The Savage Grace: A Dark Divine Novel (22 page)

“Are you afraid of me, child?” he asked. His blackened gums held pointed teeth—like I was staring into the mouth of a wolf.

“No,” I said.

“Then tell me, what is it that you think I want. What could you give me to ensure the safety of the ones you love?”

I looked him over—not only was he a mixture of man and beast, his body also looked decrepit and fragile. A thin plastic tube with two little nodules hung around his neck. I recognized what it was from the hospital—an oxygen feed. He must have pulled it from his animal-like nostrils just to speak to me.

“You’re dying,” I said. “And you want to be cured so your soul will be free from the wolf before you pass. Healing people isn’t the only thing I can do, as I’m sure you’ve heard or you wouldn’t be here. If you meet my demands, I will provide the cure for you.”

TEN MINUTES LATER, INSIDE SIRHAN’S CAR

The smell of decay and wolf assaulted my senses with every breath I took as I rode in the back of Sirhan’s limousine with the ancient Urbat. Sirhan’s car wasn’t a limo in the traditional prom-night sense of the word. It could hold only four people: the driver, a spearman who sat up front, Sirhan, and me. The leather of my seat was so soft I finally understood why some people compared the feel of fine leather to butter. I’d never been in any vehicle nearly as nice as this one, but I couldn’t find comfort inside of it. Not only was the smell of Sirhan almost too much to handle, but the dark-tinted windows made it impossible to see if Daniel and the others were truly following us like they were supposed to.

My nails dug into my skin as I held my arms crossed in front of my chest. It didn’t help my nerves that Sirhan’s labored breaths as he sucked in air from his oxygen tank reminded me of Darth Vader. He didn’t speak to me again, just kept looking occasionally in my direction and laughing until his mirth turned into fits of hacking coughs.

At Dad’s insistence, Sirhan had agreed to move our negotiations to a new location—away from our curious neighbors, who kept peering out their windows at the spectacle in our front yard. My parents were going to have a devil of a time explaining what exactly had been going on. No doubt Dad would tell them we’d been rehearsing for a Christmas pageant or something. The only problem with that was then Dad would actually insist on our
putting on
a Christmas pageant this year just so he wouldn’t be caught in a lie.

Great,
I thought.
Just the thing to look forward to.

An aching gripped my heart, and suddenly I
was
looking forward to something like that. Anything, really. Because looking forward, making plans, feeling like there would be anything beyond this night, was what I needed to keep my nerves at bay.

I didn’t know if Sirhan or anyone else would go for my plan—or if he could be trusted actually to meet my demands in the end. Only time would tell.

We didn’t go far. The only place that Dad could think of to hold such a large group was the social hall of the parish. One of the guards prodded me out of the limo into the empty parking lot with the point of his spear.

For a moment, I worried I’d been kidnapped, but I sighed with relief as the rest of the caravan of black Cadillac Escalades pulled in behind us. Daniel and my father got out of one of the vehicles; Talbot, Jude, and the lost boys soon arrived in other cars.

The spearmen shuffled us into the building, followed by a long procession of Sirhan’s robe-clad people—or Urbats, to be exact. We stood around in the social hall, feeling like cattle herded into a corral.

Or perhaps a slaughterhouse.

Daniel gripped my hand hard. Almost like he feared he’d never get a chance to again.

“They’re all looking at me,” I said, and nodded toward the members of Sirhan’s pack, who were staring at me.

“It’s to be expected after what you did for Jordan. You’re the Divine One, remember?” Daniel said. “You’re the stuff of legends to them, and you proved them true.”

“Oh. Yeah. That.” Earlier in the week, I’d felt so completely alone. Now I felt claustrophobic, surrounded by so many people and their searching eyes. “Wait,
Jordan
?” Daniel knew that young woman’s name?

But Daniel had already turned to one of the spearmen. “What now?” Daniel asked him.

“We wait for Sirhan.”

“What’s taking so long?”

The spearman furrowed his brow and rocked a little back and forth, looking like he was contemplating just how much to say. “Sirhan has his own medical staff. He won’t exit the car until they’ve fully examined him and deemed it safe for him to be moved.” His brow crinkled deeper. “He shouldn’t have left the estate to begin with, if you ask me.”

Daniel nodded. I don’t know about him, but I was surprised by the spearman’s honesty.

