Frost Burned

Warren stayed, of course, because it was his home. Ben stayed because he wouldn’t go home when Adam told him to. Adam talked to him in private and then let him stay. I think it had something to do with the way Honey watched me when Adam wasn’t looking.

Once everyone left who was leaving, the house felt like it heaved a sigh of relief; I know I did. Kyle ordered pizza for all who remained, and we were in the middle of eating it when the doorbell rang and a tired-looking Agent Armstrong came in.

Jesse and Gabriel took charge of his sisters and hauled them out to the hot tub after determining that Kyle and Warren did indeed have swimming suits of all sizes. Kyle was a divorce attorney, and sometimes his clients and their children needed a safe place to go for a while. That was why his house was so big and why some of the rooms were Disney-themed and sized for people under ten years old.

Honey was given the job of making sure nothing happened to them. I asked Jesse and Gabriel to make sure that Maia didn’t try to ride Honey the way she’d done with Sam. Wide-eyed at the idea, Jesse promised sincerely to do her best. She knew Honey as well as I did, and even on the best of days, Honey wouldn’t make a good horsey. Everyone else, Adam called to a meeting in the upstairs theater room. When Armstrong protested all the civilians, looking at Tony and Sylvia, Adam said, in a voice that could have frozen a volcano, “Their presence is nonnegotiable.”

It wasn’t, I thought, so much that Tony and Sylvia’s participation was important to Adam, who knew neither one very well—it was that Armstrong had tried to take control of the meeting, and Adam, fresh from being held captive, was not in the mood for it.

Adam moved one of the two love seats around so it was in front of the TV before sitting on it—at the head of his impromptu council. He didn’t bother with his usual charade of human-only strength, having lifted the heavy piece of furniture and carried it by himself with obvious ease. I sat down next to Adam and worried over Armstrong’s pale face. We didn’t need more enemies.

Warren gave Adam a cautious look and settled in the other love seat, pulling Kyle down beside him. Tad had been planning to go out to the swimming pool, too, but Adam had asked him to come after Armstrong protested Tony and Sylvia. At Adam’s direction, Tad sat rather uncomfortably on the couch with Tony and Sylvia. There were no more seats in the room.

Ben—human again and wearing a set of Kyle’s sweats that said, “TasteThis Rainbow”—glanced around and sat on the ground at Adam’s feet without a quibble or change of expression. That left Armstrong standing alone.

The lack of seats was on purpose, I thought, glancing at Adam’s face. He was not happy with Cantrip, and poor Agent Armstrong was the only representative present.

Asil came in late. He glanced at Ben and at Agent Armstrong, who was contemplating the reason for his seatless state. Asil raised an eyebrow at Adam—though he didn’t really look him in the eye—and headed back downstairs. He brought two of the dining room chairs and pointedly set them on either side of Warren’s love seat. He took the side that left him as far from Adam as he could get without leaving the room and, at his gesture, Armstrong took the remaining empty chair.

“You all here know everything Mercy told the police, right?” Adam said as soon as everyone was seated. “So let me begin with last night.”

For all that we’d talked about the whole truth and nothing but the truth, Adam’s story was edited a little. He was quite clear on the point that he killed the Cantrip agents responsible himself—while I and all the werewolves in the room knew he lied. He wasn’t the only one who had killed, but he was the one responsible. I understood that just fine.

“I considered holding them for justice,” Adam told us, told me, really. “But they had a kill list that included all of the humans associated with my people—children not excepted.” He looked at Sylvia. “Gabriel was on that list. You were not wrong to tell him that his association with usput him in danger.”

“Maybe not,” she said, “but I was wrong to expect that to matter to him.” She looked at me, and her lips quirked up. “A friend in danger is not someone who should be deserted. Safety is not always the right path.”

“They were willing to kill children?” Armstrong asked, not as if he were questioning Adam but as if he couldn’t quite wrap his head around it.

“Like Joshua at Jericho,” said Adam. I put my hand on his leg and squeezed it. “They felt that they needed to dig us out plant, root, and seed so that our corruption was truly destroyed. You’ll have to accept my word for it because the whiteboard went up with the winery where we were held.”

He paused.“There were three fresh graves in the vineyard that held some of their own people. Maybe they objected—maybe they just got in the way. We didn’t kill them, we didn’t kill anyone until our escape. From the state of the bodies, the Cantrip agents in the graves died a couple of days before we were taken.”

“Howdid they get you all?” asked Asil.

“We thought they were government agents, so we did not initially respond with lethal force.” Adam breathed deeply, but it must not have helped because he got to his feet and began to pace. “That is a mistake, Agent Armstrong, that we will never make again. You might pass the word along.” For a moment, his menace was such that no one, not even me, dared take a deep breath. He shook his shoulders loose and spoke more moderately. “At any rate, we did not kill or harm anyone when we were taken. So two dead women and the dead man are the responsibility of either the Cantrip agents or the mercenaries they hired.”

“If you please, Mr. Hauptman,” said Armstrong. “Renegade Cantrip agents. My agency was not responsible for their actions, and both officially and unofficially, we find this business appalling.”

“I just bet you do.” Warren’s voice was heavy with rage. Warren was usually the voice of sanity in the pack.

“Warren,” said Adam—and Warren looked up, then away. “Do you need to leave?” It was a real question, not a reprimand, and Warren took it the way it was meant.

“You need Kyle here,” he said, his voice low and his head tipped slightly away from Adam’s. “In his legal capacity.”

“Not as our lawyer,” Adam said. “Not yet. But his presence is useful, yes. I’d like him to stay.”

“Then I’ll stay, too. I can deal.”

Adam looked at Tony.“I asked Sylvia to come because Gabriel was endangered. I asked you to stay because I do not want to keep the police in the dark about what happened. You are safer if you know everything. However, we cannot afford to let this go to trial in human courts. We

I will not allow it.”

Tony narrowed his eyes.“I am a servant of the law, Adam.”

“There will be hearings, just not in the human court system,” Adam told him. “I answer to a higher power—that power that kept werewolves from being the monsters Cantrip is afraid we are for all the years that humans knew nothing of us. If my actions are deemed excessive, I will pay for themwith my life.”

“Those werewolves who killed that pedophile in Minnesota this past spring—they died within a few days of it. All of them. Natural causes, we were told, though their bodies were cremated very quickly and no autopsy was performed,” Armstrong said neutrally, his eyes on me rather than Adam.

“A force of nature, anyway,” I said obliquely. Charles was a force of nature, right?

“I’m a servant of the law, too, Tony,” Kyle said too hastily to be as smooth as his usual redirection. “And no one knows better than I how the law and justice do not, can not, always coincide. I swear to you now that werewolf justice is swifter and morejust, if more brutal, than our court system can manage.” He leaned forward earnestly. “We humans are not equipped to deal with a werewolf fairly. And if the police had tried to arrest those men in Minnesota, some of them would have died. I am content that justice will be served in this case.”