Grayson cut a slice of ham into small, neat pieces and began to eat them, one at a time. Natividad thought he was not going to answer. But after a moment he paused, his fork in the air, and said, “I had initially thought to stop with the Meade brothers and Williams. Now… I think we had better recruit to something like full strength. I think Dimilioc will need… shall we say, a minimum of thirty wolves.”
Neither Zachariah nor Ezekiel looked surprised, and Keziah leaned back in her chair, looking suddenly both thoughtful and pleased. But Benedict and James both stared at Grayson. “Thirty?” said Benedict.
“They’d outnumber us three to one!” James protested.
Grayson looked thoughtfully at the Mallory brothers. “I think it would be better if there were no ‘them.’ No ‘us.’ Only Dimilioc. Thirty black wolves and a reasonable number of humans with proper blood ties, and as many of the Pure as we can find.”
Benedict seemed subdued by the Master’s flat tone, but James smacked his hand down on the table in open anger. “You’ll turn Dimilioc into a mockery of itself! A wild pack filled with internal division and murder, black dogs with no history, with no ties to each other or to us! They may call themselves by our name, but whatever exists by that name, it will not be Dimilioc! How can you consider this?”
“I think the proper phrase,” Keziah said to him, with cutting sarcasm, “is, ‘a mockery of what Dimilioc once was’. You are much reduced, aren’t you? A fact I don’t think you emphasized much during your invitation. That is why the Master considers this. When this enemy of yours brings his pack of black dogs and shadow shifters against Dimilioc again, what do you want to do? Face him with seven true Dimilioc wolves, pure of heart and bloodline? That would certainly end your difficulties.”
James Mallory stared at her.
“So, we do thank you for your invitation, which has brought us into your danger,” Keziah added mockingly. “And you had better thank us for accepting, Irishman, and for fighting alongside Dimilioc, and for remaining now, when we might go to your enemy instead.”
James opened his mouth, but then closed it again without saying anything.
Before the silence could become too fraught, Grayson said smoothly, “We are pleased you and your sister accepted Dimilioc’s invitation, to be sure, Keziah. When we win, you will be well placed within Dimilioc.”
“Yes,” murmured Keziah, smiling with slow, deliberately seductive aggression. “That’s why we’re still here.” But Natividad saw how she glanced at her sister, a swift fleeting glance, and was suddenly sure that Keziah had come to Dimilioc for exactly the reason Alejandro had – to protect her sister. It almost made her want to like the beautiful black dog girl, which was uncomfortable because she was scared of her.
“Fine. Fine. Wonderful.” James glared at Grayson. “But we need wolves who are truly Dimilioc! Not ragged strays with less control than a moon-bound shifter! Not stray black dogs who can’t walk down a city street without dealing out wholesale slaughter…”
One corner of Grayson’s mouth twitched upward. “James, please. No, certainly not.”
“The ones we bring in will be Dimilioc,” Zachariah said quietly. “Given time. They or their sons.”
“Dimilioc will be burned to ash and dust before they have sons!” James said furiously. “The ones who can have sons!”
Amira’s face tightened and she looked down, though Natividad thought James had not deliberately aimed that barb at the black dog girls. Keziah’s lips curved in a faint, amused smile. She ate a bite of ham, appearing untouched by any of this argument.
“We can control them until they learn to control themselves,” said Ezekiel.
“Control them! They will be a worse enemy to us than that Vonhausel, because they’ll be on the inside rather than the outside! How can you not see that?” James looked from Grayson to Zachariah to Ezekiel and back to Grayson. Meeting only a bland, blank look from the stronger Dimilioc wolves, he shoved his chair back, got to his feet, and turned to walk out.
“James,” said Grayson, and despite his fury the other man stopped, though he did not turn.
“Go to Boston,” Grayson told him. “Bring me Andrew and Russell Meade and their sisters. They already believe that belonging to Dimilioc is a privilege. Bring them to me burning with a desire to earn that privilege.”
James still did not turn around. But before he stalked out, he gave a short nod.
“He’ll do well for us,” Zachariah said after he had gone.
“Of course he will,” said Grayson, and ate a biscuit.