A Day of Glory Read online

  Bastien’s arm wrapped around my waist and he pulled me closer to him. “As for my mate and I,” he went on, “I don’t think you deserve to know our plans for the future, considering all you’ve done to try to tear us apart.”

  Sendira’s eyes moistened. I couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge in my chest as she choked, “Don’t discard me, Bastien. Please.”

  Bastien’s jaw tensed, but he remained unswayed. He stepped backward even as his mother moved forward, attempting to hold his hand.

  He cleared his throat. “Maybe, at some point in the future, we will meet again. Maybe, I will allow you to meet our children. But these are all maybes. If you want to have anything to do with me again, you will need to prove that you have changed—every single one of you—and given up the ways and attitude of the black witches.”

  With that, Bastien drew further away from his parents. Taking me with him, we returned to Mona and Brock’s side.

  “Goodbye,” he told them.

  It seemed that Sendira had finally gotten the message that she had been cut out of the picture—there was no use in her still trying to cling on to her son. Bastien had forsaken her, his father, and the rest of the clan. Now, they had to turn their thoughts to survival in this suddenly hostile world.

  After one last longing glance at their son, Sendira and her husband turned slowly, before they and the rest of the Mortclaws in mismatched clothing hurried into the woods. Sendira hadn’t even bothered to cast me a final look.

  I searched Bastien’s face as they disappeared through the trees. It was stoic, though behind his eyes were many emotions. I was sure that he felt guilt, but his behavior was actually for their benefit in the long term. Sendira couldn’t just think that she could act however she wanted and there would be no consequences in regards to her and her son’s relationship. She had to think long and hard, and redeem herself—stop being another Brucella—if she ever wanted to have a relationship with him again.

  After being at the mercy of that woman’s temperament, I could see how empowering it was for Bastien to put her in her place. My heart soared for him as I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

  He glanced down at me, his expression warming. He scooped me up in his arms, lifting my feet from the ground and kissing me deeply.

  We both knew what the Mortclaws’ retreat meant for us now.

  Finally, we were free.

  Bastien

  Although we were now free from the Mortclaws, I was not yet free of my responsibilities in The Woodlands. First, I had to finally go and fetch Rona. Poor girl, she had been hiding for days.

  “So what’s happening now?” Mona asked, her voice audibly tired. She couldn’t know how much I appreciated all that she had done for Victoria and me. There was no way that either of us could repay her. But I needed to request her kindness and patience for just a little longer.

  “I need to go and retrieve Rona Northstone. She is waiting in a boat by the shore for me. Then I need to have a meeting with my people. If you would be so kind as to hold on…”

  Mona and Brock agreed, and I was just about to transform into my wolf form when I remembered that I could no longer do that.

  Mona offered to transport us to the shore to make things faster and I eagerly accepted. Thus the four of us, Victoria, Brock, Mona and I, headed to the shoreline where I had stashed Rona.

  I raced along the dock looking for the boat, when I reminded myself that I could shout out for her now. There was no need to hide any longer. “Rona! Rona!” I called, even as I found and leapt onto her boat.

  “Bastien?” her timid voice called up from the lower deck.

  We met halfway on the staircase. She was looking bedraggled, to say the least. And she was probably hungry. I doubted she would have had much opportunity to look for food, given my instruction to stay in the boat at all possible times.

  Her face lit up as I said, “Everything is solved. You can come out now.”

  I couldn’t bring her family back to life—nor would I, in all honesty, wish to bring Brucella back to life even if I could—but I could try to introduce her to a new life, one that would hopefully be satisfying for her.

  “Come with me to Blackhall Mountain,” I said, leading her away from the boat and onto the dock where the others were waiting for me.

  The witches magicked us back to the mountain, where I immediately led everyone inside.

  “What’s going on?” Rona asked, looking utterly bewildered.

