The Severed Thread (19 page)

There were a few standouts in the crowd.  In particular I was surprised to see Naris standing at attention on the far side of the room near the doorway to the main kitchen area.  The clear blue light of his life force would have been blinding if I had been standing closer.  He was looking to his right.  I followed the line of his gaze to see he was watching my mother.  Even though he had not willingly shown himself to me, he was still here helping, watching.

I looked away to scan the crowd again when I noticed an unusually bright green glow from the far side of the room.  The sheer intensity of the color implied power, lots of it.  And although I craned my neck and stood on tiptoe I couldn’t see the person clearly.  All I got was the impression of a tall male with warm brown hair.   I turned my head back towards Naris to find him watching me.  Our eyes met and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.  Sliding back to regular sight, he winked out of view.   

I turned away from the crowd to look out onto the grounds.  My mother had an infatuation with up-lit trees and low voltage lighting.  About five years ago she had a landscape designer place lights discretely throughout the property creating intimate spaces and picturesque scenes that could only be appreciated at night. 

“You haven’t introduced me to your daughter, Quentin,” someone said behind me in the same instant that a wash of power surrounded me.  I glanced at Corbin and was surprised to see he looked positively rigid with tension.  The reason became obvious when I turned around to find the voice belonged to Jonathan Wilder, Corbin’s pack-master.  I had the sneaky suspicion that if I unfocused my sight again, I would find myself standing face to face with the man who had the bright green life force.

I tried not to look over at Corbin since I was certain that he was wishing a hole would form in the floor and swallow him up.  He tried to stay on the periphery of pack politics as much as possible and coming directly into the pack-master’s path was probably uncomfortable.  Jonathan Wilder’s eyes slide over Corbin at my side before his gaze settled on me. 

Corbin was a dominant male werewolf, an Alpha.  He wouldn’t be able to hold his own in a courtroom otherwise.  A submissive wolf wouldn’t have enough strength of character to stand up to an opposing attorney who happened to be an Alpha.  There were levels of dominance within the pack and from what I had been able to tell from previous meetings with some of Corbin’s pack mates, he fell somewhere mid-level in the Alpha hierarchy.  There was no question as to where Jonathan Wilder stood - dominance was flowing off of him in waves.   It rolled over my skin like the pounding surf of high tide.  I imagined it was all Corbin could do to remain standing in his presence.  

Dominance is innate.  You were either born with it or you weren’t.  It couldn’t be faked or learned but it could be pushed, stretched with effort for a short duration, much like a runner pulling on reserves to make a sprint at the end of a race.  Jonathan Wilder’s off the chart level should require quite a bit of effort to sustain but it was almost like the energy coming off him was secondary, an afterthought, something out of his control. 

“You haven’t met?  I hadn’t realized that,” my father said pleasantly, turning his flawlessly alluring smile towards us.  I had learned long ago not to be taken in by his false charm, having seen it too many times bestowed upon someone he would happily skewer later with a verbal diatribe of their faults and unworthiness.  Right now he was doing his doting father act all the while pretending not to notice the thrum of energy pouring off the man standing beside him.

“Jonathan, may I present my daughter Abigail,” he said, smiling widely while making introductions.  “Abigail, this is Jonathan Wilder, pack-master of the Lenape Pack.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you Mr. Wilder,” I reached out to shake his hand while smiling politely.  I tried not to cringe in anticipation of touching him, certain his power would scald my very skin.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he replied taking my hand and giving it a firm but surprisingly gentle squeeze.  “But please, call me Jonathan.”  His nostrils flared and a flash of puzzlement rolled across his face.  It was so quickly covered that I almost thought I had imagined it. 
Almost.
  What was that all about?

“Alright, Jonathan,” I acquiesced with a nod.  I was relieved that he had reined in his power a bit and that my hand was still intact.  I knew Corbin was going to hate this next part but I really didn’t see any way around it.  “I believe you already know my friend Corbin Greenbranch.”  I put my hand on the back of Corbin’s upper arm, giving a little squeeze. 

“Good to see you Corbin,” Jonathan said, focusing his attention momentarily on Corbin.

