In that moment, revenge, even in such a small, brief dose, was sweeter than my mother’s sun tea. And so much more refreshing…
“What did he say?” Nick Davidson asked, when I paused a little too long to enjoy Malone’s reaction.
“He said that he and several of his fellow enforcers were in the free zone in New Mexico…” I paused, and my uncle interrupted with a leading question, as planned.
“Wait, what were they doing in New Mexico?”
I shrugged and gave the entire council a wide-eyed look of confusion. “You’d have to ask Councilman Malone that. All I know is that that particular part of New Mexico is within miles of our western border, and several hundred miles from the Appalachian territory.”
I paused for a few more seconds, to let that sink in. Yes, I was being heavy-handed and obvious, but sometimes that’s the only way to feed information to a group of Alphas. In large numbers, they don’t seem to be able to grasp subtlety.
“Anyway, he said he and his fellow enforcers were in New Mexico, and one of them killed a thunderbird in a dispute over a kill. They called in their Alpha, and when the thunderbirds came looking for their Flightmate, Brett said his father, Councilman Malone, told the birds that one of the south-central Pride cats had made the kill. Brett said his dad worked out a deal. In exchange for information about where to find our ranch, the birds had to promise to bring the tabbies to him—to keep them out of harm’s way, of course—before the real bloodshed began.”
I paused again to let that sink in and to judge the reactions. Our allies had already known what was coming, of course, and Blackwell’d had a good idea.
But Malone’s allies’ reactions ranged from confusion and disbelief—from Nick Davidson—to utter outrage from both Milo Mitchell and Jerald Pierce.
“Who did Brett say really killed the thunderbird?” Di Carlo asked, right on cue. All that rehearsal had paid off.
This time my hesitation was real. I felt bad for the Pierces—for Parker most of all, even though he wasn’t there—and was far from comfortable with my decision to turn Lance Pierce over to the thunderbirds knowing he’d die. But I’d had no choice. The thunderbirds had been holding Kaci, and they would have killed her without hesitation if I hadn’t come through with what they wanted.
I would have traded almost anyone’s life for Kaci’s. Even my own. And Lance was guilty.
“It was Lance Pierce,” I said finally, watching Councilman Pierce in my peripheral vision.
Sure enough, he leaped to his feet, eyes red and damp, face flaming with fury. “You have no proof of that! None!”
That part was unscripted, obviously, but not unanticipated, and it played right into our hands.
“Councilman Pierce, I’m truly sorry to have to tell you this, but we do have proof.” With that, I pulled the clear plastic bag from my inner jacket pocket and stepped forward to set it on the table, where Pierce stared at it like it was a grenade I’d just pulled the pin from. “This is the evidence Brett offered in exchange for sanctuary. Unfortunately, he died less than an hour after we spoke to him, before he had a chance to retrieve it or leave the territory. So we had to go in and get it ourselves.”
There. I’d just admitted to trespassing, but that was a calculated risk we’d already decided on. There was no way around admitting where we got the feather, and if our plan worked, Malone would never be in the position to do anything about it.
Pierce stared at the bag and reached out for it twice. Yet both times, he pulled his hand back as if the plastic had shocked him. He couldn’t do it. But Nick Davidson could. He picked up the bag and opened it, then sniffed carefully at the contents.
His eyes widened, and he glanced solemnly at Pierce. Then he nodded, and Pierce’s face crumbled. “No…”
Having presented my testimony and evidence, I went back to my seat, sparing a single raised eyebrow at Colin Dean, who looked like he wanted to rip my head from my shoulders.
Davidson passed the bag down, and one by one, the Alphas smelled the feather. All of them, including Malone, who already knew what he’d find, and my father and Di Carlo, who’d already smelled it.
“Calvin, this is pretty convincing evidence,” Blackwell said, when the feather landed on the table in front of him after making a complete circuit. “More than enough to warrant a trial. I’m afraid we’re going to have to postpone the vote….”
“No.” Malone stood again, jawline firm, hands steady on the surface of the table. “This is completely circumstantial. It proves nothing. We don’t know how or when Lance’s blood got on this feather, or even whose feather this is. For all we know, the thunderbirds could have dipped it in Lance’s blood after they killed him. We have a responsibility to uphold justice, and this is not justice. My word holds just as much weight as hers.”
Malone paused to shoot me a calm, cold glance. “More, considering that I represent an entire Pride and I’ve never been convicted of a crime, neither of which can be said about Faythe Sanders. And my sworn word is that none of this is true. I never met with a thunderbird, nor did I sell out one of my fellow Alphas and his men. I don’t know where they really got this feather, but I suspect it was soaked in Lance Pierce’s blood when a Flight of thunderbirds slaughtered him for a crime he didn’t commit, which they could never have done if she—” the look he shot at me that time could have burned right through me “—hadn’t handed him over as a scapegoat. But regardless, we can’t in good conscience accuse an upstanding enforcer—a dead enforcer, who can’t be here to defend himself—of murder. I won’t do it, and I’ll be sorely disappointed in any of you who fall for such an obvious attempt to railroad this council and postpone the vote we all came here for.”
