Rebellious Hood

by Kendrai Meeks

  My father stepped forward, closing his eyes and drawing on his power. As he did, the threads of his ancestral garb formed about him, draping him in the yellow cloak of his bloodline. He undid the tie at his throat, spinning it around. “Here. Wrap your niña in this.”

  The offer, both of the garment and of the indication that Mina was somehow mine pinched at my heart. The act, however, made clear what needed to be done for this to be true.

  “Thank you, Papa, but...” I shook my head as I turned back to the cub beside me. Since claiming my fire—though still uncertain how that had come to be—I’d not tested myself in this capacity. Now, the moment had come, and it was critical that the bloodline cede to my request. I closed my eyes, calling on the ancestors of my clan, saying internally the summoning charm I’d been taught since childhood.

  Ancestors, cloak me in your wisdom and let my bloodline be my shield.

  Its weight on my shoulders warmed, while simultaneously reminding me of the burden of my legacy. Having not even been sure I could summon my red cloak, I’d put off the attempt, afraid of what it would mean if I proved incapable. Now that I found I could, I worried what that meant for an asenaic.

  My father beamed at Mina and me as we crawled from the back of the vehicle, pride of such depth one might think he was looking at his own grandchild in my arms. He shepherded us under his wing as we turned toward the open east gate of the castle.

  “Are you ready? The Council will have questions, make demands.”

  My jaw tightened. “I have a few questions and demands of my own.”

  Rebecca Krantz stood at the door, a solid archive of huey pride and fortitude. Gray hair and deep wrinkles around her eyes didn’t detract from the fierceness of her heart.

  “Welcome home, Miss Kline.” Uniformed in her custom black slacks and beaten up brown bomber jacket, I could tell she wanted to say so much more, do so much more. Hug me, kiss my cheek, tease me about some secret romance... She’d never had children, and so the young hoods of the Schloss had become the family she’d never bear herself.

  Beside her, Chin stood, resolute and severe in every way a woman of her stature could be. The wind picked up, blowing out the trail of her bloodline’s white cloak, even as her eyes settled on the bundled baby in my arms with disdain. She’d read the child as a wolf; hoods couldn’t sense slayers.

  “At ease, castellan.”

  She wouldn’t even address Becky by name? What an ass. Or was she just ticked off at having to oversee a formal affair in the middle of the day when she’d much rather be upstairs in bed?

  Chin continued. “Miss Kline, the Grand Matron phoned about an hour ago. She wanted us to relay to you that she, a slayer, and Janus Sousa have contained the scene, and let you know that she ordered us to relocate the other slayers from your family’s private residence in town to the compound.”

  “Where are they?” Anya stepped forward. “Where are my people?”

  Chin tilted her head in Rebecca’s direction. “Miss Krantz volunteered her personal residence within the castle walls for their use. The space is not as ample as RotHaus where you’ve been staying, but they are making due and getting settled until we are able to figure out what comes next.”

  My eyes flashed to the old woman beside the matron, who stood a straighter than before. “Thank you, Becky.”

  Rebecca gave a quick nod. “I’m as good in the keep dormitory, ma’am, and they needed the space. I remember what it’s like to come away from prison and feel the need to have a safe place.”

  I motioned to those standing behind me. “Perhaps Amy and Anya could be shown to the castellan’s cottage as well?”

  “No, your mother’s orders that everyone in your party be kept contained until her arrival.” Chin gave me one disgusted glare before pulling at the corded silver belt wrapped around her waist. With the slightest effort, it melded into a stream of silver, then quivered into its next iteration: a pair of double manacles, a set that bind both feet and hands. “I suppose we can forgo this for the pup, but for this lupine...” Chin held up her creation.

  Cody coughed a laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What is this, the middle ages?”

  Chin bristled. “This is the House of the Wolf-Watcher, and these are the terms. No wolf may enter here unless he be bound by silver. For you to be invited alone is exceptional. If you want to escort this relinquished ingrate...”

