sign I had tickled her curiosity. "I would love to hear the story."

  I detailed how Briar had avoided the conflict with the government representative who had wanted to force us to re-direct our donation.

  Dr. Patrizia absorbed the story with a smile on her face. Then she pointed out how Briar had used some redirecting techniques to come to a peaceful resolution.

  “Okay, Doctor, I understand. I’ll do my best to avoid unnecessary violence.”

  She wrote a note in her pad, then looked out the window. Her way of changing the subject.

  “Do you have any friends, Luna?”

  “What? Of course I do. There’s my pack, Naomi and Kuga, Mason, Mom and Dad…” Why couldn’t I think of any more friends?

  “Didn’t you have to beat up every one of your pack to become the alpha?”