Weregirl (16 page)

Grandfather
, I send in a tight, tense touch.
What does Caine feel like to you?
 

Oleksander twitches, eyes flickering up to meet mine before they return to Caine.

“I understand there have been revenant sightings.” How did he discover that? Unless.

He’s a revenant
, I send, kicking myself internally for not catching it, not making the connection. But the off way he smells, the almost dirty feeling of him… being in the presence of the dead revenants earlier makes it even clearer to me now.

Impossible
. Oleksander doesn’t sound convinced of his own denial.
They are sane and whole
.

Are they?
I reach out to Caine, though I feel my grandfather is right. But I know it’s true, I’m certain of it. And growing more so by the moment.

“Tell me what you know of them.” Oleksander leans forward, toward Caine who feigns shock and hurt.

“I, Great King?” He laughs, his people chuckling around him. “What makes you think I know anything? I’m only bringing up rumor, a rumor that puts us all at risk.”

His protest tells me what I need to know. “Who are you working with?” If sorcerers are making revenants, it’s possible Caine and his people are the final result. But, if so, why is whoever is making the new ones still trying—and failing so badly?

I’m confused, still muddled by the reek of death and decay clinging to me as Caine turns his attention to me.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he says. “We came because of the summons. I came,” he takes a step closer, “to claim you as my mate. Nothing more.”

“If you were so eager to do so,” I say, “why then did you spend several days in Yutsk instead of proceeding directly here, to the palace?”

His pack growls, a few pacing a few steps before falling still. “I don’t owe you an explanation,” he says.

“Enough.” Oleksander slams both fists down on the arms of his throne. “Sharlotta, there are greater issues at stake.”

He can’t take Caine’s side. He can’t.

Caine shrugs, grin returning, as he bows his head to my grandfather. “I will give you the answer, my king.” He spreads his hands wide. “We had no idea what to expect of you,” he says. “I chose to protect my pack, to do some recon before we arrived. To make sure you and your mighty werenation were worthy of us.”

He’s lying, I can tell by instinct and the way his hands tighten when he speaks. So many tells, and yet I have no proof, no way to make him give me what I need to know. I only have one thing left to use against him, but my grandfather puts an end to that before I can throw the accusation at him.

We will keep this to ourselves
, Oleksander sends, sitting back in his throne.
Until we know for certain if, in fact, they are revenants as you claim.”
 

As I claim?
You don’t believe me?
His distrust hurts me to the quick.

I didn’t say that,
Oleksander sends, though his tone is cold and distant.
But they have done nothing to prove they are revenants. And though I don’t fully trust them, I have yet to witness anything that might prove they are enemies of our people.
 

Surely he wasn’t that much a fool.
But, Grandfather—
 

Sharlotta
. He turns his head, looks up at me with a deep scowl while Caine watches.
What you claim, this is a serious allegation. We must have proof. I will not have werewolves persecuted without it
. He looks back at Caine and the others.
They act like no revenants I’ve ever encountered. There might be a more logical explanation for the taint you feel
.

You don’t feel it, too?
He had to.

I do not.
Oleksander’s tone is so dismissive I flinch.
All I feel are werewolves, slightly different than us, but to be expected. They were not born here, and it’s possible the magic of their homeland has changed them somewhat.
 

Ridiculous. He’s making stupid, empty excuses to protect those who I’m certain are out to destroy him.

But his mind is made up and I know him well enough to realize he won’t back down. I growl in my head, my wolf pacing her frustration.
Very well
, I send.
I’ll get your proof
.

Oleksander shifts his weight, face settling into a calmer visage. “We understand your concerns,” he says. “And welcome you into our overpack.”

Caine grins at me. “Does this mean my chances to court the princess have improved?”

He wouldn’t dare.

“They have,” Oleksander says while I barely resist the urge to flatten him with my power. “All eligible bachelors are now open to my choice for her mate.”

I choke on his words, bitter, dark and terrible.
I won’t submit.
 

You will,
he sends, still cold.
My days of trusting your judgment in this matter are over, Sharlotta. You’ve proven you put the werenation behind your own needs.
 

Then I step down.
The words are spoken on impulse, but I mean them.

You will not.
His voice roars in my head.
You will obey, and this nation will survive.
 

I bite my lower lip, holding back spoken words while my wolf whines and paces inside me.

Caine bows to my grandfather, gaze flickering back and forth between the two of us as he grins. “I look forward to the competition,” he says. “And mating with you, Charlotte.”

Over my very dead and broken body.

Oleksander.
I can’t call him grandfather any longer.
Believe I will not allow this to happen.
 

“Dismissed.” The wereking waves Caine and his people off. They leave, though the wereleader looks back over his shoulder at me a few times, still grinning. It’s not until the doors to the throne room shut behind them I turn to face my traitor grandfather.

“You can’t make me do anything,” I snarl, keeping my voice low so the wereguards can’t hear. “Our freedom, our people’s freedom, is embedded in the gift Syd gave us.”

“Sydlynn Hayle.” Oleksander shakes his head. “Perhaps I’ve given her too much access to you. Her ways, the ways of witches, are not ours.” He glares up at me. “Can you not understand how important it is you mate a werewolf? No,” he waves off my protest before I speak, “not even Piers Southway is a choice now, Sharlotta. I see clearly the challenges coming for us, not only from the outside, but from within our own people. Werewolves like Caine’s pack watch and weigh our every move. If we are to hold our people together and pull them with us into a stronger, more secure future, we must trust the old laws and show them we are worthy of the throne.”

“So much fear,” I hiss at him, spiteful suddenly, though it’s not my nature. “Worry about what others think.”

