Page 27 of The Tracker's Revenge
She inclined her head and obliged. “The rules are hardly new. They have been in place for fifty years.”
Walter shrugged. “Our creed didn’t need these changes. I never agreed. Things worked well for hundreds of years.”
Travis spoke with a mocking smile. “Sorry to say this, but the old ways and the old,” he waved a hand in the air as if searching for the right word, “folkalways must give way to change and the younger generations, lest things become stagnant.”
Next to him, Ulfen blinked slowly. He seemed grateful, glad to have someone at his side who would defend his son, if only because they were allies.
Walter’s dark eyes shone with undisguised hatred. The tension between the two pairs of men—two sets of opposing allies—crackled in the air. Jake, sitting to the right of his grandfather, gave nothing away. His features were neutral, and his silver eyes set on a spot on the wall. By joining the Blackridge pack, he had made instant enemies of the Ericksons and Hillworths, and I wasn’t sure he liked it.
“The rules,” Yura continued, ignoring the exchange, “state that crimes committed against our kind, by our kind, will be judged and tried by the Supreme Pack Rule. Only if culpability is determined, the death sentence will be applied.”
I blinked in surprise. Death sentence?! The Supreme Pack Rule actually killed people? And only in the last fifty years they’d made a trial a requirement?
Shit! I hope I never piss them off.
I wanted Stephen dead, and I wouldn’t complain if someone gave mecarte blancheto kill him even without proof of his guilt because I knew he deserved it, but I couldn’t deny how dangerous a system without accountability must have been.
Craig steepled his fingers, his blue eyes going around the table, then stopping at Ulfen. “All I can say is that if Stephen Erickson doesn’t come peacefully to face histrial,” he said the word as if he were referring to a clown convention, “I will not risk my life to bring him in alive. The same goes for every member of my pack. I cannot, in good conscience, ask them to risk themselves.”
“Aye.” Walter put two fingers up in the air to indicate the same went for his pack. He glanced toward Jake, who nodded his agreement.
Jake and I owed Stephen nothing—not after the way he’d lied to us, after he kidnapped me and tried to turn me into a monster—yet, I hated to see Jake side with his grandfather and Craig. For some odd reason, it felt like a betrayal.
“That is perfectly reasonable,” Yura said, “and in accordance with our rules. However, no one is to actively seek out Stephen Erickson with the goal of imparting justice. Anyone who does risks their own trial.”
“Maybe we can have thisstrangewerewolf track him?” Travis suggested, inclining his head in my direction.
I leaned forward in my chair menacingly. “Strange?”
He put both hands up. “I meant no offense.” He smiled without it reaching his eyes, making his words a lie. “It’s just I’ve never met a werewolf with additional Skew powers.”
I opened my mouth to insult his mother, but Yura spoke first.
“She is, indeed, a rare type of werewolf, with valuable skills that don’t include constantly uttering banal remarks.”
Travis’s eyes flashed with anger toward Yura. She held his gaze until, overpowered, he glanced away. Alpha energy emanated from her. Something more powerful than whatever Travis’salphanesscould produce. It took a few long beats to dissipate. I understood at once why she was the Master of the meeting.
Smiling gently, she addressed me. “Could you? Use your tracking skills to find Stephen Erickson again?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t have anything that belonged to him.”
“How about the dagger?” Craig said.
“No. The true owner of that dagger is long dead.”
“Enough of that, what do we do with the... thing?” Walter pointed toward the small weapon, which still sat in the middle of the table. “Who shall be entrusted with keeping it safe? Clearly, Erickson and Hillworth aren’t good choices.”
“What are you suggesting?” Ulfen asked in a growl, speaking for the first time.
Walter smiled thinly. “Thisisultimatelyyourfault, my dear Ulfen. Your son is responsible for creating hybrids. I can’t think of a more heinous crime. He’s deranged, and it begs the question... why?”
Wood groaned under the pressure of Ulfen’s large hands as he squeezed the edge of the table. Sharp claws sprang out, embedding themselves in the polished surface. Walter watched with amusement, an air of apathy wafting all around him like so much cologne.
I hated the old man more than ever at the moment. I doubted he would act that way if his strong, capable grandson weren’t sitting next to him. Besides, Walter knew nothing of the relationship between Ulfen and Stephen, of how hard this was for Ulfen, and how desperately he’d tried to set his son on a straight path. I could understand it now. Even Ulfen’s attempts to keep his son away from me had been aimed at reshaping Stephen’s rotten character.
“We will refrain from taunting each other,” Yura said, turning to Walter and dispensing a withering stare that carried a heavy warning in it.
I expected the old man to balk, but he shrugged, feigning nonchalance. Though, I could tell he felt the warning in his bones and not only his wrinkled hide. I got the feeling one did not mess with the Supreme Pack Rule or its leaders.
