“That’s impossible,” Aeric said. “No one in Northern Wisconsin has those kinds of resources to find that kind of a potion, much less afford to buy it on the black market.”
“Oh, but they did. We have tests that confirm the Low Marsh wolf was dosed with wolfsbane.” Amos said. “We confirmed that elf magic had been used on the wolf as soon as we arrived—that was the supposedly unknown magic found in its blood. But the Regional Committee of Magic itself confirmed the presence of wolfsbane when we sent in a blood sample with our tests.”
Amos prowled up to Remy, getting in the young werewolf’s face. “And we’re going to uncover exactly how your precious Alpha got it.”
Remy snarled, her lovely face twisting in her anger. “There’s no way our Alpha had anything to do with something like that!”
Radcliff and Scarlett both shifted their stances, and their hands crept toward the waistbands of their pants—where they likely had hidden weapons. But Aeric casually grabbed Remy by the back of her neck and dragged her backward with no sign of difficulty.
Radcliff and Scarlett didn’t settle back into place. Instead they looked to their uncle, who spread his arms wide. “Who else would have done it?” Amos asked. “You pointed out no one has the resources to afford such a thing…except, perhaps, for the Northern Lakes Pack which annually grows in members and monetary value.”
There was something in the way he snarled the Pack name that worried me. He doesn’t like the Pack. But why? They’re thriving, cause no trouble, and have improved werewolf relationships with humans.
I paid zero attention to his accusations.
Greyson wasn’t my favorite werewolf, but he was undeniably a near perfect leader. He’d never do such a thing to another wolf.
He’d never need to. If he had a problem with someone, he could simply end them.
Everyone else was not nearly so untouched.
Forrest growled—until Wyatt shook him so he had to shut up or risk biting his tongue.
Young Jack looked just as angry as Forrest. He and Amelia together burst past the werewolves. “Shut up,” he snarled, almost wolf-like. “Alpha Greyson would never do anything like that! You as—”
“Jack,” I called.
He snapped his mouth shut, but curled his hands into fists and lowered his head—not like a wolf acknowledging status, but a ram getting ready to charge.
“If it’s not your Alpha, then perhaps it’s the hunter that lives among you.” Amos smirked at me and raised his eyebrows. “She is, as she said, taught about the uses of wolfsbane.”
“How much wolfsbane did he have in him?” I asked, ignoring the accusation.
No one seemed to mind the allegation anyway. Amos Fletching had missed the notice that I was protected, but not precisely included. Remy and Forrest both relaxed though Teresa gave me a wide-eyed look of concern that I appreciated.
Amos squinted at me—I think he might have been a little disappointed at my reaction. “What?”
“How big a dose was he on?” I repeated.
Amos looked away, but when Scarlett cleared her throat, he nodded at her.
“Testing has been inconclusive on that matter,” she said. “The Regional Committee of Magic is having us run additional tests on the wolf’s fur and tissue samples, so we can judge if the amount present in his system was a result of a single dose, or multiple.”
“Multiple?” I frowned. “I think it’d be pretty difficult to miss wolves getting juiced with wolfsbane multiple times.”
“We are set to interview the Low Marsh Pack starting tomorrow,” Radcliff said. “We hope to get additional information through personal testimonies.”
So Amos really did have a legit reason for bringing in more hunters. That’ll teach me for jumping to a conclusion like an impatient puppy.
I’d been staring at the forest as I mulled over what this meant, which was how I realized the hunters were slowly closing in.
“Time will reveal who the real culprit is,” Amos said. “But I have my suspicions.” He glanced at the lodge, which made Forrest lift his upper lip in a sneer.
Werewolves. So overly loyal—to their Alpha, anyway.
I squinted in the bright afternoon sun and wished we were inside with the air conditioning blasting down on us. “What you mean is you don’t have any proof of anything. You just know wolfsbane was used.”
“Not entirely.” Amos wagged a finger at me. “The eyes of the hunters’ association has been on the Northern Lakes Pack for some years. As expected, given its oddly high percentage of successfully turned wolves, and that for over ten years it’s had a nearly 100% survival rate, even among those who don’t successfully change and remain human. That is an impossibility—one that isn’t natural.”