I followed them over to the ring of torches, far away from listening ears. I folded my arms as I stared them down, aware of the eyes watching us. “Talk,” I told them in a cold tone, forcing myself not to rub my throbbing jaw. I took a breath, testing my ribs. They ached, but not too badly. I knew that if I had died here, I would have woken up back home, healed. But what if I had only been injured?

“We brought the pack here to let off some steam after this morning,” Drake told me. I nodded, wanting him to get to the point. “But we also wanted to catch you on neutral ground, almost as if by coincidence…” he continued, not smirking, but something playful and dangerous lurking not far below the surface. For anyone watching, looking like he was delivering a warning.

“I’m tired, Drake. Did Gunnar really have something to tell me?” I was sure to keep my voice low just in case we had listeners.

Cowan shook his head, folding his arms. “We wanted to open communication lines with you.” He said nothing further, kind of making his statement seem ridiculous. Instead, he kept his eyes on the crowd, looking annoyed to be seen anywhere near me, performing a duty he wasn’t particularly happy about. Was that for the witnesses or was it genuine?

Drake cleared his throat. “We were… approached today. By a big gray wolf. A stranger.”

I cursed under my breath. “White Fang…”

They shared a long look with each other, startled, but not showing it. “That was the name he went by, although he sounded amused when he said it.”

“Because it’s more of a nickname. Did he warn you to turn against me, too?”

They shared an even longer look. “Not in so many words. But he did warn of a new threat to the pack. It seems Zeus had an Alpha King – the self-declared Alpha of the Midwest. This king is not too happy about the turn of events with Zeus. He’s bringing his pack to St. Louis. Soon.”

I tried to keep the shock from my face. “But Gunnar isn’t here.”

“I don’t think he’s coming to challenge our Alpha. I think he’s coming for war. And White Fang made it sound like this king sees himself as above the… antiquated shifter laws. It’s exactly like what we fled back East. But they seem more successful with it here. He’s wants retribution for Zeus. Either to take Gunnar’s pack or to kill Gunnar and then take the pack.”

I frowned. If White Fang worked for Zeus – and ultimately this king – why had he warned Drake and Cowan? “Why have you come to me?” I asked warily, remembering that Gunnar hadn’t wanted me to get involved in wolf politics.

They shared an uneasy look. “We know how this looks, that we have experience with this kind of… leadership structure. These kings,” Drake said the word as if it tasted foul on his tongue. He shook his head, a flicker of anger swiping his wavy hair to the side. “I will die to keep the pack together, with or without Gunnar. I have sworn an oath, but would have done the same without it.”

Cowan seemed to realize Drake was on the edge of anger. “Seeing as how Gunnar holds you in such high esteem, we had hoped that you might truly have a way to get word to him.”

I frowned. I actually didn’t. I could get us about five miles from their cabin – the ward I had given him was that strong, per his request, since he would be hunting often with Ashley and hadn’t wanted to risk anyone catching them off guard while out in the wilderness. But getting within five miles of the cabin wouldn’t help. Within the ward, we’d have to travel on foot. In the mountains. Likely in snow. It would take a very long time, and anything could happen here in St. Louis while we did. And once we were within the ward, we would also be out of range for any magical communication. Or even cell phones, for that matter. There were no towers.

I told them this and their faces let me know their frustration, but only because I was so close to them. Anyone else would have taken it as disgust for simply talking with me.

“Then we seek guidance,” Cowan said. “What would Gunnar say if we took his pack to war? I can’t see any other option, but if this pack is as big as White Fang says, we might need assistance. And… Gunnar made it clear that we were supposed to handle things ourselves rather than ally with anyone. The restriction for seeking aid wasn’t just about you.”

That made me feel marginally better, but I still wanted to scream. What was White Fang’s angle in this? Was he part of this king’s pack? Or was he doing an act of good will for his fellow wolves, rather than the chaos he was sowing elsewhere?

