THE MOMENT I STEPPED DOWNSTAIRS, ANDREA grabbed me. A pink flush painted her cheeks. She seemed agitated. Agitated wasn't good.
"We need to talk. Derek, you, too."
Everybody needed to talk to me. I was getting sick of talking. "Before we do that, I've got something to show you."
I led her to the loup cage. The volhv sat upright, tied to the chair. His eyes were closed. He looked passed out.
Andrea's eyes widened. "Who is that?"
"That's a volhv."
The volhv's eyelashes trembled. Wakey, wakey.
"The one who kidnapped Kamen?"
"No. The one who kidnapped Kamen was an elder volhv. This one is more like middle management, powerful but not up there yet."
Andrea arched her eyebrows. " Aha. How did he get all beat up?"
"He hassled me about meeting with Evdokia."
"Were you in a bad mood or something?"
You have no idea. "Yeah. You might say that."
Andrea pursed her lips. "Why does he look like a hidalgo pirate? I thought Russians were blond."
"And we all carry a bottle of vodka in our pocket and wear a fur hat year-round." The volhv opened his black eyes. His gaze snagged on Andrea. He blinked and stared, stunned.
Oh boy.
"Pretending to be passed out," I said.
"Just resting my eyes." He was still looking at Andrea. "It's nice in here. Peaceful." A slow smile bent the volhv's lips. "Although if you would like me to model a fur hat for you instead, we could come to an understanding." Andrea barked a short derisive laugh and left the room.
"Does she work here with you?" the volhv asked.
"You--never mind," I told him, went out, and locked the door behind me for good measure.
Andrea crossed her arms. "The nerve. Did you see those eyes. Pow!"
Yeah, pow. "You wanted to tell me something?"
"Yes. Derek, too. Kitchen?"
"Yeah."
The three of us landed at the kitchen table. Ascanio sauntered in and leaned against the wall.
"De Harven's records are pristine," Andrea began "Everything checked out. He did four years in the Army. I found his DD214, the discharge papers, and called it in to the National Personnel Records. They said it would take two months to confirm, so I called it in to a buddy of mine in the Military Supernatural Defense Unit. He says everything on MSDU's end comes up roses. I also found de Harven's NCO evaluations and his pay stubs."
A man might falsify his discharge papers, but he'd have to go an extra mile to fake pay stubs and performance reports.
"Orlando PD confirmed he was a cop," Derek said. "I talked to two people who knew him. They said he was a good cop. Dedicated."
"We went through de Harven's apartment." Andrea opened an envelope and pulled a Polaroid out. It was a picture of a digital painting. A sunrise died down over the sea, leaving ragged gray clouds in its wake. In the center of the picture a lone rock jutted from troubled water, supporting a white spire of a lighthouse that sent a brilliant beam of light toward the horizon. The caption under the image said, DARKNESS REIGNS AT THE FOOT OF THE LIGHTHOUSE.
"Is this supposed to tell me something?" I asked.
"It's a lighthouse," Andrea said in the same voice in which people usually said, "It's a murder."
"It's a very nice lighthouse. Lots of people have paintings of lighthouses." Where was she going with this?
Andrea dug in the envelope and pulled out a picture in a frame. Two rows of teenagers stood in their graduation robes. Andrea pointed to a dark-haired kid on the left. "De Harven." She stabbed the blond kid on the far right. "Hunter Becker."
I waited to see if she shed any more light on it.
"Hunter Becker!" Andrea repeated. "They were in the same high school class!" "Who is Hunter Becker?"
"Becker the Gory? Lighthouse Keepers? Boston?"
"I would've preferred Becker the Easily Surrendering or Becker the Quite Reasonable, but beyond that his name tells me nothing."
Andrea sighed. "The Order suspects the existence of a secret society called the Lighthouse Keepers. They're well organized and really well hidden."
"A secret society?" Derek frowned. "What, like Masons?"
Andrea huffed. "Yes, just like Masons, but instead of getting together, putting on silly hats, and getting drunk and sponsoring charity events, they get together and think up ways of killing people and destroying government buildings. They hate magic, they hate magic users, they hate magic creatures, and they would love to exterminate the lot of us with extreme prejudice."
Well, that pretty much covered everyone in this room.
"Why?" Derek asked.
"Because they hold technological civilization to be the perfect state of humanity. They think magic is dragging us into barbarism and they must preserve the light of progress and technology. Without it, we would all descend into darkness." Andrea shook her head. "Three years ago Hunter Becker blew up a medmage hospital in Boston. Dozens dead, hundreds injured. They tracked him down and he walked out straight into a SWAT unit, clenching a gun in each hand."
