“We have no proof that any of this is true,” Anton barked once I’d finished.

“We have the cloth,” said Julia, smoothly, “Alexander has been looking over it outside but has found nothing remarkable about it other than the smell of death. And Larch has confirmed the time of death as around 7pm. Mackenzie was still here in the keep then. In fact everyone was here in the keep then because it was almost dinner.”

“So whoever did this to John wasn’t one of us,” Tom mused.

“Yes,” nodded Julia. “At least we don’t have to go through the rigmarole of needlessly accusing each other.” She looked at Anton as she said this. He held her gaze for a beat before looking away and I knew then, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Julia was the only person who was right to be alpha.

“So what’s next?” asked Betsy. She scratched at her neck awkwardly and looked scared. “Are we all targets?”

I picked up the chair I’d kicked and calmly set it back on the ground, before looking round at each and every shifter. “What’s next is I find out who, or what, did this, and then I’ll garrotte them. I’m going back to the site.”

Julia took a step forward, asserting her authority. “No-one is going anywhere until we know it’s safe.”

Anger sparked inside me. “I’ll go where I fucking well please. I’m not letting that thing, whatever it was, that killed John spend even one more minute alive than necessary.”

“You will do as I say. Until we know what we are after, we cannot afford to let this happen again.” She reached out and gently touched my shoulder. I fought the urge to not pull away. “You will get your revenge, Mackenzie. As will we all.”

“Amen to that,” murmured Tom.

From somewhere inside the keep the phone rang. Julia seemed to slump ever so slightly. “That’ll be the Brethren. I called them and left a message as soon as John was found.” She tightened her grip on me for just a second and then left to answer it.

I sat back down. I couldn’t avoid the Brethren now, no matter what happened. The Way stated that whenever a pack alpha passed away, the Brethren had to be present to ensure that the move of power to another was without incident. Way Directive number forty-three. Apparently, in years gone by, there had been bloody battles between potential successors, with candidates whose Voice manifested being mysteriously bumped off at appropriate – or, depending on whose side you were on, inappropriate - moments. The rites and formalities to properly acknowledge a new alpha traditionally took three days. I could only hope that the Brethren wouldn’t stick around for longer to try to investigate into John’s death. I could probably fool them for a short period of time with Julia’s lotion but I doubted I’d be able to keep up the pretense for any length of time, especially when sooner or later I’d be expected to shift. But I was damned if I was going to be run out of my home before I found out who had murdered the only father figure I’d ever had. One plus side was that they had a new Lord Alpha, because Xander Brandy, who’d been alpha up until recently and by all accounts was a vicious bloodthirsty werebear, had retired. I wasn’t exactly a celebrity follower but even I’d have had to have been hiding under a rock to have not noticed the chatter on the Othernet about it. I didn’t know much about who his replacement was, in fact it seemed few did, but a newbie might be easier to fool.

For several minutes, nobody made a sound. Shifters were, as a rule, pragmatic about death. When you spent your time chasing after nasties, killing them yourself and often seeing your friends killed by them too, you tended to become somewhat inure to nature’s most reliable outcome. But we hadn’t had a death by unnatural causes for almost 13 years, which was virtually unheard of amongst the shifter world, and the fact that it was John, the alpha, made it doubly hard for everyone. Eventually one of the younger shifters broke the brooding weight and unearthly stillness by reaching over to her friend and hugging her. It was if she had released everyone. Suddenly there were tears and exclamations and hugs happening all over the hall. Tom pulled me to him and wrapped his arms tight around me, then Betsy, then Johannes, then almost everyone. It felt briefly cathartic, and whilst I knew that for most of the shifters it genuinely was, it didn’t waver my resolve to hunt down and kill whatever had done this as soon as was humanly possible.

Eventually Julia returned. As soon as her presence was registered, everyone stilled and looked at her in unhappy anticipation. “They will be here by noon tomorrow. Their delegation will stay for the requisite three days, during which time they will also investigate John’s passing and the manner of it.” Her voice was quiet but it completely filled the space. “They will perform the rites to appoint a new alpha and release any pack members who wish to depart, as is the Way.”

“Will they stay for longer if they can’t find John’s killer straightaway?” someone asked.

I felt a frightened heat rise at the thought being voiced aloud.

“Not unless there is evidence of further imminent danger,” she said.

