Season of the Wolf - Maria Vale Page 0,31

to the Shifter.

“That wolf no longer exists. Now there is only the Alpha,” I say, leaving that name a hole in his memory.

Chapter 10

Constantine

She handed me a note written on a bright-pink sticky at the door. “Give this,” she said, “to my grandma.” I moved toward her just as she reached out her hand, but because we both moved at the same time, what had been perfectly judged becomes misjudged and her fingers scrape across my chest. She pulls her hand away, looking surprised at her fingertips fisted tight against her palm. It lasts only a second then is gone, her expression becoming closed and guarded again.

“Alpha?”

As soon as the door closes behind her, I lower myself to retrieve the pink square. It says STEN on one side. On the other, BENCHES and then words I can’t understand. I sound them out as best I can, but I know none of them are her name.

“Hey, get out of the way.”

Dazed, I look up from where I am kneeling on the floor, a pink Post-it pressed to my nose, as a werewolf comes out of the kitchen with a huge earthenware bowl that smells of garlic and lemon and thyme. Other werewolves stand impatiently behind him bearing more plates and bowls. I jump up to let the line of werewolf caterers through.

The Pack is already filling up the Main Hall. They clot around the table, a greedy crowd grabbing serving spoons and spilling food and snarling at each other. The Alpha’s office door slams open and she strides down the hall. The werewolves look at one another but they’re crowded too close together to get away.

“He, He, Wulfas!” she says, banging the hilt of her dagger against the huge table three times—thoom, thoom, thoom. Before she even fits the knife back in her sheath, a line has formed and the wolves shuffle forward, their heads bowed sheepishly.

I see Julia near the front of the line. She’s clean at least. Dressed in running pants and a long-sleeved blue T-shirt that says I BELIEVE IN BUFFALO, even though I would lay long odds on her ability to find Buffalo on the map. When she gets to the head of the line, she stops. A woman beside her pushes a plate into her hand and points her toward the food. She hesitates again, threading the plate through her fingers, looking hesitantly over her back. The woman says something to her, and Julia starts to fill up her plate.

“Get in line or get to your table,” says a voice. Turning around, I see a woman with a whole mob of werewolves crowded behind her, waiting to get in line.

“I’m looking for the Alpha’s grandma.”

She blinks a couple of times until a man next to her elbows her with a snort. Finally, she turns around. “Hey, Sigegeat,” she says. “Shifter here says he’s looking for the Alpha’s grandma.”

Werewolves who are human start to laugh. Those who are not skitter out from under the tables, tails tucked in away from the stomping feet.

A man with rusty hair stands at another table, thumping heads as he moves between rows of laughing men and women. It isn’t until he reaches the head of the table where all the platters of food are that I get a good look at his face. He is a squat, broad man with a brownish-red beard and wild unkempt hair that obscures much of his face. Much but not enough to hide the several star-shaped scars along the top of his cheek.

“It’s Gamma, Shifter, not Grandma. I am Sigegeat Guthlacsson, Gamma of the 7th Echelon of the Great North.”

“It’s Constantine, Ziggy, not ‘Shifter.’”

One by one, the voices stop until the room goes silent and wolves run to sit down like children caught out at the end of a game of musical chairs.

“Come,” Ziggy says, pulling at my arm. He points to the table where he had been and where the Alpha quickly takes a seat, soup sloshing up the side of her bowl.

“What is—?”

“Now.” He pushes me down and lowers his head over the empty plate in front of him, his hands nervously plucking at the edges of his napkin.

Other wolves bow their heads over their plates, and even the Alpha sits, bent over, prodding at the contents.

I hear something now, a faint wheezing on the stairs outside, labored and slow. Eyes flicker to the Alpha. She manages to squeeze a spoonful through her jaws before they clamp shut again.

I watch her long throat

readonlinefreenovel.com Copyright 2016 - 2024