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More and more of the pack looked away and swayed on their feet as if they wished to be anywhere else.
“Enough. Don’t listen to my nephew. He’s just pretending to speak for the Garou. Trying to sow doubt. Ignore him. He’s babbling because he’s afraid.”
“More like exposing you for the weakling that you are. A true Alpha would challenge me, not bind me to a tree because he’s a coward,” Garou spat.
“You left me no choice. Running away. Refusing to do your duty. No more!” Frederick pulled a knife, the silver blade glinting as the last rays of the sunset struck it. “You won’t escape this time. There is only one way forward, and it starts with your death.”
To Baptiste’s surprise, Diandra’s father stepped forward. “While I grieve for my daughter, it was made very clear Baptiste was not in control at the time of her death. Evil magic was at play.”
Frederick sneered. “What I do tonight has nothing to do with Diandra but everything to do with my nephew being unworthy to hold our god.”
“You speak of unworthy and yet plan to kill him so ignobly?” Diandra’s father waved a hand. “You have him bound in silver like a feral. It hardly seems fair or right. I think we should hold off and discuss this before doing something so extreme.”
“There is nothing to discuss,” Uncle barked. “I know what I’m doing. For years I’ve been seeking out a way to right this travesty, and finally, I came across the solution.” Frederick held up the silver-coated blade. “Tonight, I shall make everything right.”
Ask him who gave him the knife, Garou slyly whispered.
“Where did you get that dagger?” Baptiste asked. “Who told you to kill me?”
“I did.” The feminine voice resolved into the shape of the witch he’d strangled only the day before. She sauntered into view, wearing an almost sheer white gown, her hair unbound and flowing down her back.
“Circe,” Baptiste growled.
“Surprised to see me?” The witch stood straight, her head no longer at a broken angle.
“Who are you?” Uncle asked, annoyance creasing his features. “You’re not allowed to be on Pack grounds.”
“Is that any way to speak to the person who told you where to find your nephew?” Circe asked in mocked indignation.
“I’ve never met you before,” Frederick declared.
“Not in person, no. But we had many conversations on the dark web. You had so many questions about how you could change the avatar holding your god.”
“That was you?” Frederick gaped at Circe.
“Surprise!” Her feral smile sent a chill down Baptiste’s spine.
Uncle blustered, “You lied to me. You’re not one of us.”
The revelation his uncle had colluded with Circe had Baptiste snapping, “You idiot. You’ve been taking advice from a witch who’s been killing indiscriminately in an attempt to become a god.”
“No.” Frederick shook his head. “The person I spoke to claimed to be a scholar in Europe, a lone wolf who’d studied our kind and history.”
Circe’s laughter might sound like tinkling bells, but it sent an uneasy ripple through those watching and listening. “So gullible. The internet makes it so easy to fool people and you were easier than most, so desperate to take what was given to your nephew. So jealous your god didn’t choose you. I have to admit, I never thought you’d go this far. Most people would balk at killing a close family member.”
“You told me if I cut out his heart with this dagger and ate it while it still beat, I could capture the Garou’s essence.” Uncle dug his own grave with his admission and the vibe from those watching changed.
“You took advice from a witch?” Diandra’s father spat.
Others in the pack shifted uneasily and murmurs arose that had Frederick’s expression turning stony. “I didn’t know. She misled me about her identity.”
“I did,” Circe admitted with a smile. “I never expected you’d be so gullible. No wonder your god passed you by. An avatar should be strong in conviction and character. But your weakness is to my benefit. Everyone is gathered, even your god. I couldn’t have prepared this better, given what I have planned.”
Frederick tried to save face by blustering, “Whatever it is you’ve plotted will fail. We will tear you to pieces.”
“Blood will run this night, but I promise you, it won’t be mine. Ever heard the expression moon madness?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “Do you know what causes it? I do. It’s when the full moon rises, and the Pack shifts, but the Alpha dies, leaving them without a leader. The lack of an Alpha drives them to madness.”
A pale Frederick gripped his silver knife tighter—which had to burn—and spat, “The only person dying tonight is you!”