  As Chin took a step forward, so did I, placing myself between the Matron and the alpha. “The ingrate objects.”

  Chin sneered. “May I remind you, Gerwalta, that you have no official standing here? I could order you off the property right now.”

  “But you let me past the gate this time,” I said. “Pretty sure that wasn’t your decision, which means you’re not the one deciding anything right now, are you?”

  She lifted the chains again. “Regardless, this is our way. Now, step aside or...”

  Moments before I called on the silver rattling in her hands, Cody gently pushed me aside.

  “Easy, Geri,” he said. “I’m a big, bad wolf. I can take a little burn. Go ahead, Matron, then let’s get little Mina here seen to, huh?”

  The bravado, a display. The moment the metal arced across Cody’s wrists and ankles, the smell of seared flesh tickled my nose, turning my stomach. Cody tried to conceal the pain, almost managed it. The corners of his mouth flinched, giving away his pain. I felt out the silver in my mind, willing it away from his flesh, but as we began to follow Chin from the outer bailey to the inner one, he jostled, making the task exceedingly difficult.

  Amy pulled up alongside me. She’d grabbed one of the sheets from the collection in the car and fashioned herself a toga over the hospital gown. Of course, Amy knew how to make a toga from bed sheets. Rumor was, Amy was amazing in the sheets. My father, realizing the inappropriateness of Frat Party attire in the sacred homestead of my bloodline, threw his yellow cloak over the blond huey’s shoulders.

  “This is it, isn’t it? The castle where they burned Red Riding Hood alive?”

  My teeth ground. “Not the greatest thing to bring up right now, but yes.”

  “Sorry, I just like, you know...” She blew out a long breath. “You don’t think they’re going to do that to you, do you? Because New York doesn’t go out like that. I’ll kick whoever’s ass you need me to.”

  “Thank you, Amy, but no.” I looked back over my shoulder, sizing up Markus, my father, and Anya. The men, eyes straight forward, were pillars of calm and determination, but the slayer...

  I decided to harbor the bundled baby in Amy’s arms. “Can you hold Mina for a minute?”

  “What?” She pulled back a step before rushing to recover our gate through the inner bailey. “I don’t know how to... What are you... Oh, okay. I guess.”

  I caught the look as I turned, the one that told me this was Amy’s first time holding a baby, but it wouldn’t be the last. She was positively smitten, even if a little out of her element.

  “Anya?”

  My voice snapped her out of her revelry, and she turned to me as though surprised to discover she wasn’t alone. “Sorry?”

  I pulled up alongside her. “I know you’re in pain. Alex’s loss was sudden and unnecessary, and there will be time to mourn her. But I need your help right now.”

  “My help?”

  I took my voice as low as I could make it, slowing our steps even more. Ahead, Cody hissed, my ability to pull the burning metal from his flesh broken by distance.

  Just to be safe, I pulled the slayer into my arms, hugging her, using the proximity to whisper in her ear. “You must say that Mina is mine.”

  “But she’s Alex’s...”

  I squeezed her tighter. “I know, but when Alex asked to talk to me before the c-section, it was to ask if I’d be Mina’s godmother. Hoods will recognize that as old law if others corroborate it. I’ll need everything in my power to keep her under my protection. If they learn Mina’s blood can kill the Ravens, they won’t see
a baby, they’ll see a strategy.”

  “Surely they wouldn’t...” She shook in my arms. “But she’s just a baby.”

  “Exactly, help me protect her.” Finally, I pulled away just as my father and Markus passed us. As long as my testimony came first, neither would conflict me. I hoped. Markus, while my cousin and good friend, still walked two paths that might eventually diverge. Anya, however, had no reason to cover for my lies.

  I stroked her cheek, brushing away a tear. “Please, Anya, for Mina. For Alex.”

  She bit her lip, resolve firming her features. “For Alex.”

