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Chapter 57

Chapter Twelve - Part Four

The Rules of the Red - 2014 Watty Award Winner |✓|

There was a second when I feared that I had vastly misjudged the capability of my own actions. In fact, the look on Ethan’s face when I had touched his knee was absolutely murderous as he registered in an instant what my attempts were. But as it turns out, it is indeed factual (but also providential) to a degree, that most males tend to think with their lower heads. And Ethan proved no different. The fight went out of him the moment my fingers clasped a little. And epiphany, enlightenment, utopia – whatever it was that passed across his face looked awfully sinful in nature.

Nevertheless, I somehow, mysteriously won his vote – much to the chagrin of Leader Devila and Leader Raines.

But while his two Leaders were merely disappointed, Charles was furious. I could see it in the renewed rigidity of his shoulders, and the way in which he blatantly refused to look at me when he spoke. And I admit, it did worry me a little, but I was on a roll now that wouldn’t be slowed or stopped. No matter how hard he tried.

So Charles promised to get in touch with the Hunters, and inform them of our decision. We would help them in their task, and lend our services in the investigation. But the Elder still felt it necessary to concede defeat with the last word. He warned his Leaders of the situation at hand. He reminded that in trusting the Hunters we were potentially opening ourselves up to outside influences that could be dangerous.

But his warnings I ignored. They held no weight in my eyes, and were about as heavy to me as a palm full of water.

*  *  *

The sharp ringing from the alarm set on Charles’ phone let us know that something important was about to happen next. He silenced the alarm, looked up and down the table, and then asked each of us in turn if we were ready. We all either nodded or said yes, and the next moment, he clicked a button on a remote and the television screen flickered to life before us.

On the TV’s surface was shown the image of a small, plain room. The walls were blank and white, much like the room in which Annie had locked Ethan and me inside, but this one didn’t have chairs or tables with the ugly flowers. But somehow the room still gave the distinct impression that it was based somewhere within the hotel. In the top right corner of the television’s screen was another little box that held the image of our Leadership and its Elder, seated stiffly at their table. And from this reflection of ourselves, I could plainly view Ethan’s eyes trained on me.

Seconds later, there was the sound of a door swinging briefly open and closed, from somewhere unseen. And not long after, someone walked into the focus of the camera: a woman – old and portly, with white, curly hair and cheeks that were permanently weathered. She was angry and frustrated, glaring into the camera. Dressed in an expensive fur jacket with a fancy church hat and her heavy handbag, it wasn’t difficult to see that she came from wealth.

“Mrs. Planchon, as always, it is a pleasure to see you.” Charles said to her warmly, in one easy lie. “How can we be of service to you this afternoon, madam?”

“I pay good money to feel safe in this town, Elder. And yet, my substantial donations to the Leadership seem to have either gone unnoticed or completely unappreciated. In either case, I can only say that I have been left feeling extremely dissatisfied.”

“Well, the sooner you get to the point of the topic at hand, the sooner we can get around to solving your problem, Margaret.” Mathew replied, with a stiff smile and an affability that I could tell was forced.

But Mrs. Planchon, it seemed, was no more fooled than I. And she puffed up a good deal as she regarded Mr. Raines through the lens of the camera. Mathew, however, hardly seemed to notice as he went back to inspecting his nails.

“Someone has been cutting my rosebushes!” she said. Her tone was abrasive, and her eyes were squinted and flat. “Every day, for a week, I’ve woken to see more and more of my beautiful roses littering the grounds of my property. I’m almost down to the last of them! I’ll have no more till next season! Don’t you understand what that means?” she demanded, but no seemed to have an answer. “I have the largest collection of roses in the town. Certain members of the Garou rely on the production of my flowers, Elder. Why, that young man – seated right there next to you – came into my shop looking to buy roses this morning, and I had to sell him something from the fridges instead. Imagine my embarrassment! The boy comes in looking for the flower of love and I send him on his way with a damn hyacinth!”

The way she stressed the word, caused me to chuckle. Until I recalled the rest of what it is that she had said.

‘Why that young man – seated right there next to you – came into my shop looking to buy roses this morning…’

More than a little shocked, I turned to stare at Ethan, whose face had gone red beneath his tan as he sank low in his seat. He didn’t look at me or his father, who had cottoned on with sheer joy.

The flower of love. Ethan had meant to buy me the flower of love…

But in the meantime…

“Something has got to be done!” Mrs. Planchon was saying, as notes of hysteria beginning to rise within her voice. “I can’t run a business like this – I refuse. It’s an act of terrorism!”

“Mrs. Planchon, I can assure you that we will help you get to the bottom of this.” Charles said, intervening swiftly. “I, personally, will get in contact with a member of the Human Affairs Department and send them to your home for further questioning.”

“Roses?” I asked, turning to Ethan again, half serious and half not.

“Yeah, can we maybe talk about that, like, never?”

“Ok, well then will you at least tell me about the Human Affairs Department?” I asked. “Who are they supposed to be?”

“Ever heard of the men in black or X-Files? Ever wondered what it would be like if Sam and Dean Winchester had a suit, a tie, and an office? Well, the H-A-D is kind of like that. A lot like that, actually.”

Mrs. Planchon retired from the room shortly afterwards, still dissatisfied but relatively calmer, and a tall, balding man was soon to take her place, itching in his tweed suit. The parts of him that were exposed were red, inflamed, and riddled with uncomfortable-looking dry patches. He was here because he had gotten a rash, and none of the human doctors had been able to successfully treat it. And it wasn’t going away, he complained, it was spreading.

“I’d like permission to seek help from the Witches on Maple. We aren’t allowed to buy from their shops – I know.” The man said. “But I can’t take much more of this! I can’t stop scratching – it itches all the time. My skin’s breaking apart in some places. I-I need some relief! Please!”

