Research was going to help me figure out what I needed to say. I read that whole damned Werewolf Bible front to back. And then I read a couple other reference books that Mr. Dawson had given me. I took notes, and at the end of it, I wasn’t numb anymore, but I was a little pissed.
I stomped my way from my room to the cabin. Dastien had said he’d be there prepping for the questions with Mr. Dawson. They believed that I wouldn’t be held accountable for anything, but Dastien had known better than to bite me. And after I attacked Imogene, that was on his head, too. The whole thing was bullshit; Imogene’s father had only registered his complaint to take the focus off his attempted coup. Which had failed.
As long as Dastien could be held accountable, so could I. Dastien couldn’t take the blame for me and my actions, like almost ripping out Imogene’s throat, but I knew he’d try.
The truth was we were both in serious shit, and he’d known all along. Everyone had been patting me on the head saying it’d all be fine and not to worry.
Fur rippled and disappeared along my arms with every step I took. When I got to Dastien’s cabin, I didn’t knock. He sat at the table with Donovan, Sebastian, Mr. Dawson and an old man I didn’t know. But I didn’t care.
I threw the book at Dastien, but he caught it before it hit him in the face. “We’re so fucking screwed. According to Chapter Seven, paragraph fourteen, what you did is inexcusable. IN. EXCUSE. ABLE. Not even a little bit okay. As in of course they have a case. I read about four other cases similar to ours—minus the whole True Mate thing—and they were killed. As in no longer breathing! And you’ve been telling me not to worry? Just write the speech, you said. They’ll let us be together, you said.” I paused to catch my breath. “Are you insane? High? What? Please tell me. Because from what I’ve been reading all morning, we’re in a whole heap of shit.”
“Cherie—”
“Don’t you cherie me! I know what I read. How could you lie?” I spun to Mr. Dawson, pointing a finger at him. “And you. You said everything would be fine.” I turned to Sebastian and Donovan. “And you two didn’t say a damned thing either. I talked to you yesterday, Donovan. Told you I was worried. And you said to write from the heart and it’d all be grand. Grand,” I said the last in my best Irish accent. I was coming off as a little crazed, so I took a moment to catch my breath. “Don’t think I’m scared of you and won’t say anything. Everyone treats me like a child. It’ll be fine, they say. Don’t worry, they say. Well fuck that.”
My blood was on fire. Fear and anger and frustration had all melded together to form one giant ball of bad emotion. I was out of breath again, panting hard.
“You done?” Mr. Dawson said.