Ascension, page 9
“Nothing a lobotomy couldn’t fix,” Daniel muttered.
“Hey, you guys hear that?” I said to Nick and Joey. “Sounds like a pup yipping.”
“Danny-boy,” Nick said. “When you going to grow up into a wolf? Still waiting for that first Change, aren’t you?”
“Nah, he had that last year,” I said. “Not that anyone’s noticed. Still couldn’t take on a mutt with two broken legs. I hear that’s what happens. Guy doesn’t Change until he’s twenty, he never quite catches up.”
Joey shot us both looks, trying to hush us. He was always telling us we should be nicer to Daniel, that if we tried, we could win him over. I didn’t see the point. I tossed Joey the “you worry too much” look I’d perfected from Antonio.
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“Don’t listen to him,” Raymond murmured to his son. “You’re just fine.”
“Sure he is,” I said. “And any day he wants to prove it, I’m ready. I can always use a few seconds of diversion.”
Nick laughed. When Malcolm chimed in, Daniel reddened.
“At least I’m not some psycho who chops up—” Daniel began.
Raymond caught his son’s arm to shush him, but Malcolm advanced on Daniel, looming over him.
“No, you’re not, are you?” Malcolm said. “You’ve never even fought a mutt. Never needed to. You know why that is? Why a pup like you can run in peace, without worrying about some mutt tearing you to shreds?”
Daniel muttered something.
“Speak up!” Malcolm barked.
Raymond laid a hand on Malcolm's arm. “He knows, Mal. We’re all . . . grateful.” He choked on the word, but pressed on. “Clayton did us a favor and we realize it.”
“Yeah,” Stephen said. “Big favor. Now we have to go find the mutts. Even then, some of them just run the other way—”
“But it’s a small price to pay for being safe on our property,” Raymond said. “Come on, boys. Malcolm wanted to talk to Clayton. Let’s leave him alone.”
“Hold on,” Malcolm said. “I was going to ask Clay if he wanted to hunt tonight. A full Pack hunt.”
“Sure,” I said. “Did Dominic say—”
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“No, he did not,” growled a voice from the doorway. Dominic strode in, followed by Antonio and Jeremy. “Since when are you allowed to set up Pack hunts, Malcolm? Getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”
Malcolm shrugged. “Sorry, Dom. I just thought since you weren’t feeling well—”
“I feel fine,” Dominic said, then winced, belying his words. He spun on Jeremy. “What did you tell them?”
“The truth,” Jeremy said calmly. “That you have a headache, which you do.”
“I don’t have a headache. I never get headaches.”
“Which is why, as I suggested, you should let me call Doctor Patterson and—”
“You’ll call no one,” Dominic snarled. “And there will be no Pack hunts tonight. In fact, you won’t be here tonight. None of you. This Meet is adjourned. Go home.”
He stalked out the door.
No one went home. We were accustomed to Dominic’s moods, and knew that if we did take off, he’d summon us back the next day and blast us for leaving the Meet early. After his outburst, he retreated to his room, and the Meet progressed as usual. There wasn’t a Pack hunt that night.
Even Malcolm knew better than to press his luck that far. Jeremy advised that Nick, Joey and I should skip our mini-hunt. With the mood Dominic was in, he might even see that as a breach of authority. So we went out drinking instead.
When we returned to the Sorrentino estate a little louder and more boisterous than we’d left, Jeremy met us in the garage and warned us to tone it down. Dominic’s headache was worse, and
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he was now complaining of dizziness and other pains. Jeremy was obviously worried, but Dominic only brushed off his suggestion to visit the doctor and popped some aspirin.
So we bustled off to bed. I slept in Nick’s room, and Joey slept in one of the guest rooms with his father. Nick and I stayed up for a while, talking, but drifted off shortly before two.
At three-thirty, I awoke to Jeremy shaking me. One look at his face, and I leapt up.
“What’s—?” I began.
