Page 40 of Hell and Hexes
The werewolf took a few deep breaths then glanced over at the children once more before meeting my gaze. “I’d want Clinton to come back to my pack and endure punishment for what he did. I want him to be a good and reasonably obedient wolf. To uphold our culture and traditions. When I get too old to be running things, he’d act in my stead, honoring me and respecting my leadership status. Then when I’m dead, he’ll take over as alpha and keep with our customs.”
These two were still miles apart, but at least I’d gotten Dallas to back off his war-chant.
“I can’t do that, Da.” Clinton’s voice was husky and gruff, barely audible over the delighted screams of the children. “You changed things from the way Old Dog Butch did them. You kept the traditions and customs that you felt truly meant something to our people while changing the things you felt needed changing. Why can’t you accept that I want change too? That I want a pack where things are done differently?”
“Then wait to do that after I’m dead and gone,” Dallas snapped, nervously eyeing one of the parents who was hanging up a birthday banner.
“That’s not fair when we’ve got wolves in our pack that want change now, not in fifty or sixty years. Just because they’re not physically strong enough to kill you in a challenge fight, does that mean their wishes don’t matter? That they shouldn’t have a say in how things are run in the pack?” Clinton scooted his chair in farther, cringing when a nearby child let out a particularly high-pitched squeal.
The older werewolf bristled. “You mean voting and all that shit like they do in town with the mayor? Because that isnotthe way we werewolves do things.”
“No, I don’t mean voting. I just mean that if a lot of wolves want something different, then maybe they should be heard. Maybe we should be changing things. The alpha is a leader, Da. He’s strong to protect the pack, but he’s also there to serve them and make their lives better.”
“I do that.” Dallas’ eyes glowed an eerie yellow, which thankfully neither the playing children nor their parents seemed to notice. “I take care of my people. I make sure the submissive and weak ones aren’t driven out or killed. I let werewolves choose their own mates and take their time about it. There’s no need to throw our traditions into the trash to do that, though.”
I held up a hand to halt them both. “So, Dallas, you’re not opposed to some change as long as you feel the important traditions and culture of the pack are upheld, right?” I waited for his nod. “Then let’s hear what changes Clinton feels need to happen right now and discuss them.”
Clinton nodded, shifting uneasily as a boy ran past him. “I think we need our pups to all attend the schools in Accident so they learn how to act around those who aren’t werewolves and maybe make some friends outside the pack.”
“That’s a choice I’m not gonna take away from parents.” Dallas glared at his son. “Some werewolves think their pups will pick up bad habits in those schools, that they’ll end up disrespecting pack traditions and maybe even wind up like that Shelby, screwing a troll and leaving her pack behind.”
“Plenty of werewolves went to those schools and didn’t shack up with a troll. Parlay went to school in Accident from kindergarten through high school, and she’s a loyal pack member, mated to Beaker and having his pup.”
“That’s gotta be a choice for the parents, though.”
“Then make it an obvious choice. Financial incentives. Other pack incentives. Make it so parentswantto send their pups to school in town because we need to start getting used to being with others that ain’t werewolves. I mean, look at us, Da.” Clinton waved a hand around. “We’re sitting here at the edge of our seats, nervous as all heck around humans, terrified of a bunch of children. Two hundred years of near isolation hasn’t done us any good.”
“I ain’t scared of the children,” Dallas shot back. Then he proceeded to give those same children an anxious glance.
“It’s not just schools, though. We need to re-think our traditions of fated mates.”
“You’re going too far now, boy,” Dallas roared. Actually, it was a soft, almost whispered roar because he clearly didn’t want to upset the kids and have them cry or draw the attention of the parents who were beginning to eye us suspiciously. “We’re werewolves. Our inner wolves bond to our fated mates, and we join with them for life, outside of a few exceptions.”
Clinton rolled his eyes. “And then the men screw around like crazy. How is that supportive of a ‘fated mate’ marriage? We’re not a huge pack. What if someone doesn’t find their fated mate? What if they just settle and choose a mate because they need one and want pups? Like you and my mother?”
Dallas bristled, and I once again held out a hand. “What are you proposing, Clinton? Do you want an easier path to divorce? Rules around fidelity for both partners? What?”
He fidgeted with his soda cup a bit before responding. “I still think the whole thing with Shelby and that troll is disgusting and abnormal. When she was found out, I’d agreed that she should have been locked in the compound and maybe even forced to mate with a proper werewolf. But…there’s no fated mate for me in the pack, Da. I know every female werewolf in Accident. I’ve slept with darned near every female wolf in Accident. None of them is my mate. None. What if my fated mate is out here, beyond the wards? What if she’s not even a werewolf?”
Dallas paled. “Werewolves outside the wards are wild and undisciplined. They’ve been driven by fear of humans to live alone or in small packs. They’ve lost their traditions and all sense of who they are. They’re nothing more than animals pretending to be human. There’s no fated mate for you out here. And there sure as hell isn’t a fated mate for you among the trolls, or fae, or anyone else in Accident.”
“I think you might have found your fated mate in Tink,” Clinton told his father. “From what I’ve heard, your pairing with her is nothing like it was with my mother. Would you deny me the same? Would you deny those who have risked everything to join my pack the same? You found your love. Why can’t we?”
“You’re just too picky. If you opened your eyes a bit, I’m sure you could find your fated mate in the pack. Or just be unmated. You’ve got plenty of time before I die and you’re alpha. Stay unmated. Screw whoever you like. Mate later.”
“Does that mean you’d truly welcome Clinton and the others back into the pack?” I asked Dallas, envisioning a prodigal son type homecoming. “If you can both come to an agreement on these two things, then perhaps you can reconcile and all be part of one pack again.”
Dallas let out a whoosh of a breath. “I could do that, although I’d need to disown Clinton to save face. Maybe in a few decades I can un-disown him if he’s proven himself to be a dutiful and changed werewolf.”
“No.” Clinton’s voice was firm. “I like leading my own pack. I’m not compromising on these key points and coming back to be a whipping boy, scoffed and jeered at for a few decades. These werewolves took a huge risk to come with me. I’m not going to betray their trust just to come crawling back to you. I’m staying with my pack, live or die.”
Both werewolves stood, and Dallas jabbed a finger at his son. “Then our meeting here is over. Prepare your people because by the end of the week, they’ll all be dead.”
Right on the tail of that ominous speech, a little boy tripped over a piece of carpet, sending a cupcake flying into the alpha werewolf’s face. It hit him right on the nose, splatting blue icing and sprinkles all over his skin and dropping down to smear food along the front of his shirt and pants.
Clinton laughed. Dallas stepped forward and drew back to punch the other werewolf, but before I could intervene, he stepped on one of the balls that had escaped the ball pit and fell hard onto the floor.
“Mister? Mister?” Clinton’s laughter died abruptly as he turned to stare in horror at the little boy tugging at his sleeve with a sticky hand. “I gotta poop.”
