A few gasps traveled around the room.
Some members sat up.
Rafe withdrew a manila envelope and dropped it on the table. “Here are the autopsy reports. Our doctors couldn’t synthesize the poison. It was too dangerous for any wolf to touch. Kazimir was good enough to have his people run the tests.” He snapped his fingers, and an attendant, a human, sweat-beaded and trying not to tremble, entered, carrying a locked case. Rafe opened it, withdrew a heavy glass vial filled with black liquid, and rolled it toward Maltraz.
The demon king didn’t even blink. He took the vial, unscrewed the cap, and took a deep inhalation. His eyes glazed over for a split second before returning to normal. “Curious,” he said, rolling the vial in his hands. “Why bring this to me, Alpha?”
“Because,” Rafe said, voice low, “I couldn’t help but notice your sigil stamped on all the bottles.”
Maltraz licked his lips, feigning offense. “I can assure you, the demons have no interest in hunting wolves. Not in this age of peace.”
Otero let out a bored sigh, tapping his nails on the tabletop. “I fail to see how a little old-fashioned pack culling requires all this melodrama. Wolves die. So do vampires, so do humans. What’s your point, Mayfield?”
Rafe’s fist hit the table. “Iron Valor is the strongest pack in my territory! How ‘bout I cull a few hundred vampires, Otero?”
The lead Councilwoman banged her gavel. “This is getting us nowhere. Threats and flippant remarks about people dying are not acceptable.”
Rafe took a deep breath before he continued. “There was a secondary attack that occurred as well. There was an attempt to drain the Iron Valor pack’s bank accounts the same week the water supply was poisoned. The person who attempted to funnel money from their accounts also had your sigil Maltraz.”
Maltraz sat up, amused now. “Prove it.”
Rafe bared his teeth. “Already did. The records are in that file. You can pretend to be bored, but we know damn well what you’ve been up to. Curious if you knew those funds you were draining weren’t real.”
Maltraz froze. A look of surprised anger crossed his face for a moment before it vanished.
He quickly recovered. “I can assure you it makes no difference to me, real or false, funds moved here or there, as I had no part in it. However, if some rogue demons in myorganization acted without my knowledge, they will be dealt with.” Maltraz’s smile widened. “Of course. The demons want only peace.”
It was Menace’s turn to let out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh yes. Demons are well known for being peaceful creatures. You see, Maltraz, I was there when the Greenbriar pack attacked Iron Valor, thinking they had succumbed to the virus. They brought a few vampires and several demons to fight with them. Curious, don’t you think?”
Voices raised around the room.
The gavel came down again. The Councilwoman gave Maltraz and Otero a chance to answer the charges.
Maltraz thoughtfully dragged his finger along the edge of the table. “I’m as shocked as anyone to hear that demons were a part of the fight. I have no beef with Iron Valor. I am the king of demonkind. Why would I care about a random wolf pack? Sadly, it sounds as though there may be rogues who hold a grudge against them for one reason or another. I vow to put my people on it. This act of cruel violence against innocent people should be answered. If I find who was involved, rest assured, King Mayfield, they will be dealt with.”
Otero gave the same simpering assurances.
I almost grinned at how smoothly they lied. And the looks of utter disbelief on Mayfield and Hardin’s faces were priceless. This Council was such a farce. Rarely was justice ever served. I thought of little Aspen Waters, running for her life. For the first time in years, I felt a pinprick of pity. How would she survive when even here, in the sanctum of peace, it was all just theater and power games?
The meeting wound down with the usual empty resolutions. Maltraz signed a statement of intent, Rafe added his blood to the paper (a ritual I’d always found tacky), and everyone pretendedto be satisfied. The room emptied, the echoes of boot heels and designer loafers bouncing off the stone.
I stood, motioned for my girls to pack up, and slipped into the corridor. The Council’s administrative maze was a warren of marble and glass, but I knew the shortcuts. I rounded a corner and nearly collided with Maltraz, who loomed a foot taller and radiated the sort of hungry, patient malice that set every hair on my arms bristling.
“Wyrdmother,” he said, and the word oozed out, thick as sap.
“Maltraz.” I didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “A word?”
He gestured for me to lead the way. We ducked into a side chamber, a space just wide enough to be private, just small enough to feel like a threat.
He leaned against the wall, arms folded, those mismatched eyes boring into me. “You want something.”
“Don’t we always?” I asked. “But this time it benefits you, too.” I waited for his nod, then continued. “There’s a witch on the run. Waters line, name of Aspen. She’s taken a grimoire, possibly two, and she has no idea what she’s holding.”
He smirked. “And you want me to retrieve her?”
I shook my head. “Nothing so crude. But I thought you’d want to know. She left Georgia over a week ago. Trust me when I tell you, this girl is a mystery worth unraveling. She could be a key to…something.” I told him, raising an eyebrow.
Maltraz’s eyes glittered, the red one flashing briefly. “And if I decide to pass?”
