Chapter 1
WERECON2012:
HOWLERS CHALLENGE WOOFERS
Exclusive Wereworld Celebrity Watch report
by Angela Sapworthy
DENVER—Excitement mounts on the eve of this landmark conference, the first of its kind in werewolf history. A star-studded list of attendees from the far reaches of the globe has been invited by pack leader Elizabeth Stillman to gather at the elegant Stillman Lodge in Estes Park near Denver to debate the conference theme, “Our Future in a Changing Environment.”
As readers of WCW know, opinion is sharply divided on the topic. Weres have rebounded after being hunted nearly to extinction, but their presence as a significant economic force in all the major cities in the world remains unknown to the human community.
Honored conference guest and eligible bachelor and Scotsman Duncan MacDowell, younger brother of MacDowell pack leader, Colin MacDowell, wants that to change. In May, he founded Werewolves Optimizing Our Future (WOOF), and his wildly popular blog, Wolf Whistles, champions his belief that wolves should stop hiding their shape-shifting abilities, openly partner with humans in business, and even consider interspecies mating. Obviously human females would rally to that cause if every male Were looked like Duncan MacDowell in a kilt!
But not all Weres are ready to climb on board Duncan’s tartan-clad bandwagon. This summer the Were blogosphere heated up as Denver-based Kate Stillman, granddaughter of Elizabeth Stillman, launched Honoring Our Werewolf Legacy (HOWL). Her well-known dating Web site, Furthebest.com, celebrates Were-Were mating as the only way to go. Kate, who claims she’s never dated a human, advocates the beauty of tradition and the safety of keeping our secret secure.
But is the tide turning in Duncan’s favor? This reporter recently spoke to the Wallace brothers of New York, both of whom shocked the Were community last year by taking human mates. From all indications, their human brides are blissfully happy. And why not, if they share an address with sexy wolves like Aidan and Roarke Wallace?
Despite the apparent success of what’s being called The Wallace Experiment, Kate Stillman predicts that such unions spell disaster. Although Emma and Abby Wallace have proved trustworthy, Kate insists the Wallace brothers’ behavior may still adversely impact the Were community. Predictably, Duncan MacDowell considers the Wallaces heroes for bucking tradition.
For months Kate and Duncan have traded barbed comments on their blogs and via our online instant messaging system, affectionately named Sniffer. Adding fuel to the controversy, they’ve each published best-selling books, available only through Were distribution channels, of course, defending their respective positions.
Duncan’s followers (Woofers) are poised to confront Kate’s supporters (Howlers) at the conference and will no doubt fill the room during the final session when Duncan and Kate face off in what promises to be a heated debate—and great fun for this reporter! Duncan’s last Sniff before he left Scotland was a succinct call to arms—Woofers, it’s on. #primedforaction
And so am I, my friends! For on-the-spot conference updates and celebrity sightings, be sure to follow me on Sniffer @newshound or #were con2012. I’ll be your eyes, ears, and nose!
Standing at Denver airport’s baggage claim with her cell phone to her ear on Friday afternoon, Kate Stillman listened to her assistant Heidi Jenson rant about an apparent server hack that had temporarily taken down their Were-Were dating site, Furthebest.com.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if those Woofers are behind it,” Heidi said. “When you see Duncan MacDowell, you tell him that hacking into our dating site is the most despicable, underhanded—”
“I doubt my grandmother would want me to start our first conversation that way.” Kate checked the arrivals board and noted that Duncan’s plane was on the ground. “Her exact words were, ‘Warm hospitality will disarm him, my dear. You’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar.’”
“Forget the honey, Kate. Just swat the bastard. No telling how many potential clients we lost, or how many romances will be derailed this weekend, because of his damned Woofers.”
“We don’t know it was them.”
“We might not have proof, and I’m not saying Duncan himself did it, but his followers are insane.”
“I know. Listen, Heidi, I’d better go. My grandmother’s given me a good chunk of responsibility for this conference and Duncan’s a VIP. He could show up any minute.”
“Okay. Text me if he says anything suspicious.”