Minutes ticked by, and the silence started to wane. Sirhan’s people started to talk amongst themselves, many pointing in my direction. The spearman Daniel had questioned left our side and joined the nine other green-robed spear bearers, who were huddled in the far corner, looking like they were engaged in some sort of debate. Some of the men who’d been wearing blue robes had taken them off, revealing regular old T-shirts and jeans underneath.

“What’s the deal with the robes?” Jude asked from behind me. “They look like a bunch of wizards.”

“My hypothesis,” Brent said. “They’re either for ceremony or post-transformation convenience.”

“Post what?” Slade said.

“You know, the whole naked factor. Normal clothes never survive the transformation from human to wolf, which means you’re always naked when you go back to being human. The robes are quite clever. Easily discarded before transformation, and there for the convenience of covering up your … stuff, when you change back.”

Slade laughed. “I like the way they think. Waking up somewhere with a bunch of naked guys has always been my least-favorite part of this werewolf gig.”

“Brent’s right on both accounts,” Daniel said. “During my time with Sirhan’s pack, they always wore the robes when they thought a fight might break out. And they wore their brightly colored ceremonial robes to impress us.”

“I’m always right,” Brent said, flexing his muscles; I’m not sure how that had anything to do with being smart. “Which is why,” he pointed at Ryan, “you should totally pick those blisters, like I said.”

Ryan lifted his fingers toward the blistered spearhead-shaped wound on his face. “Are you sure?”

I swatted Ryan’s hand away from his face. “Don’t touch it. You don’t want it to scar. Brent’s just being … well,
Brent
.”

“Can’t you work your healing magic on it?” Ryan asked me, and then shot a glare at Brent. “It burns like a mother—”

“Watch your language,” I snapped. “We’re in a church.” Bleh. I sounded way too much like my mom. I was glad she, April, and my siblings—the humans other than Dad, who had insisted on coming along—had been allowed to stay at the house. “It’s caused by silver, which means I can’t do much to heal it.”

“I told you,” Zach said to Ryan. “That’s why nothing happened when you tried to heal it yourself.”

“Pick at it,” Brent said, a little too much glee mixed in with his sarcasm. “You know what a cool scar that would be?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Hey, freak!” someone shouted in our direction. I looked up just in time to see the young, green-robed woman come bounding up to Daniel and me. She stopped just before colliding with Daniel’s chest—and punched him in the arm.

Daniel winced. She’d smacked him just below his still-healing bullet wound. But the wince quickly turned into a smile. “Jordan!” he exclaimed.

She laughed and jumped at him. Daniel caught her in a hug, gave her a quick squeeze, and then set her on her feet.

Both of my eyebrows went up in arches. So Daniel
did
know her?

Daniel looked at me and indicated the young woman. “Grace, this is Lisa Jordan. We met during my brief stay with the pack last year.”

“The Divine One!” she practically squealed. She grabbed my hand and shook it with gusto. “I have to admit, I thought you’d be
bigger
or something.” She shrugged. “But whatever. Thanks for saving my ear! Sweet, I think my superhearing is even a little better.” As she pointed at her ear, I noticed that her dangling black teardrop earrings were actually made of moonstones.

“No problem,” I said.

Lisa squeezed my hands and let go, then wrapped her hands around Daniel’s wrists, bouncing his arms up and down with excitement. “I’ve missed you, freak. But I can see why you wanted to come back here. She’s almost as pretty as I am.”

I couldn’t help staring at this Lisa Jordan. Not only was she still the only other female Urbat I’d ever met, but she was also gorgeous, with hair the color of candied walnuts and eyes a clear lake green. Her arms were toned, and her body was tall and slender like a runner’s. She looked like she was in her early twenties, and I couldn’t help wondering—if only for a fleeting moment—just how
well
she and Daniel had gotten to know each other before.

Lisa gave me a playful smile, as if she could read my thoughts. “Don’t worry,” she said, leaning toward me and still hanging on to Daniel’s wrists. “Daniel is
way
too young for me.”

I blinked.

“I turned twenty-one in 1985,” she said, even though she still looked that age. “I don’t go for teenagers. That’d be creepy.”

“Oh.” I laughed.

All the newcomers in the room looked like they were in their twenties, but some of them had more age behind their eyes.

Lisa leaned in closer to Daniel and took in a deep breath, as if drinking in his scent. “Yowza, but I do have to say, he’s even more appealing now that he’s got his true alpha on. Nothing quite like the smell of power to get my blood boiling.” She smiled at Daniel. “I knew you had it in you. And you wear it well.”

Daniel blushed. A full-on, red-in-the-face blush.