“Dominic,” he said, handing me my clothing from the floor. “He passed out and I can’t wake him. We need to get him to the doctor, fast. Are you okay to drive?”
“Sure,” I said, and grabbed the clothes.
Challenge
I drove Dominic to the hospital so fast that, if I’d been pulled over, I’m sure I would have lost my license.
He’d had a stroke. Things like this are less common among werewolves—maybe because of our different physiology and maybe because of our more active lifestyle—but sometimes it doesn’t matter how healthy you are, mother nature decides your time is up. And so it was for Dominic.
For the next three days we kept vigil at his bed in the private clinic. I wanted to stay, but Jeremy insisted there was nothing I should do and so I shouldn’t miss school. I did, however, skip classes that weren’t absolutely necessary so I could zip across town to the clinic and spend as much time there as possible.
On Tuesday morning, Dominic died, having never regained consciousness. I didn’t learn of it until I arrived late that afternoon and found Nick and Jorge alone, sitting beside an empty bed.
Antonio made the arrangements for Dominic’s funeral. Or, he did his best, but Jeremy ended up quietly taking over. This is one part of Western death rituals I’ve never understood, that a person has just died and, within hours, those closest to him, who most want to go home,
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close the door and grieve, must instead sit in some stranger’s office and decide what kind of coffin or flowers they want. As for the service itself, it was small, as are all Pack funerals.
Afterward, we retreated to the Sorrentino estate to grieve.
We’d been back for less than an hour, all gathered in the living room. Each of us was lost in our own thoughts—each except Malcolm, who knew exactly where he was heading and wasn’t waiting another minute to get there.
“We need an Alpha,” he said. “Word gets out that Dominic died without a successor and we’re in trouble. Every mutt in the country will think something’s wrong with the Pack.”
“We just put my father in the ground,” Antonio said, lifting his head from his hands. “You can wait another goddamned—”
“No,” Jorge said softly. “He’s right. We need to get this over with.”
“I don’t mean any offense to your father, Tonio,” Malcolm said. “If it seems that way, then I apologize. I’m just thinking of the Pack. We can get this over with quickly and painlessly, then let everyone get back to mourning a great Alpha. We all know how this works. I’m putting my name forward. If anyone cares to challenge me, we’ll step outside right now and settle this.”
“Challenge you to what?” I said. “A duel? You gonna pick swords or pistols?”
Jeremy’s lips curved as he recognized his own words from so long ago.
“A fight, Clayton,” Malcolm said. “A fight to the death. That’s how it works when an Alpha dies before the Pack chooses an official successor. Now, the only people here who might have a shot at winning that challenge are you and Antonio. Tonio doesn’t want it. Never has.
As for you, I’m sure you’d make a damned fine Alpha . . . in ten or fifteen years. If that’s what you want, you can have it then. I’ll pick you as my successor and I’ll make sure you win. That’s a promise.”
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Jeremy cleared his throat. Malcolm turned on him before he could get a word out.
“Don’t embarrass yourself, Jeremy. Do us all a favor and keep your damned mouth shut for once.”
“No, I don’t believe I can,” Jeremy said. “You said that this is how we choose an Alpha when the previous one dies without a successor, but I must point out that you are mistaken.”
“Bullshit. Go grab the Legacy. The last time an Alpha died without a successor—”
“—was in 1912,” Jeremy said. “And they did indeed choose the next Alpha with a battle.
However, there is nothing in the Law to say that’s how it must be done. If you read the Legacy entry, it quite clearly states that a battle was how both candidates decided to handle the matter. I am putting forward myself as a challenger but, unless I agree to a fight, which I will not, then the matter must be handled in the same way all Pack successions are handled, by a vote.”
“He’s right,” Jorge said. “Do you want to check the Legacy?”