“I will. ’Bye.” Kate disconnected the call. Heidi loved conspiracies, but Kate hoped her assistant was wrong about this one. Trading insults was all part of the game, but interfering with a commercial venture was actionable.
Surely the Woofers wouldn’t be so stupid as to hack into her dating site on the eve of the conference. She would mention it to Duncan and see how he reacted, because he should know that it happened, but she couldn’t openly accuse him without evidence.
Not only would that be unfair of her, but Grandma Elizabeth, the Stillman pack alpha and a force to be reckoned with, would be furious. She’d been totally in love with the idea of Kate standing with a sign and a smile when Duncan arrived to collect his luggage. No accompanying staff, no fancy limo. Simple Western hospitality.
The limo wouldn’t have worked, anyway, now that the first snow had hit Denver. The storm had begun around noon, dashing hopes that Denver could get through the month of October without the white stuff. Judging from what had already fallen this afternoon, Kate would need the four-wheel-drive capacity of her SUV to navigate the long winding road back to the resort.
The dicey road conditions didn’t bother her. She’d been driving on ice and snow ever since getting her license fifteen years ago. But meeting Duncan MacDowell face-to-face worried her more than she cared to admit to anyone, not even Heidi, and least of all her grandmother.
Offering friendly hospitality to the Were she’d called a pigheaded radical who had his head up his ass seemed hypocritical. But treating him like a bitter enemy seemed rude and unprofessional. Online interactions were so much easier. Knowing that Duncan would appear any minute had her pacing the baggage claim area.
She’d responded on Sniffer to his arrogant last statement—Woofers, it’s on. #primedforaction—with her own challenge—Bring it, Woofers. Howlers R ready 4 U. #firmlyconvinced. Other Howlers had added equally feisty comments, which had sparked pushback from the Woofers, although nothing had come from Duncan yet.
Thinking of that, Kate checked her Sniffer feed. Sure enough, there was another Sniff from @DuncanMacDowell. Slippery landing in Denver. Can’t scare a Scots man/Woofer. #Braveheart
Kate rolled her eyes. He was so blasted macho it was sickening. Tucking the printed sign under one arm, she quickly typed a response. Just don’t get off the plane nak*d with your face painted blue, Braveheart.
The response came almost immediately: How would you know if I did?
She answered with a few rapid taps. Turns out I’m your ride.
I’m honored.
So he wanted to be sarcastic, did he? She started to type The honor is all mine and realized that would be ungracious. Her grandmother would disapprove. As she started a new message, she breathed in the scent of masculine Were.
Glancing up, she had no doubt she was eyeballing Duncan MacDowell, in the flesh. Judging from his purposeful stride and intent focus, he’d figured out who she was, too. His wool topcoat hung open to reveal a cream-colored cable-knit sweater and what looked like wool slacks. His leather dress shoes weren’t suited for walking in the snow, but she could work it so he wouldn’t have to.
She folded the unnecessary sign with his name on it into fourths and crammed it into her purse.
“Hello, Kate.”
Hearing his rich baritone for the first time felt surreal after months of online communication. And the brogue. Damn, it was sexy as hell.
“Hello, Duncan.” She kept her tone neutral but pasted on the smile her grandmother had asked of her. “Welcome to Colorado.”
“Thank you.” His sculpted lips curved in an ironic answering smile.
As she looked into his eyes, she was momentarily distracted by how beautiful they were—soft gray and elegantly fringed with dark lashes. She quickly reminded herself of his arrogant attitude and reckless stance regarding Were security. He was ready to risk everything for some crazy Utopian dream. And his followers might have hacked into her dating site.
He regarded her with a heavy-lidded gaze that probably had more to do with jet lag than any attempt to be seductive. Yet he really was unbelievably gorgeous. She wasn’t immune to male beauty, and a quiver of sexual awareness shot through her system.
He was taller than she’d expected. The top of her head, minus her fake-rabbit-fur hat, reached only to his shoulder. And speaking of shoulders, he had broad, powerful ones, the kind that inspired confidence and marked him as a leader.
His hair was longish and his jaw was darkened with new beard growth. He could have shaved on the plane if he’d been so inclined. Obviously he hadn’t troubled himself. Cocky Were.
