Page 15 of Of Hearts and Hunters (Fallen Crowns Duet #1)

VERITY

T he hours leading up to the pack meeting drag. Thank God I’m at work for most of that time. But when I get home around five, my nerves triple. I’m so antsy that I’m pacing the kitchen, even with my limp slowing me down. And I’m a hundred percent getting sick because my throat is scratchy and my head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.

“What’d you do to yourself?” Briony asks as she marches into the kitchen, rubbing paint-stained fingers against her art shirt. Briony helped Bodhi open this morning and put away a new shipment, so she got home a few hours before me. From the looks of things, she’s tired, because she’s heading for the coffee machine.

“Coffee?” she asks without turning her head, already grabbing two mugs from our cupboard.

“Yeah. Thanks,” I breathe as Briony digs in the drawer for Keurig pods. “I hurt my ankle last night,” I admit as she comes up empty-handed.

“Damn. We need more pods,” she grumbles, but changes her tune when she yanks a few stragglers wedged at the back of the drawer. “Yay!” she exclaims, eyes sparkling as she begins to open up the top of the Keurig machine.

I can’t help but smile despite my shitty mood as I pick up the water canister and head over to the sink.

“I thought you weren’t on patrol last night,” Briony adds as I fill up.

“I wasn’t,” I respond, my heart thumping angrily in my chest for not being fully honest with her. “I just went for a walk. Got caught in the storm.”

Briony frowns at me. “That’s one way to catch pneumonia–which might actually happen,” she points out, examining my face. “Are you going to be okay for the meeting?”

“Don’t have a choice,” I respond, loading up the freshly filled water canister into the coffee machine.

Briony nods as she queues everything up. “Well, I’m sure we’ll be discussing this insane ‘peace party’ idea.”

Without a backward glance, we can both feel the near pull of the formal invitation still sitting on our island. Neither of us have been able to move it. We haven't even looked at it since it arrived–but that doesn’t mean we haven’t thought about it.

“I think it’s a bad idea,” I sigh, leaning against the counter, arms folded, as coffee trickles into Briony’s flower mug.

Briony cocks her head to the side, long red ponytail swishing as she goes. Her green eyes are perceptive. “Because you think it’s a trap or because you don’t want to entertain the idea of peace?”

“Both.”

Briony frowns at me but seems to take a minute to say what’s on her mind. “Vamps can suck dick,” she shocks me by saying (she’s not the curse-spewing bitch that I am). “But I don’t know. If we could just have a truce–you know, ‘you don’t kill us, we won’t kill you–’”

“D’you think they’ll actually go for that?” I’m quick to fire back as Briony moves her now-full mug out of the way to fill mine–an Anime mug of some kind, that stuff’s not my scene–and gives me a frown.

“I’m just tired of everyone we love dying,” she proclaims as she picks up our chipped milk saucer, causing me to shut my trap. She shakes a hefty sprinkle of cinnamon into her coffee and uses a nearby spoon to stir it.

The silence is heavy. I guess I need to watch myself and get out of my own head. Briony and I deal with our grief differently. I get mad and vengeful; Briony gets emotional and defensive. She guards herself in her own way. I need to be more–sensitive? Caring? Something.

“I know,” I sigh, finally sucking in a guilty breath and rubbing her arm. “I’m sure the meeting tonight will, uh… Help. Maybe.”

Briony bites down on a laugh at my halfway-positive vibes and my lame attempt at comfort. “Thank you. I think.” She watches as I turn to sneeze into the sleeve of my top. “Are you sure you’re up to going?” She frowns. “Whenever you get sick, it’s like the world has ended.”

It’s true. I don’t get sick often, but when I do, it’s bad. And I hate doing anything about it. I had a sore throat for a week before I finally went to the doctor and found out I had strep.

I hesitate before finally asking, “Are you up to going tonight, Bree?”

She stares at me as she sips her coffee, her green eyes wide with surprise. “Why? I’m feeling totally fine,” she defends, but I fold my arms and watch my coffee brew into my mug. It’s not moving fast enough, and I’ll need all the caffeine I can get for this meeting. And I’m not letting Briony’s song and dance–AKA denial–or my exhausted state get in the way of this.

“I know you like him,” I proclaim, causing Briony to arch a red eyebrow.

“What? Who?” Briony shakes her head in dismissal, sipping her coffee with milk and cinnamon. It would be an excellent poker face if I didn’t know her so well.

Huh. Maybe she’s not going to admit it out loud–not without a fight. And I don’t want to make her say it if she doesn’t want to.