  Before answering any questions, I took her first to the kitchens. I told her to help herself to food. Once she had gathered what she wanted—there was still fresh food from earlier in the day—I sat her down at a table, watching as she began to hungrily eat.

  “I want to offer you a place here in Blackhall Mountain,” I told her, seeing no reason to beat around the bush. “as the Alpha of the Blackhall pack. Assuming that my pack agrees, you could make this your home, your new family. For as long as you wanted.”

  I paused, gauging her action. She had stopped eating and was now staring at me, jaw slackened.

  “I think that you would be a better leader than me,” I went on, “and I’m sure that you’ll find the accommodations comfortable, and my people welcoming, once you got to know them… What do you say?”

  She set down her fork, still gaping. “Bastien,” she murmured, eyeing him uncertainly. “This is… a huge responsibility. I am not even a Blackhall. I am a Northstone. Even if I were to accept, what makes you think anybody would wish for me to rule?”

  “Because it will be on my recommendation. My people trust me, just as they trusted my parents… and I trust you. Leadership is in your blood. There is no other werewolf in my tribe who wishes to rule.”

  “I don’t understand why you don’t want this position,” Rona said. “It’s what your parents would have wanted, isn’t it? I mean, your foster parents.”

  I smiled, melancholy filling me as I thought of my Blackhall parents. “I think that they would have wanted me to be happy,” I replied. I reached out for Victoria’s hand and clasped it in mine.

  Rona raised a brow. “You… You and—”

  I finished her sentence. “Yes, Victoria and I are mated now. And I wish to spend some uninterrupted time in her world… Hence, I am asking this favor of you.”

  Rona exhaled slowly, her eyes lowering to her plate in thought. Then, to my surprise, she asked, “Is Jax still here… unmated?”

  “Jax? Yes… unmated.”

  A blush rose to her cheeks. Oh, my… All this time, Rona’s had an eye for Jax. He was Cecil’s grandson, an amiable blond-haired man a little older than me. I could understand why any girl would take a liking to him, but… Rona? I’d never known. And something told me that if Brucella wasn’t dead, I would never have known. Rona had been told all her life by her mother that her betrothed was already chosen for her, and he—I—would make himself known to her when he was ready to commit to marriage. Rona’s eyes weren’t supposed to have strayed to any man during that time; she was supposed to have remained chaste… but apparently, Jax had caught Rona’s eye on her visits here over the years.

  My confirmation that Jax was still available evidently made my proposal a whole lot more compelling to her. In fact, it seemed to seal the deal.

  She sighed. “All right… If your people will have me here, then I’ll try it.”

  “Good,” I said, rising to my feet. “I don’t think you’ll regret this decision.”

  I decided to leave Rona to finish her meal while I went to talk to the rest of the wolves about my plans. I left Victoria, Mona and Brock with her and began running about the mountain, calling a meeting. Soon enough, everybody was gathered in the court. I took a seat on my—or rather, my Blackhall father’s—throne for what I believed might be the last time.

  “Since not one of you wishes to lead or feels capable of leading our tribe forward into the future, and since I am now married”—I paused as murmurings of surprise swept around the room—“to V
ictoria,” I added—“I have come up with a solution. Every one of you should be familiar with Rona Northstone.” Or at least have heard of her.

  I gazed around at the sea of nodding heads.

  “Well, she is the only surviving member of the Northstone clan since the Mortclaws attacked them, much like they attacked us. Unless and until one of you decides to step forward and take on the responsibility, I propose that Rona lead you forward henceforth, while I am gone in The Shade. I have already spoken to her and she is willing. Now all that remains is for you to accept.”

  Rona had always been the quiet sort—she had never really done or said anything that could attract hate or dislike from the Blackhalls. There were no real objections raised. Everybody seemed quite neutral—not exactly excited, but neutral. Then, one by one, they agreed.

  They trusted my gut instinct about Rona. And I figured that they were right to do so because it was rarely wrong. It was difficult to hoodwink me into trusting somebody; I sensed insincerity from miles away.

