by Petra Landon
“I’ve been unfair to you” she confessed, after a short pause. “I only ever saw you through the prism of my perceptions of Shifters and the Pack.”
He shrugged, unfazed by the admission. “Why would you not?”
“Hawk saw you as you are” she reiterated softly, regretful of her mistake. Perhaps, putting all Shifters in the same basket had not been her best move, Sara reflected. She should have worked harder to separate the wheat from the chaff. It was not too late yet, to find the perfect balance between the Pack and her own aspirations. After all, she could not walk away from the Pack.
“Only because Hawk spends more time with the Pack” he countered lightly.
Sara could not argue with that.
Acutely aware that he was not entirely blameless in this, Luis tried to change the subject. He’d made no effort with Sara, while he had for her twin. In a way, her uncanny affinity with her mother had made him keep his distance from Sara. While Hawk’s resemblance to his father had made it easier to deal with him.
“Though I must say the Lair has seen more of him since Tasia” he added.
Sara chuckled, casting a speculative glance at her companion. The constraints with Luis were rapidly vanishing. The Were-Alpha was proving to be surprisingly easy to have a conversation with. Sara took the plunge. “It was Tasia who nudged you to talk to me, wasn’t it?” she asked him.
Luis studied her. “What makes you say that?”
“Tasia thinks highly of you.”
“The sentiment is reciprocated” he responded. “But this is a question you must ask your friend.”
Sara did not press him further. She had her answer. Instead, she changed the topic.
“Does Hawk resemble our mother too?” she inquired curiously.
“Hawk is the spitting image of Stefano. Not just a physical resemblance, but the way he throws himself passionately into causes he believes in.”
Sara, with memories of her father still alive, concurred with the Were-Alpha. Hawk could sometimes allow emotion to guide his actions, but he was always thoughtful and incredibly generous with his loved ones, like the father she remembered.
“I’m not the only one to see Stefano in Hawk” Luis remarked, interrupting Sara’s musings.
The remark puzzled her. Neither Hawk nor she had been brought up in the Pack. As a result, few Shifters knew them well. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“Elisabetta was drawn to Stefano when he first came to San Francisco. And there was an attraction on your father’s part too. But when Aiyana came into his life, he did not look back.”
Sara gaped at the Shifter, speechless with shock.
“Elisabetta needles Hawk because she’s bitter about the past, Sara” Luis attested. “Unfortunately for her, the man her barbs are directed at is not here to respond to them.”
“Every time I read the document, I’m struck anew by how much he tells us in a few short paragraphs” Atsá contended. “The Oracle peppers his notes with details and clues between the lines.”
After nearly a week away from San Francisco, matters requiring the Alpha’s attention had piled up. While the rest took it easy, Raoul had thrown himself back into work. Roman Durovic was in Canada engaging the Setik, but many of the others had gravitated to the Pack Room as night had fallen.
“I’ve noted the same, Atsá” Duncan affirmed thoughtfully, reminded of an aspect he’d been reflecting on. “Consider the tone he uses to depict the crucial players. It is subtly different for each entity. About the sisters, he’s almost neutral, like he’s trying his best to be objective and forcing himself to be brief. There’s only a line to describe each sibling. For the champion, he gives a positive spin. All the words used to describe him are compliments — rise above the past, set aside his prejudices, acclaimed across the diaspora, will expose the corrosive tribalism of the Chosen. The champion is depicted as this heroic figure who overcomes all obstacles. But when it comes to the custodian, the Oracle is very circumspect and drops heavy-handed hints all over the place. Suggests that she’s the most important player of the five and yet, indicates that she will be alone, isolated, estranged, with a tough path to legitimacy and that her heart will guide her to make her choice. With her, even the reference to White Mage is hardly complimentary, especially if, as is likely, the allusion refers to the infamous Black Mage.”
“Some would argue that it is more reason to believe that the custodian is his wife and the champion his friend” Maartje interjected. “His relationship with his wife was complicated and that reflects in his notes about his prophecy.”
“I’m inclined towards the theory Tasia presented on the flight, Maartje” Atsá countered.
