White Winter (The Black Year Series Book 2) (28 page)

Jonas walked to his place and sat down, unbuttoning the bottom button of his suit jacket. Each of the councilors’ seats had a pad of paper and a bottle of water in front of it. His didn’t. He wondered if it was because he wasn’t part of the overall meeting or a deliberate slight. The traces of Phillip lingering in his mind made him want to grip the armrests.

“Mr. Black, we’ve already met, but let me reintroduce Councilor Bes Tarik, from Egypt, and Councilor John McClure of Maine, who visited you at the Agency.” Bes Tarik, the jackal, sat to Jonas’ right. His irises gleamed when they made eye contact. McClure - flat face - made no attempt to acknowledge Jonas’ presence.

Dorner went on to introduce the others. Ujarak was the other American, and generally spoke for the North American and Central American tribes. Councilors Oriol and Guerra were from South America, Soun was from Cambodia. Yakovlev and Sokolov were both from Russia, but areas so far away from each other their territories didn’t come close to overlapping. Alver, Dibra, and Koszorus were from Eastern Europe.

“Very nice to meet you, councilors,” Jonas said.

“Our first order of business is the Macready pack on King’s point.”

“Excuse me, Councilor?”

“Yes, Mr. Black?”

“I was under the impression that I had been invited to discuss last week’s shooting on behalf of the Agency.”

McClure, to his left, smirked at him.

“No,” Dorner said. “You were summoned to discuss local matters on behalf of your pack. As a clan leader, you are required to respond.”

Jonas sighed, and stepped into his mind.

♘

“Is something wrong, sir?” Sam asked.

“No, Sam. Just picking something up from the archives.” Jonas looked at the head guardian for a few more seconds, then stepped into the elevator, satisfied Sam was back to normal.

The elevator stopped two floors down. Jonas checked in with the librarian and walked over to the shelves. He found the book on werewolf law he’d studied and pulled it off the shelf.

♘

Jonas blinked. “Clan matters are usually left to the discretion of the clan leader, are they not?”

“They are, but the council is within its rights to review a clan leader’s performance if negligence is suspected.”

Jonas frowned. “Are you suggesting I’m neglecting my duties?”

“Yes,” McClure said.

“What Councilor McClure means to say is that much of our clan and family interactions are based on feel and growing up in a pack. Due to the recent change in pack and clan leadership, the council feels obligated to review the Macreadys’ governance. Custom fails to address the existence of a vampire clan leader.”

Jonas looked around the room. Except for flat face, the councilors were relaxed and watchful. This wasn’t the time to push back. “I accept.”

McClure grunted. Jonas wondered what his problem was.

“You currently have 33 individuals residing on-”

“Thirty-four,” Jonas interrupted. “I don’t mean to be rude, councilor, but Kieran spends about half his time on the property now that Bert is dead.”

Dorner nodded and made a note. “Thirty-four individuals on 160 acres. Are you concerned?”

Jonas frowned. “The law states they could live on as little as 12 to 16.”

Dorner frowned.

Councilor Tarik spoke. His tone was surprisingly gentle. “The Macreadys are an anomaly among packs, clan leader. The 12-acre minimum was established for four or five individuals, and only one alpha. As your pack has several alphas…”

“You’re telling me I need 300 acres,” Jonas said.

“More or less,” Tarik said, smiling with his lips closed. “The letter of the law is important, but it will only carry you so far.”

Jonas closed his eyes. Knowing the law wasn’t enough in this case; he needed context. Unfortunately, he’d lost a lot of that when he uprooted Phillip from his mind. “The acreage limits were based on grazing needs for cattle. Ten of the pack members, plus Kieran, receive an allotment from the Agency. That leaves nine adults, which the property allows for.”

“But?” Dorner said.

“I have three juveniles coming of age within the next year and a half. But they’ll also join the Agency.”

“Is that what’s best for them, or what they want?” Ujarak asked, crossing his arms.

