by Laura Taylor
It was only a few minutes later, however, that the door to the basement opened, and Genna looked up from her seat on the bed to see who had arrived. She felt her breath catch in her throat as she recognised the woman.
“Morning,” Dee said, not exactly cheerfully, but certainly not displaying any open hostility. “How did you sleep?”
Genna didn’t quite manage to answer, leaping off the bed and backing up against the wall as Dee approached her cage, a dozen wild thoughts running through her mind about Dee having been sent here to kill her. Or half of her, at least. Dee had the ability to separate wolf from human, and to have half of her being ripped out of her, to be relegated back to the mundane world of unadorned humanity seemed like a fate worse than death. But since she’d betrayed this Den – or at the very least, aided and abetted such a betrayal, if they believed her story – then such a punishment wasn’t what you would call inappropriate.
The instant Genna moved, however, Dee stopped in her tracks, a wary disappointment settling on her face. “Not everything you’ve heard about me is true,” she said softly.
“You have the power to rip the wolf half out of me,” Genna said coldly. “Or is that ‘rumour’ not true?”
“Yes, it is true,” Dee agreed. “But it doesn’t follow that I actually intend to do so.”
“But you could,” Genna pointed out, not at all reassured by Dee’s statement. “So you’ll excuse me if I’m a little nervous.”
“Are you nervous around Tank?” Dee asked flatly, and Genna frowned, not seeing the connection.
“No. Why would I be?”
“He carries a gun with him everywhere he goes. A loaded gun. As 2IC of this Den it’s a standard requirement. So he could shoot you, any time he’s with you, anywhere he goes.”
Genna opened her mouth to say it wasn’t the same thing… until she realised that yes, actually, it was. “But Tank’s not… I mean… You’ve got… There’s a prophecy,” she finished lamely, not knowing how to claw her way back onto stable ground. “It says you’re going to destroy all the shifters.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Dee replied calmly. “It states that at some point during my lifetime, the shifters will undergo some significant change to our lives. And under her reign, the shifters shall be restored to the natural order. A lot of people believe that that means we’ll be returned to either wolf or human form permanently, but no one really knows for sure. Nor do the scholars agree on whether this is a direction action on my part, or something that simply happens during the natural span of my life. It could be that Fenrae’s reincarnation is not so much a trigger for these events, as simply a marker to indicate a likely timeframe.”
Genna had no words for that. The idea that Dee herself was not the cause of the cataclysmic end of the shifter species simply hadn’t occurred to her. Nor had it occurred to the rest of her pack, she admitted to herself, if fireside conversation was anything to go by.
Ignoring Genna’s ongoing unease, Dee stepped closer to the bars. “I brought you some clothes,” she said, holding out the bundle of cloth in her hands, a bundle that Genna had completely failed to notice until now, far more concerned about Dee’s strange abilities. “Baron thought you’d be about my size, and we thought you might like your cloak washed.”
Genna eyed the clothes longingly, not sure whether she should accept them. The truth was, she was sick to death of her grey cloak, too warm in summer, too cold in winter, and she longed to wear regular human clothes for once. From the looks of it, Dee had brought her jeans, a t-shirt and a jumper. Nothing fancy, but vastly better than what she was wearing now.
But should she accept assistance from a woman she didn’t trust any further than she could spit? The last thing she wanted was to be indebted to Dee.
But then again, the chances of Dee eventually coming around to hate her were pretty much certain. Even if they hadn’t already heard it from that Noturatii man, he was bound to tell them sooner or later that the reason she’d sold them out was because she’d wanted him to kill Dee.
Genna edged forward and took the clothes, being careful not to touch Dee in the process. “If I change in the bathroom could you take my cloak for me?” she asked, trying to sound polite. The instant Dee found out she had a target on her back, she’d likely demand the clothes back again, but at least if Genna could get her cloak clean first, it would be a little more pleasant to keep wearing it.
“Sure, no problem,” Dee agreed, and Genna scampered off into the tiny ensuite built into the back of the cage to change.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Half an hour after their tense discussion on the lawn, Baron closed the video connection to Council Headquarters and turned to Caroline with a look of resignation.
“Well. Do you want to make that call, or should I?” he asked, the natural conclusion to the conversation they’d just had with the Council. To say that the group had been shocked by their news would have been a gross understatement, but the twelve leaders of Il Trosa had pulled themselves together admirably well, and while there would be no quick solutions to the current crisis, they had successfully put together a strategy that would steer them in the right direction and buy them some time.
“I’ll do it,” Caroline said, but instead of pulling out her phone, she made use of the same secure connection Baron had been using to speak to the Council and dialled Sempre via the computer’s phone system.
“Who is this?” came an angry snarl when the phone was answered, as the encrypted link would have shown up as a private number.
“Sempre, it’s Caroline. You’re on a secure link,” Caroline said quickly, seeing no reason to unnecessarily antagonise the woman, no matter how rude she might be.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Sempre asked, acid in her voice.
“Genna’s here,” Caroline said, cutting right to the chase. “I understand you’ve had some difficulties with her of late. I wanted to let you know she’s safe and well, and any search attempts you might be making can be called off.”
