Old ways
Killian
Instead of taking a shower, I pulled on a suit, and with Lucas trailing behind me, I took my time till I got to the council room where Logan stood outside. Logan was well over three centuries old. He had a head full of salt-and-pepper hair, crow’s feet, deep blue eyes, deeper smile lines, and a face that said I know all your secrets—but he was a friend.
“It’s not good,” he said in a very low voice. Almost a whisper, in fact. “The rumors—I suppose you know them—have spread and taken root in many people’s minds. This one is not curiosity. They will demand action. Action rooted in the old ways. Don’t be fooled, young Alpha.”
I gave him a quick nod and pushed open the doors to reveal the council of twelve. Twelve of the most prominent members of the pack. Twelve of not necessarily the oldest, but a mixture of old, well-fared, and knowledgeable. The minimum criteria for being a member of the council being that they should have at least lived over a century and a half and have served the pack in some capacity. Logan was once a healer with my grandfather and my father. He was a stickler for following things to the letter but had easier leeway in allowing for change.
There were others—conservatives, as they called themselves—who preferred things the old way with no way out. Then there were those who loved human ways, had seen things done in the human world, and hoped—proposed, okay—that we relax our ideals to make it a little more human. And then, of course, there were those who simply didn’t care, who wanted to do things their own way or no other way at all.
My council was perhaps the most divided I had come across in all the werewolves’ seven kingdoms. And at the root of it was Selena’s father, Brandon Wolf. Brandon smiled at me, greeting me with all the familiarities of a father-in-law and the friendliness of an uncle, but it was his eyes that spoke of a merchant and a smile that was just as slippery as a wizard’s.
“Serious, Alpha,” he said with a smile.
Around him were two of his kind—the kind that only did for their interests.
“Lovely to see you, although not too lovely to smell that bunch of blood on you.”
I gave him a small smile of courtesy. “I was made to understand the council seeks an audience. I didn’t think you would all be so courteous as to allow me ample time to shower and change. Our matter is more pressing than showering. Let us begin.”
I turned away from him and sat in my seat at the head of the table. Six sat on either side, with one non-council member as a witness to our decisions—that one being my Beta, Lucas.
“Whatever reason you will have to call for this council meeting now, let me go first to say this.” I placed my hand on the table, reaching for the bowl encased in the small frame that signified a chance to speak. Not more than three could hold the bowl at the same time, a method my grandfather came up with to keep the council meetings more orderly.
“Rogues have been found.”
Hushed whispers filled the room, with heads turning towards each other to whisper words I already knew. How is this possible? they would say. Don’t we have proper watches? they would say. What about our border guards? Were they sleeping? This is impossible. The border guards must be punished, they would say.
“Whatever it is that you want to say, we have order to follow. I’ve killed some—one of them—and apprehended, but it’s clear that many rogues wouldn’t come into our territories unless they had found ways to mask their scent. Bodily, you all know the stench of rogue.”
Some eyes turned downwards, mostly conservatives. After all, they had been the ones that lost too much in the last rogue war. A full army of rogues had attacked the pack some fifty years ago, towards the tail end of my father’s time. They had suffered the brunt of it, for the reason being they had a festival that day. No more than a few thousand lost their lives, so they knew the pain more than most.
“They would have had to come in some way.” Logan held his bowl. “The attack is still too fresh in our minds, in our hearts. Some have been maimed for life. Many would never recover.” He paused.
“So you mean to say they were let in, hmm?” Brandon took advantage of the pause, holding up his ball.
Logan huffed with an eyeroll. “Yes. I am saying that. I am saying that we have been once beaten.”
Brandon opened his mouth to retort.
“I’m also saying that, twice shy. We’ve learnt too well to make the mistake of being lax with our borders, and you know this well, Brandon.”
Brandon shrugged. “People forget. You are pretentious, old timer. People forget.”
Logan dropped his ball. This needed no reply, I thought to myself. I’d no sooner believe it’s possible they slipped in. After all, a human did the same.
I balled my hands into fists under the table. Of course he’d make reference to her. She slipped in under our noses. It’s possible the rogues did the same.
Brandon submitted with satisfaction on his features. The rest of the council was of mixed reactions. Some widened their eyes, others smirked subtly, and some wore masks of indifference.
“Yes,” I said, pulling my ball off the frame. “A human did come. And so did rogues. It’s either negligence or intentional.”
No lips moved. All balls stayed on the table save one in Eliza’s hand.
“Or the human was a distraction the rogues used to slip in.” She smiled.
Eliza was old. Older than Logan, clocking in at five centuries. She was ancient by lycan standards.
“I can smell her blood on you.”
I raised a brow at her wrinkled face.
“It’s not as pungent as the rogue blood, but it’s there. I smell how it masks with the rogue blood. If that is a property of her blood, then it suffices enough to see why and how she slipped in under the noses of well-scarred guards.”
Her eyes found Brandon, who shifted under her gaze.
“Of course, the devil, as they say, is in the details. There’s only one way to find out where the human came from. If she truly has no ties to the rogues, then the rogues did take advantage of this. Or, if they didn’t, then they came in on their own through some other means. It would mean we have a mole.”
She dropped her ball and kept silent for the rest of the meeting.
The rest of the meeting, however, was then directed at me—rather than the rogues—more on the existence of the human in the pack.
“She should be dead. At least by pack’s own laws.” Elijah, Eliza’s cousin—blood skipping a generation—played around with his ball. “Pack law states that any outsider not allowed, that steals into the pack at any point in time, should be killed. Why is the human still alive? Moreover, if you were going to kill her from the start, why is she back here? I heard from some just before this meeting started that she was brought in alive but injured.”
More whispers.
“Kill her, Alpha. We must do things the old ways. Oh, the Alpha wouldn’t do it, would he? Especially when he is working on sentiment.”
Brandon picked up his ball and met my eyes. “Would you tell them, Alpha?”
The tips of my fingers found the ball. “She’s my mate.”
The balls didn’t matter once I said that. Council members began to talk out loud. Eliza, however, smirked, her eyes finding mine, and winked.
Logan shook his head, closed his eyes slowly, while the elder beside him lost his mind.
I looked at the loud council with a mad thought. It’ll come out anyway. I will not honour the old ways either. I will not kill the human.
The room fell silent with the exception of Eliza, who burst out laughing.