  There were accompanying questions, of course, like when she would arrive and take on her duties, and would I ever return? I explained to them that Rona had arrived already and was just having a meal but I would introduce her shortly. As for would I ever return, of course I would. The Woodlands was my home… just not for a while.

  I hurried down to fetch Rona from the kitchens to find that she had finished her meal by now and was in conversation with Brock, Mona and Victoria.

  “I’ve spoken to my people,” I told her. “They are willing to accept you into our midst, at least, on a trial basis at first.”

  I took her along with the others into the court where the wolves were waiting, and introduced her as the new chieftain.

  Rona’s eyes wandered the crowd, and I knew who she was searching for. She soon found Jax, standing tall at the back of the crowd. I looked at Cecil, who was clapping. I was glad that he seemed to be approving of my nomination.

  Thus, after officially placing the crown upon Rona’s head and telling Cecil that he would be her advisor from now on, I stayed for a little longer to watch the interaction between Rona and her new people as they mingled and introduced themselves. And then I felt that my job here was done.

  We could finally return to The Shade.

  Ben

  We waited with Eli for the next half hour, and once he’d finished editing the footage, he transferred it to a thumb drive along with the unedited reel and placed it in a backpack. Then we returned to the Sanctuary to see how much progress Corrine and Dr. Finnegan—and Shayla, who had joined them—had made in creating more of the antidote. We didn’t need a lot initially, just one backpack’s worth of tubes.

  The witches and the scientist had it already prepared and distributed into tubes when we showed up. Corrine placed them in Eli’s backpack, along with syringes.

  “Aisha is figuring out some storage solutions for the antidote,” Corrine said, “while Dr. Finnegan works to create more with Safi. So if you’re ready, let’s fetch Lawrence.”

  We headed to my daughter’s room in the hospital, where we found Lawrence sitting with her. Lawrence hadn’t attended the meeting in the Dome, so I explained to him our plan now and asked if he would come with us. Given that he had such an intimate connection with the IBSI, his presence was important to our plan, so I was relieved when he agreed to come… Though I hadn’t exactly expected him to refuse. He was doing this for his mother as much as for the rest of the world.

  I kissed my daughter’s cheeks and hugged her goodbye before we left her alone, taking Lawrence to the Port. Standing on the jetty, we went over what we had discussed in the Great Dome earlier to make sure we were all on the same page, and then we departed by magic.

  Once our feet touched the ground again, we were standing on a long, broad street at the foot of a gray-tinted glass building that spanned thirteen floors. We were in a protected residential area of Chicago, the other side of the wall that marked the boundary of Bloodless territory.

  This building was Chicago’s primary broadcasting station—one of America’s primary stations, too, and probably the most heavily influenced by the IBSI’s agenda. It was only a few miles away from the IBSI’s headquarters itself. Lights glowed in the windows on most floors. Leaving the others, I thinned myself and entered the plush reception room in search of a map of the building. It wasn’t difficult to find. I found one pinned up against the wall opposite the reception desk.

  I soon verified that the tenth floor was where we needed to head. I returned to my companions and informed them, before the witches transported us up through the building.

  We arrived outside of an elevator, which led us to the entrance of a glass-walled room that spanned the entire floor. It was filled with people milling about, scattered desks, phones and computers, and at the far end were cameras and other recording equipment, along with a studio setup.

  Nobody had noticed us yet and nobody would… until it was too late.

  I gripped the handle of the door and pushed it wide open for us to step inside.

  The noise of the door drew eyes in our direction but before anyone could react, Shayla and Corrine sent paralyzing curses bounding about the room, until everyone had been frozen in their positions.

  We moved deeper inside, gazing around at everybody’s stunned faces—they were particularly shocked to see Lawrence.

  “We mean you no harm,” I spoke up, “but we have something to show you. Something that you all must watch.”

  Eli withdrew the thumb drive from his backpack while my eyes settled on a large screen that extended across an entire wall.

