Taken by Moonlight (42 page)

“Of course
we do not forget our fallen brothers and sisters,” Maximilian responded,
deciding that once his powers were fully restored, he would see to replacing
Wilhem as grand wizard. The witch was too contradictory. “But we cannot let our
current brothers and sisters fall prey to this curse when we have the means to
put an end to it.” He surveyed the others, noticing that a few were warming up
to his idea. He could see it in their eyes, in the way they shifted closer to
the table, as if to hear him better. “As grand wizards, it is our duty to
protect our covenants, and yet we are unable to protect them from that which
they fear most: death.” Many nodded. Wilhem, he recognized, continued to watch
him with a blank expression on his face. “Like
humans
, our race has come
to fear the burden of age. We have suffered long, hundreds of years, as Wilhem
saw fit to remind us, and it is time to end this suffering.”

There was a
short silence as the grand wizards stared at him.

“Even if
you can guarantee the druids will not seek revenge for the actions of our
ancestors, how do you intend to resurrect them? No witch can,” Wilhem was
speaking again.

“No,”
Maximilian agreed. “But another druid can.”

“The druids
were all banished.” This from a young grand wizard from New Jersey.

“It is true
that the druids of old were all banished. Our ancestors made sure of that.” He
paused, and locked eyes with the witches seated around the table. “However,
twenty-three years ago, two druids were born.”

Murmurs
went up among the witches once more.

“It is
impossible. The Gods stopped reproducing with mortals centuries ago.”

“Only a
druid couple or a mortal and a god can produce a druid offspring.”

“This is
madness, Cronin! The druids have all been banished.”

 “Silence!”
Maximilian hissed, taking a deep breath to control his temper. Why were they so
argumentative? He’d just handed them the key to immortality and they were…
bickering
?
They were lucky he still needed them. “If you will try to remember to
twenty-years ago, when an unanticipated eclipse blocked out the sun for the
span of hours….” He paused, watching as some faces blanched in recognition.
“And a power unfelt in centuries whipped through the lands before it was
checked. Twin girls, two druids.” He let that hang in the air, and took a seat.

As the
other grand wizards spoke amongst themselves, Maximilian turned his attention
to Wilhem. The witch stared at him like he’d just pieced a part of a puzzle
together. Like he knew more than he should.

“Do you
have the druids?” Someone asked, and Maximilian turned his attention from
Wilhem.

“Not yet,”
he answered. “I wanted to know who will pledge their support behind this
cause?”

“And you
are certain that these druids exist?”

“Very
certain, my lords. They are currently living in this state.”

Another
ripple went around the room.

“If these
girls are druids as you say, this is a chance to restore our immortality, to
make us as great as we once were,” Tiberius said loudly, pushing himself to his
feet. Maximilian turned to his confidant. He’d told Tiberius about the girls’
true nature a week ago after deciding that he needed at least one grand wizard
who knew, if not everything, almost everything. “I pledge my support and that
of my covenant.”

“Yes, I
pledge my support, and that of my covenant.” And it continued, until half of
the witches gathered had pledged their support, a quarter had said they needed
time to think on it, and the quarter had rejected the notion. Of course, the
witch leading the rejection party was Wilhem.

“I beg you
to reconsider you decisions, my lords,” Wilhem called as he pushed back his
chair and stood behind it. “The druids were once and still are our greatest
enemies. To resurrect them under the belief they will restore our immortality
is wishful thinking.” He strode toward the door.

Maximilian’s
voice rang out. “Because we wish the best for our covenants, we are wishful
thinkers? I think not, Wilhem. If we resurrect the druids, I can assure you
they will swear to restore us to our former glory.”

Wilhem
paused at the door, and looked over his shoulder. He snorted. “And that, Grand
Wizard, is wishful thinking. That a druid would not renege on a promise to a
witch.” He surveyed the lot of grand wizards who’d thrown their support behind
Maximilian. “That, my lords, is where you will all be in for a rude awakening.”
With that he left, and after a few grumbles, some of the Grand Wizards filed
out after him.

