Silence claimed the table.
“If we go to the State with this,” Martha said, “they’ll use everything they have to smear all of us. There is a price to be paid here.”
“True,” the male beta of Clan Nimble said.
“We’ll face restrictions again,” the female alpha of Clan Jackal said.
“The alternative is worse,” I said.
“Depends on how you look at it,” Martha said. “No good choices, it’s true.”
I was losing them. My train was rapidly sliding off the rails.
Robert glanced at me and said very carefully. “What is the penalty for Dorie’s actions under Pack law?”
“Death,” Barabas said. “It was a malicious murder. A life for a life applies.”
He was helping me. I grabbed onto the straw. It was a weak straw, but people drowning in quicksand couldn’t be choosers.
“As alphas we have an obligation to our Pack members.” I made a mental note to thank Barabas again for making me learn the Pack laws backward and forward. “We must ensure the overall safety of the Pack and its individual members. Our first priority is the preservation of life.”
“We know, dear,” Martha said. “We’ve read the laws.”
“Barabas, what sentence would Dorie get if we gave her to the People?”
“Death,” he said.
“What if we try her?”
“Death.”
“What will she get if we turn her over to the State?”
“I don’t know,” Barabas said. “I can tell you that we will fight our hardest to keep the death penalty off the table.”
“So it’s a maybe?”
“It’s a maybe.” He nodded.
“Death, death, maybe.” I looked around the Council. “I vote for maybe. Who’s with me?”
Five minutes later the Council filed out of the room. Martha stopped next to me. “Nicely done.”
“Not really,” I said. “Have you heard from Mahon?”
She shook her head. “Don’t worry. They’ll show up.”
I hoped she was right.
At the door Jim spoke to someone and turned to me. “I just got a phone call from the city. The People have emptied the Casino’s stables. They’re coming for us.”
12
I STOOD ON THE balcony of the main building, watching the last of the stragglers come in. They glanced at me as they arrived. I was wearing Evdokia’s sweater and doing my best to broadcast confidence. It was ten eighteen. There was no sign of the People yet, but Jim’s scouts reported a large number of vampires moving out of the city in the Keep’s direction. The scouts estimated at least seventy. Navigators had a limited range, which meant that the People’s Masters of the Dead and their journeymen had to be traveling with the undead.
This was an extremely unwise move. Somewhere en route, Ghastek was gritting his teeth. Keeping that many undead together in one place required iron control on the part of the navigators. There was a reason why the vampires spent most of their time under the Casino confined in steel cages and chained to the walls. Even a single loose bloodsucker was a disaster.
If I were ruthless, I’d take our renders, clear a path through the undead, and let my guys wipe out the People. Once the navigators were dead, the unchained vampires would swarm us. I wasn’t sure how many I could handle, but I was willing to bet I could control enough to push them off us and into the wilderness. They would make their way to the city and slaughter anything that breathed. By morning Atlanta would be the city of the dead. The blame would fall on the People and we would live happily ever after, at least until my father decided to engage in revenge for the shit storm this butchery would dump on his head.
Fortunately for Atlanta, I wasn’t Hugh d’Ambray. Atlanta wouldn’t die today if I could help it. Once the first vampire was sighted, the gates would be barred. I would do everything in my power to reason with the navigators, but if I failed, we would not attack. Curran had built this Keep to withstand a siege. If that was the way they wanted it, so be it. A line from my favorite book came to mind. Have fun storming the castle, Hugh.
A woman in faded jeans and a heavy jacket strode through the Gates. A hood hid her hair. She marched through the snow like she meant business: big steps, a determined set to her shoulders, and a straight spine. A tall man wearing a black robe walked next to her, carrying a staff on his shoulder. The top of the staff was carved into the semblance of a raven’s head with a vicious beak. I knew that staff. It had tried to bite me once. But then considering that its owner was a black volhv in service to an ancient Slavic god of dark and evil, ornery behavior was to be expected. I had it on very good authority that Roman also wore Eeyore pajamas, which made me reevaluate his character somewhat.
Roman was also Evdokia’s son, which meant the woman with him was likely a witch. My neutral witnesses had arrived.
The woman said something to Roman. He stopped, turned to her, and shook his staff.
She crossed her arms. I couldn’t see her face, but I read the body language well enough. “I shake my magic stick at you!” “Let me tell you what you can do with your stick . . .”
One of the shapeshifters, a muscular man in his forties, moved to block Roman’s path. Roman pointed at me. The man turned to look at me, and I waved them in. The shapeshifter stepped aside to let Roman and the woman pass.
“Jennifer would like to speak with you,” Barabas said.
I turned.
Barabas stood in the doorway of the room behind me. He hadn’t slept for the last twenty-four hours, but it barely showed. His face seemed sharper than usual, and his hair had lost some of its spikiness, but other than that he was no worse for wear.
I crossed the balcony back into the room. “Have you been able to get Detective Gray on the phone?”
He shook his head. “We’re still trying.”
Among our contacts in the PAD, Gray was the most sympathetic to the shapeshifters. Normally he always answered the phone, but today he was proving to be elusive. I hoped it was a coincidence. If he was deliberately ducking me, I was in big trouble.
“What does Jennifer want?”
“She didn’t specify. Would you like me to tell her you’re busy?”
“No.” Might as well get this over with.
He nodded and opened the door. “The Consort will see you.”
Jennifer walked in. She looked haggard. Her sweatpants hung on her and she carried a water bottle in her hand. Judging by her eyes, there was probably something stronger than water in it. If my body processed alcohol as fast as hers, I would’ve found me one of those water bottles as well.
Jennifer’s blond bodyguard, Brandon, the one who’d mouthed off to me on the bridge, tried to follow her. Barabas blocked his way. Brandon backpedaled. Barabas followed him out and shut the door behind him.
“What can I do for you?”
Jennifer licked her lips. “I came to talk about Desandra.”
Right. The People and Hugh d’Ambray were practically on our doorstep. Now was the perfect time to bug me about her problems. “You want to have this conversation now?”
“Yes.”
I leaned against the wall. “Okay. What about Desandra?”
She swallowed. “I want you to expel her from the Pack.”
Umm. “On what grounds?”
“She threatens the stability of Clan Wolf.”