“Never mind,” I respond as I yank my mug away from the Keurig machine, ignoring the burn of the beverage on my tongue as I down it. “Let’s just go to this meeting–”

“And you gotta be on time, for once, because you’re in the nobility now,” Briony interrupts, a knowing sparkle in her eye before a random and loud knock breaks into her dig at me.

We glance toward the door, confused.

“Who the hell is–oh,” I sigh, putting my mug down and marching for the foyer.

None other than Jerald Glazer is at the door. I can tell from the scent and the almost tangible ray of fucking sunshine he carries with him everywhere that hits my senses like a transport truck.

Jerald’s a nice guy and all, but if he wasn’t a part of the Cold Moon Pack, I probably wouldn’t be friends with him. He’s a little too nice for me–and too chirpy. He’s always fucking happy.

I unlock and open the door.

“Hey, runt!” Jerald proves my point by booming at me, wiping a damp lock of his wavy brown hair off his face. His hoodie is damp. Will this rain ever stop?!

“You look like shit,” he continues before I can snap at him for calling me runt , surprising me, but he’s still in a happy-go-lucky mood, so I take pleasure in narrowing my eyes up at him.

“Just for that, I’m gonna cough on you all night, dick,” I warn him.

“Classy, as always.” He grins at me as I step aside, inviting him in without saying anything. “Especially since I’m your taxi service tonight.”

“Right. I texted you,” Briony affirms, approaching us while still enjoying her coffee.

I bet that cools Jerald’s jets a little bit. He’s got it bad for Briony, but she’s got no idea. She’s too busy with her art, grief, and Paxton. It doesn't help that this peace party shit is weighing heavily on us too.

“Great. Come in and shut up,” I tell Jerald as he kicks off his hiking boots and frowns at me in response.

I should’ve known to chug a Red Bull instead of coffee because the first face I see coming up to Megsie’s apartment door is Chiara’s. She’s prissy as fuck with her perfect hair, pink sweater, and black leggings. She’s holding a big serving plate wrapped tightly to hold its contents. It looks and smells like a Greek dessert of some kind. Her mom must have baked something because there’s no way Chiara’s ever set foot in a kitchen before.

Chiara looks at me all haughty and smug like she’s got something on me–when it’s actually the other way around–but I say nothing as Jerald and Briony say ‘hi’ to her. Chiara opens the door to Megsie’s apartment and saunters inside.

The way she just breezes through life, acting like everything is owed to her, pisses me off so much, I want to hit her whenever I see her. Even as a Kormo, I’d never just invite myself into my Kormi’s apartment without her permission. I guess Chiara gets away with everything because of her brother. She may not get official perks, but she definitely gets excused for way too much.

Jerald pulls open the door and holds it for Briony and me. It looks like the entire pack is here. The three of us coming in completes the Cold Moon Pack at nine members. Packs usually have ten members max, but due to territory sizes, numbers can be different from place to place.

Frederick would have put us at ten. His absence is felt whenever we have a pack meeting–and not just because he was our Kormo. When we gather at The Azalea Tavern, whenever we carve out a second of our misery to have a short laugh, we feel his death even more.

I’m supposed to avenge his death by killing Darren. That’s another reason why I feel like such a failure. I’m holding off on the kill–going against my Korma and Kormi’s orders and also refusing to avenge one of my friends. I don’t mean it that way, but that’s definitely not what my conscience says whenever I have an internal crisis, or whatever it’s called.

Megsie breaks me out of my train of thought when she comes around the wall, tray of food in hand. Max Bojarzin, the blond dude who loves killing vamps just as much as I do, takes the tray from Megsie without a word, bringing it to the coffee table. Respecting the Kormi is just as important as giving our support to the Korma.

Megsie holds just as much authority as Paxton in many ways–but she doesn’t have a Kormi Voice, and final decisions still rest with him. Then again, they usually make decisions as a unit. I can’t really remember a time when Paxton went over Megsie’s head. I guess now that I’m the new Kormo, it’ll be a three-way decision-making team.

Niles and Paxton are on Megsie’s L-shaped couch, laughing about something that happened in their university days. I didn’t realize they’d gone to school together, but it only makes sense. They’ve been best friends for years. Chiara is walking through the living room with her contribution to the meeting. She sets it next to Megsie’s tray of snacks and then takes a seat next to Paxton, shoulders squared and eyes scheming.

Typically, the Korama Nobility sit together. Megsie and I should flank Paxton. We should always flank Paxton. Keeping the Korma safe is our biggest job–even during a pack meeting, where it’s assumed he’d be safe. You never know when disaster will strike. Even within Korama Territory with allies all around, Vampyr attacks can happen. And what better way to kill us all than to come for us during a pack meeting? It’s not like the vamps know when ours are, but it wouldn’t be hard to figure that out, especially if they’re allied with the Magicena.