“Tell you what.” She lowered her voice so it was barely a whisper—kind of pointless in a room full of people with superhearing, but whatever. “That was so darn cool how you got two of Sirhan’s men to bow to you. Geez, I’m surprised Sirhan didn’t take off your head right there and then for it. Even despite all this ‘cure’ stuff.”

“What’s up with Sirhan, anyway?” I asked. “Why does he look the way he does? All man-wolfy?”

Lisa shrugged and swept her long bangs out of her eyes. “That’s what happens when the Urbat hit their nine-hundred-and-ninetieth year. Not only do they suddenly age rapidly—their body changes in other ways, too. It’s like the wolf manifests outwardly even when they’re in human form. One of the other Elders said he thinks that’s why some human myths portray werewolves as anamorphic wolf men. Someone must have once found the body of a newly deceased ancient one.” Lisa made a pouty face. “It’s too bad, too. Sirhan used to be such a hotty. Looked almost just like his grandson, here.” She squeezed Daniel’s arm.

Daniel looked down at her with a little shake of his head, confusion marring his perfect face. “What did you just say?”

“I think she just called you Sirhan’s grandson,” I said, her comment just now clicking in my brain.

“Ah crap.” Lisa put her hand over her lips. “I forgot that you’re not supposed to know that,” she said through her fingers. She looked across the room at the group of green-robed men. Two of them glared at her. They’d apparently been listening, and I wondered just how much trouble she’d be in for spilling this secret. But then she turned back to us. “But since that cat’s out of the bag”—she winked at Daniel—“I might as well tell you that your last name isn’t really Kalbi. It’s Etlu. Like Sirhan Etlu of the Etlu Clan.”

“It is?” Daniel’s voice was barely audible. He’d always despised his last name. Kalbi meant
dog
. Kalbi connected him to Caleb. Reminded him of everything he didn’t want to be.

“Etlu means
warrior
,” Lisa said. “Caleb must have changed his last name when he was banished by Sirhan—by his own father.”

Daniel looked more than shocked.

“So you’re saying that Sirhan is Daniel’s grandfather?” I asked, unable to hide the incredulity in my voice. “You mean, Sirhan turned away his own grandson when Daniel came to him seeking a home last year? That just … Grrr…”

“Think about it, Grace,” Daniel said slowly, like he was processing his thoughts as he spoke them. “If I’m Sirhan’s grandson, then that means Caleb is his son.

Or
was
, before he was disowned. Before Caleb caused the death of Rachel … his
own
mother. Imagine the betrayal Sirhan felt? His disdain for me makes all the more sense now.”

“But you’re nothing like Caleb.”

“Sirhan doesn’t see me that way.”

“Then we have to make—”

The din of the conversations going on around us faded, and I realized I was the only one speaking. All the robed Urbat had turned their attention toward the doorway as three blue-robed men entered the room. One of them carried Sirhan in his arms, the second followed closely with an oxygen tank, while a third man dragged a chair from the parish’s foyer behind him.

He placed the chair in the center of the room, and the two other men placed Sirhan in it. They stood behind him with one hand on each of his shoulders. All the other people in robes fell to one knee, bowing their heads toward Sirhan, with one fist shoved against the floor. At first glance, Sirhan, clad in a burgundy velvet robe, looked as regal as a king holding court. But looking closer, I realized that the two men who stood behind him with their hands on his shoulders weren’t doing it just as a sign of respect—they were holding Sirhan upright in his chair.

At the same time, I didn’t see this as a sign of weakness. No, Sirhan may not be
physically
powerful, but the respect and devotion he garnered from the rest of his able-bodied pack still made him the most dangerous person in this building. A single nod of his head could turn them all against us.

One more blue-robed man entered the room with Gabriel in his custody. The two fell to one knee like the others—Gabriel doing so without any prodding from his guard. Part of me was surprised Gabriel still respected his alpha, despite the way he’d been treated. Then again, Gabriel and Sirhan’s history ran much deeper than these last few days. They had been as close as brothers for hundreds of years. Gabriel had told me once that it was the rapid aging process—and the proximity of death—that had changed Sirhan’s behavior as of late.

“Very well,” Sirhan said. He waved his withered hand, telling his bowing subjects to rise. “I do not have much energy left.”

Sirhan’s spokesperson knocked the hilt of his spear against the hardwood floor three times. “The Elders of both packs will convene in the center of the room for negotiations. Step forward.”

The men in green robes moved quickly to form a half circle behind Sirhan’s chair.