His gaze met mine. “I need you and Kami.”
A lump formed in my throat. “The authorities?”
“Just the pack,” he said. “I tried to keep you out of it, I swear, but they’d gotten a full account from at least two of the werewolves present. Now there’s an internal inquiry.”
“And if we refuse?” I asked.
Simon’s expression clouded over. “I wouldn’t recommend it. If you don’t come willingly, they have a backup plan.”
Minka folded her arms. “That backup plan better not involve busting into the Pavilion. Tell them we have an attack hellhound.”
Trio seemed to sense she was the topic of conversation and tilted her three heads upside down to look at Simon.
Kami rolled her eyes. “Yes, one look at Trio and they’ll be running out of here with their tails between their legs.”
“We’ll come with you,” I said. If nothing else, we owed it to Simon.
Kami reached for the dagger on her desk. “We can bring weapons, right?”
“You can bring them. Not sure you’ll get to keep hold of them, though.”
Kami withdrew her hand. “Fine. I’ll bring a cheap one.” She opened the drawer of her desk and rooted around for the inexpensive blade. “Here it is.”
Minka squinted. “Hey, that’s the one I bought you last year for your birthday.”
Kami quickly hid the dagger behind her back. “I’m sure it isn’t. I keep that one in a special place.” She turned and grimaced at us before hurrying to join Simon and I at the exit. “If we’re not back in two hours, call the cavalry.”
Briar glanced up from her desk, frowning. “We are the cavalry.”
“Right,” Kami pivoted to me. “We can handle a room full of werewolves, can’t we?”
I remembered the magical versions of me that fought the crazed wolves in The Crown.
“I’d bet my life on it.”
4
The West End Werewolf Pack held their meetings in a building on Sloane Street that once housed a department store called Harvey Nichols. I quite liked the idea of a tribunal set up in a former lingerie department. Added a touch of class to the event.
We arrived at security and were immediately whisked away to the second floor. Simon was summoned first. Kami and I were asked to wait in a separate room and were offered water and homemade shortbread, which we declined.
“Are you sure? Susan makes a mean shortbread. It’s the envy of every household in the West End.” The werewolf removed the lid from the tin and showed off the golden biscuits.
Kami nudged me. “Go on, London. We don’t want to be rude.”
Kami had a weakness for biscuits. Mine was chocolate.
“You don’t happen to have any dipped in chocolate, do you?” Kami asked, anticipating my desire.
The werewolf’s lips curled into a half smile, half snarl. “If we did, they’d be gone by now. I can count the number of wolves on one hand that don’t like chocolate in this pack.”
I’d wolfed down two biscuits—pun intended—when another werewolf appeared in the doorway. “London Hayes.”
I wiped the crumbs from my lips and raised my hand. “That’s me.”
He crooked a finger. “You’re up.”
“Where’s Simon?” I asked.
“He was escorted out once they finished questioning him,” the werewolf said.
“I want to wait here for Kami when I’m finished,” I told him. “I’m not leaving her behind.”
Kami shoved another biscuit in her mouth. I had a feeling she’d make herself sick if I took too long. I resolved to talk fast.
The werewolf opened a set of double doors and stepped aside. “Have fun,” he whispered and closed the doors behind me. The sound echoed in the cavernous room.
I stared straight ahead at a long table. Three werewolves were seated facing the rest of the room. Two smaller tables lined the first row, followed by benches. The room was packed with werewolves. I didn’t think I’d ever been in close proximity to so many at once.
“Come forward and state your name,” the middle werewolf said. She gestured to the empty chair at the table to my left. Hers was the shorter of three heads and her brown hair was styled in a no-nonsense blunt cut. The lines on her face suggested mid-to-late fifties and the three-inch scar on her cheek suggested a hard-won existence.
“London Hayes, Knight of Boudica.”
“Welcome, Miss Hayes. We appreciate your cooperation in this matter. My name is Nicolette Dumont. The other members of the tribunal are Jervis Tinicum and Romeo Rice.”
Jervis was surprisingly thin for a werewolf. His face was mostly covered by a thick beard and mustache, and his copper head was bald except for a one-inch line of hair. He looked like a broomstick with missing bristles.
“We understand you were at The Crown last night. Is that correct?” Jervis asked.
“Yes.”
“And you witnessed Donald Simmons transform?” Jervis asked.
“That is correct.”
“And Harry Burns?” he added.
“Yes. If you’re going to name them all, I’ll save you the trouble because I don’t know their names. Every single werewolf in the pub shifted.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Romeo hide a smirk behind his hand. He was the largest of the three with thick, dark hair that covered his head and I had no doubt also covered his chest—and quite possibly his back.
“In your estimation, were the transformations unprovoked?” Nicolette asked.
I faltered. “I couldn’t say. The group became progressively louder and more unruly as the evening went on.”
Nicolette peered at me intently. “Any idea why?”
I shrugged. “Too much ale?”
“You couldn’t hear the content of their discussion?” Romeo asked. He was attractive in that burly, lumberjack way. He also slouched, which I appreciated. Made the whole affair feel slightly less formal.
“No. I was focused on my own conversation at the time. We just heard the volume steadily increase until Simon was warning them not to shift.”
“Ah, yes. Your conversation with your companion.” Nicolette scanned the sheet of paper in front of her. “Kamikaze Marwin. Interesting names, the two of you. Do they reassign you names when you join the banner?”
“No. Those are our given names.”
Romeo grinned. “I have no room to talk.”
“Your mother loved literature, clearly,” Nicolette said. She shifted her attention back to me. “And I suppose your mother loved geography.”
“History, actually, but I suppose they’re related subjects.”
Jervis squirmed in his seat. He seemed anxious to move forward with the proceedings. “According to our report, you inserted yourself into a volatile situation. Why?”
“I tried to diffuse the situation.”
“By hanging from a light fixture and kicking Donnie in the chest?” Romeo asked. His mouth twitched, seemingly amused.
“He was holding Harry over his head, ready to dwarf-toss him. I only intended to subdue him.” I pinned them with a hard look. “I was under the impression you needed information. If I’d known you intended to put me on trial, I would’ve brought a barrister with me.”
Romeo snorted. “Fair enough.”