by SJ Himes
“To remain impartial, those of us on the Tribunal will not exercise our gifts upon the prisoners. We have called for aid in this matter, and the clan of Sorrowfields from the West has answered.” Royrick gestured to the strange alpha, who gazed back at the Clan Leader with a remote, nearly emotionless expression. “Roan of Sorrowfields. Begin.”
Claire shrank back, shivering with fear. The greater alpha holding her yanked her upright, forcing her to look up at the one named Roan. He strode to the edge of the pit, towering above Claire as she trembled, panting harshly with increasing panic.
Ghost had not been aware that the Tribunal called for an out-Clan alpha with the Voice. He guessed it made sense, in a cold-blooded way—most of those present in the Clans were either related to the victims, the perpetrators, or the Tribunal members. Ghost was glad Caius was on the Tribunal—for all his grandfather callously shunned his sons, he still had a care for his clan and wanted justice. Caius was a contradictory mix of loyalty, vengeance, and vicious disregard. He would see justice for the injured and deceased, even at the cost of his son. Where the Tribunal was without mercy or compassion for those accused, Caius was there to provide a balance—Kane was his Heir, and Ghost hoped his grandfather felt something for the mate of his wayward grandson aside from duty.
“Look at me,” Roan spoke, low and firm. The reaction from those present was extreme; betas and alphas without the Voice found themselves looking to the new alpha, drawn in by his voice, his Gift. It spread over the crowd, a grip on minds and eyes and ears that allowed for no refusal.
Except for the shamans, Ghost, and the few present with the Voice. Ghost turned in his seat briefly, to see Gabe immune from Roan’s compulsion, while Sophia was under its sway. Ghost looked next to Andromeda, and it was without any surprise, he saw that she was immune as well. She caught his eyes, and gave him a small, swift dip of her chin when he cocked a brow at her. Roan speaking again drew his attention back the trial.
“Speak, beta. Tell me your name, your lineage.”
Claire gasped, arching up on her toes, as if speared by his words and yanked upright. She spoke in ragged breaths, her words rising in the deepening silence. “I am Claire…daughter of Andromeda, born to the line of Shaman Stormcloud of Red Fern.”
Roan’s face was absolutely void of emotion, stony and cold. “Tell me your sins, beta. Spill your hidden truths, reveal the blood upon your hands. Did you assist, in any fashion, in the capture, kidnapping, and murder of wolfkin with Roman McLennan?”
“Ye…ss.” Claire shuddered as the word was dragged from her, and even Ghost could feel the wave of power rising and ebbing around him. It didn’t touch him at all, though, just broke like rushing water around a boulder in the rapids. He could feel the current, but he was unaffected.
“When did your involvement begin?”
“Over…over twenty years ago.” Where Roan remained impassive, Claire was breaking under the questioning. The greater alpha holding her arm let go and stepped away, leaving Claire alone under Roan’s regard. The small beta whimpered, sweat running down her temples, her hair matted and stringy. “I told Roman when wolves would be alone, when families in Red Fern and Black Pine were vulnerable.”
“Tell me how it began.” His words slipped through the air, most of those present leaning forward as one, drawn in by his voice. Every question Claire stumbled to answer, hesitant and spooked. When she didn’t know an answer, she shook like a leaf on a branch in autumn, chilled and dying.
Ghost looked at the wolves around him. Burke wasn’t deeply affected, able to look away but not for long—Gerald was lost, and Sophia was as absorbed as the rest of Red Fern and the Black Pine wolves sitting around them. Even without being the center of Roan’s focus, those present were deeply affected by the Gift Roan wielded. If not tempered by restraint and conscience, the Voice was a mighty weapon.
He understood now the rules behind when the Voice could be used, and the severity of punishments when it was broken. If not for steep consequences, there would be mayhem in the clans. Ghost drew in a deep breath; ever thankful he was a shaman and immune to the Voice.
You begin to see, to know. Her words came quietly, spoken to him alone, and he nodded to the invisible witness. She gave him a gentle touch of warmth, reassurance he was safe, and he could focus better. His distraction meant he missed a good portion of Claire’s testimony.