Jerald, Briony, and I soundlessly disperse through the room. Jerald grabs a Greek dessert (I forget what it’s called, but I know it tastes good) from Chiara’s tray and hovers near the wall near Chiara’s side of the couch. Briony takes a bottle of water from the coffee table, orienting herself next to Lylah, who looks like she’s been here for a while. Lylah’s sitting on one of the leather chairs. Briony sits on the arm of the chair, Lylah shuffling over so her friend has more room.

“Let’s get started.”

It’s already after seven. Unlike me, Paxton has a thing about being on time or early for things. He’s probably antsy that we’re still settling in and not doing anything work-related.

The entire pack hushes instantly, everyone training their eyes on Paxton. He never buckles under the pressure. And it’s not like it’s just the eight of us who do this to him. The entire Korama community looks up to him. I don’t know how he does it.

“Before we get to tonight’s agenda, I’d like to open up the floor to questions or concerns.”

This is usually done at meetings. Paxton, Megsie, and Freddie would always give the pack an opportunity to speak up if they had any problems or an urgent issue to discuss. We pride ourselves on full-on communication–another reason why I feel like shit for lying. Maybe that’s why I’m standing on the fringes of the living room, closest to the door.

Chiara stands up. “I put forward the motion to remove Verity as Kormo,” she begins, not even looking at me as she speaks.

Megsie whips her head up from her seated position at the leather chair opposite Briony and Lylah, her jaw dropping to the floor. This surprises me. Nothing gets to Megsie. Being a lawyer, I figured she’s seen and heard everything by now. But for some reason, this throws her.

I guess I’m shocked too–sort of. I’m not surprised Chiara would pull this kind of shit. But I am a little stunned she’d do it at a pack meeting–my first one as a Kormo, to boot–after I dragged her ass away from a potential war-like situation.

“How dare you!” Briony snarls, her inner wolf dragging through her vocal cords, her usually pleasant green eyes churning into a dangerous oval shape to match her fury.

Megsie throws an arm out to silence my closest friend. Briony closes her mouth but glares daggers at Chiara, who glowers right back.

My throat is tight with gratitude at Briony’s rush to defend me. Even if I feel like shit emotionally and physically, the fact that she’s willing to stand up for me without question is moving. But I wonder if she’d still fight for me if she knew the truth.

“She and I found the Vampyr Prince just the other night, and Verity didn’t kill him,” Chiara goes on. Of course, she doesn’t say what’s really on her mind:

You should give Verity the boot and promote me to Kormo, instead.

I can feel Paxton’s stare. I know I’m in deep shit without meeting his glance. My hands are balled up into fists at my sides. My head is pounding. I think I’m gonna puke. Still, I say nothing, do nothing. It’s not my place. I need to wait for Paxton or Megsie to address me before I respond.

“Explain yourself, Verity,” Paxton requests calmly but firmly. When I make eye contact with him, his honey-brown eyes are cold and calculating–probably rethinking promoting me in the first place.

“It’s true. We chased him down,” I explain. “But he was already over the border before Chiara jumped him.”

If you’re gonna tell the truth, tell the whole truth, bitch!

But I guess the same could be said about me. What does that make me, a hypocrite or something?

Paxton turns his head to stare at his little sister.

Megsie covers her eyes with her hand. “Good God,” she groans.

“He was trespassing! And he murdered Jaxon!” Chiara protests to Paxton as murmurs erupt from all four sides of the room. “She didn’t kill him when she had the chance!”

I was wondering when Chiara was going to get to that.

Fuck!

There’s no way I can scoop my way out of this shitshow. If I tell the pack why Darren swooped in the way he did (damn, what a horrible choice of words), it’ll open up suspicion about us being more than mortal enemies.

“I dragged your ass away because you crossed the border,” I tell Chiara evenly despite my heart thundering frantically in my chest, making me disoriented and dizzy. “Even if the Prince killed Jaxon–a huge-ass if , where’s your proof?–the Vamp Queen would’ve beat our doors down if you killed him.”

Chiara opens her mouth, probably to tell us how she played detective, when Megsie interrupts. Thank God.

“With the peace party in five days, there’s no way we could have gone through with a murder like that–especially on Vampyr Territory. Even if it was motivated by vengeance. Thank you for stopping her, Verity.”

The rest of the pack is still spiralling, talking in hushed tones and tossing me worried and confused glances. But when Paxton stands, the room falls creepily silent.

“He knows I’m after him,” I add, not sure if I should keep pleading my case, but it kind of falls out of my mouth like verbal diarrhea. That’s not like me at all. “It’s not like he got away scot-free–‘specially since his intestines practically fell out.”

