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After Ares’ almost-demise, David had taken it upon himself to build him a shelter. It wasn’t much more than a lean-to at the moment, but he had plans to build a proper stable to show the unicorn he was loved. I thought it was adorable and had instantly released pack funds for the materials, though David was determined to build the thing with his own fair hands rather than have labourers on our land.
I’d seen more than a few female eyes light up with interest when they’d learned David could build, Daniella’s included. A gardener wasn’t the sexiest of roles, but a builder… There was something primevally sexy about the fact that a builder could provide shelter.
Esme used her nose to follow Ares’ scent, but she needn’t have bothered because he was lying against his lean-to as we’d expected. Though he’d largely recovered from the incident with Mrs Dawes, he wasn’t completely back to normal and his energy levels were still a little on the low side. He was dozing in the dappled sunlight but he gave a snort and his red eyes flared open as he scented us.
He gave a happy whicker in greeting. I tentatively reached out with my magic to let him know how delighted I was to see him, and his warm affection rushed up and swamped me. If I’d been on two legs my eyes would have welled, but Esme was made of sterner stuff. Even so, she stepped closer to nuzzle him.
Now we were connected, Ares sent me an image. On the other side of the lean-to was something strange; it had appeared in the night while he was sleeping. Esme and I scooted cautiously around to see what had caught his eye. An envelope had been pinned to the wooden wall of the shelter.
Esme sniffed at the paper, trying to detect any useful scents. It smelled of the candles that had been burning in Mark Oates’ room and at the black tourney. We sneezed, our nose full of an acrid scent that we couldn’t un-smell even if we tried. Someone had placed the envelope here and gone to great lengths to cover their identity, including dousing the letter in a potion that was designed solely to block werewolf noses. Uneasiness tore through me: anyone who would go to such lengths was up to no good.
We sneezed again. Esme wanted to rip the thing down, but cooler minds prevailed and she let us shift onto two legs. I reached with steady hands towards a letter, addressed: Queen Lucy.
I opened it cautiously. Was it from the killer? I kind of hoped so because I could only handle one nefarious prick at a time.
Dear Queen Lucy
Congratulations on potentially attaining the role of the leader of the British werewolves. We have watched your meteoric rise to success with interest. No doubt you will appease the seat of power and shortly be formally recognised.
We are a collective of enterprising individuals who work together to enhance our wealth and standing in the Other realm. There are some amongst us that think you would be an asset and, as such, you are cordially invited to join our organisation. If you would like to accept it, display a single red rose on your pack common-room fireplace within the next twelve hours.
Know that once refused, an invitation will not be extended again.
And Lucy – if you’re not with us, you’re against us. Choose wisely.
The Domini.
The Domini? Bloody hell. It looked like they weren’t quite the stuff of children’s tales that Harden had thought. I felt a chill. They’d planted this right by Ares while he slept and they could easily have hurt him.
I re-read the letter, trying to calm my brain and digest the contents. It was an invitation and a threat; no wonder Ramsay had killed himself rather than face the judgement of such an organisation if they felt ballsy enough to threaten me on my own land.
Their shitty threat wasn’t even implied, it was being sledgehammered into my face. It was noteworthy, too, that my title had been dropped in the body of the letter; for all the flattery in the first paragraph, the Domini – whoever they were – didn’t truly accept my regency. Frankly, I could understand that: I still didn’t quite know how I’d wrangled the title, or how the hell I was to ‘appease’ the seat of power, whatever that meant. I’d been avoiding hard conversations with the Council – heck, I’d been avoiding the Council full stop.
We have no need of anyone other than pack, Esme sniffed.
Indeed, I agreed. For me the more important thing was that I wouldn’t be part of any organisation where an offer to become a member came with a threat. I tacked the letter back where I’d found it; I’d pick it up again later, but for now I needed to run and to think.
Because worst of all, if I was to display a red rose into the pack common room to indicate my allegiance then we must have a Domini spy in our midst to see it.
Chapter 11
Even with the threat hanging over us, Esme and I both felt better for our run. We trotted into our office with Jacob next to us, the letter in our maw. It didn’t taste of anything other than paper so we were confident – albeit not certain – that we weren’t being poisoned. We tended to learn by doing, frequently asking for forgiveness rather than permission; it was our greatest strength and our greatest weakness.
Greg looked up as we came in but his smile faded as he saw the letter. Esme lifted our head, pointedly held it towards him and he took it. We shifted onto two legs and I dressed quickly and efficiently. Jacob didn’t blush or avert his gaze at my nudity; he’d been raised pack.
Greg waited for me to dress before doing anything. He was still holding the letter. ‘Read it,’ I instructed. He opened the damned thing and scanned it, his jaw working as his eyes passed over the threatening words.
‘What do you know about the Domini?’ I asked. ‘Obviously they’re more than a cautionary tale for naughty kids as Harden suggested.’
‘If they’re real, then they’re bad news,’ Greg started.
‘I got that from the threat,’ I said drily.
Greg grimaced at my flippancy. ‘The Anti-Crea has claimed they’re associated with the Domini. I’d assumed that was bullshit, but in light of this and Ramsay’s death maybe not.’
Jacob gave a low growl. The Anti-Crea was a human supremacy organisation that wanted to destroy – or at least control – the creature population of the Other realm. Anything that didn’t need to go into the Common realm to recharge was deemed a ‘creature’, and the creature side included the dryads, the dragons, the trolls, to name but a few. Until recently, the gargoyles had also been included on that list.
It was notable that the wizards took up the majority of the positions in the Connection due to their larger population size, but as a consequence, the oh-so-impartial Connection had definite human leanings.
