"Angus runs a high-tech company," Charles explained. "They put together programs to keep other companies running. We'll be using his facilities this week-he's given his staff an early vacation for Christmas." He looked at Ian. "I'd wager the French wolves have arrived already. Chastel will want to check out his hunting grounds before the prey arrives."
"They haven't checked into the hotel they booked."
Charles shook his head. "Tell Angus that Chastel would never stay in a hotel. Too public. He'll have rented a house, something nice. He's here, probably has been here for a week or two."
Charles claimed not to be good with people, not to understand them... and maybe that was true. But he understood predators just fine.
The trees thinned, and a house emerged from the forest. Like Bran's house, it had been built to take advantage of the natural topography, and the surrounding trees effectively hid a good deal of its bulk. Angus's company must be pretty lucrative.
"Angus says it is the Frenchman who will cause the most trouble," said Ian.
"Don't underestimate the Russians," Charles said. "But Angus is probably right. Jean is powerful, scary, and mad as a hatter. He likes killing, especially if his prey is weak and frightened-his life wouldn't hold up to the kind of scrutiny we're inviting by introducing ourselves to the world."
"Angus says that Jean Chastel will carry the vote because everyone else is scared of him."
Charles smiled wolfishly, his eyes cold and clear. "This is not a democracy: there is no vote. Not on this. The Europeans have no say in whether or not we tell the world about ourselves. I'm here to listen to their concerns and decide what we can do to help them mitigate the impact of becoming public."
"That doesn't sound like what I've picked up from the European delegations who've arrived." Ian was careful not to sound as if he were disagreeing with Charles.
"What about the Asian werewolves?" Anna asked. "Or African and Australian? And South American?"
"They don't matter." Ian dismissed her question.
"They matter," said Charles softly. "They have been dealt with differently."
The sharp scent of fear coiled around Anna's nose; there had been a threat in Charles's voice when he thought the other wolf had overstepped himself-and Ian had clearly caught it. She gave Charles a frown. "Stop terrorizing him. These are things I ought to have known. Tell me about the non-European werewolves."
Charles raised an eyebrow at her but answered her readily enough. "Werewolves are a European monster, and we've done pretty well here in this part of the New World, too. There are a few of us in Africa and even fewer in Asia, where there are other monsters who don't like us very well. There are two packs in Australia, about forty wolves. Both of their Alphas have been informed of our plans, and neither voiced objections. Bran has also discussed his intentions with the South American wolves. They were less happy-but, like the Europeans, they have no say in what my father does or does not do. Unlike the Europeans, they know it. We've offered them the same sorts of aid we're offering the Europeans, and they are happy with that. They were invited but chose not to come."
THE battered and abused Corolla was a four-speed stick shift with a touchy clutch, and it kept Anna's attention firmly on driving until they were on the interstate headed for the city.
"Okay," she said. "I need to understand more. I should have asked more questions, but this came up awfully fast. The British Alpha, by not bringing more wolves, is telling everyone he can handle anything anyone can send after him?"
Charles nodded. "There's some bad blood between Arthur Madden, the British Alpha, and Angus." He paused. "Actually, I think there's some bad blood between Arthur and my father, too. If it looks like an issue, I'll call Da and see what it was about. Da says that Arthur's the only Alpha who will stand up to Chastel-and that's a good thing to have. We'll need every advantage we can get."
He sounded... not worried. Intrigued. It was, Anna thought, going to be a different manner of fighting this week; not fangs and blood but a battle of wits. All those dominant wolves... most of the Alphas in the same room. Arguing. Maybe it wasn't going to be a different way of fighting. But for now, she was driving and had absolutely no idea where they were headed.
"Are we going to the hotel?"
"Yes." And he gave her directions. But as they turned off the highway and onto the streets of downtown Seattle, he said, "Let's do something first. Why don't we go see Dana, the fae who's agreed to moderate this mess." And maybe, like his father, he'd been doing some mind reading. "She's not just... a stand-in for a UN ambassador, a graceful host to help Angus. She's the one who's going to keep this civilized and keep us from paying to have Angus's carpets cleaned of bloodstains. I have a gift to give her from my father, to thank her for the help we are paying her a small fortune for."
"I didn't hear about the fae." Anna had never seen a fae before, not one she knew was a fae anyway. She felt a frisson of excitement and tightened her hands on the steering wheel. "Bran brought a fae into werewolf business?"
"It's necessary to have a neutral party to make sure the violence doesn't get out of hand."
Anna thought about the wolves she had known: the violence that had always gotten out of hand. She tried to imagine someone who could put a stop to it. Bran, Charles-but they would have to do it with more violence. "She can do that?"
"Yes. And more importantly, everyone knows it."
"What kind of fae is she? Isn't Dana a German name? I thought most of the fae were British-you know, Welsh, Irish, and Scots."