Maximilian
looked around at the faces still gathered. “Well, my lords, shall we proceed
with the plans for the restoration of our race?”

When they
made it back to Conall’s place, Vivienne was perspiring badly despite the cold,
and could feel the burn in her thighs and calves that attested to the good
workout. Zahira padded over to her clothing as Vivienne headed to the kitchen.
For one, she had no intention of watching a naked Zahira, and two, she was
thirsty.

After
pouring a glass of water for herself and her running mate, Vivienne waited in
the kitchen for a few more seconds before grabbing both glasses and moving to
the living room. Zahira was heading to the kitchen when she emerged. The woman
took the glass with a grateful nod. She moved over to a chair and sat down.
Vivienne did the same.

“You’re
very fast,” Zahira finally said with a curious tilt of her head. Her previously
bound hair haloed her face, and she looked even younger. “I didn’t know druids
were almost as fast as
weres.
”

When she
continued to stare at her as if expecting an answer, Vivienne shrugged her
shoulders. “Although I am a druid, I really don’t know that much about them.”

“Of
course,” Zahira quickly said with a little shake of her head, as if that were
something she should have known. “So, Vivienne, how are you adjusting?”

“A-a-djusting?”
she sputtered.

“Yes, to
our way of life. You’ve been here for over a week. How are you adjusting?”

“I mean,
it’s a different way of life, but I’m slowly getting it.” Vivienne didn’t know
where this question was leading, but something about the way Zahira asked it
told her it was important.

“I can’t
imagine how hard it is for you to go from living a normal, human life to…this.”
She paused, and when Vivienne simply stared at her, said, “It is quite unusual
for a
were
to find a mate of a different species, but it does happen.
Despite your differences, our nature, the nature of the pack, demands that a
mating ceremony be completed, especially as Conall is alpha. It’s the only way
the pack will treat you with the respect due his mate.”

Vivienne
shook her head slowly. “I’ve been here for a week, and barring one incident,
it’s been okay. I’ve seen the mating ceremony, and I’m—I’m not about to get
naked in front of the entire pack and…and do that.”

Zahira
lifted a brow, and smiled. The smile widened until she suddenly chuckled.
Vivienne scowled, obviously not sharing the Elder’s humor.

“Oh, I’m
not laughing at you, Vivienne. I’d forgotten how modest humans can be,” she
explained, taking another drink from her glass before setting it down. “Conall
is your mate, and a mate is something you feel here, especially.” She touched a
hand to her heart. “The feelings that go along with being a mate are most times
irrational, and unavoidable. The longer you wait to complete the ceremony, the
more berserk both you and Conall will become.” She paused and leaned back in
the chair, picking up her glass of water once more. Another sip later, and she
continued, “The entire pack is abuzz with what you did to Samia. Some are
skeptical of it; others respect it. They say she goaded you by bringing up your
mate, and you reacted. The longer you wait to claim Conall as yours, the more
Samia will attack you, until one of you is either seriously injured or dead.”
At Vivienne’s gasp, a little smile touched Zahira’s lips. “We may look human,
Vivienne, but never forget that the side that rules us most of the times is
that of an animal. We kill or we are killed.”

Zahira
reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a Blackberry. Vivienne’s brows
drew together. An ancient werewolf who’d just talked about “killing or being
killed” wielding a Blackberry? She’d expected a sword or something.

“We’re very
technology-savvy. In fact, many of our kind have achieved insurmountable riches
through this field,” Zahira offered by way of explanation. She pushed a few
buttons and turned to Vivienne. “The next full moon is two weeks from now—the
second Sunday in November. I think it would be perfect for a mating ceremony,
and I would be honored to be Elder who performs it.”