“What did he say?” Nick Davidson asked, when I paused a little too long to enjoy Malone’s reaction.
“He said that he and several of his fellow enforcers were in the free zone in New Mexico…” I paused, and my uncle interrupted with a leading question, as planned.
“Wait, what were they doing in New Mexico?”
I shrugged and gave the entire council a wide-eyed look of confusion. “You’d have to ask Councilman Malone that. All I know is that that particular part of New Mexico is within miles of our western border, and several hundred miles from the Appalachian territory.”
I paused for a few more seconds, to let that sink in. Yes, I was being heavy-handed and obvious, but sometimes that’s the only way to feed information to a group of Alphas. In large numbers, they don’t seem to be able to grasp subtlety.
“Anyway, he said he and his fellow enforcers were in New Mexico, and one of them killed a thunderbird in a dispute over a kill. They called in their Alpha, and when the thunderbirds came looking for their Flightmate, Brett said his father, Councilman Malone, told the birds that one of the south-central Pride cats had made the kill. Brett said his dad worked out a deal. In exchange for information about where to find our ranch, the birds had to promise to bring the tabbies to him—to keep them out of harm’s way, of course—before the real bloodshed began.”
I paused again to let that sink in and to judge the reactions. Our allies had already known what was coming, of course, and Blackwell’d had a good idea.
But Malone’s allies’ reactions ranged from confusion and disbelief—from Nick Davidson—to utter outrage from both Milo Mitchell and Jerald Pierce.
“Who did Brett say really killed the thunderbird?” Di Carlo asked, right on cue. All that rehearsal had paid off.
This time my hesitation was real. I felt bad for the Pierces—for Parker most of all, even though he wasn’t there—and was far from comfortable with my decision to turn Lance Pierce over to the thunderbirds knowing he’d die. But I’d had no choice. The thunderbirds had been holding Kaci, and they would have killed her without hesitation if I hadn’t come through with what they wanted.
I would have traded almost anyone’s life for Kaci’s. Even my own. And Lance was guilty.
“It was Lance Pierce,” I said finally, watching Councilman Pierce in my peripheral vision.
Sure enough, he leaped to his feet, eyes red and damp, face flaming with fury. “You have no proof of that! None!”
That part was unscripted, obviously, but not unanticipated, and it played right into our hands.
“Councilman Pierce, I’m truly sorry to have to tell you this, but we do have proof.” With that, I pulled the clear plastic bag from my inner jacket pocket and stepped forward to set it on the table, where Pierce stared at it like it was a grenade I’d just pulled the pin from. “This is the evidence Brett offered in exchange for sanctuary. Unfortunately, he died less than an hour after we spoke to him, before he had a chance to retrieve it or leave the territory. So we had to go in and get it ourselves.”
There. I’d just admitted to trespassing, but that was a calculated risk we’d already decided on. There was no way around admitting where we got the feather, and if our plan worked, Malone would never be in the position to do anything about it.
Pierce stared at the bag and reached out for it twice. Yet both times, he pulled his hand back as if the plastic had shocked him. He couldn’t do it. But Nick Davidson could. He picked up the bag and opened it, then sniffed carefully at the contents.
His eyes widened, and he glanced solemnly at Pierce. Then he nodded, and Pierce’s face crumbled. “No…”
Having presented my testimony and evidence, I went back to my seat, sparing a single raised eyebrow at Colin Dean, who looked like he wanted to rip my head from my shoulders.
Davidson passed the bag down, and one by one, the Alphas smelled the feather. All of them, including Malone, who already knew what he’d find, and my father and Di Carlo, who’d already smelled it.
“Calvin, this is pretty convincing evidence,” Blackwell said, when the feather landed on the table in front of him after making a complete circuit. “More than enough to warrant a trial. I’m afraid we’re going to have to postpone the vote….”
“No.” Malone stood again, jawline firm, hands steady on the surface of the table. “This is completely circumstantial. It proves nothing. We don’t know how or when Lance’s blood got on this feather, or even whose feather this is. For all we know, the thunderbirds could have dipped it in Lance’s blood after they killed him. We have a responsibility to uphold justice, and this is not justice. My word holds just as much weight as hers.”
Malone paused to shoot me a calm, cold glance. “More, considering that I represent an entire Pride and I’ve never been convicted of a crime, neither of which can be said about Faythe Sanders. And my sworn word is that none of this is true. I never met with a thunderbird, nor did I sell out one of my fellow Alphas and his men. I don’t know where they really got this feather, but I suspect it was soaked in Lance Pierce’s blood when a Flight of thunderbirds slaughtered him for a crime he didn’t commit, which they could never have done if she—” the look he shot at me that time could have burned right through me “—hadn’t handed him over as a scapegoat. But regardless, we can’t in good conscience accuse an upstanding enforcer—a dead enforcer, who can’t be here to defend himself—of murder. I won’t do it, and I’ll be sorely disappointed in any of you who fall for such an obvious attempt to railroad this council and postpone the vote we all came here for.”