Suicide by cop. Always a good sign.
Andrea held up the Polaroid, pointing to the caption. "This was written on the wall of his safe house. That is what in our business is called a `clue.' "
Thank you, Miss Smartass. "Excellent work, Miss Marple."
She bared her teeth at me. "Kate, these people are fanatics. That stunt in Boston took a lot of teamwork. The hospital was developing an experimental magical treatment for the blue flu. They had several virulent variations of it in their labs, guarded better than Fort Knox."
She counted off on her fingers. "Someone built several bombs with an elaborate fail-safe. Someone bypassed three levels of security. Someone distributed the bombs on separate floors in restricted areas with limited access. Finally, someone had given Becker access to the building across the street, which was the local police station. It was estimated that at least six people were directly involved in the bombing, some of whom had to be hospital personnel. Nobody except Becker was ever discovered, and the only reason they found Becker was that he had been injured by debris and left a blood trail. None of the people were planted, Kate. They actually worked there. Since then, the Order has found two other instances of terrorism, all involving teams of covert operatives. That's how these people operate: they recruit young and activate their members as the need arises."
Sleeper cells of domestic terrorists. This investigation was getting better and better. "How do you know all this?"
Andrea bit her lip. "Becker was a knight of the Order."
If the Keepers infiltrated the Order, it would be impossible to find them. With their anti-magic attitude, they would fit right in. Someone like Ted would welcome them with open arms. Hell, Ted could be one of them. I would have to be very careful now, because I very much wanted Ted to be involved. So much so that if I wasn't careful, I'd twist reality to implicate Ted, whether he was guilty or not.
"They infiltrated the Order and the PAD," Derek said. "De Harven was a cop before he was a guard."
"It could literally be anyone. It could be Rene." Andrea waved her arms. "It could be Henderson. Anyone."
"Not anyone," I said. "I'm not one, you're not one, neither is Derek. I'm reasonably sure we can exclude Curran and the kid as well."
Ascanio grinned.
Andrea stared at me. "You're not taking me seriously!"
"That's probably because you're not excited enough," Derek said. "You should clench your fists like they do in the movies, shake them, and yell, `This is bigger than any of us! It goes all the way to the top!' "
Andrea pointed her finger at him. "You shut up. I don't have to take shit from you. From her, maybe. But not from you."
"I trust your professional judgment," I said. "If you say there is a secret society, then there is one. I'm simply trying to define the boundaries of our paranoia. Did all the other incidents involve more than one person?"
"Yes."
I thought out loud. "If de Harven was a member of the Lighthouse Keepers, then he'd been activated to obtain Adam Kamen's device, which means we can expect there to be an entire cell."
"Probably."
"The optimal size of a terrorist cell ranges between seven and eight members," Derek said. "Groups below five members lack sufficient resources, manpower, and flexibility, while a group above ten begins to fracture due to specialization. Larger groups require managerial oversight to remain cohesive. That's difficult to do while the cell is in sleeper status." I closed my mouth with an audible click.
Derek shrugged apologetically. "I spent a lot of time with Jim."
"So we can expect between five and ten people?" I asked.
"Probably closer to five," Derek said. "Especially since de Harven is dead. However, that's assuming that we're dealing with a single cell. They may have more than one cell in a city the size of Atlanta, and they also may mobilize neighboring cells if their goal is vital enough."
Nobody would awaken a sleeper cell for something minor, not when its members have been dormant for years. "How many people can we expect if they threw caution to the wind and moved all available cells in?"
Derek frowned, concentrating. "I'd guess between fifty and three hundred. The more people, the less cohesive the group. If I were them, I'd rely on hired muscle. Not every job has to involve the entire cell. Some targets can be eliminated by a contract killer, for example. It minimizes the risk and the exposure--if the job goes sour, the killer can only betray one member of the group."
Andrea rocked back and forth. "What the hell was Kamen building in that workshop?"
"I don't know. But I know someone who does. He's tied up in our loup cage."
I strode to the loup cage, Andrea, Derek, and Ascanio in tow. I took the key off the hook in the wall and unlocked the door.
The loup cage stood empty. Perfectly intact rope lay in coils on its floor. It was still tied.
Derek looked slightly ill. I'd seen this precise look on Jim's face when a teleporting thief stole the Pack maps a few months ago. "How the hell ..."
"Magic," Ascanio said.
