23. How to Make Enemies and Influence Werewolves
23
How to Make Enemies and Influence Werewolves
The Den occupied a limestone mansion in Temple Heights that made the Hawthorne residence look modest in comparison. Victoria’s Mercedes purred to a stop in front of wrought-iron gates bearing the club’s insignia: a crescent moon wrapped around a martini glass.
“Remember what we discussed,” Victoria said as the gates opened.
“Try not to start any blood feuds,” I recited dutifully.
Victoria’s expression grew pinched.
“I’m sorry, but the ‘speak only when spoken to’ stipulation that preceded that instruction does not sit well with me,” I said adamantly.
“It’s for your own good.” Victoria rolled onto a driveway lined with topiary bushes shaped like various supernatural creatures. “The people we’re about to meet are vultures. The minute they sense any weakness from you, they’ll pounce.”
“Can I pounce back?” I asked innocently.
Bo wheezed on the rear seat. Victoria’s left eye started twitching.
I sighed. “Alright, I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise.”
Victoria parked in a lot full of gleaming, expensive vehicles that would probably make Wheeler green with envy. I followed her up stone steps to a pair of ornate wooden doors guarded by a man in an impeccable tailored suit.
I could tell from his scent that he was a werewolf.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Hawthorne.” He bowed. “The Council is expecting you in the Moonlight Room.”
Someone needed to come up with more original names for these places.
“Yo, my guy,” Pearl greeted the werewolf imperiously. “Looking fresh today.”
The werewolf’s eyes bulged slightly. Victoria pretended to be fascinated by a nearby topiary. Bo wagged his tail and grinned.
To his credit, the doorman recovered his aplomb swiftly. He was reaching for the door when his gaze landed on me. He froze, his eyes widening all over again.
A strange feeling came over me then. One that sent an eerie chill down my spine.
I could practically taste the werewolf’s apprehension as he gazed at me. And not just his apprehension. I could sense his quickening heartbeat and almost decipher his racing thoughts.
I looked him calmly in the eye.
He blinked, his expression growing slightly glazed. Then we were past him and inside the club’s foyer.
“What was that?” Victoria asked quietly as we gave our coats to a cloakroom attendant projecting distinct pixie vibes.
“What was what?”
Victoria shot me a guarded glance as we proceeded down a hallway lined with wood-paneled walls displaying portraits of people who did not look completely human.
“The thing you did to that man,” she elaborated. “Like a silent command.”
I arched an eyebrow. “What kind of silent command?”
“I could practically hear the word ‘heel’ in your gaze.”
I frowned. It had not been a conscious act.
“Maybe it’s your white luna powers manifesting themselves,” Bo suggested. “You know, like that spider dude.”
Pearl flicked her tail curiously. “Who’s that?”
“A guy who gets bitten by a radioactive spider and turns into a superhero,” Bo explained with the enthusiasm of a secret fan.
Pearl curled a lip. “That’s totally unrealistic.”
“I could say the same thing about you, furball,” Bo huffed in a tone surprisingly devoid of animosity.
“Don’t make me come over there and scratch your eyes out, mutt,” Pearl said equally good-naturedly.
Victoria and I exchanged a look. Having our pets bond was not turning out to be the heartwarming, kumbaya experience it was supposed to be. Although “pet” was hardly the right word to describe Pearl.
We passed through a lounge where waiters in formal attire were serving drinks to a well-dressed supernatural clientele lounging in leather armchairs and playing billiards and cards. The noise level dropped noticeably as our passage attracted inquisitive stares.
“This place is pretty swanky,” Bo observed.
“Indeed,” Pearl said. “It has rich vibes, no cap.”
“Pearl?” Victoria groaned as a vampire in a three-piece suit nearly dropped his bloody martini.
“Yes, Victoria?”
“How about you lose the slang?”
Pearl blinked. “But I am rather enjoying the language of the peasant populace.”
Victoria looked accusingly at Bo. My dog avoided her eyes.
“Remember,” the Hawthorne matriarch said as we approached a sweeping staircase, “you should?—”
“I know,” I muttered. “Keep my mouth shut as much as possible.”
Victoria didn’t look convinced by my promise as we climbed the stairs to the second floor.
I had a feeling this was going to be a very long afternoon.
She led the way into a west-facing corridor, the thick carpet swallowing our footsteps. I eyed the display cases we passed warily. They held strange-looking items that were making my newly awakened wolf senses tingle.
