“Depends on the ward,” I said, and stunned him.
A few minutes later, Jamie’s head poked over the side of the channel, red-gray curls plastered to his skull. Caleb followed him out, both looking like hell but still standing. Jamie limped over and looked from the numb stick in my hand to Cyrus’s slumped form. “Isn’t that your boyfriend?”
“Yeah.”
He frowned. “He won’t be out long. That isn’t strong enough to incapacitate a Were, even an injured one.”
I dragged myself to my feet, stiff and soaked. “So take him in.”
“On what charge?”
“Suspicion of…something.”
“Suspicion of something? I don’t think that’s on the books.”
“Just give him to Michaelson to process once the docs get through. It’ll take at least a couple hours.”
“And what are you going to do in the meantime?”
“Something stupid.”
Chapter 12
Two huge Weres in wolf form guarded the almost invisible path that served as an entrance to the meeting place of the Clan Council. One of them moved to intercept me, changing fluidly from Were to human without so much as missing a step. His ebony skin gleamed in the light of a torch that had been wedged into a crack in the wall behind him. A lantern would have been a more practical choice, or nothing at all since I was the only one here without decent night vision. I assumed it was for ambiance.
It did add to the overall mystery of the place, not that it needed it. A sheer rock face rose five or six stories high, striated in uneven bands of cinnamon and gold. It wasn’t raining here, and the black, clear sky with its pinprick stars and the sighing wind sliding over the cliff was beautiful and more than a little eerie.
The guard was doing his best to add to the effect. His skin melted into the night, leaving only the rippling muscles of his chest visible in the torchlight. His dark eyes gleamed, pricked with reflected flame. He might have been a creature out of legend, some mythical god of the desert.
And then he ruined it. He looked me over and one eyebrow went up. “Bad day?”
My clothes were streaked with mud, cobwebs and runoff, I smelled absolutely foul, and I had at least three pebbles in my boot courtesy of the hike here from my bike. I was in no mood to exchange banter with a naked guard. “Lia de Croissets, of Arnou.”
“I know who you are.” A slight smile crept over his face. “I thought you’d be taller.”
If he’d treated my mother that way, she’d have ripped his face off. “Are you issuing a challenge?” I snapped.
His eyes widened fractionally. “No, I—”
“Then get the hell out of my way!”
I brushed past him and through the entrance, an oblong gash in the rock. The sides of the passage were inches from my fingertips, with no way out except straight ahead. It was the perfect place for an ambush should any unwanted visitors be stupid enough to try to enter. I hadn’t asked Caleb and Jamie to back me up, because they’d have never made it past the guards. And Cyrus would have been killed on sight for daring to sully with his presence a place meant only for Clan.
Once Grayshadow passed into these walls, no one but another Clan member could touch him. So this was my fight. And, as exhausted as I was, I was glad of it. Some war mages specialized in the hunt, painstakingly piecing together clues, interviewing suspects, gathering evidence. I was a competent investigator, but I’d never pretended to enjoy it. I’d take a direct confrontation any day.
I just hoped I’d put the clues together right, or this was going to be a very short fight.
The passage twisted and curved, so I expected to hear the commotion before I saw it. But there was only the haunting sigh of the wind, a tendril of which reached down into the chasm to ruffle my hair. And then I was spilling out into open air and a wide expanse of hard-packed red sand.
The Clan Council met in a natural amphitheater, with jagged ledges of stone cascading down to a flat bottom. It was huge, maybe the size of a football field, and open to the sky. The wispy glitter of the Milky Way arced directly overhead, bowed along the curved surface of the heavens. Were elders stood on every side in ranked rows, torches flickering here and there to highlight craggy faces and brilliant eyes. Most were only a dark presence, a texture of shadow. I could feel them waiting.
I wasn’t sure for what.
And then I spied Grayshadow, striding across the sand, heading for the dais on which the Council sat. Any Clan member could attend a council meeting, but only the leaders were supposed to speak. It looked like Grayshadow wasn’t feeling much like following the rules tonight. Luckily, neither was I.
I put on a burst of speed and caught him just as he reached the dais. There was no time for subtlety—once issued, a challenge couldn’t be rescinded. Grayshadow was opening his mouth to speak when I arrived, so I put my fist in it.
He didn’t go down, but at least I had the pleasure of seeing him spit blood. Right before he lunged for me. It might have been over right there, but the flat side of a spear caught him in the chest, holding him back. It was in the hand of the Speaker, the elder charged with voicing the decisions of the Council. He also kept order when needed, as it often was.
The current Speaker was Night Wind of Maccon, a grizzled powerhouse more than a century old and still built like a Mack truck. His straight black hair, streaked with silver, sharp dark eyes and strong, hawklike nose revealed his mother’s Native American ancestry. But I wasn’t stupid enough to think that our shared human blood would bias him in my favor.
“Accalia of Arnou, why have you broken the sanctity of Council?” he asked, in a voice loud enough to carry to every corner of the vast space.
“To challenge,” I said quickly, before Grayshadow could cut me off. And before I could talk myself out of it.
“Whom would you challenge?”
I thought that was kind of obvious, considering I’d just punched him in the mouth. But for once I bit my tongue. “Grayshadow of Arnou.”
As soon as the words were out, I almost felt relieved. The die was cast now, one way or the other. To back out of a formal challenge meant death.
“Until this moment, Grayshadow was presumed to be dead,” the Speaker said, his sharp black eyes flicking between us.
“As he arranged. He killed a vargulf and mutilated the body to make certain it would be mistaken for his.”
“This is ridiculous!” Grayshadow hissed. “She can’t issue challenge. She is human!”
“The challenger speaks first, by Clan law,” the Speaker informed him.
Grayshadow sucked in a breath. “You would put the claims of this creature before mine?”
“She is Arnou. It is her right.”
“She isn’t Arnou! She isn’t anything! And even if you accept that ridiculous adoption, I am Third. I outrank her and I will speak!”
I rubbed my fingers together, trying to get rid of the tacky feel of Cyrus’s blood drying between them. Some of it had settled into the lines of my palms and left a dark stripe underneath my nails. And suddenly I was so angry I could hardly see. “I am the daughter of Laurentia of Lobizon, wolf born, Clan reared. And an adopted daughter of Sebastian of Arnou. You do not outrank me!”
Grayshadow started for me again, but the Speaker’s spear point was back against his chest. “She is allowed to speak.”
I made it fast, but not because I feared another interruption. I was afraid I’d go for his throat and get killed before I ever found out if my theory was right. “There is no Hunter; there never was. Grayshadow killed four wolves—three High Clan and one vargulf—to pave the way to the bardric’s position. With White Sun out of the way, he could challenge Sebastian and take it all. He killed the others as camouflage.”