Page 49 of It’s You

C ouncil members and representatives from all eight packs of the Northern Bloodlands started arriving at dawn.

From a distinct triangular territory in the central, forested part of Quebec, as far east as Fremont, as far west as Wemindji, and as far south as the woods just north of the great city, the packs descended on Portes de l’Enfer in the Faunique des Laurentides for the annual Gathering.

Each of the other seven packs was allowed to send up to twenty-five pack members, including their five council members, to the Gathering. The Portes de l’Enfer pack, as hosts, encouraged all pack members to attend the meeting.

Some of the packs, like the one from Lac de Coeur, came on motorcycles, loud and gregarious, despite the early morning.

Others, like the pack just south of Jack’s in the Cap Tormente National, arrived civilly in cars, dressed like natty humans.

Some of the packs who were spread out over the far northwest had come shifted in the night and were still naked and dirty in the morning, and Jack was pretty sure some of them might even stay like that all weekend.

The ancient log Gathering Hall, built two hundred years ago when the Natio Luporem established itself in the Northern Bloodlands, was a massive, oval-shaped longhouse that held three hundred Rougs in bleacher-style seating with the forty council members seated at a large horseshoe-shaped table in the middle of the open, sawdust covered floor.

Tallis had left early to arrange for Dubois’s tribute on the day’s agenda. He would be buried at sundown.

From what Jack could tell over breakfast, Julien had been right.

The sunken, pallid mask gone now, his mother’s face had filled out in the night, and her skin tone was healthier, with a glow in her cheeks.

Her eyes sparkled like a woman ten years younger, and there was a bounce in her step as she moved around the kitchen making breakfast. She even had a kind word for Lela, complimenting her on the pot of morning coffee, and winking at Tombeur as he took a sip, focused, with a searing intensity, on Tallis.

Jack watched his friend and mentor. He didn’t even need to be subtle in his observation, for Tombeur didn’t seem to realize that anyone but Tallis was alive, following his mother with his eyes, churning and hungry.

Jack wondered how soon it would be before Tallis and Tombeur were bound. Not long, he guessed.

Jack walked to the Gathering Hall with Julien, Delphine, and Lela, who held his hand. He felt very bad for her. While Tallis had moved on from her broken binding swiftly, Lela was grieving the loss of her father. Jack could feel the heaviness of her heart as she walked beside him.

“He’s not suffering anymore,” he offered, speaking quietly and squeezing her hand.

“Oh, I know,” said Lela. “It’s just…he was unhappy. He was so unhappy.”

Jack nodded.

“And he was all I had,” she continued in a small voice. “I have no one to love me now.”

“That’s not true,” countered Jack, stopping their walk and looking into his sister’s eyes. “ I love you.”

Her eyes widened, and her face, which had been so sad a moment before, brightened perceptibly. “You mean it?”

“Of course,” he said. “And so does Julien. Delphine is crazy about you.”

Her eyes clouded over, and her shoulders suddenly deflated as she sighed loudly, turning away from him.

“Will you at least stay for a while, Jacques?” she asked hopefully.

Jack thought of Darcy’s cold, frightened eyes, the boat rowing away. Although he wouldn’t be able to stay away forever, no matter how much he wished he could, he also wasn’t in any rush to return to Carlisle.

“Yeah, Lela,” he said, chucking her gently under the chin. “I’ll stay awhile.”

She smiled at him, lacing her fingers through his.

They entered the Gathering Hall and looked for the area reserved for their pack. It was getting pretty full, but Julien and Delphine had reserved seats for them in one of the higher rows.

As they crossed the central floor, passing by the council table, Lela turned to Jack, stopping him, placing her hands on his chest. Her eyes searched his. Her voice was breathy and anxious.

“You love me, Jacques? You really love me?”

Jack furrowed his brows. “Of course I do.”

She held his eyes and nodded, that happy brightness softening her features again, then she turned and took his hand, pulling him toward the steps of the bleachers.

“So let it be known. There will be no more hunting on the road between Tadoussac and Saguenay. Too many accidents there. We’re drawing attention to ourselves.