“Never mind,” Malcolm said. “He wants a vote, let’s give him a vote. All in favor of me—”
“That’s not how it’s done,” Jeremy said. “We both need to deliver our platforms, let the Pack know our plans for the future—”
“Screw the future. If we don’t decide this fast, we won’t have a future. The mutts will see to that. A leaderless Pack is a weak Pack. Everyone here knows you and they know me, and they both know what kind of leader we’d make.”
“If that’s what you want, that’s fine by me,” Jeremy said. “We’ll vote. But, as the Law says, if any Pack member feels he isn’t ready to make a decision, he has two days to consider the options.”
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With that, a decade of Alpha campaigning came to a sudden end. The vote was open, as all Pack votes are. Antonio, as the former Alpha’s closest relative, led the vote. He went around the group and each person named their choice.
Antonio started by casting his vote for Jeremy. Then he turned to Jorge.
“Jeremy,” Jorge said.
Next to Stephen. “Malcolm.”
“Malcolm,” Andrew seconded, before being asked.
“Malcolm,” his father said.
Antonio looked at Peter. “Jeremy.”
On to Ross Werner. Ross cracked his knuckles then, gaze still on his hands, said, “I’m not ready.”
“Oh for god’s sake,” Malcolm snarled. “Just pick—”
“He gets his forty-eight hours,” Jeremy said. Then, to Antonio. “Should we continue? Or leave it there?”
“We’ll keep going,” Antonio said. “Anyone else wants time to think, just say so.” He turned to me. “Clay? Do I need to ask?”
“No.”
“Jeremy, then. Joey? You’re next.”
Joey’s lips pursed as he started to say Jeremy’s name, but an elbow jab from his father cut him short.
“We’ll take the forty-eight hours,” Dennis said. “Both of us.”
On to Nick. “Jeremy.”
Daniel. “Malcolm.”
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Finally, Wally Santos. “Malcolm.”
There it was. Five votes for Jeremy, five for Malcolm and three abstaining for forty-eight hours.
As far as I was concerned, Jeremy had won. Joey had been ready to name Jeremy, and would do so. His father, Dennis, liked Jeremy, and supported him, though he’d usually been too conscious of the balance of Pack power to do so openly. So he would also vote for Jeremy.
Ross had always been a fence-sitter, the type of guy who never wanted to offend anyone. We could try to sway him our way, but ultimately, his vote wouldn’t matter. Even if he picked Malcolm, the final result would be 7:6 in Jeremy’s favor. All we had to do was wait two days.
After a decade of waiting, that was nothing.
After the meeting, Joey and Dennis retreated to the guest house. Although we called the one-bedroom cabin a guest house, few guests actually stayed there. During a Meet everyone liked to stick together, so we all slept in the main house. The guest house was used for human guests and, occasionally, as for Pack members whom Dominic chose to punish by making them sleep elsewhere.
When Dennis asked Antonio for the guest house key, we all knew that it meant they wanted a place to talk without being overheard. That was fine. We sent them off and Jeremy forbade Nick or I from trying to “visit” Joey, and sway his father’s decision. This was a choice they had to make on their own.
The day passed, and Dennis and Joey stayed in the guest house. This was taking longer than I expected, and I began to worry that maybe, instead of Joey persuading his father to support
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Jeremy, Dennis was working to persuade Joey to change his vote. While I was certain neither Dennis nor Joey wanted to see Malcolm as Alpha, I knew that Dennis feared him, and fear can be a powerful motivator.
When night fell and they still didn’t return, I told Nick to cover for me, and slipped into the backyard. The guest house was in the far corner of the estate, in the wooded portion, accessible either by road or a very long path. I took the path. That way, I could tell myself I wasn’t disobeying Jeremy, that I was just going for a walk.
I’d gone no more than a quarter of the distance when I saw a dark figure on the path ahead.
I slowed and sniffed the air. It was Joey.
“I figured your patience would be running thin,” he said with a twist of a smile. “Actually, I thought it would have run out a couple of hours ago. You surprised me.”
“Are you done, then?” I asked as I approached. “You’ve made up your mind?”
