“I met Harry,” Phil growled. “I’m attending the memorial service.”
“I’d like to go, too,” Dougal added.
“It’s in the afternoon,” Howard grumbled.
Dougal sighed. “Verra well.” He looked around the hotel room. “Is there a safe place here where I can do my death-sleep?”
Howard snorted. “In the bathtub, but the maid will freak out and call an ambulance.”
“Then I’ll teleport to yer grandfather’s basement,” Dougal said. “And take Ian with me.”
With a groan, Howard dragged a hand through his hair. “You don’t have to stick around.”
“Aye, we do,” Ian said. “We’re part of yer family. Just be grateful the entire school dinna come. They all wanted to.” He dropped the duffel bags on the floor. “We packed you some clothes.”
“I went through your closet and found a suit,” Phil added.
Howard swallowed hard. They were being too damned nice to him, and he didn’t deserve it.
Ian opened the tote bag. “I brought some Bleer for Dougal and me.”
“I’ll take one.” Dougal grabbed a bottle.
“And there’s a six-pack in here for you and Phil.” Ian set the regular beer on a dresser, and Phil opened a can.
“And Shanna packed this for you.” Ian passed Howard a box from the bakery in Cranville. “They picked this up after their meeting with Elsa. Shanna reports it went well.”
Did that mean Elsa had decided not to reject him? That should have lifted his spirit, but Howard felt strangely numb. He peeked inside the box. Fresh donuts and some cherry streusel. He set the box on the dresser.
“Here.” Phil passed him a beer. “What time is the memorial service?”
Howard took a sip. “One.”
“We’re verra sorry—” Dougal began.
“I don’t want to hear it!” Howard slammed his can onto the dresser and paced across the room. “I should have never involved him in my stupid scheme—”
“Bullshit,” Phil grumbled.
Howard spun to face him. “I’m telling you it was my fault.”
“And I say bullshit,” Phil growled.
Howard growled back.
“Och, ye wee beasties,” Ian said as he opened a bottle of Bleer. “Take it easy.”
“Easy?” Howard shouted. “Harry is dead because of me!”
“Get over yourself,” Phil hissed. “Harry was doing exactly what he wanted to do. I was there at the diner when we had lunch. You wanted to keep everything stealthy and secret, right?”
Howard shrugged. “So?”
“It was Harry who insisted on making it public in his paper,” Phil insisted. “And you told him to keep it anonymous, but he started putting his name on the reports. He wanted Rhett to know it was him. That was his decision, not yours.”
“Aye,” Dougal agreed. “Ye canna blame yerself, Howard.”
“From what I understand, Harry also had a good reason to hate Rhett,” Ian added. “Dinna he lose his father, too?”
Howard raked a hand through his hair. The guys were clearly trying to relieve him of any blame, but he couldn’t let himself off the hook. Harry was the one who had stayed in Alaska, while Howard had run off to a safe place. He’d thought his disappearance would keep his family safe, but he’d only succeeded in making Harry the main target of Rhett’s vengeance.
“Harry was investigating your fathers’ deaths, right?” Phil asked. “He thought Rhett’s father killed them?”
“It looks that way.” Howard related what Harry had found out.
“So the feud between yer families has been going on for a long time,” Ian concluded.
“I guess.” Howard drank some beer. “I was only four when my father died, so I don’t know the details. It could have been as simple as Rhett wanting the land that my father and Harry’s father owned.”
Phil nodded. “For a Pack Master like Bleddyn, more land means a bigger pack, which means greater power.”
Howard sat on the end of a bed. “It’s a clash of two different cultures. Werewolves always want to grow the pack, whereas were-bears want to be alone. Unfortunately, the wolves usually beat us, because they have greater numbers.”
Dougal sat on the other bed next to Phil. “This is more than a clash of cultures. The hatred between you and Rhett is personal.”
“Of course I hate him!” Howard jumped up to resume pacing. “He just killed my best friend.”
“And your girlfriend,” Phil added.
Howard snorted. Nosy bastards.
“Rhett killed yer girlfriend?” Ian sat in the desk chair. “When did that happen?”
Howard paced, remaining quiet.
Phil drank some beer. “Well, it must have happened before he was banished, which means it happened before he went off to college.”
“Ah, first love.” Dougal sighed. “Puir lass. What was her name? Was she a were-bear like you?”
“She was innocent,” Howard grumbled. “An innocent mortal who trusted me. She died because Rhett hates my guts.”
“Why does he hate you so much?” Dougal pressed.
Howard sat on the bed and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. How many people would die because of him? First Carly. Now Harry. Was loving him a death sentence? Wasn’t that what Elsa feared?
Howard took a deep breath. “It began when I was in high school.”
Chapter Twenty-one
“Rhett was the quarterback for a high school team in Anchorage,” Howard began. “Since his father was Pack Master of Alaska, Rhett enjoyed the support of hundreds of werewolf minions all over the state. Those who worked in the media turned him into a star. Werewolf boys who played on other football teams let Rhett’s team win. Their loyalty to the Pack Master’s son was greater than any loyalty to a mortal school. Werewolf teachers gave him perfect grades. He could do no wrong. He was the state’s golden boy, destined for greatness.”
Phil nodded. “We heard about him in Wyoming. The rumor was he was being groomed to run for governor or senator, and, ultimately, president.”
“What went wrong?” Ian asked.
“I did.” Howard grabbed his beer and took a drink. “Harry and I were defensive linemen for the football team in Port Mishenka.”
Phil snickered. “The Port Mishenka Marmots.”
Howard arched a brow at him. “I’m looking for a fight if you want to accommodate me.”
“Enough, you two,” Dougal muttered. “Back to the story.”
Howard drank more beer. “It was our senior year, a pre-season game just for fun. Everyone was expecting the bigger team from Anchorage to slaughter the little team from nowhere. We knew we’d been selected as a scapegoat to make Rhett look good. The media was there, ready to fawn all over him.”
Dougal sat forward. “What happened?”
“Harry and I could tell his offensive linemen were all werewolves, willing to die to protect him. And of course, they realized Harry and I were were-bears. We were the only shifters on our team. The rest were mortals, who had no idea why the game was suddenly becoming so violent. Harry would attack as many linemen as possible, keeping them busy so I could barrel my way through. I sacked Rhett ten times.”
Phil chuckled. “I wish I could have seen that.”
