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I didn’t wait for permission but grabbed the flour bag and weighing scales from Elena and started weighing ingredients. I didn’t need a recipe: a basic white loaf was something I’d made with my dad hundreds of times, and there was something homey and familiar about the activity. In my angsty teenage years, pounding the shit out of the dough had helped me work through my issues in a healthier manner than drugs and promiscuity. Though I’d dabbled in those as well – what teen didn’t?
I focused on the task at hand, careful not to mix the yeast and the salt – they like each other about as much as vampyrs and werewolves. I oiled the worktop because that keeps the consistency better than flouring it, then turned out the dough and started working it.
I looked up; the others were frozen, watching me aghast. ‘Is it really so shocking for the alpha to bake?’ I asked, exasperated.
‘I’ve never seen it happen before,’ Elena volunteered.
‘You came to us from another pack, didn’t you? No baking alpha there?’
Her expression grew guarded. ‘No, no baking alpha there.’
‘Where were you from originally? Your accent isn’t really West Country.’
‘Devon,’ she admitted.
‘Ah, so you know our esteemed council members. Anything I should know about them?’
She looked at me seriously. ‘Don’t trust any of them. At best, Ace is a serial womaniser.’ I’d got that vibe already.
‘And at worst?’ She looked away so I tried a different tack. ‘Most people seem to think Mark was a bit of a dick, too.’
She snorted. ‘I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but he was a wanker. He toned it down when Lord Samuel was about, but any other time he’d go full asshole.’
‘Like what?’ I asked curiously.
Elena shrugged. ‘He was a brawler,’ she said finally.
‘So I’ve heard.’ On a gamble, I met her eyes. ‘I hear he was into black tourneys.’
Mrs Dawes gasped, Noah looked down, but Elena didn’t bat an eyelid though her jaw tightened. Bingo. Of the three of them, only Mrs Dawes seemed surprised.
‘Did he ever try to get you to go to one?’ I asked.
‘No, not me,’ Elena replied, keeping her eyes on her baking. She covered her rolls with some oiled clingfilm. ‘These need to rest for an hour,’ she said to Mrs Dawes. Then she washed her hands and walked out without another glance at me.
She is upset,Esme noted.We should bring her a carcass.
Maybe ice cream would work better,I suggested.
The little tub was good,she agreed,but a rabbit would be better. Just a small token of our concern.
Ice cream is a human tradition,I explained.
Ah, well then.In my head, she settled down to groom herself.
I looked up to see Noah looking at me oddly. The best defence is good offence; at least that was what Sun Tzu or someone said. I went with it. ‘Did you like Mark?’
‘He was okay, better with the lads than the ladies. He was more comfortable throwing on some sport and drinking a beer than trying to make conversation.’
‘Girls can enjoy sport and beer too.’ I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice.
‘I know, but Mark didn’t. He didn’t really see the sexes as equal, even though werewolf females have so much more strength than human women.’
‘Equality is about far more than strength,’ I pointed out flatly.
‘Hear, hear,’ Mrs Dawes murmured almost inaudibly. If I hadn’t had werewolf hearing, I probably wouldn’t have caught it.
‘Did you know about Mark attending black tourneys?’ I asked Noah, going straight for the jugular.