“One kill per Pleine Lune shift. I don’t care if you want more. You and your bound mate get one, so make it last, and don’t hunt in the same place more than twice a year. Stretch your legs. Go for a run. The kill zone needs to be wide and deep so that we don’t draw attention.

“Camping season is upon us. It is unwise to hunt populated campgrounds where tourists have cameras on their person at all times. We don’t need any media attention shifting to the Bloodlands. Be stealthy. Be clever. Ample food will be available, so use judgment when selecting your prey.

“And as we repeat every year, the Métis in Mistissini and Chibougamou are strictly off-limits. We respect the old order. We don’t hunt other half-breeds. They pretend not to see us, and we leave them alone!”

Tombeur scanned the crowd as he read the minutes from the meeting toward the middle of the afternoon. Some of the packs in the Northwest heckled him, and his eyes burned yellow in their direction.

“You don’t like it? The council will help you see the value in following the rules.”

The Council Enforcers stationed around the enormous lodge moved over to stand in front of the bleachers where the hecklers quickly quieted down.

The crowd hushed.

Jack recognized many of the older members of the CE.

He himself had been a Council Enforcer for years as part of his contract with Tombeur, and hunting down rogue Rougs was nothing new to Jack.

Keeping order was imperative. Without it, the Roux-ga-roux would have exposed themselves and become extinct long ago.

Even as his tenure on the CE had been necessary, some of Jack’s work on its behalf had been chilling.

He closed his eyes. He preferred not to think about it.

The skills he’d learned there had allowed him to contract work as security for the humans.

It had taught him a marketable skill that led to a profitable career and gave him unrestricted access to learn how to live among them.

“Now, our Senior Council Elder, Le Premier Loup , Marcus Saint Germain, will read the names of the fallen.”

Jack sighed and stood up with everyone else. It had already been a long day. New business was always first and had taken up much of the morning, followed by the rules and regulations review, which Tombeur had just finished. Then the fallen. Then the bindings.

Marcus Saint Germain was one of the oldest elders, holding the title First Wolf, the last alpha, a position of the utmost respect and authority.

He had read the lists of the fallen and the bound for as long as Jack could remember, although Jack’s binding had never been read aloud at a Gathering.

His mother and Tombeur had seen to that.

Better not to draw attention, his mother had explained.

Saint Germain was halfway through the list of the fallen when his parents’ names grabbed his attention.

“Dubois Beauloup joins the fallen, leaving Tallis Beauloup unbound.”

Jack heard the hushed murmurs of surprise among the pack members who didn’t know Dubois had died during the night.

He looked over at the Lac de Coeur pack coldly as they looked uncomfortably away from the Portes de l’Enfer pack.

Catching his mother’s reaction, he saw her wince lightly as her late husband’s name was announced.

Jack doubted anyone else noticed, but as soon as the next name was read, she raised her eyes to find Tombeur across the table, staring at her.

Jack watched as Tombeur’s eyes grew into a goldish-green, before he hastily looked back down at the table.

If he kept staring at her, everyone in the Gathering Hall would know his intent.

And then Jack guessed that’s exactly what he wanted because he raised his eyes again to Tallis, golden-green and furious as he held her gaze.

Tallis sat up straighter in her seat, and Jack watched as her eyes turned quickly to molten lava, copper flecks burning bright.

Others started to notice too, because Jack heard the faint rumble through the crowd. “Tallis…” “Look at Tombeur…” “Tombeur and Tallis…”

They held each other’s eyes without looking down, without faltering or failing.

Unaware of the stir caused by Tallis and Tombeur, Saint Germain finished the list of fallen with the familiar words, borrowed from the Cree, “Ah tey wa chee un kink tay.” And again I will see you.

The white-haired old man bent his head, clasping his hands in front of him, and the room went respectfully silent in tribute.

Finally, Saint Germain lifted his head and howled up at the large cutout in the ceiling of the meeting house and was quickly joined by the howls of the other pack members, who raised their voices in final tribute.

Jack sat back down and looked at his mother, whose eyes were back to brown. He flicked his glance to Tombeur, whose eyes were also brown again as he resumed his seat at the council table.