“My resources are at your disposal, but I fear the long-term consequences of that, thanks to White Fang. We might just win this war to find every other faction in town against your pack because you teamed up with me. Besides, I’m heading out of town tomorrow. Do you know when they are going to get here?”

“Several days. They are taking their time. Moving almost a thousand wolves is not a fast process. White Fang says they are coming like a people meaning to settle down and stay.”

“And do you know where White Fang’s loyalties lie?”

Drake spoke up, now composed. “He told us he was not part of this king’s pack or ours. I don’t know if that makes him ally or foe, but he did warn us. I couldn’t get a good read on him.”

“Why didn’t you fucking capture him, then?” I snarled, taking a step forward before I realized it. My chest struck Cowan’s solid outstretched arm.

“Might want to take a deep breath, Temple. We don’t react well to aggression…” his eyes were very cold, and it was no longer for show. I took a breath and stepped back. He was right.

But my reaction pretty much guaranteed those still watching us saw that we definitely weren’t on friendly terms, which I guess was good for the wolves. I didn’t want the other families in town ganging up on Gunnar’s pack because they thought we were allies.

“This is like a fucking gang war,” I muttered. “West Side Story or something.”

Drake merely nodded, breathing deeply himself. Probably trying to shake off his adrenaline before he did something stupid at my aggression.

“What I meant was that you should have questioned him further.”

Cowan openly yawned. “Capture a lone wolf who had just warned us of an attack? That would have shamed us. And Wulfric.”

I grunted. Well, that could be true. Another scheme of White Fang. Turn the families on the wolves for capturing White Fang when he had only been trying to help.

“Is there anyone in town you could team up with instead of me? Someone that would benefit you without drawing the attention you’re trying to avoid? Raego?” Because the dragon king had a veritable army at his command.

“Not him. The dragons have closed ranks. They’re not getting involved with anyone. And anyway, it seems their King is letting his Council run the day-to-day affairs.”

I frowned. That was news to me. Raego was shirking his duties? Or maybe this Council was just getting in the way and making him impotent.

“I’m the last person you want to ask for help right now, but even if you wanted me, I’m leaving town tomorrow. Non-negotiable.”

“Who tells a billionaire what’s non-negotiable?” Drake asked, cocking his head doubtfully.

I shook my head. “You don’t want to know.” I thought about asking Tory to help them. She had her students, who were all trained killers, but that would also make Gunnar look weak.

And she was currently working with the dragons. Who weren’t helping anyone.

Was this part of White Fang’s ploy? Get everyone busy and closing circles so they wouldn’t help each other out? So, this Midwest King could come in and scoop up a treasure? But White Fang had told Drake and Cowan that he didn’t work for the king. Was his plan to ultimately take Gunnar’s pack for himself? But then why warn Drake and Cowan?

Talk about a clusterfuck. And even if Gunnar did want me to help out, I didn’t have time to do so. Because I had an appointment in Hell that I couldn’t reschedule, according to Death.

“We will figure something out,” Drake said. “But it’s best if we stop talking. Oh, and if you see Paradise and Lost, tell them I said hello,” he said with a straight face, but his eyes danced with mischief.

I grunted and turned away.

Without bothering to say goodbye to anyone, I stepped out of the Dueling Grounds into an empty field. I took a deep breath and gagged at the smell of fresh manure. Too fresh.

I looked down to see I was standing in a fresh pile, steam curling up around my boots.

I yelled at the top of my lungs, unable to maintain control of my temper this time. I stepped out of the manure, untied my boots and then opened a Gateway back to Chateau Falco. I tossed the boots upright into the cow shit and stepped through the hole in the air.

The last thing I saw of the field was my pair of four-hundred-dollar boots sitting in a pile of cow-shit and the introspective part of me determined it was the perfect representation of my life.

I strangled my introspective self and stomped up to my mansion in my socks.

It was officially this wizard’s bedtime.