Deadlocked

I nodded and gulped. No more crying. “So what’s going to happen tonight?”

“I don’t know what we’re here to see,” he said. “An execution? A duel? With the wolves, I can’t predict.”

Sam was standing by himself, just under the awning over the patio. Alcide went up to him and spoke, and Sam shrugged, then nodded. He stepped out to stand by Alcide.

I looked around at the faces of the pack members. They were al restless because of the night and because of the promise of violence in the air.

There was going to be bleeding tonight.

Alcide raised an arm, and four figures were led from the back of the house. Their hands were bound. Van, Plump, the bandaged Airman (Laidlaw, Mustapha had cal ed him), and Jannalynn. I didn’t know where they’d caught up with her, but her face was bruised. She’d put up a fight, which was no surprise at al .

Then I saw Mustapha. He’d blended with the darkness. He was magnificently nude. Warren was in the shadows behind him, huddled in a folding lawn chair. He was too far away for me to get a good look at him.

Mustapha had a sword. Too many of those in my life these days, I thought, feeling Eric’s cold hand tightening on mine.

“We are here to judge tonight,” Alcide said. “We’ve had to judge members al too often lately. The pack has been ful of dissension and disloyalty.

Tonight I require al of you to renew your oaths, and tonight I say that the penalty for breaking them is death.”

The werewolves drew in breath sharply, col ectively, like a single quiet scream. I looked around. Werewolfism manifests itself along with puberty, so none of the faces were younger than early teens, but that was young enough to make their presence shocking.

“After the judgments are rendered tonight, anyone who likes can chal enge me on this spot,” Alcide said. His face was savage. “No candidate has announced against me, but if anyone would like to win here and now, without a ceremony, you’re welcome to try single combat. Prepare yourself to fight to the death.”

Everyone was frozen in place now. This was not at al like the packmaster chal enge I’d seen before, the one in which Alcide’s father had died.

That had been a formal, ceremonial contest. Alcide himself had succeeded to the position when his father’s chal enger, Patrick Furnan, had died fighting side by side with Alcide against a common enemy. Packmaster by acclamation, I guess you’d term it. Tonight Alcide was throwing down the gauntlet to every wolf present. It was a big gamble.

“Now for judgment,” Alcide said, when he had looked into the face of every pack member.

The prisoners were pushed forward to land on their knees in the sand of the vol eybal court. Roy, the Were who was dating Palomino, seemed to be in charge of the miscreants.

“The three rogues I had turned down for admission into the pack acted against us,” Alcide said in a voice that carried across the yard. “They abducted Warren, the friend of Mustapha, who in turn is a friend—though not a member—of this pack. If he hadn’t been found in time, Warren would have died.”

Everyone moved in unison, turning to stare at the people on their knees.

“The three rogues were incited by Jannalynn Hopper, not only a pack member, but also my enforcer. Jannalynn couldn’t subdue her pride and ambition. She couldn’t wait until she was strong enough to chal enge me openly. Instead she started a campaign of undermining me. She looked for power in the wrong places. She even accepted money from a fairy in return for finding a half-bitch who would try to get Eric Northman arrested for murder. When Eric was too smart to act the way she thought he would, Jannalynn stole into his yard and murdered Kym Rowe herself, so Kym wouldn’t tel the police who’d hired her. Some of you remember running with Oscar, Kym’s father. He’s joined us tonight.”

Kym’s father, Oscar, was skulking behind Alcide. He looked oddly out of place, and I wondered how long it had been since he’d come to a pack meeting. What regrets did Oscar have now about his daughter’s life and death? If he was any kind of father, any kind of human being, he had to be thinking about how she’d lost her job, how she’d needed money so badly that she’d agreed to be bait for a vampire. He had to be wondering if he could’ve helped her out.

But maybe I was just projecting. I had to keep my mind in the here and now.

“Jannalynn was wil ing to sacrifice Were blood to serve her own interests and those of the fae?” Roy said. I was pretty sure Alcide had prepped him to ask that.

“She was. She admits it. She has written a confession and mailed it to the Shreveport police station. Now we’re going to ensure it’s taken seriously.”

Alcide dialed a number. His cel was on speakerphone. “Detective Ambrosel i,” said a recognizable voice.

Alcide held the phone in front of Jannalynn. Her eyes closed for a moment as she was readying herself to step off a cliff. The Were said,

“Detective, this is Jannalynn Hopper.”

“Uh-huh? Wait, you’re the bartender at Hair of the Dog, right?”

“Yeah. I have a confession to make.”

“Then come on in, and we’l sit down,” Ambrosel i said cautiously.

“I can’t do that. I’m about to vanish. And I’ve mailed you a letter. But I wanted to tel you, so you can hear it’s my voice. Are you recording this?”

“Yeah, I am now,” Ambrosel i said. I could hear a lot of movement on her end.

“I kil ed Kym Rowe. I came up on her when she was leaving Eric Northman’s house, and I snapped her neck. I’m a werewolf. We’re pretty strong.”

“Why’d you do that?” Ambrosel i asked. I could hear someone muttering to her, and I guessed she was getting