 “You too sir,” Corbin replied.  “If you will excuse me for a moment, I was just going to get Abigail a drink.” He turned and winked at me before disappearing into the crowd. 

“
Thanks a lot!
”
I sent to him silently.

“I’m very sorry about your brother,” Jonathan was saying.  I must have heard that a couple of hundred times over the course of this day.

“Thank you; it has been a rough few days.”  I glanced across the sea of people milling around us, trying to figure out what else to say when the song flowing across the room suddenly registered.  The quartet my aunt had hired was playing an instrumental version of Cheeseburger in Paradise.  My eyes dart to my father and that’s when I saw it, the not so subtle eye tick. 
Go Aunt Gracie
!

“If you will excuse me a moment,” my father murmured to Jonathan, his focus already fixed on the location of the musicians across the room.   I watched him walk away only to realize that as I was watching my father, Jonathan Wilder was watching me.

“Interesting musical selection for a funeral,” he ventured with obvious curiosity.

“Jason was a big Jimmy Buffett fan,” I said.  I could feel a smile threatening.

“I take it your father is not.”  I would swear I saw his mouth twitch in a suppressed grin.  I was not as successful at controlling mine because I could not stop thinking about my father’s twitchy eye as he took off for the other side of the room.  A fully-fledged happy smile was spreading across my face.

“I don’t really care what he likes,” I admitted, still smiling.  “Today is about honoring Jason.  About remembering who he was.”

“You’re right, it is about Jason.”  My happy smile slipped as he continued.  “I understand that the Interspecies Bureau is investigating.”  I was betting that he knew more about the progress of the investigation than I did since Agent McCabe was a wolf.  Even though Interspecies Bureau agents couldn’t be a part of the pack that was located inside their jurisdiction, it was widely known that they tended to socialize and mingle with local members of their species.  Wolves were especially social, needing a sense of connection with others of their kind.

“Yes.” I nodded, making direct eye contact.  Not always a good idea with a dominant wolf since they had a nasty habit of seeing it as a challenge.  But did I care about any of that at the moment?  No. 

“And I’m sure you know more about what is going on with that investigation than I do.”  My mouth did get away from me sometimes.

He leaned down like he was sharing a secret, completely unfazed by my challenge.  “Possibly,” he replied noncommittally, his lips twitching. 

Obviously I posed so little threat that it was not worth his time to even be annoyed, which by the way, irked me a little.  Well maybe more than a little.  It did not really help that he was so damn attractive either.  Well over six feet, he had the usual athletic build typical of a Were.  He also had a full head of richly burnished chestnut hair that immensely complimented his piercing green eyes.  It was hard to believe but I was betting he was well into his sixties or seventies and he did not look a day over thirty-five.  I gave myself a mental slap when I noticed my berserker was paying attention.  This was my brother’s funeral reception.  I needed to rein it in already.

“There is no
possibly
about it,” I scoffed.  “I assume that Agent McCabe is a regular visitor at The Den?”  The Den was where the Lenape Pack-Master resided along with quite a large contingent of his wolves.  You had to either be a wolf or a family member of the pack to be invited.  No one else was admitted inside its walls.  Ever.

“You are an interesting woman Abigail Lassiter,” he said.  What was that supposed to mean? 

“That’s what Agent McCabe said too,” I replied, frowning at the second man to say that in less than two days.  I was pretty sure neither had meant it as a compliment.

A hand came to rest on my arm.  Liam McCallister was standing next to me, staring directly at Jonathan Wilder with a proprietary glint in his eye.  I glanced back over at Jonathan just in time to see his eyes narrow before he settled a bland expression on his face.

“Liam,” Jonathan said.  It was polite but just barely.

“Jonathan.”  Liam’s tone matched Jonathan’s exactly.

I did a mental eye roll when I felt the dominance rolling off Jonathan kick up a notch.  Okay, more than a notch.  Let the posturing begin.  These two definitely did not like each other.  It made me wonder about the Were working the gate at the Clan Home.  I was surprised Wilder let any of his people work for someone he so obviously detested.

“Abigail, how are you this evening?” McCallister asked before his nostrils flared and a look of distaste settled on his face.  He was acting as if he smelled something rotten.  I was starting to worry I had forgotten my deodorant. 