“You would serve yourself well do to the same,” he snaps back at me. “What do you think ruling means, child? Do you think it’s some game, some frivolity? I have given up much in my life to make available to you all that you now have.” How easily he forgets Syd was the one who gave us our freedom. “And like it or not, you are the only choice in our family for heir. I will not allow the Moreau name to be dragged into the dirt by one ill-humored and pampered child.” He has no idea what he’s saying. “I retract my former ruling. You will marry whom I say and until the day you take this throne, you will obey my orders.”

This is madness. Madness.
I splutter in his mind until he waves me off.

Enough, Sharlotta
. Oleksander shakes his head, staring at his clenched hands in his lap before he looks up at me, and for the first time I see how tired he is. I’ve added stress to his life, though that was not my intention, and I can see the hurt he still feels, the betrayal he perceives for my relationship with Sage.

No greater than the betrayal he’s just handed to me. I can’t let this go.
No, Grandfather
, I send,
it’s not enough. I will not be controlled, not now. And no matter your feelings about me, or this nation, I refuse to just wash my hands of Caine and my suspicions because it’s uncomfortable or because you want it to go away
. I hesitate before going on.
And if you try to force me into mating, I will take you down.
 

Did I just challenge my own grandfather?

His eyes darken, a scowl pulling at his face.
You will fail.
 

Maybe.
I reach for compassion, try to see things his way, from his narrow viewpoint while my anger fights to reemerge.
Please, understand, I don’t want things to go this way between us. I love you, Grandfather. But we can’t live this way. We can’t worry what others think. And we can’t allow those who would undermine us to remain only because we wish things were different.
 

He hesitates, softening.
Sharlotta, he sends,
anguish in his mental voice
. I only ever wanted a better life for you than I had
.

I know
, I send.
But by becoming a tyrant, you’re undoing all that
.

You will obey me
. He sounds far less sure of himself.

I will obey my heart
, I send.
And I will do what is best for the werenation. But I must be allowed to make my own choice
.

Oleksander squirms on his throne.
We shall see
. He squints at me, a little anger returning.
The normal must go
.

My teeth grind together, my own gaze narrowing.
I told you it was over
, I send with a bitter edge rebounding.
Sage came here on his own. I intended only to do my duty
.

I’m sure
. Oleksander stands, turning his back on me.

What can I do or say to make this right? Nothing. He will either come to terms with it or not. I refuse to allow the issue of Sage to cloud the real trouble here, not any longer. And while my grandfather might not believe I will fight him for the right to my own choice, I am determined it will be so.

I’m going to tell Femke about Caine and his people
, I send.

My grandfather spins on me with a snarl.
You will not
, he sends.

If the California weres are part of this—

So many ifs, Sharlotta
. Oleksander straightens to his full height.
I will not act on “if”
.
They are our people, like it—like him—or not. We must stand together
.

Then allow me to investigate
, I send.
And bring you proof
.

He hesitates before nodding.
Very well
, he sends.
But I will not bring charges unless you are absolutely certain, beyond a shadow of doubt. You must convince me
.

The difference between him and me. If I were queen, Caine would be dead already.

I turn from my grandfather as the doors open, determined to find what I need to remove the California pack from the equation. I’m certain I’m right. Now to prove it.

Gwendolyn and Finlay enter, hurrying toward us, the small witch and her hulking Enforcer both looking worried.

“What is it?” I rush down the stairs to meet them as they come to a halt, Gwen flushed from distress.

“We’re tracking another revenant,” she says, voice soft and apologetic. “We could use your help.”

I turn to my grandfather who waves me off. “Put an end to this, Sharlotta,” he rumbles.

As I feel Finlay’s blue power wrap me up and lift me away from the palace, I am determined to do just that.

***

I lift my head and sniff the breeze, my tracking nose still tainted by the scent of revenants. But in this instance, I know it will serve me well. Magic moves around me in the quiet, snow-bound forest, witches of the Council forming a semi-circle, in an attempt to flush out our prey.

Femke’s mind touches mine, foreign and cool but welcome.
Any luck?
 

I have his trail
, I send as the first whiff of the fleeing revenant carries to me.
A few miles ahead, from the taste of him
.

She releases me, the line tightening around me. I ghost through the trees in full wereform, the snow soft under my paws, the fresh fall powdering around me from the cloud-darkened sky. The forest feels eerily silent, no creatures stirring, birds long since flown for cover. I’ve never felt a woodland so quiet, as though this isn’t a real track of trees at all, but some concoction of a movie studio or even a dream.

My tongue swipes over my muzzle, my mouth watering in protest to the growing scent of the revenant we hunt. I sense no power in him, as though he is flawed in design, a normal human—the most common of revenants, if they can be called common—the source of the scent. Could that be the key to the failure of made werewolves, the lack of magic? And why it seems to be so often normals who become revenants? I’ve never heard of a vampire or witch falling victim, though I don’t claim to know everything about revenants. Is the infection only active in those without power for some reason? I don’t have time to ponder these questions, not while I feel him up ahead, closer than I expected.

My mistake. His scent isn’t as strong as those in the morgue because he yet lives. I signal to Femke as I feel him shift, only a few hundred yards ahead. I have him.

Well done
. She allows me to stay with her as she talks to her witches.
Charlotte has point
.
Follow her lead. And whatever you do, keep him alive this time. We need answers
.

I growl softly into the dead air, the dusting of fat flakes on my fur making me shiver. My claws trace parallel slashes in the snow as I ease forward, ready to attack. I’m so certain the revenant is prepared to pounce, my hackles rise, every muscle in my body poised to fight back.

It’s almost a letdown as I circle a huge tree and find him, panting and whimpering, in the snow. He bites at his lower lip, blood running from his mouth, his hands curved into misshapen versions of claws, both feet pawed, but his legs intact. He looks up at me with a snarl, wolf teeth in a human mouth, his fear far clearer than it should be.