Chapter 115

#Chapter 115 – Tactical Intelligence Evelyn pushes open the back door to Victor’s house, holding it open so that Alvin and Ian can scamper in. “Hello?” she calls.

“Ah, Evelyn,” Henry Kensington rolls into sight from the living room, looking her up and down with a sneer on his face. “How good of you to come.”

“Pop pop!” Alvin yells, dashing over to his grandfather, Ian following closely after. Alvin puts one of his own feet on each of his grandfather’s wheelchair’s footrests, next to the larger feet already placed there, and uses the leverage to climb up, leaning forward to his grandfather can give him a hug.

Ian circles around the chair and climbs up the back to wrap his arms around his grandfather’s neck.

“Hello, pop pop!” he says, laughing.

“Boys, really,” Evelyn says, moving forward, “get down – you’ll hurt the chair -”

“Don’t scold them, Evelyn,” Henry says – apparently not seeing the irony in the fact that he’s scolding her. “The chair has seen worse, let me say hello to them.”

He hugs Alvin and pats Ian on the arm while Evelyn crosses her arms and waits. After they have scampered off to the kitchen in search of a snack, she tries again.

“I received a note, from the Betas,” she says. “Asking me to come up here? What’s up?”

“The second trial,” Henry replies, turning his chair and heading back towards Victor’s office. “It is only appropriate for his heirs to be here to witness it.”

Henry rolls away and Evelyn rolls her eyes, realizing that Henry just assumes she will follow him. But, as she has no real other option, she calls to the boys and the three of them head into Victor’s office.

Inside, Evelyn is surprised to see a great number of people already gathered. Victor’s mother, brother, Bridgette, even Burton and several Betas are here to witness the event. The furniture has changed, too. Instead of Victor’s heavy desk in the middle of the room, there is only a simple table. Victor sits at it already, but Rafe’s seat is empty.

In the middle of the table, a marble chess board sits, ready for a game.

The boys run to their father. “Papa!” Alvin says, taking his hand. “What are you doing? What’s that?” He looks at the chess board curiously.

“You don’t know the game of chess?” Victor asks, surprised and curious.

“I think we’ve heard of it,” Ian says, resting his chin on the edge of the table and studying the board.

“But we don’t know how to play it.”

“It’s a gentleman’s game,” Victor says, smiling at both of them. “So, you’ll certainly have to learn at some point.” He pauses to look at Evelyn. “This is an oversight, on our part,” he says. “We’ll have to get them a chess tutor as soon as we can.”

Evelyn shrugs, noncommittal. “If they enjoy it,” she says. Frankly, she always thought the game a little boring. She opens her mouth, intending to let him know that the boys are deft hands at poker, but then she reconsiders and closes it. It doesn’t seem a useful thing to bring up just now.

At that moment, Rafe breezes in, two steaming cups of tea in his hand. He places one at his seat and hands the other to Victor. “Black tea,” he explains to those in the room who look at him curiously.

“Sweetened with cherries. An old trick of the Russian masters.” He gives the crowd a wink and settles down in his chair.

Victor whispers to the boys to go and stand with Evelyn, so they do, one on each side. Everyone settled, Henry rolls up to the table as well.

“This is the second of the tasks which will help to determine which of my sons is most capable leader for the future of this pack. The first test, completed earlier this week, tested Rafe and Victor’s social capabilities. As wolves are social creatures, their ability to interact, negotiate, and influence is incredibly important.”

“Also tested that evening,” he continues, glancing at me and Bridgette, his face a little unhappy, “is the capacity of each of their chosen Lunas,” he says the word with a little sarcasm, Evelyn assumes because she is not actually Victor’s chosen Luna, “to assist him in these social aspects.”

“That part of the test complete,” he says quickly, and Evelyn smirks at the fact that he doesn’t mention that she won, “we now move to a test of sheer intelligence.”

Victor and Rafe square off against each other at the table. A bit ceremoniously, each raises their cup of tea to each other, clinks them together, and then takes a long sip.

“Chess,” Henry says, “as we all know, is a test of strategy and intelligence, both of which are important for an Alpha to master. The challenge is simple: may the best man win.”

With that, he wheels his chair to sit next to his wife. Rafe, playing white, makes the first move, moving a pawn forward two spaces into a center square. Victor quickly counters, clearly an old hand at the game.

Evelyn sighs, realizing that she has been called up here for an event that’s likely going to take hours.

Not like she didn’t have anything else planned today. The boys fidget next to her. “Mama,” Alvin whispers. “How long does this game go?”

“Not long,” she say, leaning down and whispering the white lie.

Ian tugs on her sleeve. “What do the little horses do?”

Evelyn opens her mouth to encourage him to be quiet – the rest of the room is silent – when Burton suddenly appears at their side. He holds out two copies of Beginning Chess to the boys.

“I thought you might enjoy some light reading,” he says to them, his face very serious.

