Sniffer Update: @newshound – What’s the story on Penelope Stillman, Kate’s older sister? Kate’s not talking. #skeletoninthecloset

Kate and Duncan didn’t bring up the subject of Penny again, but it hung between them as they ate a quick breakfast, finished up the laundry, and put the cabin and themselves into some semblance of order. The snowmobiles arrived to carry Kate and Duncan separately to the resort.

The staff members driving them agreed to come back for Duncan’s suitcase and arrange to have Kate’s SUV towed out of the snow bank. Kate used a staffer’s phone to call a reputable window company, and the Stillwell name got her an appointment for that afternoon. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to get away from the conference, but the spare key was in her purse if she had to delegate that job.

As the two snowmobiles skimmed over the unblemished surface created by the blizzard, the clouds moved off to display a sky so blue it hurt Kate’s eyes to look at it. She thought of all the times she and her sister had ridden like this after a storm. Penny, being ten years older, had always been the driver while Kate was the passenger hanging on for dear life. She hadn’t minded at all.

She’d felt privileged that her big sister, glamorous and daring in all things, had wanted her along. Everyone knew that Grandma Elizabeth was grooming Penny to be the next Stillman pack alpha. Their father Woodruff, sweet though he was, didn’t suit, so Grandma Elizabeth was looking to the next generation for a Were to inherit her position. Penny, magnificent Penny, had been the obvious choice.

And then, when Kate was seventeen, Penny had fallen in love…with a human. She’d given up everything for him—her family, her position as leader-in-training, and any hope of inheriting the Stillman millions. But saddest of all, she’d given up her close tie with Kate, the sister who’d idolized her from childhood.

At first Kate had grieved along with the other members of her family and her pack. But eventually she’d dried her tears and had dedicated her life to preventing such tragedies from happening in the future. She’d created her website, Furevermore.com, designed to promote the value of Were-Were matchups. She’d founded Honoring Our Werewolf Legacy and she’d written her book.

Because Penny had dropped out of the Were community entirely, some Weres didn’t even remember that she existed. She and her human mate Tom Rivers had adopted two human children. Penny had claimed that she had a blood disorder and Tom had apparently accepted that as reason enough to adopt. But Penny was only making sure that she had no biological offspring who might turn out to be Were.

As far as the pack was concerned, Penny might as well be dead. Except she wasn’t, and somebody in the Woofer movement had decided to make an issue of the fact that Kate Stillman, founder of HOWL, had a sister who’d mated with a human. Kate had dreaded the possibility that someday Penny’s name would be mentioned in connection with the Howler movement, but until now, it hadn’t been.

She’d gathered from Duncan’s reaction that he’d known about Penny, maybe for some time. That only increased her respect for him. He’d known and hadn’t used the information to try and tarnish her cause. But he couldn’t control his followers, and someone had decided the time was right to drag Penny and her choice back into the spotlight in an attempt to embarrass Kate.

Well, let them. Much as she loved Penny, she considered her an object lesson of how human-Were mating generated pain and dysfunction. Penny’s mate and her adopted children had no idea that they were living with a werewolf. Kate couldn’t imagine how a true bond could develop in the face of such a significant deception.

The snowmobiles rounded a curve in the road and Stillman Lodge, the main structure of the resort, loomed straight ahead. As always, Kate’s heart swelled with pride at her first glimpse of the majestic old building that had stood in this spot for more than a hundred years. Built of native stone and weathered cedar, it lifted three stories into the blue sky.

Its solid, enduring bulk was a source of security for Kate, and she imagined it served that purpose for the entire pack. It provided economic security, as well, for the staff consisted entirely of pack members. In days past, the lodge had been open to humans and Weres alike, and Grandma Elizabeth owned a guestbook with Teddy Roosevelt’s signature on one yellowed page. Teddy had not known, of course, that his hosts had been werewolves.

Now, however, the lodge’s facilities had been expanded when the property was converted into a Were-only resort, one of only two in the world. The other, on a small island off the coast of Washington State, was owned by Duncan’s brother, Colin. A Were-only resort could stand in plain sight if it built a reputation for exclusivity.

Humans trying to reserve a room at Stillman Lodge were always told that the resort was booked for months, even years in advance. Kate herself had helped spread the rumor that certain celebrities chose to stay at Stillman Lodge and had requested complete privacy for themselves and their entourage.