Vivienne
was shaking her head, already thinking of the excuse, when Zahira held up a
hand. “Don’t just think about yourself, Vivienne. Think about your mate. Conall
is the alpha of our pack. If he is seen as unstable, which he will be for as
long as you don’t perform the mating ceremony, he will be challenged for the
right to rule. While it’s unlikely someone could defeat him, do you wish to
take that chance?”

No, of
course not, but she wasn’t like them. Over the weeks, she’d come to the
conclusion that Conall had to be her mate, her reaction to him was too
strong—but how could she perform a mating ceremony when she couldn’t change?
She’d seen the two wolves….

“Trust me,
Vivienne. The mating ceremony looks much scarier than it actually is. In the
midst of it, everything else fades but your mate. You won’t even be aware of
us, and before long, we, too, will hardly be aware of you.”

With that
cryptic sentence, Zahira punched in something into her Blackberry and stood.
Vivienne watched her with puzzled eyes.

“I’ll have
someone come by to take your measurements. You’ll need a robe. Conall too. And
don’t worry about anything, I will make all of the preparations.” She smiled,
and stood, passing a hand through her hair. The woman was practically bubbling
with excitement. “It’s been years since there’s been a mating ceremony at Cedar
Creek. And never for an alpha, since Conall has been our only one.” Remembering
herself, she looked down at Vivienne and shook her head. “I think I’ve confused
you enough for one day, Vivienne.” A little smile played around her lips. “My
house is 312 Cedar Creek Lane. It’s around the bend, opposite the school.
Verity and I live there. If you need anything explained, or if you just feel a
bit out of place, we’re there.” Another smile, and she was gone.

The glass
in Vivienne’s hand had suddenly become heavy, and she placed it on the table.
Blinking rapidly, she shook her head.

What the
hell just happened?

“So you
finally made it. Half an hour late, and look, you brought pretty-boy. Did you
replace Sloan as Conall’s bitch for the day?” Santiago’s voice boomed as Conall
and Raoul arrived at Casa del Lobo, the bar belonging to the
were
who
only serviced his own. When Santiago had opened the place years ago, he’d said
anything that wasn’t a
were
meant trouble, and wasn’t welcome. He’d
found out that weres were trouble, too. Conall passed a quick, slightly amused
glance at the various pelts stuck to the wall in the rustic-looking place. Wolf
skins, bear skins, tiger skins. One would think Santiago was a collector, and
in a way he was. Not just the typical
shoot-from-a-distance-and-mount-it-on-a-wall type. Every skin on display had
once been a
were
-creature who’d gotten on Santiago’s bad side.

The
were
in question was seated behind a lounge table, a lit cigar hanging from his
lips, as locks of pitch-black hair curled forward into his face, obscuring his
eyes. At least this time he was dressed appropriately—well, appropriately for Santiago. He wore a long-sleeved, flower-patterned shirt that still made him look like he
belonged somewhere in the Caribbean. Dominic sat opposite him, two beer bottles
and a disassembled, nickel-plated Glock on the table before him. Drako faced a
window nearby, his long leather jacket practically enveloping him, pale hands
clasped behind his back. Upon scenting them, the alpha half turned.

When they
were upon the men, Raoul grinned, whipped a hand through his hair, and
addressed Santiago. “You really should ask your mother about being Conall’s
bitch. I hear it’s her thing lately.”

Santiago
’s lazy smirk faded, and his dark
eyes hardened as they sized Raoul up. Between the two men, Santiago was
slightly larger, but Raoul was quick. Both were deadly and both knew it.

With
deliberate care, Santiago eased the cigar from between his lips and said, “Mi
mama eats bitches like you for breakfast, pretty boy.”

“Look at
you, admitting your mama’s Conall’s bitch—”

“Look,
fucker, talk about my mother one time, and I’m going to forget whose bitch you
are, and add another wolf pelt to my fucking wall.” As he spoke, he tossed the
cigar into an ashtray and began pushing to his feet.