Lisa shrugged and swept her long bangs out of her eyes. “That’s what happens when the Urbat hit their nine-hundred-and-ninetieth year. Not only do they suddenly age rapidly—their body changes in other ways, too. It’s like the wolf manifests outwardly even when they’re in human form. One of the other Elders said he thinks that’s why some human myths portray werewolves as anamorphic wolf men. Someone must have once found the body of a newly deceased ancient one.” Lisa made a pouty face. “It’s too bad, too. Sirhan used to be such a hotty. Looked almost just like his grandson, here.” She squeezed Daniel’s arm.
Daniel looked down at her with a little shake of his head, confusion marring his perfect face. “What did you just say?”
“I think she just called you Sirhan’s grandson,” I said, her comment just now clicking in my brain.
“Ah crap.” Lisa put her hand over her lips. “I forgot that you’re not supposed to know that,” she said through her fingers. She looked across the room at the group of green-robed men. Two of them glared at her. They’d apparently been listening, and I wondered just how much trouble she’d be in for spilling this secret. But then she turned back to us. “But since that cat’s out of the bag”—she winked at Daniel—“I might as well tell you that your last name isn’t really Kalbi. It’s Etlu. Like Sirhan Etlu of the Etlu Clan.”
“It is?” Daniel’s voice was barely audible. He’d always despised his last name. Kalbi meant dog. Kalbi connected him to Caleb. Reminded him of everything he didn’t want to be.
“Etlu means warrior,” Lisa said. “Caleb must have changed his last name when he was banished by Sirhan—by his own father.”
Daniel looked more than shocked.
“So you’re saying that Sirhan is Daniel’s grandfather?” I asked, unable to hide the incredulity in my voice. “You mean, Sirhan turned away his own grandson when Daniel came to him seeking a home last year? That just … Grrr…”
“Think about it, Grace,” Daniel said slowly, like he was processing his thoughts as he spoke them. “If I’m Sirhan’s grandson, then that means Caleb is his son.
Or was, before he was disowned. Before Caleb caused the death of Rachel … his own mother. Imagine the betrayal Sirhan felt? His disdain for me makes all the more sense now.”
“But you’re nothing like Caleb.”
“Sirhan doesn’t see me that way.”
“Then we have to make—”
The din of the conversations going on around us faded, and I realized I was the only one speaking. All the robed Urbat had turned their attention toward the doorway as three blue-robed men entered the room. One of them carried Sirhan in his arms, the second followed closely with an oxygen tank, while a third man dragged a chair from the parish’s foyer behind him.
He placed the chair in the center of the room, and the two other men placed Sirhan in it. They stood behind him with one hand on each of his shoulders. All the other people in robes fell to one knee, bowing their heads toward Sirhan, with one fist shoved against the floor. At first glance, Sirhan, clad in a burgundy velvet robe, looked as regal as a king holding court. But looking closer, I realized that the two men who stood behind him with their hands on his shoulders weren’t doing it just as a sign of respect—they were holding Sirhan upright in his chair.
At the same time, I didn’t see this as a sign of weakness. No, Sirhan may not be physically powerful, but the respect and devotion he garnered from the rest of his able-bodied pack still made him the most dangerous person in this building. A single nod of his head could turn them all against us.
One more blue-robed man entered the room with Gabriel in his custody. The two fell to one knee like the others—Gabriel doing so without any prodding from his guard. Part of me was surprised Gabriel still respected his alpha, despite the way he’d been treated. Then again, Gabriel and Sirhan’s history ran much deeper than these last few days. They had been as close as brothers for hundreds of years. Gabriel had told me once that it was the rapid aging process—and the proximity of death—that had changed Sirhan’s behavior as of late.
“Very well,” Sirhan said. He waved his withered hand, telling his bowing subjects to rise. “I do not have much energy left.”
Sirhan’s spokesperson knocked the hilt of his spear against the hardwood floor three times. “The Elders of both packs will convene in the center of the room for negotiations. Step forward.”