“Those are magical artifacts,” Victoria explained at my expression. “They were used during the Shadow War.”
“What’s the Shadow War?” I asked curiously. “You mentioned it last night.”
“It was a supernatural conflict that coincided with the American Civil War,” Victoria said curtly. “Thousands of our kind lost their lives during the battles that took place across the country.”
She stopped in front of a set of mahogany doors carved with phases of the moon before I could ask more questions. I could hear voices coming from behind them.
Victoria straightened her already perfect bearing. “Ready?”
“No,” I admitted.
Bo gulped beside me. He looked nervous for the first time since we’d arrived at the private club.
“Chill,” Pearl said with dignified poise. “We’ll make sure you two don’t fumble the vibe.”
Victoria sagged a little. She sighed and reached for the handle.
The door opened onto a large, tenebrous room. Bo and I headed inside after Victoria and Pearl. My scalp prickled at the supernatural power that washed across my skin.
Shadowy figures appeared in the gloom. I squinted.
Bo swished his tail hesitantly. “Well, that was anticlimactic.”
A group of werewolves who looked well past their prime sat drinking tea around a long table. Half of them looked like they’d stepped out of a historical novel, complete with lace cuffs, walking sticks, and nineteenth-century sensibilities. Though they appeared innocuous at first glance, they radiated the kind of authority that only came with age and status.
“Welcome to the Moonlight Room,” a voice boomed mournfully behind us.
Bo yelped and jumped an inch in the air. I clutched my chest and winced as a sudden bout of acid reflux hit the back of my throat.
Several of the elderly werewolves spilled their tea.
“For crying out loud, Camilla.” Victoria frowned at the figure behind the door.
It was a middle-aged woman with mousy hair and watery eyes. Her nostrils flared when she spotted me. She gave me a cautious look.
“Yeah, what was that for?” an elderly werewolf with a wrinkled face that made her look like a desiccated prune asked with a heavy scowl.
Someone equally wrinkly shook their walking stick at Camilla. “We told you to stop doing that, dammit. I nearly peed myself. And I’m wearing my best undies and everything, in honor of meeting the new luna.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of this and decided diplomatic silence was the best solution under the circumstances.
“But it’s tradition,” Camilla protested. “As the Council’s secretary, it’s my duty to announce?—”
“So you’re the white wolf everyone’s been talking about,” a voice interrupted coolly to my left.
My gaze found the woman who’d spoken. Her chestnut hair was sprinkled with an elegant dash of gray and her clothes looked even more expensive than the outfits Victoria had bought for me from Moonlight Couture. She was around fifteen years younger than the rest of her peers and carried herself with the same elegance and grace as Victoria.
I got instant Karen vibes from her.
Sparks sizzled between Victoria and the werewolf.
“Helen,” Victoria said frostily.
“Victoria,” the woman greeted with equal iciness.
“That’s Helen Sheridan,” Pearl murmured with an annoyed flick of her tail.
Seemed I was right about her being a Karen. I was dying to know what the story was between those two but was conscious I was attracting curious stares. The elderly werewolves were studying me with varying degrees of interest.
“Well?” Helen demanded haughtily. “Is she going to say anything?”
She was looking at me like I was dirt under her Jimmy Choos. I narrowed my eyes a fraction.
Bo stamped his paws indignantly. “I don’t like her.”
Helen’s gaze shifted. She stared down her nose at my dog.
“Who is this flea-infested creature?”
Pearl spoke before I could tell the Karen wannabe where she could shove that question.
“The canine is under my protection,” she stated, her voice dripping with scorn. “He is an honorary member of our pack. Any disrespect toward him will be construed as a challenge to the Hawthornes.”
“Furball,” Bo keened gratefully. He attempted to lick Pearl and got booped on the nose. “Ouch.”
Helen decided to pretend she hadn’t just insulted my dog.
“Is your new luna mute, Victoria?” she said irritably. “Or is she just stupid?”
The thin thread of my patience snapped with a sound I suspected the others heard. I felt my nails lengthen as I lowered my brows at the werewolf socialite.
“How about you and I step outside?—”
Victoria cut off my low growl.
“Is this how our Council treats a new luna?” she said in a steely voice. “And one belonging to the most powerful pack in Amberford, no less?”
Helen bristled. “Who said the Hawthornes are the most power?—”
“Helen,” a voice said quietly.