“That’s correct,” I answer.
“Quite a few incidents over the years, yes?”
“Yes.”
He keeps his eyes trained on his papers as he speaks, but it isn’t until his gaze drifts to Iris, as they all eventually do, that I understand why.
“M-ms. Ashbourne, y-you have quite the record as well.”
Iris shrugs, passing him a pretty smile that I’ve never seen before, and a sweaty, dirt-laden scent seeps from the inquisitor like a noxious gas.
“R-right…very well...” He stammers, still staring.
I clear my throat to keep from growling at him, and Malictus responds by dropping his gaze once more.
“Your file indicates that your bloodline bears a curse? Mr. Cross?”
“Is that a question?” I ask.
“Y-yes, it is.”
I groan inwardly.
I knew this question would come. It’s always the first thing they ask. Ordinarily, I have no problem answering, but beside me, Iris is now watching, and I have to stop myself from turning to face her as I speak.
“Yes,” I say. “My clan is cursed.”
“And what are the limitations of this curse?” Malictus asks.
“It prevents us from feeling certain emotions.”
He releases an exasperated breath as he grows irritated with my pointed answers.
“Which emotions might those be?” he clarifies.
In my periphery, Iris’s face is nothing but poised, but I watch closely as I continue.
“Love,” I say simply. “Among other things. But primarily, we cannot experience love.”
Iris twitches, almost imperceptibly, but she knows better than to give us away, so her eyes remain trained on the inquisitor, even as I silently will her to look at me.
That’s my good girl.
“And this makes the Cross wolves rather violent, does it not?”
The inquisitor continues his questioning, but Iris is no stranger to being labeled. She has more than a few of her own hanging over her head. So she catches the implication of the question being asked before I even answer.
“Elliot didn’t hurt anyone,” she interjects, hands balling into fists in her lap.
My dampener constricts as she comes to my defense, and I squeeze her fingers, rubbing the back of her hand until it loosens.
It’s nice of her to defend me, but I’m used to the accusations by now. This isn’t near the worst they’ve leveled at me. If we can walk out of this office with nothing more than “VIOLENT” stamped on my file in big red letters, I’ll be happy.
“Cross wolves are blessed with great power, but we are no more violent than any other wolf. The curse frees us of the burden of such loyalties, which often gives us an advantage against our opponents, but no, we are not violent by nature.”
I make my mother proud and stay true to the script, the many times I was made to recite it, coming in handy. You would think these words were our clan’s creed, given the frequency with which they are repeated. But burdensome or not, it is effective. You could ask a hundred Crosses the same question, and you’d get the exact same answer. Word for word.
The inquisitor nods.
