Wolf's Bane: Book Three of the Demimonde

by Unknown

  I tapped on her door.

  She waved me in. "You're here ridiculously early."

  "Eh." I shrugged. "Traffic was light."

  "How was your weekend?"

  Where should I start? Hopefully, she wouldn't remark on the trousers and long sleeve shirt I wore to conceal the bruises. I busied myself at the coffee station, selecting an Earl Grey cup and popping it in the brewer. "You know. Same old, same old."

  She pulled her glasses off and sat back in her chair. "Jasmine won't be in anymore. She was involved in a car accident."

  "Oh, no." I stiffened. Better play it safe and not say anything to incriminate myself.

  Barb looked away. Her eyes were red and weary, and I knew she'd taken the news really hard. "Apparently she was with a guy. They were driving too fast. The car was demolished. They died at the scene."

  I set my cup on the desk and reached for her hand.

  "I just don't understand it." She shook her head, still having trouble processing the tragedy. "Jim and I did everything we could to get her on the right path. She was trouble in high school, she was dropping classes in college. When she began to practice Wicca with her—church group, I'm not sure what it's called—she leveled out. You know? She seemed happy. She changed her focus at the JC, taking more science and history. I thought, that's what she needed. Religion. A community. I don't know a damn thing about that religion but I know it made her a better person. And just when I thought she would be okay—"

  "Barb, I'm so sorry."

  "No. I'm the one who is sorry." She pulled herself together and reached down to open one of the desk drawers. "They recovered some things from the car. I think you'll recognize this."

  She set my cat lady coffee mug on the desk.

  My breath just about turned to gum in my throat and I choked. I'd forgotten I put that in my purse Friday. It had rolled out when my purse dumped in the car.

  Did she know I was in the car? Did she think--

  I just stared at the mug. I didn't know what else to do.

  "Yeah, well." Barb shook her head. "They thought it was hers. They gave it to me when we went to ident—I took one look at it and I knew. I knew."

  Her voice trembled. Not with sadness. Her words had too sharp an edge.

  "You think you know someone. You think that you have a relationship, that you have a good influence and then, this. You really find out the truth. All those tiny unspoken things you see in a person's eyes."

  Barb lifted her gaze and looked at me. "I'm so sorry, Sophie. I didn't know she was stealing from you. I don't know if she took anything else but I won't make excuses for her. I should have known."

  She fisted her mouth tight, forcing back something. The light in her eyes made me suspect it was a scream.

  Barb recovered from the flash of raw pain, smoothing her expression into more reserved lines. "But—did you ever know somebody that, no matter how screwed up they are, no matter how bad, did you ever feel like you could…save them? Redeem them? Get them to wake up and look at you and realize that you are completely ready to love and accept them? That if they'd only open their eyes, open their hearts to you, your love would be enough?"

  I turned my head, unable to stop the tears from swelling. Barb didn't know she was laying out my life, one soulmate at a time. One failure at a time.

  "Why do we try to save these hopeless cases?" Barb's voice was so plaintive, so bare. I could tell she needed me to tell her something wonderful and wise.

  I had no advice for her.

  I just didn't know.

  On Tuesday, the pack assembled at the Masons Lodge, courtesy of the local werewolves. It wasn't just Dierk's pack; it was the masters of each of the local packs, too. Dierk figured that if Stohl was going to be at a safe house for the next month, the pack leaders had to be in on it as well.

  I hadn't seen or heard from Dierk since he had driven me home on Sunday. He must have had a lot of internal stuff to sort out, between me and Stohl, so I didn't call. He needed the space and I didn't want to intrude. He sent a text overnight Monday, telling me he would send a car for me at lunch and I should be dressed.

  A little impersonal, but I wouldn't fault him for it. The king had a lot to deal with.

  Janssen picked me up and joked about shallow things. Every now and then I'd catch his eyes in the rearview mirror. He wasn't as light-hearted as his jokes would have me think. He looked nervous.

  I made him nervous.

  He led me into the lodge and escorted me to the front of the room where Dierk and Tancred sat, facing the assembly. A seat had been left open for me. As I walked to the front of the room, a murmur ran through the crowd.

