Chapter 67

#Chapter 67 – All Business Victor straightens his tie and clears his throat. God damnit, he thinks, pay attention, Victor. For the life of him, he can’t seem to keep his mind on the subject at hand.

For some reason –

Well, God damnit, I know the reason, he thinks, gritting his teeth –

He just can’t seem to focus on the conversation at hand, his ears instead filled with the sound of rustling grasses.

“Victor,” Annabeth Prath says, leaning forward to look him in the eye. “Are you all right? Do you need a minute?”

“No, thank you,” Victor says, clearing his throat again. “I apologize. I’ve got…a lot on my plate.”

“You surely do,” says James Willard, leaning back in his chair and surveying Victor with a smirk. “You sure you can handle it all, m’boy?”

Victor narrows his eyes at Willard for that one, putting his hands on his desk and leaning his weight onto them. “Thank you both for coming today, as my guests,” he says, emphasizing the term as he stares at Willard, reminding him of his place. “I’m looking forward to discussing with both of you the next steps regarding the Prath school.”

“For me,” Annabeth says, her eyes flitting between the two men, sensing the odd tension between them, “the priority needs to be strictly on the education that the children receive.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Victor says, nodding at her and standing up straight. “We need to create a school that can stand up against the best human schools for educational quality, to give our children a strong start in the world.”

“This is where we disagree, then,” Willard says, contrary. “I believe that the emphasis should be on inculcating identity, culture.”

Annabeth frowns at him. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean,” Willard says, waving an explanatory hand, “that the great advantage to having children of wolf heritage together in one school is that we can begin to educate them about that heritage. It gives us the opportunity to build a future generation that is dedicated to a singular goal.”

“That sounds awfully close to indoctrination,” Victor says, his voice low with warning.

Willard shrugs, not denying it. “It’s an opportunity to shape the future by raising children who are united in the pursuit of our goals.”

“At the expense of their quality of education? At the creation of critical thinking skills?” Annabeth raises an eyebrow, likewise suspicious.

“It’s true,” Victor says, joining Annabeth in protest. “I have two sons who I hope very shortly to enroll in this school, sons who have a rather stunning intellectual ability. I’m not going to send them there just to be brainwashed into some conservative beliefs about their heritage and their roles within their culture.”

“I have heard much of these boys,” Willard says, meeting Victor’s dark gaze. “They are purportedly full of great potential. They could do wonderful things for our people, if directed correctly.”

Victor frowns at Willard. The boys have indeed been all over the news, but what has not yet leaked is their extraordinary intellectual ability.

“I, too, have heard words of your sons’ mental capacities,” Annabeth says softly. “But I think Victor and I are on the same page in thinking that the greatest service we can give to them, and thus to our culture, is a rigorous education that helps them to develop their skills.”

“Pardon me,” Victor says, waving a hand to stop the conversation in its tracks. “How are you already aware of my sons’ abilities? This is something I assumed I was telling you about today.”

Annabeth blinks at him, surprised. “From John Walsh.”

Victor feels his fingers pricking as his claws immediately respond to Annabeth’s words. From the corner of his eye, he can see Willard smirking at him.

“What has John Walsh said to you,” Victor growls, “about my sons.”

“It’s not what he’s said to us, Victor,” Annabeth says, leaning forward with concern. “It’s what he’s saying to everyone. I don’t want you to think that Walsh and I are having secret meetings about your children. It’s the only conversation he wants to have with anyone right now. At every party, every meeting, Walsh finds the opportunity to mention his grandchildren and their extraordinary mental capacities.”

Victor’s eyes shift to Willard, noticing that he makes no such denial of personal conversation with Walsh. Instead, Willard’s smile grows, taking pleasure in watching Victor struggle under this new revelation.

Victor’s rage grows inside him and his claws begin to emerge from his fingertips, scraping the fine wood of his desk.

Willard responds not by cowing, but laughing, which only increases Victor’s rage. “It looks to me,”

Willard says, standing and buttoning his suitcoat, “that you need a minute to get your ducks in a row.”

He begins to walk towards Victor’s office door. “I’ll be in touch in a few days, Victor. In the meantime, I suggest you begin to pay better attention to the political field, to the cultural conversation.” He glances back as he strolls out the door. “Especially considering that you and your…family…are frequently at the center of it.”

Both Annabeth and Victor watch him go. “That man,” Annabeth says, shaking her head. “Has truly let a little bit of power go to his head. He’s always tried to portray himself as just the humble leader of a small, progressive pack, but that’s such bullshit. He’s always wanted to be in charge.”

Victor works to calm his breathing, willing his claws to retract. “I concur. It was, perhaps, a mistake…to give him so much at once.”

Annabell turns her head to Victor. “I don’t see how you could have done anything else.”

“Neither do I,” Victor responds, still watching the door where Willard stood a few moments ago. “Which is part of the problem. I allowed myself to be backed into a corner. I never should have let it happen.”

Annabeth likewise stands up, smoothing her skirt with her hands. “I like you, Kensington,” she says, gathering her things. “I think that your heart is in the right place and that you’re not playing this game for political power alone.” She looks him in the eye as she moves towards the door. “Be careful, here.

They’re working on something.”

Victor nods his agreement and she leaves. He sighs and runs a hand through his perfect hair, mussing it. He’s grateful to have Annabeth on his side, but she’s right. Something’s coming, and he’s got to get ahead of it.

Amelia peeks around Victor’s door. “Hey, how did it go?” she asks.

Victor shakes his head at her. “Not as well as I’d have hoped. There’s…well, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

Amelia quickly crosses the room, coming close to smooth his hair. “I’m sorry, you seem stressed, baby,” she says softly, warmly. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” Victor says, shaking his head and smiling at her, thinking that when she’s feeling kind, Amelia can truly be lovely. “Thank you, but I just need to figure this out.”

Amelia tugs him by the hand, drawing him out of the office and into the kitchen. “Let’s get you a drink,”

she says, smiling at him and leading him over to the small bar in the corner of the kitchen. “You need to relax.”

“No, Amelia,” Victor says, looking distantly out the back window. “I need to keep my head clear so that I can think.”

There’s movement out in the back yard and Victor looks towards it, curious. He smiles, seeing two little boys running around the pool, followed by a slim figure dressed in blue. Behind him, he distantly hears the sound of liquid pouring into a glass.

Victor’s boys burst through the back door, all smiles.