“That conniving little bitch,” Sempre blurted out immediately, then seemed to get a handle on herself very rapidly. “But at least she had the sense to go to you, rather than wandering off by herself. The girl’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, and I doubt she would understand the trouble that a stray wolf could cause.”
As far as Caroline had seen, Genna was far from stupid. Naïve, certainly, and inexperienced, but also insightful, and she had no small dose of cunning. If she was lying about Sempre’s role in the breach of the Treaty, she’d done it well enough to have even Baron and Tank second-guessing themselves, and if she was telling the truth, then she’d managed to wriggle her way out of Sempre’s hold and seek assistance from the only people who could possibly help her, albeit that they were her arch rivals. Either way, these were not the actions of a simpleton.
But Sempre’s first comment had been far more telling: she was furious that Genna had got Il Trosa involved in a Grey Watch matter.
“No doubt you’ll want her out of your hair, so we’ll come and pick her up straight away,” Sempre offered, in an act of generosity that ultimately only served herself.
“Actually, there are a few other complications we’ll need to discuss when you get here,” Caroline said. “Genna’s caused a bit of trouble for our pack and has mentioned that she’s not entirely happy living with yours, either.”
Sempre spluttered in indignation at that. “She wants to defect from the Grey Watch? Out of the question. She has committed crimes here that she must answer for.”
“I understand,” Caroline said smoothly, having expected such a reply. “But as I said, she’s caused a few problems for us as well. I’m not demanding anything in particular at the moment,” she said congenially. “I’m just flagging the fact that we’ll have a few things to discuss when you arrive.”
The purpose of the current call was to get Sempre onto their own territory, then stall her for long enough for the Council to arrive. Eleanor, Feng an
d Paula were at this very moment hastily packing their things, while a car was waiting to take them to the airport and their private jet was being prepped for an emergency flight to England. They would be at the manor’s door in about five hours, while it would take a minimum of two for Sempre to arrive.
But getting her here was only the first battle. Getting her to stay long enough for them to implement the second part of their plan would be tougher. So Caroline was trying to have Sempre mentally prepared for the idea that this wouldn’t be a simple in-and-out visit.
Sempre gave a longsuffering sigh. “I’m beginning to regret ever recruiting that girl,” she muttered. “Whatever problems she’s caused, we’ll work them out. And then we’ll get her out of your way.” She hung up without any further comment, leaving Caroline gritting her teeth as she ended the connection.
Baron, however, seemed to share none of her frustration. He looked at her, wry admiration all over his face. “You can be amazingly diplomatic when you choose to be,” he observed drily.
Caroline shrugged. “A wolf’s strength is nothing if not accompanied by an equal measure of guile.”
Baron smirked at that. “Never a truer word was spoken.”
“But I’m not the only one putting my cunning to work,” Caroline pointed out. “Sempre seems awfully keen to have Genna back.”
“She murdered Feriur,” Baron replied. “If someone had murdered one of our own, wouldn’t we want them back just as urgently?”
“We certainly would,” Caroline agreed. “But… I don’t know. Something just seemed off in what she said. The Sempre I know should have been demanding her rights under the Treaty and insisting we return Genna immediately. Instead, she seemed to be trying to convince us she’d be doing us a favour by taking Genna off our hands.”
Baron thought about that. “If she actually was involved in the meeting with the Noturatii, she’d be eager to have Genna away from here before she spills any secrets.”
“Maybe,” Caroline hedged. “But there may be more to it than that. Either way, we’re going to need to keep an eye on her. There’s more going on here than anyone is letting on.”
When Baron stepped out of the IT office five minutes later, he found Silas waiting in the hall, arms folded, a dark scowl on his face.
“Mind if we talk downstairs?” he asked, and Baron let out a sigh before nodding. No doubt rumours of the breach of the Treaty had begun to spread, and as both a high ranking wolf and one of the mainstays of security around the estate, Silas was bound to have some questions. Baron followed him down the stairs and into the sitting room…
“Fuck,” he swore blackly, as he walked into the room and found more than half the Den waiting for him.
“There are rumours that the Treaty of Erim Kai Bahn has been broken,” Silas stated flatly from behind him, as he loitered in the doorway. “We figure we have the right to know what’s going on.”
Baron looked around the room, wondering not only who had started the rumours, but also who had organised this particular ambush. They had the right to ask questions, of course, but to have a large portion of his Den gang up on him like this was more than a little unsettling.
John avoided his gaze, as was usual these days. Andre wasn’t there, no doubt having better things to do – or perhaps having got enough information from Caroline already – and Miller was also conspicuously absent. Wisely making himself scarce, Baron mused, given how much he actually knew about this.
But Raniesha was there, looking belligerent from her seat on the couch, and he glared at her, just to see how she’d react.
“Wake people up in the middle of the night for a surprise raid on our rivals, and folks are going to talk,” she pointed out, with no particular malice. “I simply mentioned that it would be more worthwhile asking a direct question than making up answers of our own.”