Luis joined the conversation, a furrow marking his brows. “You mean that the Oracle wanted to protect his prophecy from wrecking our future by falling into the wrong hands?”
“Yes” Atsá confirmed pensively. “He hid the identities of the players deliberately to protect the future, yet very cleverly interweaved everything we need to unravel this puzzle in his notes.”
“Faoladh, as the champion, would be a major reprieve, given that the rainmaker is a contentious matter” Maartje submitted candidly, giving voice to all of their concerns. “I don’t believe Faoladh would ever campaign for or agree to forgive past crimes, simply to further his own ambitions. However, I’m not so sure another champion would hold so true to his principles.”
Duncan concurred silently with Maartje’s sentiments. The future, as predicted by the Oracle, seemed chock-full of uncertainty, confusion and treachery. In such a scenario, Faoladh, in a major role, would be a beacon of hope — someone they could depend on to do the right thing for the Chosen. But unlike the others, Duncan was also aware that Faoladh, as the paladin of the future, might not be the panacea they hoped for. For once, even uber confident Faoladh was ambivalent about his role. So much so that he’d been unable to hide his conflicted feelings from Raoul. Duncan didn’t know what to make of it. Yet, in his gut, he felt that circumstances were not likely to be as black and white as their discussions presumed. Many strange bedfellows and unlikely alliances would be forged as the future, depicted by The Prophecy, moved inexorably closer. However ambiguous they might otherwise be, the Oracle’s notes made one thing clear — the Chosen were in for some tumultuous times.
“The custodian might be the heart of The Prophecy, but the champion holds a lot of power because he’s responsible for defending her interests” Atsá affirmed, thinking out loud.
Nandini jumped in unexpectedly. “As Duncan just pointed out, the Oracle hints quite heavily that the role of the champion is a noble one. Whoever he is, Maartje, even if not Faoladh, I think the champion will be a force for good. ”
Tasia allowed the discussion to recede into the background. Something else preoccupied her mind to a great extent. The dream aboard the plane had rattled her. Her rational self reminded her constantly that the fantastic suspicions in her mind could not be true. And yet, the doubts continued to fester.
Beside her, Hawk shot a look at his friend. She had been unusually subdued since their return to the Lair. Hawk had put it down to exhaustion. They’d touched down at dawn, after a long flight from Belize via Vancouver. He hoped that being back at the Lair was not what had stolen her smiles. It had not escaped Hawk’s notice that Tasia had been more at ease away from the Pack. However, to his immense joy and relief, his twin seemed finally at peace with her Packmates. Luis’ admission about their mother had had a beneficial effect on Sara. For the first time since he could remember, she’d engaged publicly with Luis in the Lair when before, Sara had kept scrupulously to her were-pack. Hawk had also taken note of the Shifters’ reactions, their attention caught by his twin’s unusual actions. Sara was notorious for being an unenthusiastic member of their Pack. She’d never hidden that from anyone. Yet, here she was, having private conferences in the Pack Room downstairs with a Were-Alpha she’d never evinced any interest in before. In their gossipy Lair, it was unlikely f
or this to pass unnoticed or without comment.
In another part of town, the Alpha was engaged on a different mission — the very first meeting of the local Chosen Alliance with Mistress Franciszka in attendance. DiZeyla had offered to host them at the Collegium — the San Francisco office of Ancient affairs. He had let DiZeyla drive the agenda, taking a back seat to observe, just in case the Mistress required a nudge. But Franciszka was acquitting herself well. She’d taken cues from the others and was attempting to play well with the team. As was her wont, the Mistress of the local Vampire Nest had made a grand entrance; dressed to the nines, dripping with jewels and accompanied by three carloads of leeches. For Franciszka, this was a small entourage. However, to Raoul’s pleasant surprise, she’d left her leeches in the parking lot of the Collegium without being prompted to do so. Raoul was pleased that the Mistress was taking his blunt warning to heart. He’d made it clear to her, in no uncertain terms, that while he’d facilitated her debut in the coalition, her future in it would depend on the other members. He hoped the good behavior would last. Though shrewd and politically astute when it came to her Nest, Franciszka was spoilt and often allowed her leech sensitivities and predilections to overcome her good judgement.