 “You looked rather happy a moment ago,” he continued.  I nearly bristled at the faint note of disapproval I detected in his tone. 

“Jonathan and I were having a bit of fun at my father’s expense I’m afraid.”  I did not try to offer further explanations.  He did not need to know everything.  “
You can let go of my arm now,”
I grumbled at him silently.  I did not have to wonder if he got my mental reprimand when I saw him purse his lips in irritation.  I shifted so that he was forced to release his hold on my arm. 

“Penelope has been asking about you ever since your visit the other night.”  He pretended to ignore my arm extraction and lack of explanation.  “You made quite an impression.”

“She made quite an impression on me as well.”  I couldn’t help being honest, she
was
a nice kid.  I cast a surreptitious glance at Jonathan Wilder out of the corner of my eye.  I was sure he was trying to figure out why I was spending time at Liam McCallister’s home.  I was also certain that Liam wanted him wondering.  Damn vampire.

“So, you’ve met Liam’s ward?”  The question was asked casually, too casually in fact.  I had the fleeting thought that the pack master might be doing a little of Agent McCabe’s work for him. 

“Yes.”

“Abigail is going to set up a play date for Penelope,” McCalliser offered.  I was hoping that Jonathan was making mental notes to take back to Agent McCabe since it bolstered my explanation for being at the Clan Home.  “She has convinced me that my ward needs to spend more time with children her own age.”

Yeah, hanging with a bunch of dead people had to be a real drag I thought with a mental eye roll. 
Wait!
  Did I just say that out loud?  Judging from the bland facial expressions of the two men, I was guessing I had mercifully not spoken aloud.  Instead, I went with the more polite, “I hope to have that set up in the next day or two.  I will contact Lok with the details.”

Before McCallister could reply, Jacqueline materialized out of the crowd to stand at his side.   She looked lovely in an aubergine shift dress and silk wrap in deep purples and creams.

“Pack-master” she dipped her head in greeting before turning her attention to me.  “Abigail, it’s good to see you, even under such sad circumstances.”

“It’s nice to see you too,” I replied sincerely.  She had been the one nice person on the whole hellish ride to Riverwalk the other night. 

“I hope that you remember your brother with love.”  She dipped her head again, only this time it was an attempt to convey respect for my loss.  Well, that was the first original sympathetic comment of the day. 

“Thank you Jacqueline, I will.” 

“I’m glad.  That is the best honor we can bestow on those that leave us behind.”  I guess being a vampire, she would know all about being left behind.   

She smiled at me sympathetically before turning to McCallister.  “Master,” she murmured and then… nothing.  They were speaking, I was sure of it, but the pack-master and I were excluded. 

“If you will excuse us Abigail, Jonathan,” Liam said stiffly, his attention focused back on us.  “Jacqueline informs me that my presence is required elsewhere.  Please pass along my apologies for my early departure to your mother and father.” 

“Certainly.”  Now weren’t all of us being so very polite.

“You and I will talk,” he said giving me a pointed look.  “Soon.”  Oops, maybe not so polite after all.  Well, that didn’t sound ominous or anything.  I nodded, trying to figure out where the personable man from the other evening had gone.

He directed a curt nod at Jonathan before he and Jacqueline disappeared into the crowd, heading towards the front door.  I stared after them a moment, perplexed.

“Interactions with the dead are always interesting.  Especially with the primo vamp himself,” Jonathan commented wryly.

“You can say that again,” I said.  “And I believe that Liam would take offense at the inference that he is dead, though.  Don’t you know that he’s
transformed
?”  I mimed finger quotes with my hands.  “Not that it takes much to irritate him.  He seems perpetually aggravated.”

“Oh, and I’m sure he just loved your comment about hanging out with dead people being a real drag,” he said, shaking his head in amazement.

“Oh no!” I gasped.  “I was sure I didn’t say that out loud.”  Just what I needed, a pissed off clan master.

 “Well, you did,” his eyes twinkled with amusement.  “But I believe, in this case, his annoyance was for an entirely different reason.  I have to admit that I was a bit taken aback myself.”