Lyall looked a little alarmed. The council members exchanged long looks of equal alarm.
“You mean like Zev’s eyes?” Lyall injected sarcasm into his voice.
She shook her head slowly, and this time she addressed the council. “Real silver, glittering and changing from molten to hard. Lyall would have been a very close friend to him.”
“You are describing Rannalufr. He has been around for centuries, nearly as long as me,” Rolf said. “He has been a trusted advisor to our council for many, many years.” He shook his head. “I cannot believe he would betray us.”
Rannalufr means plundering wolf in Old Norse, Zev informed her. Would Xaviero be so bold as to give himself such a name?
That’s exactly the kind of thing he would do, Branislava said. Aloud, she addressed the council members. “If this is the man I’ve described, he is not Lycan, but mage, and he’s infiltrated your council for his own agenda—destroying the Lycan race. One of his brothers has destroyed the Jaguar species and the other nearly managed to eliminate the Carpathians. He is Xaviero, brother to Xavier. You are old enough to know of him,” Branislava assured.
“I know of Xavier, but I have never heard of Xaviero,” Rolf denied. “Not a whisper about a brother or brothers.”
“They were interchangeable, identical and they kept the fact that they could be in three places at one time from the world because it suited them to do so,” Branislava explained. “Xaviero is hard at work destroying your species. He’s actually creating the Sange rau. No doubt, Rannalufr is a great chemist and such a boon to your people. You are indebted to him for his many kindnesses and his aid in discovering various remedies that help with strange illnesses that suddenly beset your people as well as other things. Am I correct?”
The council members looked at one another, their alarm growing. Lyall continually shook his head in denial.
“How is this possible?” Rolf asked. “I don’t understand this. It can’t be possible. Rannalufr has been to my home on many occasions, sat at my table and played with my children.”
“And Lyall?” Mikhail asked quietly. “Has he not been to your home, sat at your table and played with your children?”
Rolf’s gaze jumped to his old friend’s face. “Yes,” he said, sounding tired, answering for Lyall. “Yes he has, many times. I have loved him as a brother.”
“As did I,” Arno said sadly.
Again, Lyall looked a little ashamed, but he shook it off, shaking his head. “You betrayed our people, Rolf, Arno. All of you did. I merely am an instrument of justice.”
“With your own army?” Zev leveled the accusation. “You just managed to recruit an entire army without anyone’s knowledge in a matter of days or weeks because the council suddenly made a decision to come here? I don’t believe you, Lyall. You use both Sange rau as well as rogue packs to do your dirty work.”
“I am a chosen one, a martyr for our people with a higher purpose you cannot possibly understand,” Lyall shot back at Zev, his tone self-righteous and firm.
“That is the mage talking. He ‘joined’ your little cause and he kept you fired up,” Branislava said. “He offered you something to betray your friends, Lyall, what is it you covet most? Power?”
“He had power on the council,” Rolf said. “He covets women.”
Branislava’s heart stuttered. She knew the cruelty Xaviero was capable of, especially with women. He enjoyed hurting his lovers and finding inventive ways of disposing of them. So many young mage women, so many human women. She didn’t want to see those memories in Lyall’s mind.
You do not have to do this, mon chaton féroce, Zev said. There are other ways. I can get the information from him that we need.
He always gave her an out, and Branislava was grateful to him for it. That generous offer allowed her to square her shoulders and send Zev a smile. She could do this because she wasn’t alone. His soul and his spirit were woven to hers.
Branislava let out her breath slowly. “Lyall, I think the time has come to get a few answers from you.”
“Ask me anything,” Lyall said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You will get nothing at all from me.”
Branislava didn’t bother to argue. She raised her arms and wove a pattern in the air around her, as if she was creating a space, clean and pure and free of harm.
Cells to neurons interact and flow,
Carrying messages that I must know.
I see your stimuli, I know your game,
Reveal to me what is hidden so there will be no pain.
Around her, the air changed color, glowing with soft golden light. Her hair crackled and tiny flames seemed to lick up her arms. Lyall went pale and covered his face as if by not looking at her, she couldn’t get into his head.
Current to neuron cells to grow,
Provide me with knowledge so I may know,
I take what is hidden and make it mine.
Lyall began to rock back and forth, making noises like a child in distress. He clearly was in no pain, but he must have felt Branislava in his mind, close to taking control.
Let there be no barriers,
Let there be no lies,
As I came, so now I must return,
Taking these memories so no other may learn.
Lyall screamed and rocked, shaking his head, tears rolling down his face. He pressed his hands over his ears as if he could drown her out—or keep her out of his head. Branislava entered his mind with trepidation, afraid of what she might find.
She felt Zev take her hand. She knew he hadn’t done so physically; he was too busy watching Lyall to ensure the Lycan didn’t try to harm her, but still, it felt as if he’d threaded his fingers through hers and entered that warped mind with her.
There was greed, certainly. Lyall wanted more than the power Rolf claimed he already had as a council member. He wanted to be the one everyone looked up to and followed, just like Rolf. She saw Xaviero and caught glimpses, small little vignettes of the encounters over so many years. Xaviero had been patient in stalking Lyall and learning about him. He had wanted a man in a position of power, one he could persuade easily and yet would believe that all ideas were his own. Lyall, over time, had become that man.
Xaviero had discovered his weakness for women. At first he had used flattery to ensnare Lyall, and then he began to mention his night with a particular woman and the things he had gotten her to do for him. Lyall’s breathing changed, his mouth went slack and he practically drooled. The baser the stories, the more rapt Lyall’s attention became. Xaviero led him down that path slowly as well, talking about how they were so superior to women and how women provoked them with the way they moved and dressed and smiled. How those women were meant to serve men such as they were. Powerful men who needed the relaxation such women provided.