  I recognized several of them from the weekend I spent in Dierk's court.

  Tancred wasted no time. "I am calling for protection for Dierk's woman. Will I have full swearing?"

  "For Dierk's mate? Of course," said the one of the pack leaders. "Whenever she is in our city, she can call on our pack for protection. She will be pack to us. You have our oath."

  "We agree with pack master Calhoun. Pack is pack," said another.

  "Yes," Dierk said. "But Sophie is not pack."

  Calhoun looked confused. "But you performed the Leni."

  "We did. Sophie did not change."

  "My condolences to you. And to you, as well," he said, and dipped a sympathetic nod toward me. "Our oath still stands, pack or not. The Moon has seen something in her worthy of Wolf. Sophie will be treated like one of our own."

  I breathed a tiny sigh of relief and said a prayer of thanks.

  "Thank you," said Dierk. "My entourage and I will be leaving very shortly, with the obvious exception of Stohl, who will be staying with you for an indefinite time."

  "About that," said one of the Were. "The reason for his stay is not so obvious. Is he injured?"

  "Yes." Tancred nodded.

  "Was it attack that injured him?"

  "No." Tancred was sticking to monosyllabic answers.

  The Were persisted. "Who did it?"

  "Sophie did," Dierk said.

  Calhoun choked. I smiled sweetly at him; if I could have dimpled, I would have. Dierk only raised his eyebrows at him and politely waited for him to regain his composure.

  "I underestimated you, Miss Sophie," the Were said.

  I shrugged. "No biggie."

  "We all underestimated her," said Dierk. "Apparently Sophie has unTurned Stohl."

  He said it the way someone would have said: apparently, Sophie has bought a new pair of Colin Stuarts. The only difference was that there were no admiring glances at my feet.

  A rumble went through the group. It sounded like muffled thunder.

  "That has never happened." Calhoun's eyes flashed pumpkin-bright.

  Tancred spread his hands. "It has now."

  "In legends, maybe."

  "And in truth," Dierk said. "How else do legends come to be?"

  "So, what is she?" Calhoun stole a furtive look at me, looking worried I might spring. "A witch? A god?"

  "We are not sure." Dierk still hadn't done more than glance at me. He'd squared his shoulders and addressed the assembly as if I wasn't present. Up until now, I figured, you know, king and all, has to do the courtly thing.

  But I've done the courtly thing with him. Now, I wasn't with him. The disconnect was acutely painful.

  "I had hoped that elder pack members may have some insight," Dierk said.

  Tancred briefly described what we knew, but it didn't take long to relay. Stohl bit Sophie and never changed again. End of story.

  Calhoun seemed to have taken the lead position for the assembly and left his seat in the group, walking up the aisle toward me. "And ever in your life, have you noticed anything strange about yourself?"

  "Sure," I said. "I can walk on my tiptoes and I read faster than anyone I've ever met. Oh, and I'm Sophia to the Demivampire."

  Can people bristle? I knew that they wouldn't like hearing the word Demivampire, but I hadn't expected bristling. Ev
en some of Dierk's pack shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

  Tancred stood, drawing the prickly attention away from me. "The Sophia may or may not be the source of Stohl's affliction… I mean, predicament."

  "Your woman is DV?" Calhoun gave Dierk a look of disbelief, his mouth hanging open. "And still you performed the Leni?"

  I couldn't believe I was saying it but well, I was. "Do I smell DV to you?"

  I meant it in a nice, smart assed way, but apparently the pack leader interpreted at it as an invitation. He calmly approached me, leaning close and inhaling me. I tried not to squirm.

  "No," he admitted. "You smell human."

  "There you go." I craned my head back and away from him. Personal space here, hello? "Besides, if I had been, Stohl would have flown the coop by now."

  Calhoun still stood in front of me and he looked terribly confused. "He'd what?"

  "Flown away, you know?" Still the blank stare. Sigh. Very slowly, and as politely as I could, I enunciated. "Turned into a falcon."

  "You mean the Wolfram?" said Tancred. He leaned forward in his seat to look around Dierk at me. "That's just a legend."