"The tech is up." I tried the cage door. Locked. "Neat trick."
"Next time we'll chain him to the wall," Andrea said.
"There won't be a next time." He wouldn't let himself get caught again. At least, not this easily.
Derek walked off. "The back door is unlocked," he called out.
Well, at least we knew he didn't evaporate into thin air.
We'd failed to find Kamen, we'd failed to recover the device, and the only person who could shed light on what was happening had disappeared from a locked cage while in our custody. It was good that I owned the damn place, or I might have had to fire myself.
"His stick is still here," Ascanio said, holding up the volhv's staff. Ha! Gotcha. "Bring it here." I headed to the back room, opened the door of the body freezer, and stuffed the staff into it.
"What are you doing?" Andrea asked.
"A volhv without his staff is like a cop without a gun. He'll come back for it. The office is a fortress, so he won't be able to get in during tech. He'll return during magic, when he's at his strongest. I've warded this freezer so hard, it would take MSDU to get through it. When he returns, we nab him." And this time he would stay put.
THE TRAFFIC HOME WAS MURDER. IT WAS SEVEN fifty-five by the time I pulled into the parking lot and sprinted across the yard. I conquered the hallways, and I and my files headed downstairs, two steps at a time.
I was almost to the landing when Jezebel, the second of my boudas, barred my way. Her eyes blazed bright red. She looked ready to spit fire.
"I know, I'm late." I put some speed into it, hoping my knee held up.
Jezebel chased me, keeping up with ridiculous ease. "I'm going to rip their heads off and skull-fuck them."
That would be something to see, especially since she didn't have a penis. When Jezebel got worked up, getting her to explain things was next to impossible. I'd been learning to guess. "Who?"
"The wolves," she snarled.
Not again. "Which of the wolves?"
She bared her teeth. "I'll cut her legs off."
So Jennifer was involved. Of course. During my aunt's rampage, Jennifer, the female half of the wolf alpha pair, made an executive decision not to evacuate. My aunt attacked the wolf safe house in the city while Jennifer was out, and her magic caused the whole house to go loup, including Jennifer's twelve-year-old sister Naomi. When I ran into the house, hoping to kill my aunt, Naomi attacked me and I ended her life. Jennifer blamed me for her sister's death. The wolves went out of their way to stick it to me whenever they could. They turned it into almost a game.
The auditorium door loomed before me. Two minutes to eight. "We'll talk about it after."
"Kate?"
"After." I took a deep breath, opened the door, and strode in, Jez behind me. An enormous auditorium stretched before me. Rows of ledges crossed it, offering a place to lie and sit, all facing a wide stage lit by electric lamps and braziers cradling open flame. A giant desk with a chair waited in the middle of the stage. Usually it was flanked by two chairs. Only one chair this time. My chair.
The bottom rows were filled. Shapeshifters sprawled here and there, some by themselves, some in couples. At least a hundred people, maybe more. Petitions rarely attracted that kind of audience. Something was up.
I raised my head, walked across the stage to the desk, and sat. To the left, just below me, a second desk stood perpendicular to the stage. The desk was occupied by a dark-haired woman about my age. She had curly brown hair, large dark eyes, and an infectious laugh. She also introduced herself as George. George's full name was actually Georgetta, and she tended to break people's bones when they used it. Her parents were the only two beings on Earth able to say it without consequences, and since her father was Mahon, the Pack's Executioner, I didn't want to try my luck. During petitions, George acted as the neutral third party, who prepared summaries of the cases and ran the hearings.
George rose and rang the bell. "We're now in session."
The crowd quieted.
Damn, there were a lot of people here. Shapeshifters gossiped like old Southern ladies at church. If they got hold of some juicy rumor, they showed up in droves to watch it unfold. So far today I'd been cut, burned, bruised, advised that we were facing a secret society, and emotionally compromised. I didn't need any more bloody surprises.
"Case of Donovan versus Perollo," George announced.
Two shapeshifters rose from the audience and went down to the first row.
I opened the first file.
The first four cases were routine. A dispute over an abandoned car on the border of the rats' territory. One of the cats had found it and spent a few hours hauling it out of the ravine. Technically all of the shapeshifter territory was Pack territory, but each clan house had a few square miles of exclusively their land, so the clans could meet in private. The car went to the rats. I ruled that the cat had no business on their land in the first place.
The second case was a domestic dispute between ex-spouses belonging to different clans. When the couple had porced, the rat father took the children, and the jackal mother claimed that she didn't have to pay child support because both kids turned into rats. I decided she did.