Bloody lazy arses, I thought, contrarily. One of their own alphas had been murdered and they wouldn’t see the investigation through to its conclusion because they couldn’t bother themselves to take the time. I knew that was what I wanted but, still, it irked.

“Take this time to come to terms with tonight’s events and to decide what your personal plans are, whether to stay with the Cornish pack or to move on. Make sure you choose the right path for you, because once it’s made there will be no going back.”

The Way stated that pack members were tied to their alphas for better or worse, no matter what happened. However, once an alpha passed away, members were free to choose other packs. It happened from time to time. Johannes in fact had joined us from another pack when his alpha had died several years ago. It occasionally meant that packs were weakened considerably from within in more ways than one, but the Brethren apparently kept a close eye on the situation and would allow a small number of humans to be turned and recruited if it was deemed absolutely necessary. They generally frowned upon it happening too often, as that put all shifters at greater risk of discovery. Potential newbies were chosen very carefully and I’d heard it was a particularly bureaucratic process, even though those who turned down the option were spelled by mages to forget they’d ever come into contact with shapeshifters. In fact, it had only happened three times in the last decade. After all pack members did not, as a rule, have any trouble reproducing all on their own. It was extraordinarily rare that shapeshifters left without joining another pack, of course, as then they would deemed as rogue. In those situations, the Brethren would get all uppity and track down said shifter to prevent them from doing anything that might be considered unsavoury or even dangerous.

Julia continued. “We may need some intervention at some point with the local law enforcement. Mackenzie?”

“If they come sniffing around, I’ll deal with them.” One of the advantages of having a policeman as an ex-boyfriend I supposed.

“Good. I will need to talk to you about the – other issue too.”

Anton laughed coldly. “You mean the fact that she’s human? We’ll all be dead if the Brethren find out.”

“Which they won’t,” she said, without looking at him. “The geas still stands. Not just for Mackenzie’s sake but for all our sakes. The Brethren’s ways are an unknown quantity to me.”

I had to batten down the urge not to stick my tongue out at him, as if she had been particularly protecting just me when I really knew it was about everyone. I held no illusions that even though most of them liked me, their lives would be simpler and safer without me. They had all been bound and forbidden to speak of me as a human to any outsider, even another shifter, after my arrival when I was just a kid. And it was pretty much universally believed that if I was discovered they would all be put to death. No-one really knew that much about how the Brethren would actually react though. Probably because no human had ever been stupid enough to stick around shifters for any length of time without being eventually turned – not that the Cornwall pack hadn’t already tried to turn me. I was clearly defective in some way if even a lycanthropic bite wouldn’t do its stuff.

Regardless of any of that, it was usually only the alpha who would travel to London every trimester to meet and talk to the bigwigs so it was only John who’d ever known that much about them. He’d give them reports on the pack’s well-being and activities, and receive his orders which could range from, ‘Keep doing what you’re doing’ to ‘Destroy any fairy circles you see’ to ‘Scary things are heading your way so kill them all.’ Julia had been to visit them only a few times, usually for particularly glamorous and important social celebrations, whilst I didn’t think any of the rest of us plebs had ever even been close to them. Elitist scum. The girls spent inordinate amounts of time following the Othernet gossip about some of the more visible Brethren members, oohing and aahing about the ongoing fights, relationships and power struggles, but I’d never really been able to muster up the will to care. I should probably change that now, I figured. Know thy enemy.

Julia crooked her little finger at me. “Come.” For now, I followed.

The office was a small cramped space piled full of papers and odds and ends. It led into John’s study on one end and the great hall on the other. I was never entirely sure what it was really supposed to be used for. Whenever there was paperwork to be filed, usually whenever there was a kill order fulfilled or an incident deemed serious enough to be written up, then one of the pack would be designated as secretary. I saw it as demeaning and worthless to spend any time at all cooped up writing about crap that had already happened but I was well aware that were plenty of shifters who enjoyed the quiet – and the mind-numbing safety - of the four walls. I picked up a loose sheet that had found its way onto the floor which said something about Directive 98 of the Way being breached without probable cause. I almost laughed. Directive 98 referred to ‘wearing clothes unbecoming an officer of the pack’. Given that shifters transformed naked, I had a hard time working out how any clothes could be more shocking than seeing it all hang out all the time anyway. There were 232 Directives in total. Clearly, someone somewhere had absolutely no sense of humour and no life. Then it occurred to me that the fact that I knew all the Directives inside and out probably meant that it was me.