Thinking about it, Charles wouldn’t be surprised to find out that Chastel could care less about the Marrok bringing the werewolves out to the public. He’d as near as nev ermind done it himself centuries ago. The most probable reason Charles could think of for Chastel’s presence at this summit was that he’d wanted a chance to take out the Marrok-which he didn’t get.
At least he’d be quiet for now.
Charles turned his head to Dana and nodded his appreciation. She looked frumpier than usual today. She’d given herself twenty pounds more on the hips, lost six inches in height, and wore an expensive but unattractive suit and schoolteacher shoes. He wondered if she’d done it to see if she could get any of the wolves to challenge her-or if, as Anna had said, her other guise had been too distinctive, too beautiful.
“Nice shooting, Tex,” murmured the Emerald City Pack’s witch in a voice that would, for all its softness, carry into the crowd. She and her mate stood just behind the small table Charles and Anna sat at-honor guards.
The witch was a little thing, the mate to one of Angus’s top wolves, a quiet, scar-faced man named Tom Franklin, who was nearly as unhappy about his mate’s being in the room as Charles was about his, if for entirely different reasons. The witch was blind, and that meant-at least to her mate-that she was vulnerable.
Normally this wouldn’t be a problem for Tom. Charles knew him as a tough son of a gun, but no second was going to be able to protect his mate in this crowd. In other circumstances, Charles would have counted on a witch’s being able to protect herself pretty well-but this one smelled clean and pure. White witches weren’t nearly as powerful as their black counterparts.
Charles wanted his mate out of this room, too. He tried to focus on the Russian, who’d continued speaking now that the interruption had been taken care of. But too much of him was focused on Anna.
She’d started out all right. She sat close to him and paid attention. But there were more than fifty Alphas in the little auditorium. Fifty Alphas, some of their mates, and a smattering of lesser wolves, over a hundred in all-and most of them were more interested in seeing his Omega wolf than in watching whoever was speaking. And under the weight of all of those eyes, Anna was shaking.
I will kill them all, Brother Wolf whispered, for frightening her.
Charles glanced at Anna, but she didn’t hear Brother Wolf this time. Why she heard him in Dana’s home but not now, Charles put to the back of his mind as a mystery that would solve itself eventually.
Brother Wolf’s protective streak aside, it wasn’t Anna he was worried about, not directly. She was tough, and she would bear up to a few hours of stress-and he’d make sure that’s all it would be. The problem was the wolves.
The wolves nearest Anna were, almost to a man (and a couple of women as well), beginning to focus entirely on her. Her Omega qualities called out for their protection-and these were Alphas and dominants in whom the instinct to protect was paramount. A few of them knew what was happening if not why. Arthur met his eyes and grinned. Bastard. He was enjoying this.
The Russian finished his comments and moved his right foot back, turning his body toward Charles-inviting Charles to address his concerns without asking verbally.
Charles stood up. He could have taken the podium and the mike that the Russian wolf had indicated he would yield to him, but doing so would have left Anna alone (with the second of the Emerald City Pack, his witch, and Dana to guard her) and Brother Wolf was adamantly opposed to that.
It was a good thing this was a small auditorium, and werewolves, like their cousin in the fairy tale, had very big ears.
“I hear you,” Charles said, projecting his voice to get his words to the back row. “You are right to have concerns. Almost three decades ago, the year the fae came out, three of our wolves reported being contacted by unnamed government agencies who threatened exposure if they didn’t cooperate. One wolf was told that his family was at risk.
“This year, forty-two of our wolves were contacted-by government agencies, by foreign countries, and by at least three different terrorist organizations. In many cases loved ones and family members were threatened or held under implied threat. My father takes care of his own, and he took care of them. Money, power, and influence mostly, though several people died.” He had killed two of them himself.
“But in the end there can be only one way to cope with blackmail.” He paused and looked out at the wolves. “Bring our secrets out into the open, and they have no more ammunition. And we must carry the tide of popular opinion when we do. Only then will we be truly safe.”
He turned his gaze to the Russian wolf, who did him the courtesy of dropping his eyes at once. “I am not saying that it is a perfect solution-merely that it is the best available to us.”
First day, he reminded himself, stick to the script. Today he offered the first of the proposals they had come up with for the European wolves.
“We plan on public opinion keeping the government under control, forcing them to be, at the very least, circumspect in their dealings. My father is aware that public opinion is a much bigger weapon here in the United States than it is in some countries where the governments are less responsible to their citizens. In light of that, he offers this much-for the next five years he will allow any wolf who wishes to migrate to come here.” That was a big concession. Usually migrations were only allowed after a lot of negotiation.
“Also, he is willing to consider the migration of whole packs.” Now he had their attention. He made sure he wasn’t looking at the French wolves, who had the best reason to want to leave where they were. Packs only moved into open territory or territory they had killed to take.
“There will be conditions. They must submit to the Marrok and agree to the rules that we live by here, in his territory. They must agree to go where they are told. In return, they will receive the benefits that all of my father’s wolves do-protection and aid.”
He glanced at the big clock in the back of the room and noted with some relief that his internal clock was correct. It was eleven-still early for a lunch break but not absurdly so.
The Russian wolf bent back to the mike. “We have had these recruiters you speak of among us as well. Unhappily, our response has not always meant that the only casualties fell among our enemies. I am not as certain as the Marrok or you are that the best answer is to expose ourselves, but… given the generous offer of relocation, we are willing to acknowledge that coming out to the humans would be a solution to many things.” He bowed to Charles-and offered a lower bow to the fae.
Once the Russian had seated himself in the middle of his fellow countrymen, Charles said, “Our host has had food delivered downstairs. Let us take a break for lunch.”
He caught the witch’s mate by the sleeve when he would have headed off to some errand-probably having to do with lunch. “Tom, stay a moment. With your mate, please.”
From near the door, Angus looked at Charles’s hand. A good Alpha protects his own. Charles dropped his hand and gave him a nod to tell him that he meant no harm to Angus’s wolf. Tom saw what was going on and made a hand gesture that seemed to have more effect on Angus than Charles’s reassurances.
“There was no time for introductions this morning,” said Charles when they were alone. “Anna, this is Tom Franklin, Angus’s second, and his mate-I am sorry, you were not introduced to me.”
“Moira,” the witch said. The wraparound sunglasses she wore made her expression difficult to read, but his nose told him that meeting the Marrok’s hatchet man wasn’t scaring her. Unusual, but then she couldn’t see him either. “Nice to meet you both.”