About Face (Wolf Within) (25 page)

“I never lied to you,” he said.

“Lying by omission is still lying. Do you think for one second I would have done anything for you if I’d known you were part of the Guardians, the group responsible for Grey’s and Elena’s deaths? Even if you opposed it? Do you think I would have agreed to be the Hand of the Council if you’d told me you were Pack First and hell-bent on eradicating the Guardians? Because if you do believe that, you’re delusional!”

“All I have ever done is tried to stop the senseless deaths. On both sides. That’s all I’ve asked you to do, and if you’d just believed in me and not let Liam and Paddy scare you, I might have been in a position to help. I understand your bitterness, Stanzie, truly, but now is not the time to give up. Now is the time the fight really begins, and don’t you think you owe it to Grey and Elena, and now Paddy, to be there for it? Or have I completely underestimated you?”

“Don’t try to manipulate me anymore. I’m not some naive fucking idiot. You can’t just wave a patriotic Pack flag in my face and expect me to leap into battle. The past nine months have taught me to be cynical and secretive and not to trust anyone. Not anyone. You still haven’t confirmed whether you’re a Guardian or Pack First and, more importantly, no matter which side, what the hell’s going on. You’re still trying to confuse me. Screw you, Jason Allerton. I don’t care if you’re the most powerful Councilor in North America. I don’t care if you’re my mother’s bond mate, although I wish to hell you weren’t. All I care about is getting as far away from you as I can. I wish I never had to see your lying face again!”

He regarded me silently for a moment, then said, “I understand you’re upset, and I’ll leave you be now. Your pack is at An Puca, and you shouldn’t be alone. Before you go, though, please look at what’s inside this folder. Know that whatever you decide to do with it, I will support you one hundred percent. I cannot emphasize this enough. Also know you will come out of this without any repercussions. I will swear that you kept me apprised of everything you knew as you knew it and kept nothing out. Liam as well. Believe it or not, Stanzie, I’ve got your back. I always have, and I always will.”

“Go to hell,” I said and turned my head. When I looked back, he was gone.

I picked up the manila folder and my coffee cup and took them both to the trash, but in the end I couldn’t throw the folder away without just one look inside.

* * * *

The news of Paddy’s death had spread, and An Puca was crowded with mourning pack members. A steady background of muffled sobs accompanied me as I made my way to Fee’s table in the front. The Alpha table.

Her face was pulled tight with grief, hazel eyes clouded with incomprehension as she clutched a glass of amber whiskey but didn’t drink it. Murphy sat protectively close beside her, one arm around her shoulders. His whiskey glass was half empty, and his eyes were so dark an involuntary shiver sizzled down my spine.

His parents, Paddy’s mother and her bond mate, Alannah Doyle, Declan Byrne, a petite woman with long black hair who must have been Deirdre and her bond mate, Colm O’Reilly, were squeezed tightly together around the rest of the table. The red-haired giant took up most of the room.

When my shadow fell across the whiskey glasses spread across the tabletop, everyone but Fee looked up. She was somewhere else, deep down inside herself. My gut twisted in sympathy. I knew that particular territory with bitter familiarity.

Declan Byrne’s lip lifted into a sneer, but before he could spit whatever venomous words he had in mind, I raised my voice loud enough so everyone in the pub could hear me.

“Declan Byrne, by the power entrusted in me as an Advisor to Jason Allerton, who, in turn, represents the Great Council, I hereby charge you with the following crimes—conspiracy to commit murder, conspiracy to depose the Alpha male of Mac Tire and treason against the Great Pack. I hereby command you to appear before a tribunal and answer to these charges.”

Someone whispered, “Fuuck” and then dead silence.

“Piss off.” Declan reached out for his whiskey. Murphy adroitly snatched it off the table.

Declan gaped at him. “You can’t seriously think that twat knows what she’s saying, can you? She’s delirious, Liam. This is just another ploy for relevance, can’t you see that?”

“Maybe these will convince you I’m not talking out of my ass.” I tossed two of the photographs I’d found in the manila folder onto the table. Despite himself, Declan glanced down, and his whole body convulsed into stillness.

Murphy snagged one of them and turned it so he could see. Every bit of color drained from his face, and the scent of his fury enveloped us all in an invisible cloud. Even Fee reacted. She turned her head to him, some of the mindless grief evaporating from her eyes.