“It’s the arrangement the Macreadys have with the Agency,” Jonas answered.

“And you’re comfortable with that? Handing your pack members to the Agency regardless of who is in power? What if Director Fangston was still in charge?”

“I…”

“What will you do if the Agency isn’t around anymore? Have you thought of that?” McClure added.

Dorner cleared his throat. “Not that we’re suggesting that’s likely. The point we’re trying to make is that Phillip Macready would have thought these things through and had a plan.”

Unfortunately, that wasn’t on his mind when he died,
Jonas thought. “I’m open to suggestions.” He knew it was a mistake the moment he said it.

“I’ll take three of yours for one of mine, lighten the load for you,” McClure said, sticking his hand out across the table.

“I’d like to think about it.”

“There’s nothing to think about. It’s a simple arrangement,” McClure said.

One that would give him three hostages and set a McClure up to take control of his pack. “I’m just not sure it’s what’s best for them, or what they want,” Jonas answered. Councilor Ujarak smiled. “I’m entitled to three days’ delay to ensure the moon isn’t influencing my judgment.”

“It’s the new moon,” McClure said, withdrawing his hand.

“I feel this decision may benefit from a bit more aggression.”

“But you’re a vampire!”

Jonas shrugged. “Custom fails to address the existence of a vampire clan leader.”

Councilors Koszorus and Alver said something to each other and snickered.

“You guys think this is some kind of joke?” McClure said.

Alver gave him a look that spoke murder in casual tones. “Not all of us had the benefit of watching the Cold War from an ocean away, councilor. We remember what the Agency and the Black family did for us.”

“Do you remember what they did to the Council at Sellenberk?” McClure fired back.

“That was 400 years ago. Besides, Black Alice spared our families, councilor,” Koszorus said.

“Well, she slaughtered mine! She’s the reason we fled to the colonies in the first place!”

Jonas tried to understand what was going on. There were divisions within the council. Dorner, Ujarak, and Tarik seemed to be genuinely concerned with the Macreadys’ welfare and the law. Koszorus and Alver were on his side, McClure wasn’t. The others hadn’t weighed in yet. “Werewolves don’t hold grudges, councilor,” Jonas said.

McClure’s head whipped toward him. He grabbed Jonas by the throat, rose from his chair, and slammed him into the TV on the back wall.

“Councilor!” Dorner said, standing.

“You think this is a game, kid?” McClure growled. “Take the deal.”

“You can’t-”

McClure smashed him into the TV again.

Screw this,
Jonas thought. He grabbed McClure’s bare wrist to force his way into the councilor’s mind.

He bounced off the ward like he’d walked into a glass door.
Damn it!

McClure’s eyes flicked to his hand and narrowed.

“Kieran!” Jonas shouted.

McClure pulled him back and grabbed him two-handed. Jonas had time to see Kieran come bursting into the room as McClure threw Jonas through the window.

Jonas burned blood and time slowed. Shards of glass caught the sunlight in a cloud around him, along with bits of plaster and wood.
Okay, there’s got to be something Damien taught me that can-

Kieran wrapped his arms around him. They spun.

Kieran, what-

It’s okay, little brother.

Kieran hit the empty planter first, then smacked into the sidewalk. Jonas rolled twice before stopping. People scattered. “Kieran?” Jonas pushed himself up onto his side, almost slipping in the salted sludge. His vision was blurry, and the ribs on his right side really hurt when he tried to breathe. He blinked several more times and wiped his face with his sleeve. Wet, but no blood
. That’s good at least.
He sat up and turned.

Kieran’s head was split open like someone had stepped on a grape. There was black blood on the concrete planter and all over the snow beneath his body. His right arm was twisted at a crazy angle beside him. He wasn’t moving, and Jonas’ fine-tuned senses couldn’t hear a heartbeat. “Kieran!” Jonas scrambled over, gasping at the pain in his ribs. He rolled Kieran over. Half of Kieran’s head stayed on the sidewalk.
Oh no,
Jonas thought, covering his mouth. It was like the pictures of the Van Dyke building. Werewolves didn’t recover from wounds that bad.

