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“I prefer to stand, thank you.”
Something dangerous flashed in Eucilla’s black eyes and her voice took on a not quite human tone, “I didn’t ask what you preferred.”
“You will not intimidate me in my own home.”
Eucilla smiled, all false sweetness and sharp edges. “It remains to be seen whether this will still be your home by the end of the day, Mrs. Leslie. I won’t ask again, take a seat or I will use those wonderful cuffs you’re wearing to force you.”
I glanced at Maureen and prayed the woman saw sense. Whatever power she thought she retained by standing was moot. Head of clan Leslie or not, her entire pack was suspected of warlock trafficking and the CEB was not known for leniency in these matters. Still, my heart squeezed in sympathy when the woman heaved a sigh and walked slowly to the seat in question.
It was never fun being powerless.
More so, I suspect, for a woman who maintained so much power for so long.
Maureen settled in the chair and folded her hands, inasmuch as the cuffs would allow her. Her back remained straight, her chin poised so that she stared down her nose at Eucilla.
“Excellent,” Eucilla said, not giving the woman time to respond further. “Now, how long have you been operating this warlock trafficking ring?”
“I have no dealings in warlock trafficking,” Maureen said, her lip curling a little.
“Then the runestone used to trap our poor Miss Grayson did not come from you?”
“Of course not.”
“How, then, did Mr. Mark Vorten come by it?”
At this, Maureen looked to the door, her frown troubled.
“Relax, Ms. Maureen, the room is warded. No one can hear us.”
Maureen’s shoulders relaxed a fraction and her mouth pursed. After a long moment, she said, “There are things you do not understand.”
“Then help me understand, because at this juncture it looks like the whole of clan Leslie has been luring warlocks here for murder, dismemberment, and distribution in the underground market.”
“None of my people would do such a barbaric thing,” Maureen said.
“The runestone still lodged in Miss Grayson’s hand says otherwise.”
“We are wolves, not warlocks, Lieutenant. You’ll have to do better than that.”
“You have many warlocks in your employ. Any one of them could be making the runestones for you.”
Maureen’s mouth tightened again, going white at the corners as she glared at Eucilla. A silence enveloped the room that was so complete I could hear the thump of my own heart. Eucilla waited, expression placid, while Maureen shifted in her chair.
At last Maureen said, “Even if that were true, it is mere speculation and the CEB won’t act on it.”
“You’ve lived Earthside too long,” Eucilla countered. “We have a dead Alpha on your lands too. The King clan will be out for blood if the culprit isn’t brought to justice and eyewitness evidence places him at the warlock trafficking site. Which means, Ms. Maureen, that his death was likely an attempt to bury that evidence.”
Eucilla paused to lean back in her chair. She folded her arms across her chest and watched Maureen with a speculative gleam. “Since clan Leslie is responsible for these lands, that makes you responsible for his death.”
“And what will clan King say when they hear your eyewitness is suspected of the murder herself?” Maureen glanced at me, and my stomach plummeted.
I opened my mouth to protest but Eucilla laughed, her voice a strange melody that filled the room. Not certain what there was to laugh at, I shut my mouth and focused on the dracken.
“Let me get this straight,” Eucilla said, her humor quite evident, “You want clan King to believe that a scarecrow of a wizard managed to outwit and outfight an Alpha while still cursed by a runestone?”
Maureen paled but lifted her chin. “Mark Vorten is still unconscious from his encounter with the wizard. Cursed or not, Miss Grayson managed to take him down. It is not outside the realm of possibility that she did the same to Malcolm King.”
“And what cause would Miss Grayson have for murder?”