“I’d like a word, Raoul” David Hamilton murmured as the Alpha rose to his feet, at the conclusion of the discussion.
The ranking Wizard in San Francisco cast a sidelong glance at the Vampire Mistress as he made the request. Raoul understood such caution. Just as he’d never indulge in a private conversation with Shifters in the vicinity, he would never agree to one with leeches in proximity.
“I’ll see the Mistress out” he said.
Raoul watched, in some amusement, as Franciszka thanked DiZeyla graciously for the hospitality. The Mistress only deployed her charm on those she considered worthy recipients. As leaders of their respective local Chosen factions, both David and DiZeyla were being treated to Franciszka’s version of a charm offensive. Well, at least, she was trying, he reflected. The Mistress had decided that she did not want to be on the outside looking in, not when the relationship between the other Chosen in San Francisco was on the upswing.
As he ushered Franciszka to her car, she held out her hand to him regally. He gave her an old-fashioned bow and she made a little moue that spoke of her disappointment. They’d been playing this game for a long time. She expected the courtesies of a bygone era and Raoul, though always careful to adhere to the niceties appropriate for a Vampire leader, did so while falling short of what Franciszka considered her due.
“Visit me soon, moj drogi” she invited him, in her usual coquettish manner. “There has been communication from a mutual acquaintance barred from this city.”
“I’m not interested in what Bianchi has to say, Franciszka” the Alpha responded, with a distinct lack of interest. He planned to pay a visit to the Mistress soon, but only after he had word from Roman on whether Monseigneur would face any questions about Belize. Franciszka’s Master was an influential Pure Blood Vampire, rumored to have an uneasy relationship with the powerful head of the Lombardis.
Her eyes flashed to him, silently telegraphing a message. “He’s making some wild accusations” she said quietly. “Don’t take him lightly.”
Raoul studied her. Her unusual gravity could be taken either way. The leeches looked upon anything to do with the Clan as a serious matter of grave importance. On the other hand, Franciszka knew him better than other leeches.
When he returned, DiZeyla, keeping David company, stood up to take her leave.
The Wizard stopped her. “Stay please. I might need you to back me up with Raoul.”
DiZeyla smiled, to settle back in her chair, without another word.
The Alpha closed the door. “I’m not going to like this, am I, David?” he remarked, with a distinct lack of rancor.
Once Raoul’s senses had confirmed that the premises were leech free, he gestured at David to proceed.
“I’ve received overtures from the Guardians, to facilitate a face to face with you” the Wizard leader said. David, immensely taken aback by the request, had nevertheless read an increasing desperation in the Guardian outreach to him. He had not forgiven the Guardians for shielding one of their own at the expense of the Wizards. The only reason he’d given in to their request to broker a meeting was because he sensed that the matter was serious.
Raoul met the Wizard’s eyes. He’d yet to reach out to the Guardian Faoladh had asked him to. “Sebastian Thorne?”
David confirmed it. He took in the Alpha’s inscrutable expression. “I know the Guardians aren’t your cup of tea, Raoul.”
“I’ll meet with Thorne” the Alpha declared, preempting further arguments.
His consent left David Hamilton wide-eyed. Having come prepared to make the case to the Alpha, the Wizard was taken aback.
DiZeyla arched an eyebrow in mild surprise. The Alpha’s relationship with the Guardians, never easy to begin with, was currently at breaking point. “Feeling charitable towards the GCW, Raoul?”
“Never, DiZeyla. But I promised Faoladh I’d hear them out.”
“What do the Guardians want with you?” she inquired curiously. After the havoc the Pack had wreaked on Wizard Headquarters, Raoul was persona non grata among the Guardians.
The Alpha shrugged. “They want an audience with Faoladh. Since it has not been granted, my guess is they’re hoping I will use my influence with him to get them one.”