  NINETEEN

  No one knew the exact year Schloss Wolfsretter had been erected, but the best guesses placed it in the thirteenth or fourteenth century. When it had only been the home of the House of Red and not a de facto administrative center for the whole race, the current council chamber had been the red matron’s throne room. The rectangular space could easily host fifty people or more, but its current furnishings were only arranged for thirteen. The massive oaken table sat at the far end of the space, one chair for each member of the matron council, each in turn representing a bloodline. The House of Red had two seats, of course, for the role of the Grand Matron demanded her to act without regard to heritage. Or so the official line went. By consequence, the reds usually dominated.

  I’d spent many an hour in this morbid place, hidden away in a corner, observing at my mother’s demand. No one had ever said it aloud, because the thing was obvious and understood, it would have felt unnecessary to say. I was the heir apparent, and as such, I needed to understand the power and limitation of the office I would someday assume. Seeing how my mother could dictate her form of justice, handing down edicts and judgments that lacked humanity, had soured me on the prospect at a young age. I found no reverence, therefore, in the stone walls moored in the dark ages of Europe’s past, or in the tapestries hung on them that recalled the valor my more famous ancestors. To the right, Hlin the Conqueror’s sword pierced the heart of Kroon the Konigswolf under the mighty tree that once dominated this cliff. Its stump, worn smooth and uneven after centuries of use, still sat on the far end of the room. Once, it was said, it had been carved with magnificent reliefs, antlers twisted into it to enhance its terror. The tapestry to the right held its subject in the middle, her blond hair and silver bo staff front and center. Behind her, the castle, looking then much as it did now, ruled the mountain peak, and beside it, a mighty bonfire. As a child, I’d thought it as no more than a representation of feuernacht, a sacred fire burned under a full moon into which a hood would plunge to assume her powers and her place in the community. Only when I’d gotten older did I notice that the fire wasn’t burning from logs, but from the bones of three figures caught in its grasp, each with a spit through their bodies.

  Amy’s eyes took in the reds and blues of another of the tapestries, and Chin didn’t let the opportunity go to waste.

  “Helga the Restorer,” the white matron said. “Sister of the Betrayer and avenger of her mother’s death.”

  Amy leaned in “That’s supposed to be Gerwalta Faust’s sister? Boy, she needed work on her eyebrows.”

  Chin’s own unnurtured eyebrows arched.

  Amy drove on, proving that filters and she did not break bread. “How come the sister is the one who gets the credit? I thought it was the Betrayer’s mother who sentenced them to die?”

  “Because the wolf ate Gerwalta’s mother, leaving Helga the honor of executing the sentence and bringing the offenders final justice.”

  Amy’s nose crinkled. “So when the Brothers Grimm wrote about the grandmother being in the wolf’s stomach...” Amy’s voice tapered off. “Not a story.”

  The Matron’s eyes bulged. “A broken clock is still right twice a day, even those two cuckoos.”

  “Kinda makes you wonder...” The huey gave the tapestry a second appraisal. “...are there other fairy tales that are true, too?”

  Any chance for reflection or refuting was lost when Rebecca Krantz cleared her throat and proceeded to make an official announcement in German.

  Amy leaned into me. “What did she say?”

  Any need to answer was cut off by the doors to the chamber being thrown open.

  My mother’s command rattled the rafters. “English!”

  My mother’s boots quaked the floor, or perhaps it was the beating of my own heart that shook me. She marched into the council chamber, a heavy sack pulled down at her side, her red cape billowing out behind her. Behind her, Yan and Caleb, both of them looking as spent as two supernaturals could be. Caleb’s anxiety eased when he caught sight of us, making his way in our direction. Anya went to him, pulling him close. They’d lost one of their own today, and perhaps that death meant more than one less slayer. A little hope must have died with Alex as well.

  Yan tracked my mother, taking the sack from her and continuing his way out the other side of the room.

  “From this point forward,” my mother said, spinning into her chair, “everyone is to speak English! I want this matter addressed posthaste, and some of those involved do not understand German. Chin!”

  The disagreeable white hood, heretofore prideful as a peacock, suddenly bowed beneath the weight of my mother’s presence. “Yes, Grand Matron?”

