the younger pack members.
Ulric, silently chomping on a chop at the other end of the table, glanced up. “No one did ask you. No one has ever been in any doubt as to your preferences.”
“Some of us are less narrow-minded than others.”
“More opportunistic, you mean to say.”
“I get bored easily.”
Everyone was grumpy—it was that time of the month.
Professor Lyall, with great deliberation, finished cleaning his glassicals and put them on. He looked around at the pack through the magnified lens. “Gentlemen, might I suggest that a discussion of preference is better suited to your club? It is certainly not the reason I have called a meeting this evening.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You will note that the clavigers have not been invited?”
Around him, all the immortal gentlemen nodded. They knew that this meant Lyall wanted to discuss a serious matter with the pack alone. Normally, the clavigers were in on everyone’s business. Living with several dozen mostly out-of-work actors will do that to a man’s private life—that is, make it considerably less private.
All the werewolves seated about the large dining table tilted their heads so that their necks were exposed to the Beta.
Professor Lyall, aware that he now had their full attention, began the meeting. “Given that our Alpha is pursuing a new and glorious career as an imbecilic twit, we must prepare for the worst. I require two of you to take leave of your military duties to help handle the extra BUR workload.”
No one questioned Professor Lyall’s right to make changes to the status quo. At one point or another, each member of the Woolsey Pack had tested himself against Randolph Lyall. All had discovered the damage inherent in such an undertaking. They had, as a result, settled into the realization that a good Beta was as valuable as a good Alpha, and it was best to be happy that they had both. Except, of course, that now their Alpha had gone quite decidedly off the rails. And their reputation and position as England’s premier pack was one that had to be defended constantly.
Professor Lyall continued. “Ulric and Phelan, it had best be you two. You have dealt with BUR paperwork and operational procedure before. Adelphus, you will handle the military negotiations and make all accommodations needed to compensate for Channing’s absence.”
“Is he drunk, too?” one of the youngsters wanted to know.
“Mmm. No. Missing. I don’t suppose he told any of you where he was going?”
Silence met that question, broken only by the sound of chewing.
Lyall pressed his glassicals up the bridge of his nose and looked down through them at his cup of tea. “No? I suspected as much. Very well. Adelphus, you will have to liaise with the regiment and persuade them to assign Channing’s majority temporarily to the nearest eligible officer. It will probably have to be a mortal.” He looked at Adelphus, whose rank was lieutenant and who thought rather too well of his own abilities and rather too meanly of others’. In truth, he had fifty years more experience than most, but military protocol must be followed. “You will continue to obey his orders as you would any supernatural superior officer. Is that clear? If there is any question of improper use of pack abilities, or excess risk due to immortal prejudice, you are to come directly to me. No dueling, Adelphus, not even under the most trying circumstances. That goes for the rest of you as well.”
Professor Lyall took off the glassicals and issued the table of large men a cutting glare.
They all hung their heads and focused on their food.
“Too much dueling gives a pack a reputation. Any questions?”
No one had any. Professor Lyall himself held the rank of lieutenant colonel with the Coldsteam Guards, but had, in the last fifty years, rarely had cause to serve. He was beginning to regret not maintaining a more consistent presence within the regiment by letting his BUR duties supersede his military obligations. But even he, a man of considerable forethought, had not planned for a contingency wherein the regiment would be in residence and both Lord Maccon and Major Channing would, essentially, not be in residence.
He allowed the pack to continue the rest of their meal untroubled. They were nervous and a little restless. Merely through his presence alone, Lord Maccon kept them tame. Professor Lyall could fight them each individually, but he hadn’t the charisma to control them en masse, and if Lord Maccon continued to remain sloshed, problems might well arise from within the pack