She mused on his answer. “It’s common knowledge that both Faoladh and ElThor are displeased with the GCW. But why you, Raoul? Perhaps, an attempt to mend fences” she speculated.
“I’m not interested in mending fences with the Guardians, DiZeyla. And they know it” the Alpha responded.
“Rumors are rampant that something’s brewing in San Diego” David offered, with a furrow between his brows. Since the humiliation administered by the Alpha at their Headquarters, the GCW had been a little more responsive to David. Word from the other Registries suggested that there had been some change in the Guardians’ behavior, at least when it came to addressing Wizard concerns. Despite that, he sensed that matters were starting to spiral out of control again. “The whispers are getting louder that this is more than the usual dysfunction.”
Raoul shot him a glance. “I’m aware of the attempts to call a new election for First Wizard.”
David sighed. “I wasn’t sure but you just confirmed it.”
This time, DiZeyla looked perturbed. “A new First Wizard would upset the applecart” she murmured. “And might not be great for your investigation either, Raoul.” Though the probe affected all Chosen, Lady Bethesda put the Wizards at the center of it. Without Lady Esmeralda, even the minor co-operation the Pack received from the Wizards on the investigation would fizzle out.
“I’ll say this” David remarked. “Whatever motivates the Guardians to approach you, there’s something frantic about their outreach to me, almost a manic feeling of running out of time.”
Raoul, who had never given a damn about Wizard politics, just wanted to get it over with. He had bigger fish to fry, rather than indulge Guardian drama.
“Where would you like to meet? David asked him, mindful of the logistics. He knew how deeply the Alpha felt about certain matters. Raoul would not invite Guardians into his Lair.
“The Registry is at your service” the Wizard offered. “And if that is not acceptable, so is my home.”
Raoul smiled, a rare gesture from him. “Thank you, David. But I will not put you to the trouble of hosting us at your home.”
“The Collegium?” DiZeyla suggested. “It is neutral territory.”
Weeks in the past, deep in the Belizean Rainforest
Temi awoke to find the cavern empty, with no sign of her companion. The hint of light through the archway suggested that it was dawn. To her surprise, a blanket covered her. It was winter and the forest at night was cold. The cavern, with the stream running through it, was nearly freezing once the su
n went down. The first night in here, she’d paced to keep the cold away, catching up on sleep during the day. But last night, relieved and weary, she’d succumbed to exhaustion.
She sat up, to note one of the ubiquitous energy bars by her. Temi reached for it. Having pondered his ultimatum last night, she’d come to a decision. In the light of day, she was determined to keep to her resolution. She’d gambled heavily for a chance to negotiate with one of the few Chosen who could free her from a fate that terrified her. And against all the odds, she’d succeeded in her quest. More significantly, what he offered her went beyond her wildest dreams. She must not allow her stint with the duplicitous Vampires to color her perceptions and doubt his intentions. Or, she would squander this hard-won opportunity.
Temi was finishing the last of the bar, when he strode into the cavern. As her eyes went to him, her breath seemed to freeze. In one hand, he carried a small but wicked-looking blade. Her heart thumped once and Temi gave herself a stern, albeit silent, lecture to keep the faith.
She tried to make light of it. “What’s the knife for?” she asked him.
“To slit your throat, Red. What else?” he retorted dispassionately.
Despite her best intentions, Temi paled. As the big man hunkered down on his haunches before her, it took everything in her to not flinch away from him.
The slate-gray eyes met her watchful gaze and a brow arched sardonically. “Will you fight me or make it easy?”
Temi stared into the cloudless eyes, even as her heart and mind fought a mighty battle within. Resolutions were all fine and dandy, but trust came hard to her. A lifetime under Monseigneur’s thumb had destroyed her faith in others. But with ElMorad’s ultimatum still fresh, Temi reminded herself of what the alternative was. He’d made it clear that his patience was running thin. She took a deep breath, but before she could say anything, his eyes flickered. It was an infinitesimal shift, but Temi caught it just the same. The quicksilver glance had been to the abundant red tresses flowing over her shoulders. It was a distinctive color and would betray her to the Blutsauger hunters.