  "Right," I said. Didn't Dierk tell him? "And so is the Sophia, and yet here I sit. I have seen it happen."

  "I can vouch for her," said Dierk. He sat like a stone statue, his voice as personable. "I have spoken with her DV and I have seen the Wolfram. It is no usual bird. I have also questioned the young werewolf whose blood was taken by the DV who is now Wolfram. It is legendary, yes, but it is also fact."

  Calhoun had resumed his seat, shaking his head.

  "This is a lot to take in. When you called us here today, I honestly thought it was to introduce us to your mate. The Leni ritual is legendary enough for us, but I thought that would be the extent of it. This--" He made a wide gesture, taking in Tancred, Dierk, and me. "This is too much."

  "Do you reconsider your oath of protection?" Dierk asked quietly. The words hung in the air and he reached for my hand, making an obvious show that I was somehow still his.

  The gesture felt little more than ceremonial.

  "I do not take back the oath." A man stood near the rear of the room, and I saw it was Thorpe, the brute from the bowling alley. "She is an uncommonly good person. She has a sense of honor and mercy that many of us would do well to imitate. Those qualities deserve protection."

  Calhoun marked him before turning back to us. He looked at Dierk's hand upon mine and measured me carefully with his eyes. I knew he was considering my ties to the DV. But in the end, it was Dierk he honored.

  "No," he said at last. "You have our oath. I'm not sure what she is, but she is valued by you. Even if the Leni failed, she is still valued by you. I have testimony from my wolf. I would not deny a woman protection.

  "But--" He held up a hand and I saw determination in his eyes. "But we must examine Stohl, and this woman's role in his change. She is a threat to all Were and must be controlled."

  "A threat?" I snorted. "Yeah, I guess so, if I went around making you guys bite me all the time."

  "A threat nonetheless." Dierk released my hand. "I call for a second oath. An oath of secrecy. No one outside this room can know. I call upon all pack to make this vow. It is not an option."

  Another Were, a woman I didn't recognize, called out from the side of the assembly. "How can we be sure the DV will not use her against us? Her blood may be a weapon."

  "Hey, now." I held my hands up. "The DV don't use me. I give. They do not take."

  "Do they not?" This curiosity-laden question sounded from a corner of the room.

  "No, they don't," I insisted as I craned my neck, trying to find the speaker.

  "But you have scars on your skin." Curiosity twisted into something malicious and I knew—I just knew—who it was without seeing her.

  "No crap, Cacilia." I held out my hand. "Stohl wasn't trying to be neat."

  "Not that scar. The other. Or, perhaps…your throat?"

  My blood ran cold.

  "Just what is your point?" Beside me, Dierk leaned forward, ready to protest, but I silenced him with one hand upon his. "Make it now or shut up."

  "My point is that you are marked by DV in several ways. How do we know you have not been sent to destroy us? A bomb that detonates once you are thoroughly surrounded by us?"

  I was tired of this broad. She was worse than Stohl. Every frickin' time we were in the same room, she caused trouble. I stood up and marched to where she lounged in her chair, arm hooked over the back, long legs stretched out.

  Dierk hissed my name, but I ignored him.

  "Do you think I asked Stohl to do this?" I held my hand up to her face for inspection, but I could not disguise my anger and it looked like a threat. "Have I invited anyone else to do the same? Have I tried to entice anyone else to do the same?"

  "You have done nothing but entice since the cursed day you came to us," she snarled. Cacilia stood, her heels giving her the advantage of height. "You use your filthy Sophia powers to cloud my master's mind and trick him into asking for the Leni ritual. You eliminate his strongest fighter. You seek to destroy us all."

  "Cacilia." Dierk stood and used the Royal Voice. "You go too far."

  "I have not gone far enough," she growled. Before I had a chance to react, she seized my arm and twisted it behind me, holding suddenly clawed fingers to my throat. "I won't bite her and be poisoned, but I can remove this threat to our people quickly."

  Dierk stood and slowly approached, one careful footstep at a time. He was only looking at Cacilia. "You made an oath to protect her."

  I didn't dare breathe. The painful twist she gave my arm made it easy to hold a hitched breath.

