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“Funny,” he says, though he doesn’t sound amused. “I had a similar conversation with Auclair earlier. Where do you want me to start?”
A million things I could ask are on the tip of my tongue, but strangely, the one thing I can’t get over iswhy. Cam’s no saint, but even when I thought the worst of him, it never made sense for him to side with someone like Westcott. There has to be something I don’t understand.
“When did you start working with Westcott? You must have known him before your deal.”
He lets out a slow breath and squints at something off in the distance. “I was young when we met. Not even thirteen. Naïve. He said all the right things, made all the right promises. My dad believed in him. Believed he could change things. And I believed in my dad. But then my dad died, and I took over the pack, and Rea… It took me too long to realize who he really was. But by then I’d made the deal, and…” He trails off, his brows knitting together as he shakes his head.
“And the estates? You said you have an agreement with Auclair? Why?”
“I’ve always kept as decent of relationships with the estates as I could. Keeping your enemies close and all that. Whether I want to work with either of them is beside the point. They hold the power, and whatever happens next to the rest of us will come down to them. So I could either be a bystander and wait and see, or I could put myself in the thick of it. Westcott thought I was a spy for him, the vamps think I’m a spy for them, and at least I have somewhat of an idea of what the hell is going on.”
I narrow my eyes when he doesn’t continue. “And which are you?”
He shrugs, a ghost of his familiar, cocky smile making an appearance. “Neither.”
“And why should I trust you?”
His smile falls, something that looks like hurt flashing behind his eyes, but then it’s gone just as quickly. “I’ve already had plenty of witches rummaging around in my head since I got here. If you wanted to have a go too, all you had to do was ask.”
My skin crawls at the thought of sifting through his memories. I can see why Auclair would do it—the smartest course of action, really—but there’s a part of me that’s afraid of what I’d find.
I break the eye contact and turn to stare at the mountains in the distance. “You must have proved your loyalty one way or another for either of them to trust you.”
“Westcott forced my loyalty. He made sure of that. And I don’t work for Auclair. We just have an understanding. He’s known me since I was a kid. My father was far more diplomatic than I’ll ever be, but I’ve tried to maintain the relationships he had. Auclair being one of them. And his region has always been more welcoming of weres in general. Treats them like citizens instead of criminals. Employs them. I’ve kept him updated on what’s happening outside of his region, giving him a heads-up if I’ve heard anything he might need to know. But he’s known about my deal with Westcott since it happened—known he could only trust me so much after that.”
I nod slowly, taking all of this in. There’s no affection in his voice when he talks about Auclair, but there isn’t the blatant disdain he gets on his face whenever Westcott’s name comes up.
“Whatdoyou do for Westcott then?”
“It changes. For a while, it was recruiting people outside the estates’ regions, pointing people to him who seemed like a good candidate for his cause. Usually people who formerly lived in one of the regions and escaped. And whatever task he ordered me to do—making the cuffs and babysitting you, for example.”
“Is that what you were doing when you left the camp?”
His eyes cut to mine for a moment then quickly flick away. “No.”
“Then what—”
“Ask me a different question.”
I balk. “Cam.”
“Askme a different question, Darkmore.” His voice isn’t hard or commanding, and that may be what’s most startling. He says it softly, like a plea.
I cross my arms over my chest, but there’s something about the look in his eyes that stops me from pushing further.
“It has nothing to do with what’s been going on, okay?” he says quietly. “I promise.”
Nothing to do with what’s been going on?So if he wasn’t out running errands or whatever for Westcott and he wasn’t helping the estates in some way…what the hell was he doing? I know at least part of the time was for making trips to town and getting supplies for the camp, but there’s no way that’s the full extent of it.
I narrow my eyes, but now’s not the time to get swept up in my curiosity. If I keep pushing at what’s apparently a sensitive topic, he might not answer anything else. “What are the cuffs for?” I finally ask.
Cam bobs his head a few times, visibly relieved. “Based on what he had us put in them, they seemed like they were for protection.”
“Protection?” I’d assumed they were like mine—a punishment, a sign of imprisonment—even if the effects weren’t the same.
“There were a lot of ingredients that usually help ward off vampires, make you less susceptible to glamours, that kind of thing. My guess was always he was putting them on his people—as many as he could, at least—to take away that advantage. Any other questions for your interview, princess? Or should I say interrogation?”
Ignoring that, I ask, “Why are you here now? What’s in it for you?”