The boys grab the books, hungry for the information, and sit on the floor as they dig in. Evelyn gives Burton a broad smile and he returns it with a small bow. “Madame.”

The game, predictably, takes forever. Most of the time Evelyn leans her head against the wall, counting the seconds as they pass, wishing it were over. Victor, she knows, will win – he can run circles around Rafe intellectually.

Almost two hours later, Evelyn feels someone again tug at her sleeve. Looking down, I see Alvin’s little face looking up at me. “Mama,” he says. “What’s wrong with daddy?”

Frowning, Evelyn turns her attention to the game.

She’s surprised to see that the majority of Victor’s white pieces are off the board and that the squares are crowded with black figures. The game, it appears, is not going well for Victor, who is uncharacteristically slumped in his chair.

Evelyn blinks, a little shocked. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen Victor sit in a chair without looking like he has a steel plate for a spine. He’s also pressing the bridge of his nose between his fingers, a gesture he only makes when he’s really frustrated, and he keeps blinking and shaking his head.

Indeed, what is wrong with him?

“Mama, he’s not right,” Ian says, frowning at his father. Evelyn nods in agreement and takes a step forward.

“Victor,” she says. “Are you all right?”

Rafe spins to glare at her. “Stand back, Evelyn. How dare you interrupt.”

“But,” she says, raising a hand to gesture at Victor. “He’s –“

“Away, Evelyn,” Henry growls. “Don’t interfere.”

Victor blinks and then looks up at her. “I’m…” he takes a minute to gather his thoughts. Evelyn looks around the room, trying to catch someone’s eye – anyone’s –

Marissa locks eyes with Evelyn, her face worried, suggesting that she, too, knows that something is up.

Burton is likewise frowning. The Betas are stoic, not giving anything away, and Bridgette just picks at her nails.

“I’m fine, Evelyn,” Victor says, clearing his throat and shaking his head. “We will continue.”

Evelyn stands back against the wall, gritting her teeth. Next to her, Ian crosses his arms and frowns, angry. “He’s not fine, mama,” he says. Alvin nods vigorously in agreement.

“I know, babies,” she whispers. “But he asked us not to help.”

A few quick moves later, Rafe sits back in his chair, victory written all over his face. Victor studies the board, his eyes glassy.

“Don’t you see, brother?” Rafe says with a dirty smirk. Victor looks up at him, almost uncomprehending.

“I’ve won. It’s checkmate.”

Victor frowns, looking down at the board. Rafe leans forward and deftly, slowly, flicks a finger so that Victor’s king falls down with a clatter.

“s**t,” Victor murmurs, admitting his defeat.

“Well,” Henry says, slapping the arms of his wheelchair with a big smile. “That’s that. Everyone, back to your day.”

Bridgette claps and cheers, but she’s the only one. The Betas move swiftly out of the room, following Henry, Rafe, and Bridgette. When they’re gone, Marissa hurries forward and puts a hand on Victor’s shoulder, turning her face up to him.

“Victor, darling, are you okay?”

Evelyn moves forward too, curious. The boys go with her.

“I’m fine, mom,” he mutters, trying to bat her hand away. But they can both tell by his sleepy voice, his uncharacteristic dismissal, that things are very much not okay.

“Come on,” Evelyn says to Marissa, putting a hand under his arm. “Let’s get him to bed.” Marissa takes his other side and, together, they heft him to his feet.

“Boys, go home,” Evelyn says to them as we move towards the door. “I’ll be down soon.” The boys stare at Evelyn as she leaves the room with their father. In the hallway, Evelyn catches Burton’s eye.

She mouths “the doctor” to him, indicating that he should call, and he hurries off.

Then, together, Evelyn and Marissa help Victor stumble up to bed.

The boys do not go home, though. Worried, they watch from the office door as their mother helps their father up the stairs and into his bedroom.

“Do you think he will be okay?” Alvin asks, worried.

“I don’t know,” Ian says, frowning. “What happened?” As one, they turn to look back into the room.

Ian moves over towards the chess set, studying it. “Daddy was doing better at the beginning,” he says, thoughtful. “But Uncle Rafe did much better towards the end.”

“Why did Daddy start to do worse?” Alvin wonders aloud, having memorized the rules and some basic strategies already from his reading. They study the table and then Alvin’s eyes move to the tea cups that sit empty on the table.

The brothers look at each other, then, sharing the same thought. Ian reaches out and takes Rafe’s cup, raising it to his nose and then passing it to his brother. Then, he does the same with his father’s cup.

“Do you think they smell the same?” Ian asks.

“No,” Alvin responds, confirming Ian’s own analysis. “They should smell the same. But daddy’s is different.”

They look at each other then, growing ever more serious. They take a few moments, then, to process in silence.

“Well,” Alvin says finally, decided. “If Uncle Rafe isn’t going to play fair, then neither are we.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Ian responds.

With that, both boys nod, and then carefully, quietly, leave the house without talking to anyone. They cross the yard in silence and go home.