  "I made no such oath! I only made oath to protect you. To love you. And still, you chose her." Ragged words revealed the pain and resentment she must have felt since the moment I came into the picture.

  "Ich bin der König," Dierk said softly. "And the king's mate is always chosen by the Leni."

  "And why do you not choose with your heart?" Cacilia's anguish twisted me inside, and despite the immediate danger of having my throat ripped out, I felt guilt for being the one to cause those feelings. "It's your heart you must live with all your life. You chase destiny, as evasive as tomorrow on the horizon. But your heart beats, day in, day out, the only sound when all else is silent. Why do you not listen to your heart?"

  "I do, Cacilia," he said softly. "I do listen to my heart, and I tell you, in all honesty, never has it called your name. You love me blindly and you've chosen not to see that I have never loved you in return."

  Cacilia was shaking now, a tremor that rocked us both. She slipped into emotional shock and she yanked up on my arm. I bit my lips together to keep from crying out. I didn't want her to remember me.

  The sharp points of her claws pressed into my skin, wicked needles of pain. I closed my eyes.

  Dierk's voice was tender. "Let go, Cacilia. You have to let go. You can't do this anymore."

  "You don't love me." Her voice was a strangled whisper. "All I have done, and nothing in return."

  Her hand clenched and the claws broke the skin. Needles became searing screams. Please, please, please, don't rip down.

  "No, not true," Dierk said. "You are meine Wolfin. You are my pack."

  "No, I am not. I denounce you. You are my pack no longer." She threw me at his feet and I hit the ground, hard. Cacilia ran from the room.

  There was a scramble of sound as several followed after her. Dierk helped me up, lifting my chin to examine the wounds. I dug a tissue out of my purse and pressed it to my neck.

  He issued me back to my seat, the lines of his face drawn in a deep sorrow. Her denouncement had wounded him. More than anything else, he fought for unity amongst his kind. Cacilia was close to his heart, and her betrayal would hurt him as would no other.

  Dierk only allowed himself that briefest moment to mourn before forcing his attention to the matter at hand. The luxury of personal grief was not his to enjoy, not
while he had to be king. He drew a deep breath and turned to face the room, standing in front of me. "Anyone else in this room care to make retractions?"

  The room was silent.

  "I speak for the Priestess of the Witchkinder." A thin melodic voice piped up from the side and people turned in their seats to see who'd spoken. I recognized the plume of black feathery hair at once. "Sophia Galen will be fostered by the covens of the East."

  Dierk leaned toward Tancred. "Did you know about this?"

  Tancred shook his head.

  "Why are you surprised?" I leaned and looked at the men. "Nakia was really sweet when she came to the office."

  "Yes, she was." Dierk trained his gaze back upon Alise. "So, Witchkinder. Your priestess is laying a claim of her own?"

  Alise lifted her chin. "No, sire. Not a claim. Simply an offer of protection. The moon has a great interest in Ms. Galen, and we are to foster her within our ranks."

  "And do you have any more within your ranks who are like-minded to Jasmine? I will permit no trespass upon this woman."

  Alise didn't cower. "Understood, sire."

  Dierk nodded and sat back, seeming to keep an eye on Alise. "Agreed, with the understanding that frequent report will be made through Tancred. Is that clear?"

  "Yes, sire."

  Dierk gestured to Tancred. "Finish here, please. Report to me in two hours."

  He stood to leave, bowing slightly and sweeping is hand to indicate I should rise before leading me from the room. He walked separately, two steps in front. Janssen followed behind. No hand holding. I swallowed hard and locked my head upright, chin proud, expression dignified.

  Trying not to feel like a political nobody.

  Dierk wanted to see Stohl before driving back to Balaton. Janssen carried two duffle bags into the Bayridge safe house, a simple three-story single detached home on a street crowded with similar homes. Small yards, street parking, children playing. Bayridge was Were suburbia.

  Stohl met us on the front porch, careful to avoid looking at me. I chose the porch chair closest to the steps in case I had to make a run for it. Didn't know how good a plan running was when dealing with creatures that liked to chase things, but Dierk wouldn't let me stay in the car. He said Stohl needed to face reality, and I was part of what he had to face.