I passed out two more to people at nearby tables, and there was silence as the photographs were circulated. Silence and the scent of escalating fury.

In all the photographs, Declan Byrne stood in a cobblestoned alley with an old man. His right hand was extended, and the object he held was plain to see—a knife. The old man reached for it, and his profile was clear and distinct. Mick Shaughnessy.

“Grandfather Mick stabbed Paddy,” cried out a young man by the bar. Two nights ago, he’d sat next to Etain Feehery and made fun of Others. “Declan gave him the knife?”

Growls and mutters filled with air, and Declan paled.

“This proves nothing,” he sputtered. “This could have been taken anytime. Years ago. It’s not a crime to give somebody a knife. And who can prove it was the knife he used on Paddy?”

“You’re wearing the same clothes in the photograph as you are right now,” pointed out a red-haired man at a nearby table. His face was thunderous with suspicion.

“Grandfather Mick was wearing the same clothes today as he was in the picture, too,” added Murphy, his jaw so tight, the tendons were clearly defined.

“Why? Why’d you do it?” Paddy’s mother stuffed a hand to her mouth in horror.

“I didn’t! I swear I had no idea what the old bastard was going to do with the knife. How the hell would I know?” Declan’s blue eyes were frantic with fear. He could smell the violence and rage gathering in the pub. One word from me or Murphy could incite a mob who would rip him to shreds with their bare hands.

Nobody fucks with the Alpha.

I heard Jason’s words clearly in my head.
Know that whatever you decide to do with it, I will support you one hundred percent. I cannot emphasize this enough.

It was tempting as hell.

“What were you doing giving that man a knife, Byrne?” Colm demanded. “You know there’s something funny going on with him. Nobody knew where he was, and we’ve been looking for him for months now. How’d you manage to find him, and why give him a knife instead of bring him here so people could know he was all right? We were worried about him, but what’s really been going on is that you and he have been plotting all along to kill Paddy. You know you want to be the next Alpha. Weren’t you just sitting here offering to bond with Fee, for the sake of her wee unborn child? Didn’t you start a campaign to bed her a few months ago as well? So she’d turn to you in her hour of grief? This wasn’t about Councilor Allerton at all. Paddy was the target all along. You plotted this whole thing, didn’t you? Had to have a dupe to kill him for you so you could step into his shoes and be Alpha?

“Well, fuck that!” Colm knocked over his chair as he lumbered to his feet. Six foot six was very tall, and everyone’s necks tilted back so they could maintain eye contact.

“You were offering the same damn thing, Colm,” yelled Declan, but he was intimidated. Rank sweat beaded his forehead and his hand shook as he wiped it away. “You want to be Alpha of this pack too, don’tcha? It was between you and me. This was make or break time for you, wasn’t it?”

“I’m not the one who gave that old bastard the knife, Declan,” shouted Colm, his meaty hands clenched into fists.

“But your Deirdre’s pregnant, and this would solve everything.” Declan’s twisted smile was full of triumph.

“Declan.” Alannah’s voice was soft and betrayed. She’d told him. Her twin had confided in him and she’d told her bond mate.

The petite, black-haired woman paled and I thought she might faint, but she gripped the edge of the table with both hands and managed to stay upright.

Colm looked at his twin sister in shock.

“If you take me away, you’d better take him, too. I’ll swear he was in on it with me!” Declan pointed a finger at me. If I’d been closer, I would have snapped it at the knuckle.

“You can tell the tribunal any fucking thing you want,” I told him. “They’re Councilors. They can tell bullshit from the truth easily enough.”

His face darkened and made him ugly.

I looked around the room. “I’m going to need two men to help me escort Mr. Byrne to the safe house. Any volunteers? We’ll need a car.”

Pandemonium as every man in the pub rushed to get to me.

Murphy’s father jumped to his feet. “As a representative of the Regional Council, it’s my duty to escort the man into custody.”

At his words, Declan Byrne sagged in relief. My stomach clenched. Why relief? Because there was less chance of him being murdered on his way to the safe house if there were a Councilor along, or something more sinister—Glenn Murphy was a part of the Guardians and on Declan’s side?

I wished I knew what Murphy’s thoughts were, but his face was a frozen mask.

