The Loup Garou Society, Julie Steimle [reading tree txt] 📗

intrigued.

Margarete nodded. “Yes. He said it is a human thing to try to control others with orders and commands. Wolves don’t do that.”

“What would he know? He is a heretic,” Louie’s partner, Jack barked. “He doesn’t have a pack.”

But Margarete started to smile, feeling smug. “No. But the Deacons maintain reserves for the wolf in America, and fund them around the world. And he said he had visited those packs. Hunted in their territory.”

The man-wolves stared at them. But then they exchanged looks before Louie said, “Where did you meet him last night?”

She shrugged. “Just a cafe. He surprised me. I was on my way to my friend’s and he pulled me in to talk.”

Genevieve peeked at her, knowing that was a lie. Not that Margarete had told her before she had left that night that she was meeting with Rick, but they knew each other well enough that it was clear to her that Margarete was not being entirely truthful. She just hoped the other wolves did not pick up on it.

“Where did he go afterwards?”

“I don’t know,” Margarete lied. “He is very good at sneaking off in the dark, something he is thoroughly practiced in—being a hunted wolf.”

They took that into consideration and started to deliberate what to do next.

The third of their group then joined them, having come from the elevator. “He is not up top anymore—though I was sure I had smelled him.”

“Maybe your sense of smell is not as good as you brag,” Jack said.

Snarling, that third man Mathieu said, “My tracking skills are top notch. I smell him all over her.” He pointed to Margarete. “And I was at the party. I know his odor.”

“Is his odor on Genevieve?” Louie asked.

Mathieu shook his head. “No. But I am sure he was on that third level.”

“Well, I’m going home,” Margarete said, shaking her head and heading toward the stairs.

“Really?” Genevieve said. “Don’t you want to come with me to see Marie today?”

“Oh, I forgot about that.” Margarete visibly cringed. She rubbed her forehead, thinking.

“I was going to teach Carole how to make biscuits[1],” Genevieve said.

Nodding, Margarete sighed. “We should go to the market then to collect ingredients. You know Marie. Not much into cooking.”

“Victor will be starving.” And Genevieve shot a look to the three wolves as she said it, accusing them of causing the affliction.

But Jack sneered as he said, “Marie should have obediently given up her cubs like Louisa did.”

“No she-wolf should be asked to give up her cubs,” Genevieve snarled, teeth bared. And she tromped into the stairwell, going down. Margarete followed right after.

They went the rest of the way down, those man-wolves on their heels.

“It is for the good of the pack,” Jack growled after her.

“Dog crap,” she tossed back.

Margarete giggled. It was perfect when her sister got into that mood. She could throw off any wolf with her attitude—which often earned her the title as top chienne[2]. They meant it literally and figuratively.

“I am sure you don’t understand—but as a child with an absent father, I can only imagine how much worse it must feel to have your own mother sell you, under orders, as if you were a product.” Genevieve huffed, tromping down faster. “And I am furious that Louisa goes along with such a foul thing.”

“Marie is an angel.” Margarete nodded. “She deserves all the help we can give her.”

Genevieve grinned, nodding. “So, to Marie’s?”

“Yes,” Margarete sighed. She wondered, though, if it was wise to announce where they truly would be going next. They had sent Rick to Marie’s house with barely anything but a metro number and an address. She didn’t have time for much else. Hopefully he got help, or he truly would be lost in Paris.

They reached the bottom, marching out onto the green toward their usual metro stop. Margarete noticed that American tourist group Rick had snuck in with standing off to the side. Their teacher was counting heads—and happily Rick wasn’t among them.

“You have to help us find him,” Louie said, chasing after them.

“No, we don’t,” Margarete and Genevieve said together.

“Yes, you do,” Mathieu growled. “It is your duty to the pack.”

The sisters rounded on him, snarling.

“What has the pack done for us?” Genevieve growled.

“They’ve tried to control us!” Margarete hissed. “They’ve limited our lives!”

Genevieve looked sideways at her, curious. There was wonder at what Rick had said to her, and a little bit of fear.

That’s when Margarete realized that she believed everything Rick had told her. Well, mostly everything. She was still angry about his blasphemy towards the goddess Diana. He was a heretic after all. And he had admitted that he didn’t know the answers to everything. But the pictures of those demons he had showed her, and the girl whom he had dated—that Selena Davenport—they were proof that the world was not just werewolves, vampires, and humans. The world was much larger—and secretly she had always known it though had not fully recognized it.

She had in the past kept an eye on any news regarding her father and ‘the heir’, as they called him. She had known about Selena and Rick—as well as the presumed love triangle between him, her, and a Ewan P. Steed (whom the entire New York social elite had expected to marry Miss Davenport before Rick came along). After a while, the news was even stranger—including the ‘gatecrasher Tom Brown’ whom the magazines had plenty to dish on, citing his juvenile record. Thing was, all of it coincided with what Rick had said—including the one tabloid she had picked up that had reported Rick as a werewolf and Selena as some kind of mermaid. The werewolf claim had made her laugh, but the mermaid story had her scoffing. But of course the world was a lot bigger, yet she had been so indoctrinated by the pack that she hadn’t believe it until then.

“…safe! Without the Loup Garou, you would be nothing!” Mathieu finished a diatribe she had entirely tuned out without even meaning to. “Don’t just stare like that! You owe the pack! Do your duty!”