This weekend the resort would indeed be hosting celebrities, but of the werewolf variety. Kate had been secretly dazzled by the guest list, which included pack leaders and representatives from around the world. She’d planned to be on hand to greet them all last night, but instead she’d been with Duncan. She didn’t regret that particular detour for a second.

She’d requested that her driver take her around in back so she could use a rear entrance and scurry up to her room. She didn’t look too rumpled thanks to her laundry project at the cabin, but she wore no makeup and didn’t feel particularly pulled together.

Her hope dimmed as she noticed who was standing on the wide walkway leading up to the main entrance. A camera crew filmed Angela Sapworthy interviewing Kate’s cousin Neil. Angela’s Sniffer tag fit her perfectly. She was a newshound who smelled a story a mile away.

This time, however, she had help from Neil, who’d also inherited the Stillman blond hair and blue eyes. He spotted the snowmobiles and interrupted the interview to come hurrying down the circular drive toward Kate and Duncan.

Kate’s driver was forced to stop to avoid running smack into Neil. Kate wouldn’t have minded so much. His thinly disguised political ambitions included nudging her out of her spot as Elizabeth’s successor so he could have the job. His Woofer leanings didn’t help her like him, either, but she had the feeling he’d take whatever side he found politically advantageous.

“Kate, thank God! We were all so worried about you.”

“Thanks, Neil.” She managed not to roll her eyes. “But we’re fine.”

“What a blessing.” Now that he’d expressed his concern, he walked right past her and held out his hand to Duncan, who’d climbed off the second snowmobile. “Duncan MacDowell. It’s an honor, sir.”

“Thanks.” Duncan shook Neil’s hand. “And you are?”

“Oh, sorry. Neil Stillman. Thought you’d recognize me from my profile on the Woofer site. I’m Kate’s cousin and Elizabeth Stillman’s able assistant.”

Kate swallowed her words of protest. Neil wasn’t Grandma Elizabeth’s assistant, or at least he hadn’t been when she’d left yesterday for the airport.

Neil continued to pump Duncan’s hand. “Welcome to Stillman Lodge. I’ve read Down with Dogma twice. Brilliant. We’re so happy you could make it and that you survived a night with my cousin Kate.” He chuckled as if sharing an inside joke. “There’s a bunch of Woofers inside waiting to congratulate you on that feat.”

Much as Kate wanted to interrupt Neil’s ridiculous monologue, she decided that it could serve as a distraction so she could escape and go in the back way as planned. “Ryan.” She addressed her snowmobile’s driver in a low voice. “Take me to the back entrance as we discussed.”

“You got it, Kate.” He started off again.

They managed to get partway around the circular drive before Angela Sapworthy blocked their retreat. She’d marshaled her camera crew, as well.

“Kate, may I have a quick word?” Angela usually dressed to startle. Today she’d paired tight silver pants with turquoise boots and a turquoise quilted jacket. Her hair, an improbable shade of red that veered toward magenta, had been waxed and sprayed into a punk style that made Kate think of a scarlet porcupine.

Reminding herself that Angela’s tabloid journalism had become all the rage with Weres, Kate squelched the urge to refuse an interview. Even her refusal would become a story or a Sniff, so she might as well try to take control of the news about her. Or about her sister. As she climbed down from the snowmobile, she mentally prepared herself for a question concerning Penny.

Angela motioned to the cameraman and spoke into her hand-held mike. “I’m talking now with none other than Kate Stillman, who has just this minute returned from her harrowing adventure. How was your night with Duncan MacDowell, King of the Woofers?”

Kate frowned. “King of the Woofers? When did that happen?”

“I see you’re a few Sniffs behind, Kate. When you said he was no prince, his followers crowned him King of the Woofers. Your followers, of course, crowned you Queen of the Howlers. So tell me, does he snore?” Angela’s glistening red mouth turned up in a carefully orchestrated smile.

Kate remembered that she had zero makeup on. Oh, well. “I thought I was in the middle of a Chain Saw Massacre film festival, Angela. My ears still hurt.” She returned the reporter’s smug smile.

Angela shuddered prettily. “Dreadful. But then, I’m not surprised. Duncan is such a beast.” She gave the word plenty of sexual innuendo. “All that testosterone. Sharing a cabin with him must have been an exhausting experience.”

“You have no idea, Angela. As you can imagine, I’m eager to get back to my suite and freshen up.”