  “Would somebody set up this screen for us?” I asked, lifting up the thumb drive.

  Corrine lifted the spell from one of the men standing near us, and as he regained control over his limbs, he immediately darted for the door. I ran after him and grabbed him, holding him back.

  “Please,” I told him firmly.

  Seeing that there was no way out of my grip, he gulped before scurrying over to one of the computers. I hovered over him with Eli and planted the thumb drive on the desk next to him. The man picked it up with shaking hands before plugging it in.

  As the screen flickered on and the footage began to play, I looked to Corrine. “You need to give everyone control of their necks and faces,” I told her. Not all of them were even looking directly at the screen but in the opposite direction.

  “Certainly,” Corrine said, before obliging.

  The screen flickered and Eli’s edited tape began to play. I kept my focus on everyone’s reaction as they watched.

  All of them looked more and more shocked as the tape progressed, their jaws slackening. Nobody spoke a word until the reel came to an end.

  “What you have just witnessed,” I said, “is the Bloodless antidote in action. We have discovered a cure that the IBSI has fought to keep hidden for more than a decade.”

  “H-How do we know this tape is even real?” one of the men spluttered. “It looks like it could be a product of special effects.”

  I furrowed my brows at the bearded man, who, judging from the badge fixed to his shirt, was the department’s manager.

  “I’m sure you all recognize me,” Lawrence said, stepping forward. “The man the IBSI proclaimed to be dead. That organization has spouted nothing but lies since the day it was founded… and you all have been nothing but their obedient pawns, broadcasting their lies to the world. If anything is fake, it’s every single news story you’ve run on behalf of the IBSI for the past few decades.”

  “But if you really think this could be a fake,” I said, “then we can prove it to you. You can witness a transformation before your very eyes.”

  This man—and other doubtful faces in this room— would soon regret his skepticism.

  “You and a cameraman are going to accompany us on a trip,” I said, “whether you like it or not.”

  I looked to Corrine and nodded. We all knew what to do now. Shayla would stay behind
to hold the fort with Eli, while the rest of us would travel to the shadows of Bloodless Chicago.

  Ben

  Corrine made us appear on the road outside the crematorium laboratory, which appeared to have been abandoned. There were no vehicles in the parking lot, no smoke emanating from the chimneys. We immediately set about the task of scouting Bloodless—we wanted three of them to prove beyond all doubt that the antidote was real. Corrine didn’t have much trouble in gathering them. The first one, a short creature, was hanging out near the lab’s gates. Corrine froze it and lowered it onto the ground in front of us. She found two more Bloodless in the street parallel to us, and positioned them next to the first—laying all of them on their backs.

  Then Corrine rummaged in the backpack and drew out the antidote along with three syringes. According to Dr. Finnegan, the cure did not have to be swallowed, but could be injected, too. There would be less likelihood of waste by injection rather than pouring it into their mouths and hoping that they swallowed as easily as Grace had.

  “Get your camera rolling,” Lawrence demanded of the cameraman. Once the man had acquiesced, one by one, Corrine injected the Bloodless.

  The cameraman’s hands were shaking. Both he and the manager looked absolutely terrified to be here on this side of the wall. They were mere humans after all. As the turning process began, it wasn’t long before a group of Bloodless came loping our way. Corrine put up a protective shield around us before they could get close, giving us peace of mind while we waited for the transformation to complete.

  The two news station employees watched in awe as the Bloodless changed more and more, until finally they were recognizable as humans. Broken and battered, but humans nonetheless.

  The first Bloodless we had found turned out to be a short young woman, while the other two were men, perhaps in their late twenties.

  They all appeared to be in far worse shape than Grace had been in. Their noses looked like they might never recover, and their skin was dry and peeling. I supposed this was because they had been Bloodless longer than my daughter had, and evidently, conditions here on this side of the wall were far worse than the sheltered conditions Grace had been kept in.