“They have sheltered us from the real world,” Margarete murmured, and continued on.

They stared at her, shocked as they followed.

“Has he infected you with heretical ideas?” Mathieu asked.

Louie drew in a breath. “No, Margarete. You cannot drift from the goddess.”

Moaning, she hung her shoulders. “I am not drifting from the goddess.”

“But he didn’t try to convince you the goddess wasn’t real, did he?” Genevieve asked, concerned.

Shaking her head, Margarete laughed painfully. “He did say some blasphemous things, yes. But he did not change my mind.”

“What about your devotion?” Louie asked.

Jack nodded while Mathieu eyed her sharply.

She huffed again. “No. The goddess is the moon. The moon guides the hunt. She is the source of all life. I have not denied the goddess.”

They all sighed with relief. They knew that if she could recite the oath with a clear conscience, she had not denied the faith. In fact, she felt sorry for Rick who had nothing to guide him but some pastor who believed the in the Christian God, whom she knew nothing about except that lots of human wars were declared in his name. The goddess Diana was so much kinder.

“Now, if you will excuse us,” Margarete gesture to Genevieve for them to move on.

But then, coming across the green, those two man-wolves whom they least wanted to see jogged up. Remy looked anxious and breathless, while Henri had an angry, irritated expression—annoyed, no doubt, that he had been taken away from his comfortable and decadent lifestyle to do grunt work.

“Well, if it isn’t Romulus and Remus,” Genevieve said, propping her hands on her hips. “They don’t usually let you two roam around together.

Henri and Remy shared a look. Half-brothers, they were almost the same physique, though Henri was wolf gray like their father having ice blue eyes like his mother with a more solid chin. Remy was the opposite, his face more like their father’s. The pair were salt and pepper, some people said—only Henri dressed like a fashion model. His shirt was open.

Averting her eyes, Margarete said, “Don’t you know how to use buttons?”

Henri laughed. His voice was rich, and nothing like Remy’s. “Where is he?”

Margarete shrugged. “Like I told these men, I don’t know where he is.”

Surprised, Henri also believed her. She was, after all, telling the truth.

Remy rolled his eyes, hissing to Henri, “She got you on a technicality. At this current second, she does not know where he is. But, she probably knows where he is going.” He stared at her, meeting her dark gaze. “Give him up, Margarete. The pack wants him.”

“And our father doesn’t want the pack to have him,” Margarete bit back. “And you know it.”

Remy cringed, closing his eyes.

“So you did talk to him,” Henri said.

Nodding, Margarete rolled her eyes. “Last night, like I told these three.”

Remy peeked at her, assessing if that was the truth. Problem was, he was good at reading people.

So she added, “We’re going to Marie’s house. Do you want to follow us there? It will be a grand family reunion.”

The three wolves not of Deacon-blood cringed.

“The pack would not look highly on that,” Jack hissed, eyeing the four of them, imagining the five of them together. All they would need was Louisa and that would be the entire family.

Yet the four offspring of Mr. Deacon exchanged looks. The pack never liked it when Deacon-blood got together. The elders disapproved entirely. They believed that whenever Deacon pups congregated—such as in the way Genevieve and Margarete interacted—trouble came out of it. They said it generated rebellion, which was not the wolf way. Or so they said. Margarete was starting to wonder what the real wolf’s way was. Rick had shattered a lot of her paradigms. She now wanted to meet a full-blooded wolf to confirm it.

“You shouldn’t visit Marie so much,” Henri said.

The sisters rolled their eyes, huffing.

“Someone’s got to take care of her,” Genevieve snapped at him.

Remy averted his eyes, remaining silent. He visited Marie frequently, bringing her things to make her life easier. Not that Henri knew about it. He never went to see his sister. The fact that they were seeing him was a rare ‘treat’.

“Well,” Margarete said. “We’re going now.”

The sisters walked off together, not looking back at the wolves.

“If you do see him,” Remy called after his sisters, “Tell him his father is at Loup Garou headquarters in serious council with Monsieur Blanc. He might be concerned.”

Margarete and Genevieve exchanged glances, but did not stop walking. Monsieur Blanc was a heavy-handed elder wolf, hard to escape.

They took the metro to a food market first. Of course, they were being followed by one of the wolves—most likely Mathieu, who had been adamant that he had smelled Rick with them.

Which he had. Mathieu truly was the best tracker in the pack. When Rick had magically masked his smell with that… they didn’t know what it was but it stank in such a way that cleared their wolf sinuses—none of them could figure out where he had gone. The odor lingered in their noses. But the elders calling out Mathieu—that meant they were serious about getting Rick back within their claws. And Remy’s final call to them was not only a threat, but a warning that Mr. Deacon was practically a hostage. Which, Genevieve remarked, as they were choosing strawberries at a vendor, was a dangerous move on the part of the pack. Mr. Deacon was, after all, not friendless in the human world. He was a multi-billionaire who had not made money just though wolf connections, but by his own savvy with humans.

They carried their purchased foodstuffs onto the next metro line and went straight to Marie’s neighborhood. The wolf following them remained on their trail even to the street, where he paused, sniffing the air.

And they could smell it too. A trace of clove oil and menthol.

Genevieve paled. “He needs to take a