The third and fourth cases involved a business jointly owned by Clan Heavy and Clan Jackal. It was long and complicated, and I had to check my notes more times than I could count. When all interested parties finally sat down, I had to squish the urge to collapse in relief on my desk. Another couple stepped up. The man's right arm was in a sling and he held himself like he was spoiling for a fight. He looked to be in his early twenties. Hard to say for sure--shapeshifters were long lived, and some people I could've sworn were in their late forties were pushing seventy.
The woman appeared to be about the same age. Slender, she had a pretty face framed by a waterfall of blond hair that spilled below her waist. She seemed on edge, as if she expected me to throw something at her at any moment.
The man raised his head. "Kenneth Thompson, Clan Wolf, petitioner."
The woman squared her shoulders. "Sandra Martin, Clan Wolf, defendant."
A warning bell went off in my head.
Ken looked at me. "I exercise my right of inpidual appeal. I appeal to have my petition judged by the Consort."
That meant that he wanted me to make the judgment. If Curran were here, he could offer his opinion, but the decision was my responsibility. Except Curran wasn't here.
"I'm the only person here," I told him. "I have to judge your case by default."
Ken looked a bit confused. "I was told to ask for direct appeal."
I glanced at George. She made a winding motion with her left hand. Keep going. Right.
Barabas had made me memorize the protocol, so at least I wasn't completely lost. I looked at Sandra. "Do you have any objections?"
She swallowed. "No."
"The request for inpidual appeal is granted," I said.
The audience focused on me. So this was it. That was why every busybody in the Pack was here. I glanced at the wolf alpha couple. Daniel was impassive and Jennifer had a small smile on her long face.
Okay. You want a fight, you'll get one. I opened the file and pulled out the summary--two typed pages. With Andrea and her conspiracy theories, this was the one case I had failed to preview.
George gave me a reassuring wink from her desk.
I scanned the summary. Oh boy.
"These are the facts of the case: You, Kenneth, were romantically pursuing Sandra. In an effort to court her, you broke into her house on Friday. She woke up, found you in her bedroom, and shot you with a Glock 21, damaging three of your ribs and shattering the bones of your right arm. You feel that her reaction was excessive and want compensation for the pain and suffering and medical bills. Is this correct?" Ken nodded. "Yes, Consort."
I glanced at the summary. "It says here that when Sandra woke up, you were nude and carrying a bouquet of sticks."
Ken turned a shade redder, but I couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or outrage. "They were roses. I tore the petals off and put them on the carpet."
If Curran were here, he'd be closing his eyes and counting to ten in his head.
"Can I say something?" Sandra asked.
I looked at her. "No, you can't. You have to wait your turn."
She clamped her mouth shut.
I turned back to Ken. "Did Sandra encourage your ... courtship? Did she give you any indication that she liked you?"
"Some," Kenneth said.
"Be specific," George said.
"She told me that I looked nice. I've been trying to get her for a while, so she knew I liked her."
"Can I say something?" Sandra asked.
"No. And if you ask me one more time, I'll have you removed and we'll proceed without you."
She blinked.
I looked back at Ken. "What else did Sandra do to encourage you?"
Ken considered. "She looked at me."
Great. Just peachy.
"So because Sandra looked at you and said that you looked nice, you decided to break into her house and surprise her in her bed naked?"
A light laugh ran through the audience. I glared at them. The laugh died.
Ken turned bright red and turned back to glare at the shapeshifters in the stands. All we needed now was for him to go furry and rip into our spectators.
"Kenneth, look at me."
He snapped back to me. "It says here that you and Sandra work together in the Northern Recovery office. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"Aside from what happened on Friday, would you say Sandra is a friendly person?"
Ken puzzled it over. He wasn't sure where I was heading. "I suppose so."
"Could it be that when Sandra told you that you looked nice, she might have just been trying to be friendly?"
"No."
"So you had never seen her compliment anybody else in the office?"
He paused. "Well, yes, she does say nice things sometimes to people, but I mean, I'm the only guy there, so it's different."
This was so not my thing. I just wanted to hop on the table, knock him upside the head, and be done with it. "But it is possible that you might have misinterpreted Sandra's comment?"
It took a few more seconds, and then he finally said, "It's possible."
Hallelujah. "Suppose there were a man working in your office. A much larger, stronger man. Let's say a render. He came into the office wearing a new leather jacket. You had a friendly chat, you complimented his jacket, and that night you woke up with the man standing over you, nude and holding a bouquet of roses."