I still remember Darren’s shrieks of pain. They haunted my dreams when I finally fell asleep earlier today. There was something really weird about them. Maybe it’s weird because I actually (God help me) felt sorry for the newbie vamp.

I’d never admit that to anyone.

Paxton looks down at his sister. “You should be thankful your Kormo pulled you out of a spot. And you need to show her some respect. Next time you want revenge, come to me first. Doing anything about Jaxon’s murder now would trigger a war. Motion denied.”

Jerald claps, and so does Briony. Megsie is still bewildered and stunned, which sends a shiver down my spine. Her surprise isn’t something I understand. Chiara sits down in a huff.

When Paxton looks at me, I know there’s more to his decision. He’ll probably pull me aside after the meeting–but for now, I’m in the clear. Thank God. I have enough shit to deal with without a fucking– coup ?–screwing with my brain.

Still, now that there’s talk of Darren killing that fuckface, I’m not fully out of the woods yet. When the peace party is over, I’m sure Paxton and Megsie will circle back to Darren being a potential suspect. Hopefully the party will buy me some time to figure out that particular dumpster fire.

Whatever. That’s a future Verity problem.

“Onto more relevant matters,” Paxton states coldly, sitting down again to silence from the rest of us. “The Korama community has been rattled by the proposed peace party invitation from il Sovrano. Megsie, Verity, and I spoke with la Reine. She’s as confused as we are. In a word, we are wary.”

“What do we do?” Jerald asks. “Isn’t everyone invited?”

Paxton nods. “Every member of each faction is invited. There are more of us than the other two, but it’s still a big move from Andre.”

He pauses, then looks over at Megsie as if he’s asking her to continue the conversation. She stiffens.

“We’ve decided that it’s unsafe to let the entire Korama race attend,” she proclaims, crossing her legs and adjusting her white blouse. “That would leave innocents in the line of fire if this is a staged assault. Only the Cold Moon Pack will be in attendance.”

I guess I wasn’t included in that decision. More fanning Chiara’s fucking flames. But even if I wasn’t a part of the motion, I still a hundred percent support it. No way should we involve families with little kids and older people in something that could be dangerous.

“Have you already RSVP’d?” Briony surprises me by speaking up.

Paxton nods at her. “Yes. Megsie called Andre and spoke to him.”

I can’t help but look at Megsie in surprise. The leaders of each faction can get in touch with each other, but it’s rare. Paxton organizing a meeting with Lenore and Megsie calling the Magicena King are examples of this but fucking throw the rest of us.

“And?” Chiara prompts, twirling her dark braid absently.

“He agreed to the notion,” Megsie responds. “We are all to attend. We must present a united front, as well. As Verity so clearly demonstrated, we need to be civil and refrain from vendettas during this time.”

Oh. So I’m not in as much shit, after all.

I probably should keep my yap closed, just in case I say something that accidentally pisses off Paxton all over again. Better to be safe than sorry.

“And what if it’s a trap?” Max asks sharply, moving his blond hair away from his eye as he waits for Paxton to respond. “We can’t shift. We’ll be sitting ducks.”

“The nobility have their suspicions,” Paxton answers easily. “Megsie, Verity, and I aren’t fooled by il Sovrano’s invitation or the Queen’s cluelessness. But if the sparklies are plotting against us, they’d also be scheming against the Vampyrs. Taking on two factions at once would be way too reckless for them.”

I swallow back puke–and not just because I’m getting sick (well, I guess I am sick right now). The Cold Moon Pack doesn’t know that the Magicena and Vampyrs have a secret alliance. If they decide to jump us while we’re at the party, we could all die.

Maybe I was wrong to keep my bazoo shut. The problem is, Darren and I don’t have any solid proof about the other two factions working together. All Darren really had for me was a secret meeting the Queen had that he somehow couldn’t overhear. That’s nowhere close to being called, ‘proof.’

Do I warn them?

But if I do, that means I have to spill the rest of the beans. I’ll probably be excommunicated for working with a Vampyr–and for clearly refusing the kill order against him. Not only that, but Darren would definitely die. I mean, he’s an annoying little twerp, but he doesn’t deserve to die–especially if he was just trying to help us out.

Wait.

Did I just think that?

Before I can beat myself up for it, the meeting changes course to the ‘plan of attack’ for the fourteenth. I’m too nauseous and disoriented to really pay attention. I try to make it look like I’m listening because I don’t want the pack to beat my ass for being a bad Kormo, but that takes all of my energy. I hear the words coming out of their mouths, but I don’t understand them.

Damn. I’m getting really sick.