Alpha Blood Box Set(25)
“You really think the stolen armbands aren’t important?” Stacy mused.
Luke glanced inquiringly at her. “Do you?”
She shrugged. “With Lance around I stop believing in coincidences.”
“Well, he can’t do anything with them if the Protector knows they’ve been stolen,” Luke pointed out.
“I wouldn’t put it past him to make a very bold move with them, but we’ll know pretty soon what’s up his sleeves.” She glanced between Lance’s robe and my creased appearance with the luggage clothes. “But I think I’ve distracted you two long enough. Enjoy the rest of your evening,” she teased, and slipped out.
I shuffled over to the bed where I plopped down on the mussed covers. “I think I’ve had enough excitement to last a werewolf lifetime,” I quipped. Luke stood stiffly by the door with his mouth set in a firm line that drained the blood from his lips. “You okay?” I asked him.
He started from his thoughts and shook his head. “I-I’m sorry, I sometimes distract myself-”
“-when you’re thinking about Lance?” I finished for him.
“Yes.”
I sighed, scooted over and patted the empty spot beside me. “Why don’t you tell me a little about the history between you two? Sounds like you go back a long ways.”
Luke shook his head. “Very long, but that’s a story for another time,” he insisted. “For now the present is a troublesome enough story that’s being played out in his favor.”
“We’ll just have to try our best and stop him where we can,” I encouraged him. I patted the seat again. “Now at least come over here and sit down. You’re about to pace a hole in the floor and I don’t think the neighbors would appreciate your foot going through their ceiling.”
Luke chuckled and walked over to sit beside me. “What would I do without you here to cheer me up?” he wondered.
“Probably would’ve kidnapped another beautiful, talented young woman to be a mate.”
“But they wouldn’t have been you,” he persisted.
I put on a playfully thoughtful face and tapped my chin. “You’re right, they wouldn’t have been as beautiful or talented.”
“Or modest,” he teased.
“Yes, I have tons of that.”
“And sex appeal.”
“Practically exuding it,” I agreed.
“And-” My stomach growled, and the sound echoed through the room.
“-and hunger,” I finished.
He chuckled. “We’ll have to fix that, and then get some sleep. Tomorrow will no doubt be interesting.”
“Courtesy of Lance,” I replied.
20
The next day started out great. I had a handsome, rich guy wrapped around me and the bright sun drifted through the thin curtains against the balcony doors. Everything went downhill at the knock on the door. “Sir? Breakfast is ready and the meeting will begin in an hour,” Alistair called through the door.
We got up, or rather I slunk out of bed, breakfasted, dressed, and Luke herded me to the amphitheater. The empty benches were now filled to capacity and people lined the walls on either side of the room. The place was so crowded that one push would have caused a domino effect of screaming and shoving straight down to the empty stage. Luke led me to some unoccupied seats near the stage and on the right column of benches meant for the lord of his district. I looked around and spotted some familiar faces.
Burnbaum sat on the same column, but behind us, and I noticed Abby’s parents in the far back with her stuck firmly between them. Close beside us sat Baker in all his brooding glory. I looked to the other side of the aisle and noticed Lance and his assassin assistant on the bench equal to ours with Farber and two other men behind him. I guessed those were the other lords he convinced to join his voting block, Simpling and Mullen.
Both sides of the aisle were a rowdy group of chatting and jostling werewolves, and there was more than one glare cast across the aisle at the opposing group. Many wore the colored armbands of one party or the other, but there was an equal number who didn’t show allegiance to either group by having bare arms. The tension in the room was so high I breathed animosity and exhaled my own tension. “Was the tension this bad yesterday?” I asked Luke.
He shook his head. “No, but the armbands were found stolen last night,” he reminded me.
I noticed Stacy come down the stairs and she took a seat on the other side of Luke close to the aisle. She leaned past him and smiled at me. “Having fun yet?” she teased me.
“Tons,” I mumbled.
