Shattered Circle

diviza will be here in twenty minutes.”

In pack hierarchy, the dirija was a pack leader, the adevar was an area bean counter who kept tabs on the dirijas, and a diviza was the region’s next step up, serving a function that was part outreach, part campaign manager, part lawyer, and part CEO. They had an incredible amount of authority where local packs and politics were concerned.

Johnny spun back. “The diviza?”

Aurelia nodded.

After negotiations went south between the pack and the Ohio Department of Transportation, or ODOT, who wanted to buy and tear down the den building for their new I-90 project, a dossier had been sent to the diviza requesting intervention.

Johnny had opted out of the recent meetings, leaving the dilemma to Todd, who would become the pack’s dirija after Johnny’s coronation. They had all believed the issue would be resolved after the new year. “I thought he wasn’t coming until January?”

“ODOT and the mayor are very serious about their new compensation package.” She advanced on him again. “They demanded mediation to obtain an immediate decision, and demanded it directly of the diviza, leaving us out of the loop.”

“Bastards. Did the diviza’s office contact us?”

“I only learned of this a few hours ago.” She crossed her arms, enhancing the bulge of her cleavage. “Seems they didn’t want to overwhelm you prior to or during your official announcement. According to them, the mediation was scheduled for next week, but ODOT called them with the change at one thirty. The diviza immediately chartered a plane, which . . . ” Her words trailed off as she checked her watch. “ . . . should have landed by now.”

Johnny turned back toward the apartment. “Get Todd in here. He has to handle it.”

“You’re the Domn Lup.”

Stopping, Johnny squared his shoulders before facing her again. “And I have another meeting scheduled—one I don’t intend to miss. Besides, this will be Todd’s pack in a few weeks, so let him handle it how he wants.”

“The diviza expects you.”

Of course he did. The Domn Lup was a power title. Johnny knew that his attendance at the meeting would give the w?res more credibility, more leverage.

This was part of the reason why he didn’t want to be Domn Lup. It wasn’t solely about grown-up choices and people looking to him for answers he wasn’t sure he had. This song and dance was about politics and etiquette. Every meeting would be tainted with a false spotlight meant to illuminate the idea that those involved were important, and that important people made decisions that were good for all. However, the agreements politicians reached were never brought to bear by the politicians themselves. Not getting their hands dirty with the real work meant the ruling class was out of touch with the reality of the decrees they made. Johnny wanted to change that. He wanted to shake things up and bring some rock-and-roll irreverence into play.

“Fuck him,” he said, and walked away. Talking about a problem didn’t fix it, work did. They would get his presence and full support when they were ready to work.

He was three steps from the door when Aurelia’s voice sliced down the hall like a razor. “This is how you intend to lead? Ignoring one of the six U.S. divizas when he’s come to negotiate for your pack’s den?”

Again, he stopped, but this time he didn’t turn. All he wanted to do was go and make things right with Red and tell her about Evan. But that was his heart talking. His mind knew he couldn’t abandon the pack like this. It was their den. If they lost it because he’d skipped out on them . . .

Fuck.

“Everyone is watching you, John.”

He said nothing, but he hung his head and tried to figure out the perfect wording for the text he’d send Seph to cancel.

Aurelia turned and retreated into the stairwell.

Red will understand. I know she will.

•  •  •

Aurelia had seen to it that a dry-cleaned suit, tie, and dress shoes had been brought to the apartment while Johnny showered. All were black except for the gray shirt. Seeing the spiffy duds, he’d rolled his eyes but put them on, grumbling. Now his still-wet hair was dripping slightly on the tailored jacket shoulders as he stood in the parking garage with Gregor on one side and his self-appointed fashion director on the other.

Todd had parked and was approaching them when a metallic-gray Cadillac Escalade limousine pulled in and rolled right up to them. When the driver hopped out and opened the door, the diviza slid out.

He was an older man, his hair a rendition of Einstein’s, and his equally frizzy beard at least twelve inches long. His face was tanned dark, with deep lines across his forehead. Any wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were hidden by his dark sunglasses.

He cocked his head as he surveyed them. He was so scrawny that, with all the bristling hair about his head, his skull seemed oversized for his body. Johnny felt like he was being sized up by a starving elderly caveman dressed for a hip cocktail party.

The old man’s gaze settled on him.

“Diviza, I’m John Newman,” he said. “This is Todd McCloud. He will soon replace me as dirija of this pack. This is Aurelia Romochka, my assistant, and Gregor Radulescu, Omori captain.”

The older man pulled his sunglasses down an inch, revealing an azure-blue eye on the left, while the pupil of the right eye was bright, reflective silver. It had a startling effect, but then, in a crisp Cajun accent, the diviza said, “Delighted to meet you all. I am Jacques Lippencot Plympton and we are late. If you would join me . . . ” He disappeared into the limo.

Once settled inside the luxurious interior, Johnny asked, “Where is this meeting?” It was early evening on a Sunday, after all. Government offices were closed.

Jacques’s cheeks bulged round in a smirk. “Not far. Not far at all.” The last came out more like ah-tall. He then spent the entire five-minute ride facing Johnny with that crooked smile stuck in place.

This must be what it feels like to be on display at a freak show.

CHAPTER SEVEN

After school, Beverley rode the bus to her normal stop. When she climbed into Celia’s CX-7, as usual, Celia asked about her day. Beverley told her that her best friend, Lily, was absent because she’d gotten to fly on an airplane to Florida, about the experiment they did for science, and about the picture of a unicorn that Bobby drew for her. She still had a crush on Bobby even after he pushed the merry-go-round so fast she fell off and broke her arm.

But Beverley didn’t tell Celia everything.

She didn’t tell Celia that she had barely been able to pay attention all day because she couldn’t wait to get back to the farmhouse.

She held on to the car’s door handle the entire distance of the driveway, her feet dancing on the floor mat, ready to jump out before the car even stopped.

“You’re sure in a hurry to see Errol today,” Celia remarked as she put the car in park.

Beverley usually ran from the car all the way to the barns, but today she wanted to go inside the house. “Can I have some milk first?” she asked as she scurried from the car.

“Of course.” Celia cut the engine. “Check the date on the carton, though. Seph’s been gone.”

“I’ll have a juice, then.” Beverley knew Celia would be doing paperwork for her house-selling job. It was what