There had been some debate on the efficacy of this. Would the infants not, next thing, turn up on some vampire’s doorstep? Lyall argued that the warped preacher had used Alpha abilities of persuasion and coercion, and with him gone, the children were much less at risk. However, even he was concerned about lingering influences.
So, Biffy made (what he hoped was) a very eloquent speech on the indigestibility of human infants. It took a great deal of persuading to get the congregation to accept that child sacrifice was not something werewolves particularly desired on a regular basis. Biffy had to draw metaphors of a rather visceral nature, and extol the virtues of big game and the inferiority of fat baby pudge.
He found that it was easier to convince the followers that werewolves could be deluded by fake sacrifices of not-babies (like ancient Greek gods) than outright persuade them wolves didn’t want the babies at all. Accordingly, Biffy organized a demonstration.
Adelphus marched in, carrying a large squash dressed in swaddling clothes. Channing made a special appearance already in wolf form (so he couldn’t say anything and mess the plan up, and because he made for their most impressive wolf). The massive white wolf jumped on the swaddled squash, savaged it into submission, and then dashed off (late for an appointment with his haberdasher).
This seemed to convince everyone, and offerings of squashes, in various states of dress and undress, began appearing on the new house’s doorstep. The clavigers got quickly sick of the vegetable, and they began donating them to the workhouse. Everyone was happy. Except maybe the squash.
Robin, as it turned out, was a foundling with no family to speak of. After much begging and pleading, Biffy decided it was odd but acceptable if the pack wished to adopt him. Hemming was delighted. The government was skeptical but willing. Mrs Whybrew and her daughter were permanently installed in the nursery, and life settled, as much as it might, with two infants in residence.
Biffy changed the curtains from purple to royal blue.
Lyall moved his few belongings into Biffy’s quarters. The pack was carefully neutral about this relocation. Although Lyall caught Rafe and Hemming giggling in a suspicious manner the first time he emerged from Biffy’s quarters of an evening.
Only Channing said anything, because Channing was never one to hold his tongue when insult could be proffered. He quirked a brow at them across the breakfast table a few nights into the new arrangement. “If this is a new pack hierarchy bonding policy, I hope you don’t expect me to join in the fun.”
“No one ever expects you to join in, Channing,” replied Lyall.
Biffy smiled. “You’d spoil our fun.”
Channing nodded. “Good.” He stood and went to retrieve his hat and coat. Then stuck his head back in before he left. “About bloody time.”
Lyall ducked his head, then looked up at his Alpha through his lashes.
Biffy ate a piece of pork pie and gloried in the fact that, while Lyall might be embarrassed, his sandy eyes were no longer sad.
Author’s Note
Thank you so much for reading Romancing the Werewolf. If you enjoyed it, or if you would like to read more about any of my characters, please say so in a review. I’m grateful for the time you take to do so.
I have a silly gossipy newsletter called the Monthly Chirrup. I promise: no spam, no fowl. (Well, maybe a little fowl and the occasional giveaway.)