Chapter Fourteen
FOURTEEN
I’ve never been to Edinburgh. My first impression is not particularly favorable as we step off the train into a cavernous wooden building that seems a poor introduction to such a vaunted city.
“It’s a temporary structure,” Julius explains. “They haven’t yet decided what they’ll do for a proper train station, so this one has been here for … quite some time.”
“Do we know who we’re looking for?” I ask.
“We do not,” Bishop murmurs. “I must presume that the Alpha—Hamish—received my message, and that he will send someone. Proper etiquette dictates that I stay in the station until I am received. Yes?”
He directs the question to Rufus, but it’s Kenric who answers. “That’s correct. Any visiting Pack wolf waits for an envoy.”
“And if no one shows up?” I ask.
“That would be an answer in itself,” Bishop says. “In such a case, as I told them, I would plan to stay at a nearby hotel. While the Caledonians wouldn’t like me leaving the train station, I believe that would be acceptable.” He looks to Kenric this time. “Yes?”
“Yes.”
I nod. “Staying at the nearest hotel would stretch protocol, but sleeping in the station would be a poor start to negotiations, showing you to be a desperate new Alpha, fearful of giving offense.”
“Correct,” Bishop says.
As we walk, the wolves all seem to scan faces, but really they’re mostly sniffing, nostrils discreetly flaring as they search for another werewolf scent.
“Is it possible they’ll leave you tonight just to see what you’ll do?” I ask. “And, yes, feel free to tell me you’re busy and to stop asking questions.”
He smiles slightly my way. “Never. Yes, I suppose that is a possibility. In fact, if it were me, and I was trying to take the measure of the wolf, I might do just that. Not necessarily leave him overnight—that could start negotiations poorly as you said—but wait to see what he does if no one is there to greet him.”
“That may be what’s happening,” Julius says. “Do not look, but to our left, I believe a wolf is watching us. While he’s too far for me to scent him, he has the look of a wolf and he’s definitely tracking our progress.”
“Any impressions?” Bishop asks.
“Too roughly dressed to be one of the sons. Not big enough to be either enforcer. Unlikely to be the controller or advisor. Middling age. Likely middling rank.”
We’d discussed the Caledonian Pack back when Bishop first told me his plan. They’re larger than the Albion Pack had been. In Bishop’s opinion, they’re too large. A small Pack lacks power. A huge one lacks intimacy. Wolves want both—to be part of a strong Pack while enjoying strong bonds.
To Bishop, the Caledonian Pack has passed the tipping point and begun to lose dissatisfied wolves who feel lost in a large Pack with no chance to distinguish themselves. It doesn’t help that Hamish Campbell is in his seventies and isn’t even training an heir, despite having three sons.
All three sons are apparently viable heirs, which makes the lack of a named successor even odder.
Bishop fears Hamish is playing them against one another, like Lear with his daughters.
At best, Hamish might be honestly struggling to make the best choice.
But werewolf Packs crave stability. They want a clear line of succession, and without that, dissatisfaction grows.
The Caledonians have already lost wolves to the Cambrian Pack.
Bishop hopes all this is to his advantage. The Caledonian Pack is currently strong and stable, with cracks just beginning to show. It might be the perfect time to reforge an alliance with the Albions, under an Alpha who is young and in a difficult position and therefore currently not a threat.
By earning Bishop’s gratitude, Hamish will have the superior standing he never had with Silas.
Hamish can position himself as a mentor to the young Alpha, making that power dynamic clear.
And, since the Albions need wolves, maybe Hamish could give Bishop a few of the young and dissatisfied ones, which would let Hamish stabilize his Pack without losing more to the less manageable Cambrians.
Bishop is willing to play the very young Alpha, ready to accept the guidance of his elders, if that gets him what he wants. Any imbalance of power can be corrected later.
Bishop doesn’t seem particularly concerned that Hamish has sent someone to check him out before making contact. As he said, it’s what he’d do.
“All right,” Bishop says. “Continue watching as we circle. If you see another wolf, pretend you do not notice him. We’ll see whether they make contact. I suggest we linger for about a quarter of an hour.”
“Agreed,” Julius says.
We do that. This time, I’m the one who spots another wolf, though I have Bishop confirm my suspicion. This one is also clearly watching us while staying out of scenting range.
“Time to appear as if we are debating our next move,” Bishop says. “I suggest Julius and Kenric step out the front doors as if looking around. I’ll stay here with Rufus, as my enforcer, to be clear I’m reluctant to step onto another Alpha’s territory.”
We do that, and I linger with Bishop and Rufus until Julius and Kenric return to say no one’s waiting outside. Bishop makes a show of checking his pocket watch. Then he sends Kenric to ask the nearest station attendant about hotels.