“Of course you are. Such an ordeal. Still, I’m sure he’s magnificent when he’s angry. And you do know how to taunt the beast, Kate.”

“He’s easier to manage when he’s jet-lagged. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really should—”

“One more thing. Have you heard from your sister Penelope recently?”

Kate kept her expression and tone of voice carefully neutral. “Yes, of course. We communicate on a regular basis.” Regular meaning two or three times a year. But she hadn’t lied. Penny had sent her a short email last week wishing her good luck with the conference.

That was Penny, always classy. Kate was campaigning against the choice Penny had made, and yet she didn’t seem to hold it against her little sister. A familiar ache gripped Kate’s heart at the memory of that brief email.

“Woofers have been asking, as I’m sure you would expect, how you can insist that Were-human mating is so terrible when your sister has chosen that route.”

“Penelope and I hold different views on the subject. That doesn’t mean I love her any less. Now I really must go. The conference has already begun, and I’m expected to be there.”

“There’s a rumor that Penelope will make an appearance this weekend to support the Woofer cause.”

Kate’s pulse quickened. Surely not. Penny had dropped out of pack activities completely and distanced herself from her immediate family. God knows what she’d told her husband Tom, but he also must have accepted the estrangement in addition to the made-up story about a blood disorder.

The poor guy might even think the rift was his fault because he didn’t measure up. In a way, he was right, but it wasn’t anything he could fix. Their mother and father would have loved to spend time with Penny, her husband, and her children, as would Kate. But Penny had decided it was safer to minimize all contact.

But Angela was waiting, a gleam of triumph in her heavily made-up eyes, for Kate to respond. Kate gave the only answer that might end this line of questioning. “I hadn’t heard that, but if she comes, I would be happy to see her.” She hopped on the snowmobile. “Great talking to you, Angela!”

Ryan responded to that cue and sped off, sending a rooster tail of snow into the air. Kate wondered if some of that snow had landed on Angela. And if the cameraman caught it. She hoped so.

Duncan watched as Kate got caught in Angela Sapworthy’s web. At least he assumed that was Angela with the red spiky hair and tight silver pants. He’d never met her in person, but the presence of a camera crew and Kate’s obvious reluctance as she climbed down from the snowmobile told him he was right.

He hated seeing Kate waylaid like that, but he couldn’t very well go to her rescue. He had his hands full with Neil Stillman, who seemed determined to be his new BFF. Climbing off the snowmobile, Duncan thanked the driver and started up the snowy walkway to the main entrance accompanied, inevitably, by Neil.

“Everyone’s referring to you as King of the Woofers, now,” Neil said.

“Everyone?” As a Scotsman, Duncan had a built-in prejudice against the term king, which conjured images of British royalty. Centuries had passed, but a true Scotsman never forgot.

“Well, the Woofers, I meant to say. They came up with it after Kate sent the Sniff saying you were no prince. So you’ve been upgraded.”

“That’s just silly. I—” A feminine cry of dismay made him turn around. If Angela had caused Kate to cry out like that, he might have to interfere, after all.

But no, Angela was the one who was upset, and covered in snow, to boot. The snowmobile carrying Kate zipped around the corner of the building, but Duncan had no trouble figuring out what had happened. He chuckled.

“That was a bad move on Kate’s part,” Neil said. “You don’t want to make an enemy of Angela Sapworthy.”

“I’m sure it was an accident.”

“Come on, MacDowell. You just spent more than twelve hours with Kate, so you know what she’s like. Think about that for a minute and then tell me her little stunt was an accident.”

“She wasn’t driving the snowmobile. How could she have engineered that maneuver on purpose?”

Neil studied him. “Surely you’re not defending the Queen of the Howlers.”

“Of course I’m not, but…what did you call her?”

“Once the Howlers found out about your title, they had to give her one. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

Duncan shook his head. “It’s childish. I’m going to put a stop to it.”

“Good luck with that. It’s all over Sniffer and once something catches on, you can’t do much about it. Those titles have taken on a life of their own. I’ve already seen pictures of each of you with a crown Photoshopped on your head.”

“Ridiculous.” Duncan sighed. “Well, I suppose I’d better get in there.” He started up the walkway again.

“Duncan! Duncan MacDowell!”

His shoulders hunched. Apparently even being covered in snow didn’t deter Angela from her appointed rounds.

“Take my advice,” Neil said. “Give her a quick interview. She’s already leaning toward the Woofer side, and after Kate blasted her with a rooster tail just now you’ll have her eating out of your hand.”