Kenneth's eyes went wide. "But I'm not gay!"
"It's not about being gay; it's about being confronted by someone larger and stronger than you are when you are at your most vulnerable. If you were to find this dude standing in your bedroom, would you be upset?"
"Hell yes, I'd be upset. I'd tell him to get the fuck out. But she didn't tell me to get out. If she had said, `Ken, get the hell out!' I would've left. She shot me eight times."
Oh, screw it. "She is smaller and weaker than you are. She woke up, saw you naked and ready for action, and probably thought you were going to rape her. She was scared, Ken. You scared her half to death."
"She didn't have anything to be scared about! I wouldn't have done anything."
"She didn't know that. You already broke into her house, so you have no respect for her property. What would make her think that you would respect her as a person and just walk away if she told you to leave?" Muscles played along Ken's jaws. "That's the way the shapeshifters do it. Everybody knows that you didn't encourage the Beast Lord, but he broke into your apartment and you didn't shoot him."
The audience got so quiet, I could hear myself breathe. So that was it. That was what Jennifer was after.
"I see." My voice went quiet. "Is that why you decided to appeal directly to me?"
"Yes."
"Who suggested it?"
"My alpha."
Jennifer wanted to embarrass me. Well, if she expected me to wilt, she'd be waiting until hell sprouted roses. I turned and looked at Jennifer. She smiled back at me. Half a second to clear the desk, two seconds to cross the room and I could be sinking my fist into her face. Cure all her ills and mine.
"I had no idea that Clan Wolf's alphas kept such a close eye on my relationship with the Beast Lord. I'll have to check under our bed tonight to make sure no little wolf spies are hiding under there."
Somebody snorted and choked it off.
"Do you know what I did after I discovered the Beast Lord in my apartment?"
Ken realized he was on shaky ground. "No."
"I put a knife to his throat," I said. "And I changed the lock on my door. Besides that, I had encouraged the Beast Lord prior to him breaking in. I flirted with him, I kissed him, and I paraded around in front of him in my underwear."
I was almost done. I just had to keep from pummeling Jennifer for a little bit longer. "Did Sandra ever do any of those things?"
"No."
Let's get it all out there. "Did she ever make out with you in a hot tub or offer to serve you dinner naked?"
My face must've gotten darker, because Ken gulped. "No."
I turned to George. "Does the Code of Pack Law have anything to say about courtship?"
George cleared her throat. "Article Five, Section One states that no member of the Pack may threaten or assault another member with the intention of forcing sexual congress."
"What's the punishment for rape?" I asked. "Death," George answered.
Ken turned white.
"Your actions can be construed as a prelude to sexual assault. It's alarming that your alphas didn't realize that, since it's their job to know things like that and impress that understanding onto the members of their clan. Is forced mating common in Clan Wolf?"
The audience turned to look at the wolf alphas. Daniel startled. Jennifer clenched her teeth.
Ken showed all the desperation of a man trapped on a chunk of ice in the middle of a raging river. "No."
"So your alphas do not encourage rape, to the best of your knowledge?"
"No!"
"Very well. I'm ready to rule." I looked at Sandra. "You may say something if you would like."
She shook her head.
I looked at Ken. "You acted like an idiot and got eight bullets for your trouble. Count yourself lucky that she didn't shoot you where it counted. If it had been me, I would've cut off your head and filed a police report after you were done bleeding out on my carpet. Suck it up, learn from it, and move on. You get nothing. Apologize to Sandra for scaring her and then causing her a load of embarrassment by having this matter dragged before the Pack assembly."
He stared at her wild-eyed. "I'm sorry."
"This proceeding is over." I glanced at the wolf alphas. "Would the alphas of Clan Wolf please see me on their way out."
The auditorium cleared in record time. I leaned back in my chair.
Daniel and Jennifer approached my desk.
Both of my boudas moved closer.
"Jezebel, Barabas, leave us," I said. The fewer witnesses we had to this, the better.
Barabas reversed his course in midstep and went out the door. Jez hesitated, snarled something under her breath, and followed him out.
Just me, Jennifer, Daniel, and George.
"It's been fun," I said. "The game ends now."
"What game?" Jennifer asked. I shrugged. "You have three choices. First, you can quit fucking with me and walk away. Second, you can challenge me, and I'll kill you. It would be good for me. I need the practice."
Jennifer bared her teeth. Daniel put his hand on her forearm. I could take her alone. Both of them with magic down would be hard.
