"Be it herewith known among the Werewolf Race now residing upon the Earth, that the following name shall be added to our registers and be forthwith recognized as a member of the Pack from this day forward. And therefore, whether the recipient be living or dead, they will have all honor bestowed upon them, for services rendered to the Werewolf Race."
"Your name, in full, is written here," the old one turned the paper for me to see.
"It is signed by the Grand Master himself, also by his son, Daryl, along with Packmasters Martin Walters and Thomas Williams Jr. As far as I know, no vampire has ever received this honor. What do you make of that?"
Chapter 15
"I suppose it's good he wrote living or dead on it."
"Yes, I suppose it is," the old one agreed. "Now, Gavin here tells me you were able to contact him through mindspeech. Is this correct?"
"I wasn't sure he heard me," I said.
"Robert, will you come forward?" The old one motioned for a vampire at the back of the room to approach. "Robert can use mindspeech, along with his brother. I would like for you to listen and see if you can hear what he is sending."
A vampire came forward and stood near me. What is your favorite color? He sent.
Blue, I sent back to him.
"Honored one, she just answered my question," Robert said.
"Ask her this question," the old one wrote something on a piece of paper with a gold pen and handed it to Robert.
He wants to know what your mother's first name was.
"My mother's first name was Harriett," I said.
"I am convinced," the old one said.
I had no idea why I was jumping through these hoops. They were just going to kill me. Maybe it was the cat, toying with the mouse before they ate it. They'd had Sergio and Edward for a while, it seems, and questioned them. I was the new toy.
"Now," the old one continued, "I would like to hear you ask for your life. Tell me why you deserve to live before we pass sentence."
Frantically searching my mind, I failed to come up with any answer. What did the old one want from me? Did he want me to fall to my knees and beg? My tears hadn't moved Gavin or any of the others. Would they become impatient while I tried to defend myself and my actions? Would it make any difference? Finally, I realized that I had no answer. "I can't," I said, taking a shaky breath. "How can I say I deserve to live, instead of somebody else? Who's to say they're deserving? Maybe deserving over this one, but not that one. Am I a saint? I don't think the Pope has my name on a list. Am I the scum of the earth? That answer is no as well. There's nothing that separates me from most people, except that now I don't get to walk in daylight. I tried that and got burned. I took on a pack of werewolves and almost got bitten to death. I stood in front of a young werewolf and took three bullets in the back because I didn't think he deserved to die. I sent desperate mindspeech to someone I considered a friend because terrorists were about to blast their way through a wall and I was afraid he'd get hit. I misted behind a man who was trying to murder people inside a house and killed him, because the people in the house were the only friends I had. I stand before you now because two morons who belonged to your race decided to have some fun at an old woman's expense on the day her husband died. I have no idea why I deserve to live. Do you?"
The young vampire who'd been tapping at his computer now sat there, his fingers still, his mouth open in surprise. I think I'd just insulted the entire vampire race as a whole.
Russell pulled me toward the tunnel that led into the cave at the old one's command. Russell never said I couldn't move, so I paced around a little inside the tunnel, my chains swaying and clanking while the vampires inside the cave had a confab. They were deciding to kill me. That was the only conclusion I could draw. Gavin? He was probably sharpening his claws.
"Slow down, little Miss," Russell said. He hadn't used compulsion but I figured he was tired of hearing my chains rattling. I backed up to the tunnel wall and leaned against it, brushing yet another stray tear off my face. Russell didn't smell that old; his scent was close to that of the young one sitting next to the oldest one at the table. Both scents were different—I could pick them out of a room full of vampires, now, but their smell had the same quality or weight to it.
Gavin's, on the other hand, was heavier than most inside the chamber. Only the Council members had a more exotic spice to theirs. I suppose they could all do that; tell from the scent the approximate age or who was older than whom. We were far enough into the tunnel, too, that I couldn't hear anything of the discussion. Probably just as well. I'm sure Gavin was laughing over how he'd duped me all that time. If my life hadn't been about to end, I might have considered sending him mindspeech just to tell him how despicable he was. I didn't think I had sufficient vocabulary to curse him or justify the contempt I felt for him.
Robert was the one to come for us. I couldn't tell anything from his eyes; they were hooded and it was dark inside the tunnel, even for a vampire's sight. Robert walked in front of me, Russell behind as we reentered the Council Chamber. Gavin now stood slightly to the side so I could take my place amid Sergio and Edward's ashes. I wanted to laugh a bit hysterically over who would come to clean up their (and my) mess afterward.
The old one looked at me for a moment. "Are there any further comments or questions before we pass judgment?" I was back to shivering at his words. There was nothing, now, to prolong my life or delay my execution. "In the matter of Lissa Beth Workman, what say you?"
I had to bite my lower lip to keep it from trembling and I was desperate to keep the tears in my eyes from falling. I wondered how many prisoners, (who still had some of their mental capacity left, anyway) prostrated themselves before the Council at this point and begged for mercy. I decided to go out with as much dignity as I could. I kept telling myself, again and again, that it would be over quickly.
"Guilty," came the first voice. I trembled but stood up straight.
"Not guilty." It was the black Council member. I couldn't send a thank you from where I was headed, but I appreciated his vote all the same.
"Not guilty."
"Not guilty."
"Guilty."
The voices droned on until eight members had called out their votes; four guilty, four not guilty. One of the females had voted for me, one against. It came down to the old one's vote and since he was in charge, I no longer held any hope. Gavin was going to pull out those claws—I had no idea where they'd come from—and just slice my head from my shoulders.