“You attempted to murder wolves of Black Pine, using a bomb made by another. Tell me his name, and why.”
“Roman…gave me the bomb. Told me to kill the Black Pine wolves closest to Kane. He wanted Kane weak, and he thought killing his favorite wolves would destroy Kane. He hates Kane.”
She left a bomb on the front step of the cabin where Kane and Ghost used to stay. Only the whispered warnings of the Goddess gave Ghost the time to raise a shield, deflecting most of the blast and sparing the lives of his mate and friends. Claire went from passing information to Roman, to trying to kill for him. Terror at how close she came to ending all he held dear swamped him at once, and Ghost quaked down to his soul. Burke put an arm around his shoulders, squeezing hard once before letting him go.
Claire was speaking, and Ghost went back to paying attention to the trial. Ghost growled to himself quietly, annoyed he missed so much.
“Roman colluded with the Remus brothers, first Sebastien, then Simon,” Roan stated, tilting his head slightly, the only reaction he’d yet to show. “The humans who are aware of our existence have long coveted our powers, so their motivations are easy to discern. But what did Roman desire?”
Claire shook her head, biting her lip. Ghost smelled blood a second before it dripped down her chin.
“He wanted the strength to be Heir! He hated his weakness. He hated Kane!”
“Why did you help him?” Roan asked, and Claire shook her head, trying to resist. “Speak! Why did you betray your people?”
Claire screamed as Roan’s power swamped her, and she was lifted from her feet and thrown backwards. She crashed to the muddy ground of the pit, crying, but Roan was without mercy. “I wanted…”
“Louder!”
“I wanted an alpha!” Claire shrieked from the ground, clawing at the muddy earth. “I wanted him to love me!”
The tension in her body snapped, and Claire went limp. For her desire to claim Roman McLennan as her own, she betrayed her people, her family, and wolfkin by the dozens were dead.
Gray Shadow was dead. Marla, his mother. His brothers and sisters. Dead, one and all, lost to them forever. Claire betrayed them to Roman and his broken, bitter wolves, and Ghost’s family was shattered. Ghost’s eyes stung, he sucked in a deep breath, hoping the cold winter air would clear the ache from his chest.
Claire was still breathing, but unmoving. Ghost stood and leaned forward, sniffing. He could smell the stench of fear and urine. The Voice left her broken. A beta had no defenses whatsoever against the power of a greater alpha with the Voice. Andromeda was a monolith, immobile, not a twitch of an eyelash or stray scent betraying her feelings after watching her own daughter be tortured by Roan. Burke tugged Ghost’s elbow, and he reluctantly sat.
The greater alpha in the pit grabbed Claire and slung her over his shoulder, walking to the opposite tunnel, disappearing into the blackness. There was no movement, everyone who witnessed the questioning subdued in some way. Roan stood motionless and silent gazing down into the pit, as if willing to wait forever until bid to start anew.
Caius stood, breaking the silence, all eyes drawn to the clan leader.
He walked to the edge of the pit and addressed the clans. “I am Caius McLennan, Clan Leader of Black Pine. I call forth Roman McLennan to stand in judgment.”
Murmurs rose in harsh waves, wolfkin leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the traitor. Where Claire’s testimony left them silent and distressed, the mere mention of Roman’s name sent a flurry of excited whispers through
the assembled clans. Growls came from one of the openings in the pit, and Roman McLennan, Ghost’s other uncle and mass murderer, was dragged from the shadows.
Bound in chains made from silver and steel, Roman was covered in restraints—feet hobbled, arms wrapped around his chest and wrists in shackles with a collar about his neck. Roman was bound as tightly as could be managed while allowing him to walk with short steps. Three greater alphas held his chains, and two alphas in their wilder forms prowled at his heels.
Roman snapped his teeth at the wolfkin holding his chains, though he could do nothing to them, bound as he was. Barefoot in the snow and mud, wearing nothing but a dirty pair of sweatpants, Roman was a pitiful sight. His dark brown hair was pulled back behind his ears, and his face streaked with dirt. His time in the cellar of Andromeda’s cabin hadn’t been easy.
