“And what happens when you put one on?” I took the pendant from him, holding it by its leather cord.
“You're mentally connected with the people in the cluster,” he shrugged. “I've already established a cluster link with the elders. When you hang the crystal over your chest, you'll be pulled into the cluster with them.”
“Fascinating,” I glanced back at the house and saw the windows full of worried faces. Tiernan and Conri were still at the door, looking like grim shadows through the screen. “Alright,” I set stern eyes on Aidan. “Just know that if this is some kind of a trap, Cat will tear your throat out. Isn't that right, Cat?”
She gave a low bark.
“And then all those people watching will run out here and obliterate whatever she leaves for them.”
“Fair enough,” Aidan held up his hands. “I give you my word as pack leader, neither the crystal nor the link will harm you.”
“Fair enough,” I said back and slipped the leather over my head.
The world brightened around me like someone had changed the filter on a photograph. Brighter and brighter until everything faded and was replaced by icy alabaster. A glowing fog covered the ground and I was surrounded by thick glass walls which soared up into a multi-pointed and strangely angled ceiling. No wait, it wasn't glass, it was crystal. It was like I'd been transported within the quartz. And I wasn't alone.
“Princess Seren?” A man with a British accent asked me.
He was dressed in a perfect, tailored slate-gray suit with a cardinal tie and a matching pocket square. I could tell by his lean neck that he was bit on the wiry side but the cut of the suit made him look thicker. He was what the Brits would call a ginger; with citrine hair and fair, freckled skin. Despite this anemic appearance, he exuded power and his crocodile-green eyes were sharply focused on me.
“Yes, and you are?”
“I am Crispin Arterbury, Prime Elder of Bite,” he bowed as perfectly as any fairy knight. “These are the other high elders,” he waved expansively to the rest of the people in the crystal room (none of whom looked old enough to be called an elder), and then gestured to a very angry and very familiar looking Native American woman. “Jennifer Wasutke, Prime Elder of Flight,” he leaned in and whispered, “She's a bit peeved with you, my dear.”
“Prime Elder Wasutke and I have already met,” I nodded to her. “In a way.”
“We've had a brief conversation,” intense walnut-colored eyes narrowed on me. They were so dark, I could barely see her irises. It kind of felt like I was staring into the plastic eyes of a stuffed animal. But I'd had lots of practice staring into strange eyes and hers didn't bother me in the least.
“More of an accusation,” I noted. “I believe the word you used was; traitor.”
“That may have been inaccurate,” she amended. “I should have recognized you for what you really are; doomed.”
She launched herself at me but a man slid between us, laughing.
“Ve spoke on zis already, Jennifer,” he put an almond-colored hand on her shoulder and gave her a pat. “No violence today, da?”
“Fine,” Wasutke grunted and turned away to sulk in a faceted corner.
“This is Illarion Maksimov, Chief Elder of Storm,” Crispin gestured to the man before me.
“Princess Seren,” Illarion turned towards me with a smile that went all the way up to his slightly slanted hazel eyes. A swath of sable hair fell over his long forehead as he bowed over my hand. “It's highest pleasure to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you as well,” I cleared my throat as he stepped back and gave me a wink.
“And here is Jarne Vinter, Prime Elder of Pack,” Crispin indicated a Nordic giant with chalky skin that looked like it would burn with the slightest hint of sun. It paired well with the deep acorn color of his hair though, and his deep indigo eyes.
“Call me Jarne,” he spoke with a Scandinavian accent, lifting his words like he did his lips, with pure joy. “We have heard great things about you.”
“You have?” I sent a skeptical look in Elder Wasutke's direction and Jarne laughed boisterously.
“Not from her. Our Missouri alpha has caught your scent,” he nudged my shoulder with his fist, causing me to stumble.
“My what?” I gaped at him.
“It's Pack speak for; he likes you,” a woman dressed in a sangria sari walked up to me with a hickory-colored hand extended. I shook it as she continued, “I'm Akhila Trivedi, Prime Elder of Flame.”
“Thanks for the translation, Prime Elder,” I admired her amazing periwinkle eyes, so startling in her dark face.
“An you be a lucky girl to be catchin' Aidan,” another woman sidled up to me, speaking with a Jamaican accent. She had deep bourbon colored skin and a voice to match. Her tortoiseshell dreadlocks were twisted into a crown around her head, her sticky toffee eyes were set on me sweetly, and her curvy body was draped in seafoam silk. “He be a grindman from what I heard tell.”