“Uh, yes, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
He dropped his gaze as he spoke and I froze, certain I knew what was coming.
“Don’t say it,” I said. “If you tell me you’re voting for Malcolm—”
“No. I can’t. We can’t. Jeremy’s the right choice. We both know that. The problem is . .
.”
He let the sentence drop off and scuffed the ground with his shoe, gaze fixed on the clods of dirt that flew up.
“The problem is . . .” I prompted.
“The problem is that we can’t vote for Malcolm, and we don’t dare vote against him.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He met my gaze. “You know what it means. He’s already been out here twice—”
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“What?”
“He knows very well which way we want to vote, Clay, and he’s not going to let that happen. My dad and I, we’re the weak links. Neither of us can stand up to Malcolm in a fight.
We know it and he knows it.”
I slammed my fist into the nearest tree. “Goddamn him! And goddamn you, Joey, for not coming to me. I’ll protect you. You know that.”
“For today maybe. For tomorrow maybe. But not for the rest of my life. We vote against him and he’ll take his revenge. He’s already said as much. So we’re leaving.”
“Leaving?”
“Leaving the Pack. Tonight. I wanted to tell you—”
“Tell me what? That you’re running away? That you’re—”
“Don’t say it, Clay,” Joey said, pulling himself up straight and meeting my gaze. “I know what you think, that this is the act of a coward. It’s not. It’s the act of someone who doesn’t care to become a martyr, no matter how much he may believe in the cause. Jeremy will win.
I’m sure he will. He’s smart enough to outwit Malcolm. He’ll be the next Alpha, and he doesn’t need our votes—or our deaths—to ensure that.”
“So then you’ll come back. After he’s Alpha.”
“I—I don’t know.” Joey rubbed his hand over his mouth. “It’s not the same for us, Clay.
We aren’t Danverses or Santoses or Sorrentinos. Even in Jeremy’s Pack, I’m not sure how much that would change.”
“It would,” I said. “Hell, I’m not a Danvers. Not really. Nobody gives a shit.”
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“Because you’re special. Look, I didn’t wait out here for two hours to argue with you. I wanted to say goodbye. I know this will be goodbye.” Another twist of a smile. “A mutt can’t be buddies with the Alpha’s son, can he?”
“Joey, don’t. Please—”
“We’ve leaving the country. Probably heading up to Canada. Dad’s been to the west coast there and he thinks it would be a good place for us. Lots of room to roam. No mutts, as far as we know. Plus we wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally bumping into one of you guys and forcing you to fight—”
“Shit, Joey, no one would ever—”
“But it’s a consideration, right? Let’s just leave it at that.”
“I can’t,” I said. “Come back with me. We’ll talk to Jeremy. He’ll work this out—”
“Clay, no. Please. Let’s just shake hands—”
“And say goodbye? Let one of my friends leave the Pack and become a mutt? No way. No goddamned way!”
I spun on my heel and whammed my fist into a tree so hard it shook. When I turned back again, Joey was gone. I stood there, breathing hard, heart pounding. Then I hit the tree again, slammed my hand into it over and over, until I heard a bone crack. Only then, when I felt real pain overtake the pain in my gut did my brain clear. I stopped, raked my hand through my hair, and concentrated on breathing until I could think again.
I wanted to go after Joey, to say a proper goodbye, but I knew that that the moment I caught up with him, I’d start arguing again, desperate to find someone way to persuade him to stay. He was better off leaving. As much as it hurt to say that, to admit that I couldn’t protect a friend, it
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was true. My priority was Jeremy. It had to be. Although I could try my best to protect Joey and Dennis, it wasn’t fair to ask them to entrust their lives to secondhand bodyguard.
I looked down the path.
“Goodbye,” I said, then turned and headed back to the house.
When I told Jeremy what the Stillwells had decided, the news didn’t seem to surprise him. He promised that, when this was over, we’d try to find them and bring them back into the Pack.
