Getting an audience with the MacKenzie Pack Leader was even harder than the last two, though for different reasons. I couldn't just call someone to make an appointment, because the MacKenzie didn't use phones.

The MacKenzie Pack were considered something of an anomaly amongst urban werewolf packs. Though most of the packs had their origins out in the country - back in the day, werewolves had thrived in the wide-open spaces of wilderness - when they moved into the towns and cities, they had their rough edges rubbed off.

Big, ugly wolves who lived in caves, even when human, and seldom, if ever, wore clothes, suddenly moved into smart Park Avenue apartments, ate with a knife and fork and enjoyed a weekly game of squash with a man called Nigel. It was a pattern that had a lot in common with the process of immigrant assimilation - within a generation or so, everyone was wearing Nike and eating Big Macs. But there were always a few holdouts, even in the heart of the city. The MacKenzie might not live in forests and attack unwary travelers, but they retained as much of their roots as they could in the modern world.

Even knowing this, when I entered the Great Hall at the center of the MacKenzie Pack Lodge, I was still taken aback by the presence of a large fire in the middle of the room, its smoke rising to a hole in the raftered roof, far above. Back in medieval times, when werewolves first came to the notice of humanity, they used to say that fire was the only difference between werewolves and actual wolves - normal wolves were scared of fire, as most animals are, but werewolves used it and were drawn to it, like humans.

Beyond the fire, on a seat of carved wood, sat MacKenzie Sean, Pack Leader of the MacKenzie and the youngest of the Pack Leaders in the city. His hair was a mass of thick, unwashed, dark brown curls, and he wore a fur cloak, that hung off his rangy, muscular frame. As far as I could see - and I didn't look too closely - he was not wearing anything else, and I got the impression that he was only wearing the cloak now in deference to my presence. Similarly, the guards who flanked him wore only a tartan blanket, loosely wrapped about their bodies - the tartan a relic of the MacKenzie's Scottish origins.

Sean held out a calloused hand and took Tanner's ring from me. He examined it a while then tossed it back.

"Alright then; what?"

"You've heard about the attempted assassination of Kenai King?" The MacKenzie were less interested in werewolf politics and news of other packs.

Sean nodded. "Everyone knows it was one of his sons. Or all of his sons."

"Unless everyone is wrong."

"Then his sons will be the ones who benefit."

"Unless everyone blames them," I suggested.

MacKenzie Sean shrugged, the fur cloak rising and falling about him. "That's a lot of unlesses. But if Kenai King had wanted a peaceful life, then he shouldn't have spent it robbing others of their land."

"He's taken a fair bit off of the MacKenzie," I pointed out.

Sean bared his teeth in a snarl. "In my uncle's day."

"Still rankles, I would guess."

"You're trying to pin this assassination nonsense on me?"

"I'm just talking. You've no love for King or his sons, I'm guessing. They look down on the MacKenzie."

"That's no reason to start a war."

I nodded, deciding to try a different tack. "You're right. And a war the MacKenzie would have no hope of winning. If King and his sons were out of the picture, then it would be a straight shoot-out between Arctic and Hokkai for who takes their territory. That makes you the only unbiased person I can ask about who you think might have taken that first step in trying to kill King; Hokkai or Arctic."

The rage flared across Sean's face. He probably knew that I was baiting him, but that didn't make him immune to it. The MacKenzie had an inferiority complex, tired of being seen as the runts of the litter simply because they lived more according to the old ways.

"You think we couldn't take the Kenai in a fair fight?" His voice had a serrated edge, like the blade of a saw. "With or without King, with or without his worthless sons. Anytime. The MacKenzie may not be as large but we're stronger, tougher, made hard by adversity. We don't sit around in our fancy houses, on soft chairs, eating fancy food. We are true wolves. And in a fight, no matter the odds, you always bet on the true wolf."

"Is that a fight you'd want to see?" I asked, taking advantage of his anger.

"You bet it is. We'd tear them apart, and that's what they deserve. They've lorded it over us for too long. It's about time the MacKenzie took back what is rightfully ours, and then took what's rightfully theirs, for good measure. We're overdue for a war, and when it comes, you'll find the MacKenzie the best prepared of all the packs."

I thought that was probably true.

"So, King's death would be something you'd like to see?" I pushed on.

But Sean wasn't quite that unguarded. "Yes, I'd like to see him die - him and his sons, on my claws and teeth. But that's not what you're talking about, is it? You're not talking war, you're talking about putting King in the ground by assassination and his sons in jail by deceit."

"That would start the war," I pointed out.

Sean shook his head. "That's not war, that's politics." He spat the word out, as if it had no place in his mouth. "You think what you like of the MacKenzie. Call us names - everyone else does. You can call us savage, rough, uncouth. Say that we don't move with the times and are throwbacks to an age that doesn't exist anymore. And we are all that. But we're proud of it. Nothing is backdoor with the MacKenzie. Nothing is hidden. What you see, is what you get."

As he spoke that last sentence, MacKenzie Sean stood up from his wooden throne, his cloak hanging loosely from him, opening at the front to reveal more than I had wanted to see.

His gaze now fixed on me. "I don't like this sort of suggestion from anyone, least of all from some part-wolf lackey of the Kenai. What gives you the right to come here and make these accusations? You think your powerful friends protect you? The only thing that's protecting you now, is what you are. I'm not dirtying my claws with the blood of a filthy half-breed. There's no honor in that. Now, get out."

After I left the MacKenzie Pack Lodge, I went for a drink to think things over, alone with my thoughts. Sean had been the most threatening of the three, but probably the least frightening - all bark and no bite. For all his big talk, I didn't think there was any way he would have killed me when I was carrying the ring of Kenai Tanner. For all he knew, I was an official emissary of the pack and any attack on me was as good as a declaration of war, and I didn't think he was as ready for that as he claimed. On the other hand, with King dead and the Kenai caught up in a power struggle between the supporters of Tanner, Gray and Hudson; then Sean might well fancy his chances.

Was that what would happen? For all their disagreements and fraternal squabbles, it did not strike me as likely that the brothers would fight against each other for the role of Pack Leader. But it would not be about which of them succeeded as Pack Leader, it would be about which of them was blamed for King's death. Power-hungry members of the Kenai Court would see their chance and start pointing fingers, and soon there would be an internal war within the pack. They would be easy pickings for the MacKenzie.

Or for the Arctic. It had been difficult to get straight answers out of Venus, but her motive of revenge seemed to me stronger than any motive Sean had. She seemed the one most likely to carry out a covert attack, and to get away with it.

But she also seemed the least likely to force the issue by taking steps. Venus had the power to wait, to bide her time rather than taking action. If I had to pick one who might be done waiting for King to die, then I would have picked Hokkai Jack. He was impatient and his age only increased that impatience. He had arguably lost the most to the Kenai - an eye is no small thing.

But as I sipped my drink, I had to admit that the bottom line was; they all had motives, they all hated King and his sons, they all wanted the territory. They all seemed to hate me, as well, so the only thing I had accomplished that week was to make myself three new enemies.

That should make life fun.