I winced at the sight of him standing there, doing nothing but itching and scratching, scratching and itching. And he had that pained, trapped look about his stance and features that suggested he was getting close to doing something very desperate.

“Mr. Meridian – Carl – how did you come across this strange affliction?” Sofia leaned forward in her seat, showing a keen interest. “And when did it start?”

“Uh… uh…” Mr. Meridian stuttered, and even his scratching ceased for a few seconds. The gears of his brain had come to life, clicking and whirring, as he searched through his thoughts to find the correct answer.

“I don’t know,” he said, lying, badly. “It just started a few weeks ago, and kept getting worse. I’ve tried everything!” He looked desperately, pleadingly into the monitor. “Can’t you help?”

“Yes!” I said, with no hesitation. Part of me was floored to help him, both touched and repulsed at the sight of his misery – and itching. But a greater part of me wanted to embody the strong Leader that I felt I had finally demonstrated myself to be. I had taken this meeting by the horns of the big bull and shaken him down to his mighty knees. So yes – we would help this man because that was my decision. And if anyone opposed, then we would simply put it to a vote and I would win.

Again.

“Yes, Mr. Meridian, we will help you,” I clarified, extremely satisfied with myself.

“I apologize, but will you please excuse us for a moment, Mr. Meridian?”

Sofia promptly clicked the remote and the screen went black. She turned to me with fiery eyes and a cool tone.

“You have no right to speak for your fellow Leaders – and especially not on behalf of the Elder. What you’ve promised this man is impossible. Not one of us can help him, even if we tried.”

“You’re right, we probably can’t help him, Leader Devila.” I agreed. “But if the triplets can then how can we justify saying no? This man is obviously suffering.”

“Naomi,” Mr. Newport said, clearing his throat. “Mr. Meridian is experiencing the side effects of a blood contract that’s been broken – it’s very similar to the type of connection that you share with Ethan, but slightly different. In his case, Mr. Meridian is indebted to someone, and is refusing make payment. But the Pack have rules for this kind of thing, Naomi. Rules that have been in place years before this Leadership came along. And when you break those rules, there are consequences. So whatever it is that happened, Mr. Meridian is the only one that can fix it. It’s out of our hands.”

“Oh,” I said, trying and failing to think of anything cleverer to say. I had just made a fool of myself trying to act as the spearhead, when instead I should have just sat quietly with my mouth closed, observing.

“But even if the situation is his fault, doesn’t this seem barbaric to anyone else? What’s happening to him is insane.”

“And still you don’t see it, Naomi.” Charles said softly. I looked to him, but he wasn’t looking back at me. He was busy staring down at his hands, which were folded on the table. But when he looked up, it was with a different expression from his usual, barefaced displeasure. In this case, it would be entirely fair to claim that he wore an expression significantly close to actual hate. The only question was in whether his abhorrence was directed at me or Mr. Meridian.

“All you can think about is how much you want to help him and look good while doing it. You don’t care about honor or the traditions of our Pack. No. Instead, you’re too concerned with this man and his pitiful laments. But there is no integrity in Mr. Meridian’s cowardice. And for that, the Witches will do nothing for him. Not only that, but it is illegal to buy from the Maple Street Witches because they are outcasts of their Clan. And the Garou are forbidden from dealing with rogues of any kind – they’re too dangerous.”

Game. Set. Match. Charles had won this round, and just like that, I had promptly been put back in my place. So recognizing defeat, I decided to shut the hell up for now, and spare myself any more humiliation.

“Let’s put this to another vote, shall we?” Charles said, looking around the table with complete self-confidence. “All in favor of assisting Mr. Meridian, speak yes or hold your piece.”

No one in the room breathed a single word.

“All in favor of denying Mr. Meridian assistance, speak yes or hold your piece.”

“Yes.” I said quietly, along with the others, and unable to look up from the table.

“Fix. This.” Charles said to me through gritted teeth, and Sofia clicked on the television again.

Immediately my eyes were drawn upwards as my spine straightened and confidence again became intact.

“Tell us what the conditions of your blood contract are, Mr. Meridian.” I said.

“Wh-what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he said, looking jumpy and nervous. “Really, I –”

“I’d think twice before lying again.” I cautioned, drawing strength from my grandfather’s wrath. “Tell us, what did you do to get yourself into this situation?”

In the process of ferociously scratching his right arm with his left, all of a sudden, Mr. Meridian looked down at the ground and let out a long, harsh sob. He cried loudly, for several more seconds, gripping his right arm tightly to his side. He was such a pitiful, cowardly creature. By rights, he deserved at least a friendly ‘it’s gonna be ok’ or two. But my own character flaws would not allow me to show sorrow for him. My feelings had already betrayed me many times, and I couldn’t afford to let it happen again so soon.

“I-I, I had an affair with my best friend’s wife!” Mr. Meridian brought his hands to his face, crying a little more – whether out of shame for the act or despair at being caught, I couldn’t tell. The extent of his scruples was far beyond my knowledge to guess.

“And then he found out.” Mr. Meridian said, with woe. “He found out, and told me that if I divorced her and humiliated myself that he would call it even…”

“Humiliate yourself how, Mr. Meridian?” I asked firmly.

There was no sobbing now. He was red-eyed, but quite dry.

“I’d have to live as his pet for a month.” he snarled, an action that just moments before would have seemed completely outside his nature. “And I’ll have to live in his backyard – in a dog house.”

“Mr. Meridian,” I said, with a sigh. “I made a mistake earlier, in telling you that I could help. I was wrong, and I apologize in misleading you. But it sounds to me like you already agreed to the contract, and now you’re facing the

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