I then turned my attention to the stage. A large oak desk stood in the center with three chairs behind it and a gavel on the top. At the appropriate, god-awful hour of eight, a man stepped onto the stage and cleared his throat. “Attention, everyone!” he called out over the crowds. The audience hushed and turned their attention to him. “The meeting will now begin. The High Lord Stevens will now reside over us.”
I wrinkled my nose. That last name sounded familiar. “Isn’t Stevens Stacy’s last name?” I asked Luke.
He nodded. “Her father is the current High Lord.”
The man himself stepped out in a silk robe as ridiculously fancy as Farber’s dress that suited his short, white hair and stern face. He stepped up onto the stage with two attendants behind him carrying the train of his robe. The three strode over to the chairs where Stevens sat down first and the other two fanned the robe out behind him before they took their seats on either side of him.
Stevens took up the gavel and pounded it against the desk. He didn’t need to, the room was deathly quiet already. “The proceedings will now begin with a reading of the rules and regulations,” he announced.
My mouth dropped open in horror as the crier came out on stage and proceeded to read from a large handbook. There was no talking out of turn, no yelling, no running, spitting, swearing, coughing, sneezing, laughing, breathing, and generally anything else that would have kept this meeting interesting to anyone with a functioning heart and brain. I slumped down in my chair and suppressed a groan. “Is it always this boring?” I whispered to Luke.
“Yes,” he quietly replied.
“Can’t disagreements be solved with a fight to the death?” I suggested.
He smiled. “That’s happened before, but it’s now discouraged.”
“Janitors get tired of cleaning up the mess?” I guessed. He shook his head and put his fingers to his lips, silencing both me and my fun.
After a half hour of tediousness the man slammed the book shut, waking up about half the audience from an uncomfortable nap. They sat up and Stevens pounded his gavel against the desk, again when there was silence. “Before we begin has anyone any changes to the program?” We weren’t surprised when Lance stood.
“I have news, High Lord,” Lance announced.
Stevens raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Lord Connor?”
“I would like to change the date of the vote to the next day.” The gasp from the crowd created a vacuum with enough suction to clean the floor.
Stevens’ frown was so deep you could have driven a semi truck through the creases. “How can you suggest such a thing? It has always been done this way, and it’s bad enough to have the meeting so many days ahead of schedule,” he insisted.
“But I have evidence to suggest we have terrorists in our midst.” Lance’s eyes flickered over to our side of the room. “And I believe they intend to bomb Sanctuary.” Many faces in the crowd paled and whisperings sprang up as suspicions and fears resounded through the hall. Several stood to rush to their rooms and leave Sanctuary immediately.
Stevens pounded the gavel so hard against the desk that splinters flew out and the head flew off. It clattered across the floor between the sides and slid to a stop against the bottom step. “That is enough!” He glared at Lance. “What proof do you have of these wild allegations?”
“A large shipment of explosives was stolen from Simpling’s territory. I happen to know they were transported here on one of yesterday’s trains.” His eyes fell on Burnbaum and he scowled. “I can’t positively prove who took them, but I hope to have hard evidence within the next few days.” He turned back to Stevens. “So that is why I request the change, and move to have the nomination of the lords done this day, and the vote tomorrow.”
Baker shot up from his seat. “I protest this! Many of my people haven’t arrived!”
“I agree this is a highly unusual change, but why aren’t your people here already?” Stevens asked Baker.
“They’re busy in their fields and can only come here for one day,” Baker explained to the room.
Stevens ruffled at the reply. “Nothing is more important than the vote. They had a duty to attend the entire session, not come here for a single day to cast a vote for High Lord. I can’t see my way to agreeing to your objection.”
“They must make their living!” Baker protested.
“They have time enough to do that for nearly a full five years between votes,” Stevens argued.
“But this shortens the time without giving them ample warning,” he insisted. There was a murmur from the crowd in agreement. Baker turned to the audience. “We have already had the meeting rushed to these days, and now we shorten those days? Will there be any voting next session?”