"Third, you can keep pestering me, in which case at the next Pack Council I'll move for your removal. I can do that, can't I, George?"
"Yes, you can," George said with a big smile.
"On what grounds?" Jennifer snarled.
"Incompetence. I'll cite this proceeding as evidence. This matter concerned two members of the wolf clan, which placed it under your authority. So either you didn't know how to deal with it, or you didn't want to deal with it, due to laziness or due to actively condoning rape. Either way, you should be removed and an investigation must be launched into the mating practices of the wolf clan."
"They'll find nothing," Daniel said.
"Five hundred wolves, of which there are probably at least what, a hundred and fifty couples? How do you think they'll react to having their mating rituals examined?"
"You can't do that!" Jennifer spun to Daniel. "She can't do that."
"Technically, she can," Daniel said. "It's over, Jennifer. You can't win this."
Jennifer's eyes went completely green. "What the hell would you even know about being an alpha? You're a human. The only reason you're here is because you're fucking Curran."
Nice. "I don't know much, but I'm learning fast." I rose. "And I'm here because I killed twenty-two shapeshifters in two weeks. I've earned my place. How many challenges did you have, Jennifer? Oh, that's right. None. Enlighten me, how did you become an alpha again?" I turned to Daniel. "Help me out here. Who was she fucking, Daniel? Was it you? It must be especially good for you, because that's the only way you'd have gone along with this for so long."
I barely saw Daniel move. One second he was standing there, loose, and the next he clamped Jennifer in a hug. It was a very careful hug--it looked gentle, but I could tell she couldn't move an inch.
"We apologize for any offense to the Consort. We meant no disrespect," he said.
"Apology accepted."
"Stop talking like I'm not here," Jennifer ground out.
"We look forward to working with you in the future," Daniel said. "With your leave?"
"Please. Have a pleasant evening." Daniel moved, and Jennifer moved with him. Together they walked out of the auditorium.
I waited until the door closed and fell into my chair. George stared at me. "Oh my freaking God. I can't believe she went that far."
I closed my eyes.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm tired. My knee is hurting again and I'm trying to teleport myself upstairs."
"Um, Kate, you can't do that."
"I know. But I'm trying very hard. Let me know if I start fading?"
Sadly, teleporting didn't work. I climbed the stairs, got into the shower, washed off the dirt and blood, and put on clean clothes.
The rooms felt empty without Curran. I stood in the doorway of the bedroom for a while and looked at the bed.
I didn't want it all to turn out to be one big lie.
A small part of me wanted to leave. Just leave now, without any explanations and disappointments. Disappear. That way if this was a lie, I'd never know.
But then I didn't run from my challenges. I met them straight on and bashed my head against them, until it left me hurt, bloody, and dazed.
I hugged myself. When I was with Curran, he filled the empty space. If I was sad, he'd make me laugh. If I was pissed off, he'd invite me to spar. I was forgetting what it was like to be on my own. And I was on my own. Aside from Roland, there wasn't another human being this screwed up for thousands of miles.
If tomorrow I woke up and Roland waited on the Keep's doorstep, I would die. Pretty quickly, too. Evdokia was right. I had all the training with the sword I would ever need, but when my father and I met, the fight wouldn't be decided by the sword. I needed magic training and a lot of it. And I had no idea how Curran would react to it. Hey, baby, you don't mind if I practice turning a vampire inside out on the Keep's grounds, do you? Please ignore the torturous screams of your people when things go horribly wrong.
It was one thing to know you had mated with Roland's daughter. It was another thing entirely to have your nose rubbed in it.
Ultimately, I didn't have to figure out whether Curran truly loved me. All I had to know was whether I loved him enough not to care why he was with me. I knew the answer. I just didn't want to admit it. If he called right now, hurt, I would find him and save him, even if it cost me my life, whether he loved me or not. This was all sorts of screwed up. No. I was wrong. If he was with me because he needed me to fight Roland, I had to leave. I couldn't stay here, sleep next to him in this bed, touch him, kiss him, knowing that he didn't truly love me but was bound by the need for survival. I would still love him, but I couldn't stay. Had he laid it out for me from the start, before I had a chance to fall in love, I might have joined forces with him anyway. I wouldn't have slept with Curran, but an alliance with the Pack would have strengthened me, and he and I might have gone for some sort of business arrangement. It was too late now. I wanted love or nothing.
I stole my pillow off the bed and curled up on the couch, wrapped in a spare blanket. Eventually he'd come home. Then we'd talk.