John was still avoiding looking at him, so Baron didn’t bother wasting time pondering what the boy might or might not have said to fuel the fire. If Silas knew the Treaty had been breached, then the information had to have come from somewhere, but he wasn’t going to hit his head against a brick wall where John was concerned.
“It’s true,” he said, knowing there was no point denying it at this stage. “It seems that one or more members of the Grey Watch sold information about the location of this estate to the Noturatii.”
Given the weight of the news, the Den’s reaction was rather mild. A few grumbles, some choice suggestions about what to do with the Watch, and that was it. But then again, everyone already knew that the Noturatii were looking for them, so Baron supposed there were no real shocks coming today.
But that didn’t mean it was the end of the conversation.
“We had assumed that the Noturatii found that information through sheer luck,” Silas said from the doorway. “But if the Watch are involved, that moves the goal posts a significant way from where we thought they were.” He glanced around at the worried faces across the room. “This estate is not safe.”
“That’s true,” Baron said, unable to deny it and not sure he even wanted to. Forewarned was forearmed, after all. “But plans are already in motion to solve that problem. I can’t tell you any more than that at the moment, but I can tell you that Sempre and three members of the Council are on their way here to deal with the situation. The Council is well aware that this estate has been compromised and is taking steps to ensure our safety.”
“It wouldn’t go astray to tell us exactly what those steps are,” Heron prompted him, an edge to her voice.
“I’m going to have to leave that to the Council,” Baron said firmly. “They’ll be here in a few hours and they’ve requested that privilege themselves,” he added, when Heron looked none too impressed with the news. “You know as well as I do that we’re all honour-bound to obey them.”
Heron rose to her feet, and it was a measure of her standing within the Den that Baron actually felt the urge to step back as she drew herself up and stared him down. Heron’s rank might be dropping, ever so slowly, but she’d been a member of this Den for longer than most of its wolves had been alive, and her natural tendency to mother anyone who joined the Den lent her an authority that few would question. Even if they happened to hold the rank of alpha.
“We have handed you our loyalty in its entirety,” she said calmly, with a dignity that Baron could only aspire to. “We trust you with our lives. We follow you to our deaths. Do not make the mistake of taking that for granted,” she warned him sharply, looking him in the eye.
“I don’t,” Baron answered seriously. “I take none of you for granted, and I do not play dice with your lives. But believe me when I say there are larger things at work here than the future of this Den.” His gaze drifted over towards Dee, and he deliberately looked away again. “And forces at play that are far beyond our control.”
Melissa ducked sideways, missing the fist that came flying towards her head by scant millimetres. She tried to find an opening for a counter-blow, but her opponent was too quick, his left arm blocking her attack, while his right came around again to strike at her. She blocked it – just – and slid sideways, trying to get around behind the man, but he anticipated the move and spun to meet her, his left hand striking at her midsection. She blocked again, a jarring blow that was sure to leave another bruise, but at least she’d managed to stop the attack… until a sneaky right hand shot out in her moment of inattention and landed a light tap against her forehead.
Game over.
Melissa huffed out a breath and dropped her guard, breathing fast as she grabbed a towel from the bench at the side of the room and wiped the sweat off her face. In a real fight, that final blow would have knocked her out, or at the very least dazed her enough to have handed her opponent the victory.
“Don’t despair,” Leon, her instructor, said in his thick Italian accent. “You are improving. And you must remember, I’ve been doing this for much longer than you have.”
“I know,” Melissa said, fo
rcing a smile. “But I’m also a perfectionist. You’ve seen enough of how I work by now to know that.” Actually, perfectionist was probably an understatement. As the newly appointed Chief of Operations of the Noturatii’s British division, and as the youngest person to have ever held that position, Melissa was under enormous pressure to prove herself capable of doing the job. No, not capable, she scolded herself as she stretched out tired muscles. Capable was far too low to set the bar. She should be exemplary. Visionary. Inspirational. So when it came to her self-imposed training regime, to be improving was not nearly good enough.
Leon coughed at her sour expression – an effort to smother a laugh, perhaps? – and said, “I am aware of that, yes.” Though he wore a distinct smirk, Melissa reminded herself that he wasn’t laughing at her. He’d explained in the early days of their lessons together that he simply loved her enthusiasm, the way she focused on each move as seriously as she would if she was actually fighting a shifter, and had said he wished more of his students had such dedication to their lessons. With his quirky humour and bottomless eyes, Melissa was never quite sure whether to believe the man or not. But then, there was nothing ordinary about Leon.
Prior to being sent here, he had been a combat instructor in the Italian branch of the Noturatii. Knowing that Melissa needed both a bodyguard and a new Head of Security, Mr Winter, one of the senior officials in the German head office, had hand-picked Leon to come to England and join Melissa’s team. At first, she’d been a little miffed about not having the chance to choose her own staff, but then she’d looked into Leon’s personnel record. He’d been a member of the Noturatii for thirteen years. He’d been teaching martial arts for ten of those years. He was skilled not just in hand-to-hand combat, but also with a pistol and a sword, and his service record contained a rather understated declaration that he’d personally killed twelve shifters over the years and had saved the life of the Italian Chief of Operations during one of those battles.