There was a flare of green, gold, and red magic as lines snaked out from Kieran’s body, pulling the pieces together, and the wounds in his head closed like flower petals at dusk. His arm popped, cracked, and aligned. He gasped and opened his eyes. After a few breaths, he said, “We made it.”

“Yeah,” Jonas said. “Guess the Sorcerer was telling the truth.” He was still trying to process what he’d just seen.

There were people clustered around them. Kieran was fine, but his blood was still all over the pavement. “Just special effects, folks!” Jonas said. “We’ll be in theaters next year!”

“Where are the cameras, then?” one of the people asked.

“We’re using drones. High tech stuff,” Jonas said, sending out a general feeling that this made sense to their human minds. He wasn’t very good at it.
Could have used Eve right now, except for the whole daylight thing.

The guy who’d asked about the cameras walked off, shaking his head and saying something about needing a vacation.

Jonas suddenly realized he’d been using his powers a lot in the past few minutes. He looked up at the bright, overcast sky. His skin started to crawl. “Come on, let’s get inside,” he said, reaching for his phone. The screen was cracked.

“Here,” Kieran said, handing him his.

Jonas dialed the emergency line, entered his pin number, and said, “I need a clean-up team at 61st and 5th.” He hung up.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” the doorman said, wide-eyed.

“We’re fine,” Jonas said. He went through the revolving door and straight to the elevator.

“We’re going back up, clan leader?” Kieran said. There was still sticky, black blood all over his shoulders and the front of his suit.

“I’m Black Alice’s son. If McClure wants to get medieval, I can do that.”

♘

Several werewolves were in the hallway when Jonas stepped off the elevator, milling around the broken doors to the conference room. The law allowed each councilor to bring a single bodyguard with him when they met, to protect him and resolve disputes.

“Which one of you came with Councilor McClure?” Jonas said, raising his voice.

The bodyguards looked at a man in his mid-twenties who looked like a younger, bigger version of the councilor.

“Kieran,” Jonas said.

Kieran lunged forward, going through a partial transformation. The seams in his suit stretched. McClure’s bodyguard raised his arms, but Kieran’s silver claws raked the right side of his face. He stumbled. Kieran slashed his arm coming from the left, then jabbed his claws into the bodyguard’s right side several times. Jonas followed them into the conference room.

Kieran spun the bodyguard around with a slash to the throat, spraying the wall with black blood, then grabbed him by the back of the suit and dragged him across the tabletop, knocking notes and bottles out of the way and leaving a smeared black streak across the wood. Councilors pushed back from the table, shouting. Kieran threw the dead bodyguard against the wall, where he fell into a heap.

Jonas sat down in his chair and straightened the cuffs of his jacket. McClure was pale and shaking, his hands balled into fists, but Kieran stood between Jonas and the councilor, back in human form, with his hands behind his back.

“Arbiter?” Jonas said.

“Yes, Mr. Black,” Dorner said, with remarkable bearing. The remaining bodyguards were clustered at the far end of the room, waiting for instructions to attack.

“A councilor’s bodyguard at these assemblies is his
de facto
champion, is he not?”

“That is correct, Mr. Black. But-”

“Could a councilor ordering a clan leader who had not been deposed to take an action contrary to his wishes be construed as a challenge?”

“It could,” Dorner said.

“And once challenged, a clan leader or their champion can respond without formal acknowledgment,” Tarik added, his eyes glowing.

Jonas nodded to Tarik, then said. “I ask that the record show that, as determined in trial by combat, there will be no alliance between my clan and Councilor McClure’s.”

“So noted,” Dorner said, taking his seat and gesturing toward Hans. The other councilors started taking their seats. Hans returned with a fresh notepad and pen for the arbiter.