Insults, growls, and even some flung debris rained down over Roman as he growled back up at the crowd. Ghost sat still, not partaking in the heckling, and those acting up quickly settled when Andromeda sent a frown in the direction of the Red Fern wolves.
“Begin,” Caius told Roan, who responded with the slightest of nods. Caius returned to his seat with the Tribunal, expressionless, and Ghost could not smell or sense a single emotion from his grandfather.
Gerald tensed at his side, and Ghost leaned hard on the lesser alpha’s shoulder. His brother was in that pit, about to be questioned for treason and murder. Ghost had no memory he could trust concerning Roman—the time elapsed too great a distance in his mind. He remembered Gerald from his days as Luca in vague, shadowy impressions, but for Roman there was almost nothing. A glimpse or two of his mother laughing, Roman standing over her with a smile, and yet that was it. No emotion, no recollections that lent Ghost to sympathy or compassion for the shackled monster in the pit.
“Tell me your name,” Roan said, eyes locked on Roman. He growled back, teeth fanged out, that undefinable power rose again, sharp and pointed, and Roman screamed.
He dropped to his knees, mud splattering, blood running from his nose. Gerald shivered, and Ghost gripped his uncle’s hand tightly in both of his.
“Roman…” He gasped out, spitting a globule of blood out, red ruining the snow in front of him. “I am Roman McLennan, son of the cold-hearted bastard known as Caius McLennan.”
“You are charged with murder, treason, assault, conspiracy with humans, and numerous counts of abuse. You were caught by Clan Leader Andromeda in an attack on Red Fern. A witness has testified to providing you information leading to the kidnappings, torture, abuse, and eventual sale of wolfkin clan members to humans who further abused them. Did you collude with the humans Sebastien and Simon Remus?”
Roman spit out more blood, and the pressure around him rose. Wolves in the seats behind Ghost whimpered as Roan increased the weight of his Gift, bearing down without mercy on Roman. Yet Roman spared not a glance for Roan—he only had eyes for his father.
“Yes, I colluded with the Remus brothers,” Roman spat out, eyes glowing, his fingers changed enough for claws to grow long, the tips sharp against his ribs where his arms were strapped to his torso. His rage, a foul stink that made Ghost’s nose curl in distaste, pushed him to shift. “I sent them wolves I snatched from their beds, the streets. I gave them the locations of families with strong alphas for the taking. I gave Simon Remus my blood and seed, and told him how a wolfkin bitch could control her breeding cycles. I even told Sebastien Remus—,” and he screamed the rest to his father sitting above him, still as the stone upon which he sat, “I even told them where and when to grab your beloved Gray Shadow! They wanted the strongest shaman, his blood and body, and I gave them what they needed to take him!”
His last words were spoken at a roar as Roman lurched to his feet trying against all odds to break free. His guards yanked him back into the mud, those in wolf-form snapping at his face. Cries of shock and horror came from the clans, even the Tribunal members looked disturbed.
“Where is Simon Remus now?” Roan asked, the only one seemingly unaffected by the madness spewing forth from Roman.
“I don’t know. Your precious Kane took the human doctor, and most of my wolves are dead or run off like the cowards they are—I doubt Remus has stayed in the places I knew him to frequent,” Roman answered, some sanity returning to his voice, though his eyes glowed with an intense shine.
“Do you know where he has labs?”
“Yes…” Roman had blood dripping from his nose, and he didn’t seem to notice. “But it was standard for all labs to be scrubbed and moved if someone with knowledge of their locations was taken. Good luck finding them now. Remus has already moved them.”
Royrick leaned forward in his seat, one hand up to stall Roan from asking another question. “Why was the human doctor here? What use was he?”
Roman growled, his bare feet changing, claws popping free to dig into the slush in which he stood. Roan did something, and the pressure in the pit rose, making several wolves whine quietly and Roman to let out a sharp exhale, shoulders shaking.
“The human doctor was here to take blood and tissue samples from Gray Shadow’s beloved whelp.” Roman’s answer made the Tribunal raise their eyes, one after another searching out Ghost where he sat amongst the clans. Gerald grumbled softly next to him and Burke put a protective hand on the back on his neck.
