32. Isolde #2
Isolde refrained from pointing out that better was relative in this instance. Bastian still looked a bit too battered for her own comfort, and the hard surface of the table seemed like a horrible place to convalesce.
“Yes, well,” Anselm said stiffly, turning away from Bastian with a deep frown. “I’m afraid our discussion about the matter of the Wolf in Bloodhaven will have to wait. I’d like for Bastian to participate, and he needs to rest?—”
“I’m fine,” Bastian bit out, interrupting Anselm. “I’ve been resting all day. We should talk about it now.”
Anselm looked inclined to argue, but he said, “Alright, then. Drink, anyone?”
He went to the sideboard and selected a decanter of something amber colored, which he began to pour into glasses.
“No, thank you,” Isolde said politely when he offered her one. “Human food and drink tends to upset my stomach.”
“Ah, yes,” Anselm offered her a sheepish grin. “Vampires. I forget.”
Shockingly, Selene accepted the glass of whiskey Anselm offered her. Aggie took one too, and the three of them sat down at the table as if Bastian weren’t lying across it.
“So, Anselm,” Selene said from Isolde’s right, taking a slow sip of her drink. “I don’t need to remind you that a Wolf attacking humans in Bloodhaven is a violation of the Pact, do I?”
Anselm swirled his whiskey around in his glass. “Assuming what you say about this Wolf attack is true, yes.”
“I wouldn’t be here, risking my life and the life of my progeny in Wolf territory, if it weren’t.”
“Be that as it may, there’s very little I can do to remedy the situation without any proof.”
“What proof would you like, Anselm?” Selene’s mouth curled into a sneer, which Isolde knew from a great deal of experience was rarely the precursor to anything good.
“Should I have brought you the leg of the woman your Wolf tore off four nights ago? Or the scarred faces of the men who were called out of their beds in the dead of night to protect the village?”
Anselm raised a placating hand. “That is not what I’m saying.
But I have no way of identifying the Wolf who supposedly did this, and even if I did, I would have a coup on my hands if I took action against a Wolf on the word of two Vampires.
” He paused to take a long sip of his whiskey, not taking his eyes off Selene the whole time.
Selene stared back, her own eyes shining with what Isolde could only describe as simmering hatred as Anselm said, “So, you see the dilemma here, yes?”
“And a Wolf,” Bastian interjected.
Anselm blinked, as if he’d forgotten Bastian and Isolde were in the room. He drug his eyes away from Selene, his jaw flexing.
Selene leaned forward in her chair. “What’s that, boy?”
“Two Vampires and a Wolf,” Bastian repeated, louder this time. “I’m the one who brought them here to discuss this with you. You have my word that there was an attack, as well as theirs.”
“Surely you didn’t stay in the village to make the change.” Anselm set his whiskey down on the table, alongside Bastian’s hip. “Were you actually in Bloodhaven when it happened?”
“No,” Bastian admitted. “But I believe Selene and Isolde, and the dozens of humans who saw it, too.”
Anselm sighed, leaning back to fold his arms over his chest. “What would you have me do, then?” he implored. “Let’s say I believe that this attack happened. I still have no indication as to which of my people carried it out.”
“The Wolf had white fur,” Isolde said.
Anselm raised a brow. “That doesn’t narrow it down.”
“Perhaps not,” Selene cut in, “but you are the leader of the Wolves in this region, Anselm, and one of them has violated the Pact. I shouldn’t need to tell you that if it happens again at the next full moon, Lake Hall will be receiving a visit from more Vampires than just me and Isolde.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Yes,” Selene said simply. “It is. And you should be glad that’s all it is since, again, you are in violation of the Pact. ”
Isolde and Bastian exchanged a loaded look. Isolde could feel the tension in the room mounting steadily. From the way Bastian shifted on the table, positioning himself subtly to move if he had to, regardless of the pain… he could feel it, too.
Neither of them had yet dared to mention the other attacks—the ones that had happened on nights when the moon wasn’t full—and as far as Isolde was concerned, this was certainly not the time.
Try as he might to hide it, Anselm was growing visibly frustrated.
He kept shifting in his seat, his jaw working, his fingers flexing where they were folded across his biceps.
“I have recognized that there is a problem and agreed to solve it peaceably. But I don’t take kindly to threats in my home, Selene. ”
“And I don’t take kindly to your wild mutts coming into my home and mutilating my food source,” Selene snarled back. Her elongated canines glinted in the candlelight, deadly sharp.
“Do not insult me and my kind.” Anselm leaned forward in his chair, baring his teeth. “I may have accepted my son’s right to offer you clemency, but I have a dozen angry Wolves downstairs who would be happy to come in here and tear your progeny to pieces?—”
Selene’s glass shattered.
Isolde flinched, turning her face away as glass and whiskey sprayed her hair and clothes. Bastian’s hand tightened on hers, and he let out a pained hiss as the alcohol spattered across his back, into his fresh wounds.
When Isolde turned back, she found Aggie frowning. Anselm breathed heavily beside her, gaze smoldering as he glared across the table at Selene, who was staring right back, so still she could have been made of marble.
“Selene,” Isolde said into the silence that followed. “Maybe we should?—”
“Quiet , Isolde,” Selene hissed. “It would seem that you are the last person qualified to offer your opinion on relations between Vampires and Wolves.”
And then Selene flicked a pointed look down to Isolde’s lap, where she still held Bastian’s hand.
The back of Isolde’s neck prickled at the ire in that look. At the disapproval.
As gently as she could, she disentangled her fingers from Bastian’s. His eyes flicked to hers, brow furrowing, but she looked away. She tucked both hands beneath the bloodied thighs of her pants.
“I think this discussion is over for now,” Anselm announced. He shoved his chair back with a loud scrape. “I will speak to some of my trusted people and think on the matter, and we’ll discuss it further at a different time.”
Anselm gave Bastian one long, sorrowful look, his fingers twitching at his side like he wanted to reach out and touch him again, but he didn’t. He just sucked a sharp breath through his nose and walked out.
“Well,” Bastian said dryly. “That went well.”
Aggie laughed. Isolde didn’t, and Selene certainly didn’t, either.