  “The slayers? Did you bring them into the castle grounds as I ordered?”

  “Yes, Grand Matron. Except for this one—” Chin acknowledged Anya. “—they are in the castellan’s house. We have activated all security features on your home in town as requested. If anyone further enters, it will be known within moments.”

  “Excellent.” Sweeping her way across the room, Brünhild took the dominant seat at the head of the table.

  “Security features?” I asked. “What security features?”

  “The place has more bugs than a Sunday school picnic,” Markus said. “Sorry, Geri, the information was embargoed.”

  I turned to my mother. “You were spying on us the whole time we’ve been there?”

  No wonder she’d known to look for us at the Lahr hospital.

  Brünhild ignored me, continuing her orders. “Open the council at once.”

  Chin’s olive skin blanched. “But, Matron, it is midday, and everyone is asleep. Certainly, we should wait for...”

  “Did I stutter, Mae?” I may have imagined the tiny frown I thought I saw flit across her face. “Now! There is no time to waste.”

  Without further ado, the White Matron swept from the room.

  Brünhild’s arm struck out, her finger pointed in Amy’s direction. “You!”

  Amy held the baby with one arm while the thumb of her left hand buried in her own chest.

  “Yes, you, girl. The one with little common sense and even less intelligence.”

  “Okay, it’s going to be like that then.” Amy took three steps forward. “Excuse me, but I don’t recall asking your opinion.”

  “I don’t have opinions,” my mother said. “I have convictions. This evening, you will be driven to Munich. We will provide you the necessary papers and airfare to anywhere in the world you’d prefer to go, but it will be a one-way ticket. Henceforth, you will remove yourself from the supernatural realm. You will be kept under observation to assure this, and if there’s any hint of you attempting to reconnect with anyone present or exposing our secrets, you will be dealt with swiftly. There will be no warnings.”

  My friend’s face could light London. “Who in the hell do you think you are? You don’t get to tell me who I will or will not associate with.”

  Part of me cheered the outburst. And part of me wanted to push Amy to the ground before the metaphorical daggers my mother was shooting became literal.

  Caleb cleared his throat and took a knee. “If I may speak, Grand Matron?”

  The formality won over my mother just enough to get her to agree.

  “Miss Popowitz should not be forced out,” the sly slayer continued. “She’s a known associate of your daughter’s and has already
come under vampire attack once. Moreover, she’s been of great assistance to my people as they’ve tried to adjust to the outside world. If you would defer her fate to us, and if she herself would not object, I’d like to ask that she take up residence with us. We need someone with her skills.”

  Even I had to quirk an eyebrow on that one. Skills? What skills? Luckily, I was able to keep the thought to myself.

  “Very well.” Brünhild’s face melted around the edges. “Does the huey agree to consign herself to the community of slayers?”

  All eyes fell to Amy, who had commenced flapping her jaw noiselessly and pulling the bundled child a little tighter to her chest. Finally, she managed to squeak out, “What does that mean exactly, ‘consign’?”

  My mother rolled her eyes. “It means that you will be honor-bound to their service until such time as both parties agree to dissolve the arrangement, if any. In short, you will be their Rebecca Krantz.”

  The huey followed my mother’s gesture in the elderly castellan’s direction, took one look at Becky’s aged frame and plain clothes, and swung back, panic-stricken.

  “I can still wear designer brands, though, right?”

  Brünhild hissed through clenched teeth as she uttered a string of German curses.

  “Okay, yes!” Amy blurted out. “I agree to consign. Or be consigned, or whatever, to the slayers. Just, please, don’t send me away.”

  My mother raised an eyebrow. “The pact is thus made and recognized. But tell me, huey, why are you so desperate to remain among us? Surely you understand the danger this will put you in.”

  Amy’s backbone grew three sizes. “Because they’re my friends. Real friends who don’t like me just because of the size of my bank account or my cup size. Well,” she jerked her head in Caleb’s direction, “except for that one, maybe.”

  Brünhild fixed Caleb in his gaze. “From what I hear, that one accepts all comers.”