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I could see my point wasn’t getting across, at least not with the people at the table. I changed tactics. “Tell me, exactly, what the acolytes have to gain from mixing up these connections?”
A few attendees appeared thoughtful. Even Von’s forehead creased.
“See,” I said, “they aren’t getting rich; they aren’t getting anything. I know whodoesgain something.”
“Who in the world, other than the acolytes, would want to mess with these connections, Kira?” Callista asked, her voice dripping with suspicion.
I shrugged. “Ask Heline.”
That caused more of an uproar than anything I’d said so far. Almost all of the people at the table were wolf shifters. People who’d spent their lives worshipping, respecting, and fearing the moon goddess.
“Now, wait one minute,” a bearded board member said. “You can’t go dragging the moon goddess’s name into this. There is no proof she had anything to do with this.”
The mystery woman in white beside the man shook her head, her nose wrinkled, but otherwise kept her mouth shut. Multiple voices around the room echoed the board member’s assertion.
Ignoring them, I turned to the vampire. “Von, I’ll admit, you may be insufferable, condescending, and self-important, but there is something you taught me when I was on the show.”
A hint of a smile returned to Von’s lips. “Oh? Do tell, darling.”
“Immortals get bored. They lose their sense of empathy and end up entertaining themselves in some pretty terrible ways. After giving it a lot of thought, I think Heline is either delusional and making mistakes due to her advanced age, or she’s like you. She’s seen it all, lived it all, heard it all, and wants something new. An exciting change of pace. My theory is she’s messing with the connections as some twisted form of entertainment.”
“That is blasphemy!” a heavy-set bald man shouted, rising from his chair and slamming his fist on the table.
Callista leaned back in her chair, shaking her head derisively. The rest chimed in, aghast that I would dare besmirch the moon goddess.
“I would not want to be you,” the bearded showrunner said. “The punishments you have coming your way?” He whistled. “You’re a dead girl walking, that’s what you are.”
Wyatt slapped his palm on the table in a loudpop. The table went silent, turning to look at him.
“I suggest,” Wyatt said, “that we talk to Heline herself. Get her opinion on this matter.”
I sensed Wyatt’s intent a split second before he moved. He snatched the sharpened pencil form beside his pad of paper, leaped from his seat, wrapped an arm around Von’s chest, and placed the pencil above Von’s heart. He pressed deep, puncturing the suit and dress shirt and the first few layers of skin, then paused.
Von let out a little squeal of terror as everyone around the table flinched, both at the sheer speed with which Wyatt had moved and at what he’d done. Von’s eyes darted around the room in a panic. I’d never seen the man sweat before, but already beads of moisture were visible on his upper lips and forehead. His pale fingers gripped the armrests.
“I can’t die like this,” he gasped. “Myfans. They’re watching. If I die on air, it will be appalling.”
Ignoring Von’s pleas, Wyatt said, “Call for Heline, Von.”
Von’s murmured begging ceased. “Excuse me?”
“Of every person on this show, you’ve been around the longest. If anyone knows the moon goddess, it’s you. You see her at the end of every damned season. Call her. Tell her to get her ass down here. Now.”
“But…but…but,” Von stammered. “My boy, I can’t simply call to a goddess—aah!” Von’s words cut off in a shriek as Wyatt dug the pencil in deeper.
“Von,” Wyat said with a sad shake of his head, “I amnota fan of yours. Please don’t piss me off. I’ve staked enough vamps in my day to know exactly how scared you are of this pencil.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off Von’s face. The sheer terror I saw there was both sad and cathartic. He’d put us through so much shit, had giggled, laughed, and applauded over it. Now he was getting a taste of the danger he loved—and it seemed he wasn’t a fan.
Wyatt dug the pencil in deeper and put his lips to Von’s ear. “Tick-tock, Von.”
“If you want to talk to her, then do it!” Von screamed. “She’s right there!”
His shaking, pale finger pointed at the woman in white. My mouth fell open as I turned to look at her.
The woman glared at Von. “I suppose,” she said with thinly veiled anger, “it is time to shed this disguise.”
The woman stood, her white dress vanishing with a flash, replaced by a shimmering gray outfit the color of a bright full moon. Her face and hair transformed as well. The hair now tumbled down her back was a shimmery white, her face, already beautiful, became gorgeous beyond words.
