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She’d called Piers Morgan a douchebag during a live broadcast.
Tyler, better trained to deal with insufferable d-bags, replied with a smooth, calm tone. “What Ms. Cranston fails to realize is these threats are far more serious than just words. We cannot allow this kind of aggression to persist against fellow citizens.”
“If CAPA has their way, they won’t be citizens much longer,” Maureen bit back.
Tyler was struggling to maintain his cool, governmental expression. G-men couldn’t be seen as aggressive or feeling in any way. Yet another reason my hotheaded sister wasn’t the poster child for the FBI.
Emilio tended to be the best of all of them when it came to being unflappable. I swear he was part robot, programmed by the government to be the perfect fed.
“Ms. Cranston, prejudice isn’t a valid reason to rewrite the Constitution of the United States. You can’t simply recall the citizenship of Americans because you don’t approve of their race.”
“Are you calling me a racist?” Maureen snapped.
“Oh, Jesus, is she serious?” Cash got up, scrubbing his hand over his face before giving the TV the finger. He and I rarely discussed the racism issue, but I knew he was frustrated about the word being used in reference to white, upper-class businessmen like my uncle.
Cash was a black kid from Louisiana. Until three years ago, he knew more about racism than anyone else in the country. Now his white girlfriend had to deal with more off-color, cruel remarks and media attention than he did. I wasn’t sure if he was annoyed on my behalf or angry because my people were now the center of a hatred whirlwind. It wasn’t the kind of conversation that would end well, so we avoided the topic altogether. But things like this made it difficult, and the tension hanging in the air was so thick I could almost taste it.
“Does CAPA support the threats of the Church of Morning?” Tyler sneered at the name of the church.
On the bottom of the screen the news bar declared Church of Morning promotes violence against shapeshifters. What did that mean? The Church was a bunch of anti-werewolf fanatics, but they were more annoying than threatening. I’d never paid much attention to them in the past, maybe to my detriment now.
“Is the Church a serious threat?” I asked Amelia. Cash had left the room, and I could hear him banging around in the kitchen. All the positive happiness from our earlier smooching had vanished. I crossed my legs and settled into the couch, watching Tyler, Maureen and the CNN anchor argue about the Church of Morning.
It was one hell of a loaded name for a supposed church. Morning, meaning daytime, implied they were working in opposition to the night. So the church stood against werewolves, who were ruled by the moon, and vampires, who lived in the night.
Super clever, guys, you really brought out Team Metaphor for that one.
Amelia answered my question about the church with a prolonged sigh. “We’re not sure if they’re blowin’ smoke, trying to scare us, or if there’s more to it than that. But your uncle got an email this morning from their leader. It had a list of every single pack member and their addresses. There’s a chance they mean to make those lists public, and if they’re promoting violence against wolves, you could be in danger.”
“I don’t get it. The Church of Morning has been around for years. They put out all those fliers and stupid PSAs, but they’ve never been violent. Besides, everyone at school knows I’m a wolf. I’ve been on TV with Uncle Callum at his PR things. People know I’m a wolf.” Not to mention, based on the get-together outside, people already knew where I lived.
“That’s part of the problem. You’re too exposed, and all some people need is a push, Eugenia. There are people out there who hate what you and I are, and those people will use any excuse to hurt us. You’re not safe.”
We’d gone from this might be serious to you’re not safe in the span of a minute. I should have known this wouldn’t be good the moment Amelia phoned me, and now I dreaded asking the real reason behind her call.
“So…what do you want me to do?” I wasn’t going to volunteer what I thought she was angling for. I didn’t want to leave. I had no interest whatsoever in abandoning Tulane in the middle of a semester to run back to St. Francisville with my proverbial tail between my legs.
“Your uncle wants you to come home. Just until we know what’s going on.”
“And he couldn’t call me himself?” Maybe it wasn’t fair of me to be snippy with her, but I hated being at Callum’s command when he couldn’t be bothered to make a familial effort half the time. He might be king, but he was also the closest thing I had to a father. Would it be so hard for him to reach out and say, Genie, come home? I wouldn’t say no to him.
“You know he’s a very busy man.”
“Too busy. Too important. Yeah, I get it.”
“He cares about you a great deal.”
I exhaled dramatically, because I couldn’t argue. Even in my worst mood I knew Callum did love me, and if he wanted me to come back to the compound, it was because he was genuinely worried about my safety.
But it also served to remind me I wasn’t free. I was still on his leash; he’d just given me a little extra tether so I could pretend to be on my own. Now he was dragging me back, and part of me hated him for allowing me the illusion only to show me the man behind the curtain.
“Fine.” I didn’t bother to ask about whether or not Cash would be welcome. He was human, and the pack was in a time of crisis. He would not be invit
ed to join me, and I wasn’t going to suggest it to him.
He’d say no on account of classes, and it was a valid reason, but I knew it was only an excuse. He seemed to understand things were better if my life with him was divided from my pack life.
I hung up with Amelia and threw the phone onto the empty cushion next to me, staring at the TV until they changed to a story about an oil-rig explosion. The Church of Morning situation would be an ongoing topic throughout the day, but it bothered me to know they even had to debate whether or not it was okay to promote violence against shapeshifters.