“There isn’t one attached to the station,” Kenric says when he returns. “But there are several across the road on Princes Street.”
Bishop makes another show of checking his pocket watch, followed by a decisive nod and a wave at the front doors. “We’ll step out and see where the closest lodgings might be.”
We do that, and then we face a quandary because the closest hotel is not up to Bishop’s standards, but one a few doors down is.
“The second,” he says. “I believe that sends the correct message. I said I’d go no more than a half mile. The other is closer, but this shows I won’t accept substandard lodgings if better is within range.”
The station exits onto a wide street, busy, with multiple lanes for coaches and carts.
A soft rain falls, and the air is cooler than southern England.
We pause, looking this way and that, as Bishop checks his pocket watch with growing annoyance.
Then he gestures toward the hotel he’s chosen, and we make our way in that direction.
We’re climbing the steps when a voice says “Bishop Danvers?” and the scent of werewolf reaches me.
Bishop turns slowly to see the wolf I’d spotted in the station, young and burly. “I go by Bishop Daniels, but yes, that would be me.”
“You’re to come with me.”
Bishop tilts his head. He could ask on whose authority the man speaks, but that would imply a lone wolf could be roaming the Caledonian Pack’s territory, which would be an insult to the Pack. So he lets that pause stretch several seconds before following.
The wolf leads us into a narrow passage between buildings.
Rufus gives a soft growl and shoulders his way into the lead, motioning for Julius and Kenric to bring up the rear.
We don’t want to seem reluctant to walk into a dark alley—it would suggest poor nerves—but striding in speaks of recklessness.
So many things to think of, an endless tightrope to walk, considering every choice and how it might be perceived.
The alley is too narrow for Bishop and me to walk side by side, and he wants me to go ahead. Part of that is respect—not having his wife trailing him. Part of it is in case we’re attacked from the rear. But I do a quick calculation of my own and fall in behind him.
We continue down the alley until wolves appear at the end, sliding from the shadows. Bishop’s shoulders tighten. I can make out at least three men. The one in front looks about Rufus’s age, with light hair, a tailored suit, and a mouth twisted in the faintest moue of distaste.
“Bishop Danvers,” he says.
“My father went by Daniels,” Bishop says, his voice deceptively mild. “But I’m certainly not trying to hide who I am, so use whichever name you like.”
“I am Edwin Campbell, eldest son of Hamish Campbell.”
“It’s a pleasure to—”
“What is that?” Edwin says, and Bishop’s shoulders tighten just a fraction at the interruption. “You brought your whore?”
Bishop’s whole body tenses, his voice dropping to a low growl. “I brought—”
“We are not the Cambrian Pack,” Edwin says. “We do not bring whores into our home. Nor are we the Albions, sneaking them in as so-called maids and cooks.”
Bishop’s voice is ice cold. “This is my—”
I lay a hand gently on Bishop’s arm, and to my surprise, he lets me slide past. Rufus gives me an appraising look and then steps aside as well.
I walk right up to Edwin and take some pleasure in his shock as his nostrils flare when he catches my scent. Behind him, a bigger light-haired wolf makes no attempt to hide his long sniff … or his appreciative grin.
“Please allow me to introduce myself,” I say, extending one gloved hand. “Cordelia Daniels. Bishop’s mate. Only child of Silas Stockwell, former Alpha of the Albion Pack. I have never met another Alpha’s child, and I am delighted to make your acquaintance.”
That sets him back, as he realizes I’m placing myself on equal social footing. I expect him to balk, but he only says, stiffly, “I was not aware Silas had any offspring.”
“Only me, I fear,” I say. “I was raised with my mother’s side of the family. They are Levines. Witches, who head the Levine Cabal.”
Rufus makes the smallest noise that might be a chuckle. I might not want anything to do with that cabal, but I won’t be above using them when it comes to establishing my credentials.
“A witch and a lycan,” the wolf behind Edwin says. “And a beauty to boot. Nicely done, Danvers. Nicely done indeed.”
“This is my brother, Angus,” Edwin says. “Behind him is the youngest, Dennis.”
A wolf about my age slouches against the wall, making a very good show of looking bored.
“Your father honors us in sending all three of his sons,” I say, and then nod and move back behind Rufus. Bishop squeezes my hand as I pass him.
Bishop completes the introductions, and then Edwin says we’ll be spending the night at their Edinburgh town house. It’s already growing late, and we must be tired, and we will make the trip to their country seat in the morning.
Hamish is setting the tone quickly. Sending all three sons is indeed a mark of respect, though not as high as having Hamish come himself. Likewise, having us spend the night in their city residence is a sign of respect just short of bringing us to their estate.
Hamish is saying that Bishop is not his equal, but he does respect Bishop’s new status. It’s an excellent starting point, and I relax a little as we are escorted down the alley to waiting coaches.