“There’s an unappealing image.”

Neil laughed. “Sorry.”

“Duncan, may I have a quick word?”

He turned and did his best to keep a straight face. Angela looked as if she’d been dipped in vanilla frosting. Snow clung to her spiky hair, clustered on her dangly earrings, rested in drifts on the shoulders of her turquoise jacket, and splattered like well-aimed snowballs all over her silver pants.

But to her credit, she retained her poise. “I couldn’t let you go inside without one quick interview.” She turned to her cameraman and raised her mike. “As you can see, I met with a small accident following my interview with Kate Stillwell. She’ll be getting the cleaning bill.” Angela’s laughter had a slight edge to it. “I’m talking now with her counterpart in this battle, Duncan MacDowell, and I’m sorry to tell you he did not arrive in a kilt as I’d hoped. Did you bring your kilt, Duncan?”

“I did, but I won’t be wearing it until our formal dinner at the end of the conference.”

“Wonderful! I’m sure all the females will be waiting for the moment when they can admire the King of the Woofers in full regalia!”

“Just let me say, Angela, that I’m not comfortable being called a king of anything.”

“And he’s extremely humble, folks! Is there a sexier combination than a great-looking Were with humility? I think not!”

“Seriously, I would like to ask the Woofers to forgo giving me that title. I—”

“Too late, Duncan. They’ve already held the coronation. They were positively jubilant at the way you came out fighting during last night’s Sniffer exchange. They’re also boasting of your gallantry in your last Sniff. Complimenting her on being a worthy opponent made her look ungracious by comparison. At least that’s how this reporter sees it.” Angela’s eyes glittered with malice.

Duncan groaned inwardly. Poor Kate. Her attempt to even the Sniffer score last night had worked against her. Or, if not, Angela Sapworthy would make sure that it did. He began to understand the part Angela would play this weekend, and it wasn’t small.

He was in a no-win situation. If he told Angela that he’d wanted to send a more antagonistic post and Kate had talked him into a more civil one, then he’d either arouse suspicion about their relationship or get more points for gallantry. His best bet was to get away from Angela as soon as possible.

“I really should get inside,” he said. “I hope they haven’t gone ahead with the council elections.”

“Of course not. They wouldn’t consider having elections without you. Get on in there and claim your place, Duncan MacDowell.”

If he hadn’t been so irritated with her, he would have laughed. She’d managed to dismiss him rather than the other way around. “Then I’ll bid you goodbye.” He turned and started up the walkway once again.

“And there he goes, folks. King of the Woofers!”

“Damn it,” he muttered, ducking his head.

“Get used to it,” Neil said as he opened one of two large and intricately carved entrance doors. “Your subjects await you.”

Duncan walked into the lobby and was immediately surrounded by a crowd of boisterous Weres, both males and females, wearing Woofer buttons and waving Woofer signs. Overwhelmed by the barrage, Duncan didn’t read any of the buttons or signs, but he heard the words of welcome. The language was English, the official choice for the conference, but the accents were from all over the world.

As he fought to get his bearings, a female emerged from the crowd bearing a gold crown on a purple velvet pillow. A chant arose from the group. King of the Woofers! King of the Woofers!

Duncan tried to protest, but he was shouted down. The female Were looked so happy to be presenting him with this crown, which someone must have obtained with a great deal of trouble on such short notice. He couldn’t figure out a way to refuse it without crushing her and ruining the mood of the enthusiastic crowd.

And he wanted them all to be enthusiastic. They believed in the cause he held dear, and this weekend he hoped to convince the delegates to adopt a resolution to end the secrecy. Wearing a crown for a few minutes might be the price he had to pay.

Kneeling down, he allowed her to place the crown on his head amid cheers from the group that surrounded him. When he stood again, some instinct made him glance across the lobby. Kate stood there watching the spectacle.

She’d changed into a purple long-sleeved T-shirt with a logo on the front, no doubt the Howler logo. She was too far away for him to gauge her expression, but he could only imagine how she’d react to the idea of him wearing a crown. He wondered if she’d been offered one yet, and what she would do if she was. Her gaze locked with his for a brief moment before she turned away, almost as if signaling that she’d seen enough.

He had trouble believing that only hours ago he’d held her naked in his arms while he listened to her cries of pleasure. It seemed impossible, and the gulf between them widened with every passing moment. He despaired of ever bridging it again.