Surely a father wouldn’t help engineer the death of his own son’s bond mate and force him from the Alpha position?

Then I thought of my father, and all bets were off. Sometimes family meant shit next to personal glory or a so-called greater cause. Was Murphy’s father one of those men? He’d seemed so nice and normal when we’d eaten pie together in his kitchen, but people lied. They schemed and concealed, cheated and plotted, murdered and covered up.

Glenn Murphy’s gaze traveled around the room and settled on the young man by the bar.

“Ryan Kelly, you come with us.” I was no longer in charge. The Councilor had taken over.

The young man came forward, fists clenched. He was extremely attractive with thick brown hair and eyes so dark they were nearly black. His cheeks and chin were covered with dark brown stubble. Wildness lurked beneath his taut body, and I wondered if Declan Byrne would arrive at the safe house with bruises and broken bones.

Murphy took a step toward me, but his father noticed the movement. “You stay with Fee, Liam,” he ordered.

Fee took hold of his wrist and buried her face in his arm. Murphy sank back into his chair and pulled Fee closer so her head rested on his shoulder. I was on my own.

Ryan Kelly took hold of Declan Byrne’s upper arm and marched him across the pub floor. People made reluctant way. Someone spat at him, and it struck his cheek.

“You fucking idiot,” muttered Byrne, and if I hadn’t stepped between him and the man who’d spat, there would have been a brawl.

Ryan Kelly managed to knock Declan’s head against the wall on the way out the door. It was very nicely done, and Declan’s roar of protest was drowned beneath a groundswell of muttered approval from the pack.

Some violence was necessary to bleed off the pack’s collective rage.

Alannah Doyle sat stiffly in her chair. She’d made no protest when her bond mate had been dragged away, and as I left the pub, I looked back at her. Still frozen in place, her cheeks were bright with either humiliation or anger—I wasn’t close enough to smell which.

She caught my gaze, and her expression sharpened into vivid hatred. I’d made an enemy today.

* * * *

Three hours later I sat across from Jason Allerton at a small table set beneath an arched window in his suite of rooms at the safe house. Before us on the polished mahogany surface were plates heaped with pork chops and mashed potatoes. A bottle of wine, half full, sat directly between us and made it difficult to look at each other’s faces.

He ate while I moved food around my plate and waited.

Once in Glenn Murphy’s car, I’d called Allerton and told him we had Declan Byrne in custody. He’d directed us to the safe house but advised us to stop for clothes along the way. We would all be required to stay at the safe house for the duration of the tribunal.

Ryan Kelly turned out to be Glenn Murphy’s Advisor. He’d seemed furious enough at Declan Byrne on the long ride to the castle safe house, and I wondered if both he and the Councilor he served were Pack First. Perhaps that was why Murphy had not wanted to discuss his father or his possible knowledge of the conspiracy. If Glenn and Paddy had been on opposite sides of it, of course he would be the last person Murphy and Paddy could turn to for help.

I’d tried to call Murphy to let him know I wouldn’t be home for a few days, but my call went directly to his voice mail. I ached for him to call me back. I had my phone on the table. It bothered Jason, I could tell by the glances he directed at it, but I didn’t move it.

The first thing I’d done, after throwing my suitcases on the massive carved oak bed when we’d arrived, had been to run a bath with lavender Epsom salts.

The water had turned Paddy’s dried blood on my arms and face liquid again. I’d watched the swirls of his red blood slowly dissipate into the bathwater and turn it a murky reddish brown.

Each crimson spiral had fascinated me. My last physical connection to my Alpha. My friend.

Now I’d never know if his wolf’s eyes were two different colors when he shifted. I’d wished I let him tongue-kiss me at An Puca when I’d had the chance. I’d wished I’d stayed with him. If I had, I wouldn’t have been sitting in a bath of his blood.

I’d tried to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. They were blocked somewhere deep inside me. My wolf scratched and snarled to be free. She wanted to howl her grief and run so fast it would be left behind. But instead I’d pulled the plug, watched the last of Paddy’s blood gurgle down the drain and dressed for dinner.

Now, outside the arched window, sunset washed over the gray lake and the trees crouched around its perimeter. Beyond the lake was a vast field of heather. The slanting sun turned the field into a burnished glow of dark purple that hurt my eyes if I stared at it too long. I looked at it a lot.