“Gray Shadow’s whelp? You mean the feral youngling returned from the northern wilds is the center of this travesty?” Mercuriel spoke up for the first time, his deep, booming voice carrying across the wide space beneath the trees, echoing. Roman bared his fangs, acting far more feral than Ghost could ever claim. “Answer!”
“We wanted Gray Shadow for his powers. He died and we got nothing but a degraded blood sample tainted by silver. We needed more.” Roman’s voice was strangled, perhaps by the Voice the same way his body was forcing the change, his emotional and mental state eroding his human form from within. “The pretty little bitch could be the great Gray Shadow, reborn. Looks just like your dead lover, doesn’t he, Father?”
Shocked gasps came from everywhere, but none present were more shocked than the Tribunal. Heromindes and Royrick turned to Caius, who was like stone, staring at his son as if he were a whole new entity. Caius said nothing, did nothing, acting as if oblivious to the regard of his fellow tribunal members, his eyes locked on Roman and barren of emotion. Ghost ached for his grandfather. His own heart hurt. Eventually the Tribunal members dragged their shocked and curious attention away from Caius, and Royrick took a deep breath before continuing.
“You mentioned the humans wanted the youngling known as Luca. Were his powers the focus?”
“Remus wanted the powers of the wolfkin for humans. I wanted the powers of the shamans.”
“That’s impossible. Humans and wolfkin cannot even breed, we are too different. Remus sought an impossible goal.” That was Mercuriel, his doubt and confusion echoing what most of those watching seemed to feel. “Science cannot bend magic to its will. You and Remus sought power that can never be yours. All for what? Jealousy and impotence stole your sanity?”
“Not entirely impossible. Remus used Harmon to create hybrids. Some lived only hours, some days. Each new wave of wolfkin I brought him took him closer to his goal.” Roman spat out more blood, grinning. “He’s got labs all over New England. I haven’t even been to them all. Dr. Harmon said that hybrids were a step closer to giving wolfkin abilities to humans. I didn’t bother with that side of the operation—I hunted the wolves Remus needed and threw away the trimmings afterwards.”
“Abomination!” Mercuriel thundered, echoing Ghost’s feelings perfectly. “Why would you help him do such things?”
Roman snapped and snarled, blood and spit and spraying from his lips. “I wanted to be like the old War Wolves from the oh-so-perfect Gray Shadow’s lessons. Pathetic fairy tales that watered down the gods we alphas once were. Shamans crippled the wolfkin
. They have powers that once belonged to alphas, and I wanted them back! We aren’t meant to hide, our strength leashed! We are conquerors and god-kings, reduced to neutered half-life and mewling, simpering magicians who suck the strength from our clan leaders with a stern frown and wagging finger. How many times did Gray Shadow suck your dick, Father? How many times did he let you bend him over like the bitch he was to get what he wanted? He castrated you, made you weak! You exiled me for trying to claim what is mine, when all along Gray Shadow took it from you with a shake of his ass!”
Ghost could not take his eyes from Caius, his grandfather at last showing emotion. Pain, so clear and poignant and devastating filled Caius’ eyes, his expression a rictus of grief. It was there for but a second before control unlike anything Ghost had ever seen before schooled his features back into stony calm.
Roman was still ranting, and Roan let his power fade away. Madness blurred Roman’s features, a horrific glimpse at the splintered mind that orchestrated such despair and death. Even without Roan’s compulsion to speak, Roman now seemed incapable of remaining quiet, his raving inescapable.
“I killed wolves for the humans. I sold them, I cut them and bled them, I ripped them apart! I raped the bitches and defiled the upstart whelps who dared to laugh at me for my own father casting me aside for another. I gladly and without remorse told Sebastien Remus how to capture Gray Shadow, and I did it because it would destroy you, Father! How mighty was your beautiful Shadow that he died a failure? Did he live up to your expectations, your version of perfection? He’s dead! How perfect can a dead wolf be, Father?”
It was Heromindes who finally gestured to the guards around Roman. One in human form punched Roman in the back of the head, and he fell face first into the mud and snow.
Ghost felt horror and sadness, his heart breaking for Caius and his family. Her Presence echoed his sorrow, and She faded from the pit, the pressure in the atmosphere changing once She was gone.