His rumpled appearance only added to his sex appeal, though, as if he were silently demonstrating how he’d look after a long night of fabulous lovemaking. She’d read all the nauseating blog comments from his bevy of female admirers, so she’d expected him to be reasonably good-looking. She hadn’t been prepared for sensational.
Not that it mattered whether he was an Adonis. His physical attributes didn’t change the threat that he posed to the Were way of life. If anything, they made him a more dangerous opponent.
“I can’t say I expected you to meet my plane, lass,” he said.
Now would be the time for her to turn on the hospitality spigot as her grandmother had suggested, but sugary words stuck in her throat. “Maybe I wanted to get a preview of what I will be dealing with this weekend.”
He surveyed her with those bedroom eyes. “You do realize you’re giving me a preview, as well.”
“That depends on how much I allow you to see.” She hadn’t meant that to be a sexual comment, but it sure sounded that way once she’d said it.
His smile widened. “I’m very good at uncovering whatever interests me.”
There was that sexual quiver again. She ignored it. “Considering that we’re on opposite sides of this debate, I can’t imagine I’d be of any interest to you.”
“On the contrary. I’m sure you’ve heard the old saying—Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”
“I’ve heard it.” But never spoken with a Scottish brogue.
“Is that why you came to pick me up?”
“No.” She finally settled on the truth. “I’m here because my grandmother asked me to come. She thought the gesture would disarm you.”
“Oh, it has.” His gray eyes took on a wicked gleam. “It most certainly has.”
“Bullshit.”
He laughed. “I’m not kidding. As tired as I am, I’m easily disarmed, which might have been your grandmother’s plan.”
“Maybe.” Kate decided the time for chitchat was over. “We need to get your bags and leave before the snow gets any worse.”
“Aye.” Turning, he surveyed the luggage circling the carousel. He walked over, retrieved his suitcase with athletic grace, and returned to her. “Ready.”
He must have been tired, because she managed to talk him into waiting inside the building while she brought the Jeep around.
Once they were on their way, he peered past the flapping windshield wipers at the snow that seemed flung by a giant hand. He looked slightly worried. “I’m not sure it’s safe to drive in this. Perhaps we should stop somewhere and wait it out.”
“We’ll be fine.” She wasn’t about to admit that the snowstorm had become nasty enough to intimidate even her. “I’m used to snowy conditions.”
“If you say so.” Leaning his head against the headrest, he closed his eyes.
“I wanted to alert you that someone hacked into the Furthebest Web site today, and I—” A soft snore brought her up short. She glanced over at him and sure enough, he had fallen asleep that quickly.
Impressed with his ability to surrender control, Kate drove slowly and kept to the plowed sections of the highway. Traffic thinned once they were outside the city limits, and she began to wonder if she’d made the right call. Hers were the only headlights taking the exit road to the resort. And she had several miles yet to go.
Turning back wasn’t an option, because the roads were getting worse and she’d have a problem retracing her path, too. As long as she moved slowly and didn’t hit a patch of ice, they’d get there. She’d always been lucky driving on snowy roads.
But not this time. When the skid started, she did everything she’d been taught so they wouldn’t flip, but nothing could have prevented them from plowing into a snowbank, nose first.
The impact woke Duncan, who sat up, startled. “What happened?”
She sighed. “We’re stuck.”
“Can we get out?”
The wind whistled as snow swirled around the Jeep and blocked the view. “I don’t know. Maybe not.”
Duncan shook his head to clear the fog of sleep from his brain. “Let’s have a look, shall we?” He reached for the door handle.
“Hang on. Let me try to back it up and see what happens. Maybe we’ll scoot right out.” She put the SUV in reverse and tromped on the gas. The motor whined and the wheels spun like crazy, but they didn’t move an inch.
She let up on the gas and stared out at the driving snow. “Or not.”
“I’ll see what’s going on out there.” Once again Duncan grasped the door handle.
“You can stand out in the blizzard and assess the situation if that makes you happy, but I’ve lived in this area all my life and I can guarantee that we won’t be getting out of here without a tow truck.”