Amoven: Prophecy

By Nancy M. Griffis

Throughout history, the Amoven have survived by staying in the realm of legend, disbelief, and deliberate misdirection. But now, these werewolves have more to fear than hunters: nature and evolution are coming for them.

Daniel McTavish's drive to rise in Amoven society pits him against Lauren Bishop whose grip on power has lasted nearly a hundred years. Now someone's trying to kill him, his brother's having visions, and a reporter after his family story is getting too close to the Amoven's truth. In this dark night of prophecy, his people will either evolve or be destroyed.

And Daniel will do anything to keep his family and the Amoven safe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nancy M. Griffis
• Release date: Aug 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310325427

Nancy M. Griffis

A novelist and screenwriter living in Los Angeles, enjoying the sun, and writing whenever possible.

Book preview

Amoven: Prophecy

Copyright 2015 Nancy M. Griffis

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

This book is available in print at most online retailers

Discover other titles by Nancy M. Griffis:

Novels

Fluctuations: Book One of the Connemara Chronicles

Children of the Temple: Book One

A Most Unusual Wedding

Short Stories

The Arbiter & The Mummy’s Curse

The Arbiter Goes to War

The Arbiter & The Love Potion

A Most Unusual Courtship

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One: Long Way From Home

Chapter Two: New Alliances, Old Enemies

Chapter Three: Changes

Chapter Four: Some Dinner, Conversation, and...

Chapter Five: Revelations

Chapter Six: Interesting Developments

Chapter Seven: Roles People Play

Chapter Eight: Turning Point

Chapter Nine: The Book

Chapter Ten: Bitter Notes

Chapter Eleven: Home Again, Home Again…

Chapter Twelve: Learning As You Go…

Chapter Thirteen: Working It Out

Chapter Fourteen: Machinations

Chapter Fifteen: Trust and Loyalty

Chapter Sixteen: Freedom of the Press

Chapter Seventeen: Conversations

Chapter Eighteen: Not As It Should Be

Chapter Nineteen: Family Meeting

Chapter Twenty: Lessons

Chapter Twenty-One: Bad Week

Chapter Twenty-Two: Trapped

Chapter Twenty-Three: Information, or the Lack Thereof

Chapter Twenty-Four: You Can’t Pick Your Family

Chapter Twenty-Five: Deadly Choices

Chapter Twenty-Six: Taken

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Waiting

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Epic Fail

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Vengeance

Excerpt From Children of the Temple: Book One

Prologue

In the bitter cold of winter, deep in the Rockies, a wolf’s howl echoed joyfully through the forest, joined by others in a cacophony of wild pleasure. Dark shapes flitted through trees, mingling almost too fast to see through the moon shadows. Paw prints left in the mountain snow filled repeatedly as the wolves raced along the same path.

A large and powerful dark wolf with startling blue eyes led the pack, his human mind and emotions subsumed by a far more savage need… the female in heat who led them all on a merry chase. There was more than one, their scents lush and ripe, enticing, traveling easily on the icy wind. Daniel followed this one with the single-minded intensity that had propelled him to the front of the pack and the drive that kept him there.

No one and nothing escaped him for long.

Chapter One

Long Way From Home

A four-story fortress of stone and metal, cut into the very mountain, stood dark against the surrounding forest. Well over five hundred years old, it harkened back to the time when problems were solved with swords and might rather than discourse, and would easily suit any mountain range in Europe or Russia. Squatting in the Colorado Rockies, the structure stood out like a sore thumb slammed by a sledgehammer. It hardly looked like a meeting place for civilized beings.

Although civilized might be stretching things. Ahh-moe-ven, Simon thought with an amused internal drawl. Probably worse than actual wolves about their territorial impulses.

Seated in a comfortable chair by the fire, the warmest place in the room, Simon watched his brother’s agitated pacing. You’re going to wear a hole in the floor, Daniel.

Daniel snarled, the sound menacing and chest-deep. It would have raised the hair on the neck of any sane human, but didn’t scare Simon in the least. If the other man was truly enraged, claws or fangs would have accompanied the angry sound and Simon would have been very careful not to make any aggressive movement. Daniel never Shifted in anger, though, no matter the provocation.

Lips quirking into a brief grin, Simon silently amended, Well, not against a family member, anyhow.

Pale-blue eyes glittered with the frustration of too many meetings and not enough accomplishment. Daniel was nothing if not goal-oriented, and the lack of progress drove him to the edge every time. I hate. The cold.

Daniel stopped by the window and shivered briefly. The room designated as their office for the duration of the Enclave was luxurious and certainly warm enough, not that that seemed to matter. Simon figured that his brother’s reaction to the weather was at least fifty percent psychosomatic, since cold temperatures didn’t really penetrate the Amoven in either form. He knew the real problem was being out of their home territory. Daniel’s famed need for control was thwarted by the location and there was nothing he could do about it.

Staring at the snow isn’t going to make you feel any warmer. Besides, you’re the one with the natural fur coat. How do you think I feel?

Daniel flashed him an irritated glare. You’re hilarious, Si. So. Where are we?

Since he’d broken through his brother’s pique—which had been his goal with the teasing—Simon glanced at the spreadsheet waiting on his laptop and reported, Five confirmed pregnancies, ten more matings tonight that look to be promising, and another night yet to go.

Better than projected, Daniel murmured, quietly triumphant.

Simon smiled to himself and saved the file before exiting, even though he’d made no changes. He’d already e-mailed the information to the Council members and had it backed up on a flash drive and web server. He wasn’t paranoid as his family so often teased, he was simply careful. As the first ever McTavish historian and fully human to boot, Simon took no chances.

Looking back at Daniel, he asked, When do you next see Lauren?

Ten p.m.

Have you worked out what you’re going to say?

Daniel flashed him a broad, boyish grin as he quipped, Aside from, ‘Stuff it, you old bitch?’

Yes, aside from that, Simon said, dry.

I’m sure I’ll think of something when it’s time.

I believe that’s what Uncle Walt’s afraid of.

Daniel waved off his mild concern and said airily, I’ll make nice, don’t worry. I’ll have to if I’m to take her Chair one day.

Simon looked at him blankly, nonplussed by the assured statement. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t used to it after all these years but sometimes his brother’s ambition really did take him by surprise. You know, I honestly can’t decide if you’re exceedingly ambitious, terribly arrogant, or just plain stupid.

That charming grin resurfaced as Daniel told him, Little of each, I expect.

A knock interrupted further possible declarations of grandeur. Daniel walked over and, as he reached the door, a soft growl emanated from the Amoven. Simon startled at its intensity, heart thudding against his chest unexpectedly. That was the kind of growl that warned Simon to be very careful around his brother, unlike the one just a few minutes ago. He watched closely as Daniel took a deep breath and opened the door with a patently false smile.

Cole Bishop stood in the hall wearing his too-expensive tailored suit and perfect smile, reeking of wealth and privilege. That alone wouldn’t normally tick off The McTavish, but coupled with condescension and an apparent lack of anything resembling a work ethic, Daniel often tipped into outright antipathy in his dealings with Cole.

No matter what Daniel and plenty of others said, Simon had witnessed Cole’s astuteness on several occasions. Simply organizing this enclave took a level of efficiency and skill that those who didn’t work in support fields wouldn’t see. He wasn’t the vapid pretty-boy everyone assumed; he couldn’t be. There was something in those golden eyes that spoke of an ambition equal to—perhaps even greater than—Daniel’s. Simon didn’t know what the other Amoven’s goals encompassed, however, and he certainly didn’t trust the Shifter.

Simon found their interaction fascinating, vacillating as it did between hate and a strange political seduction of sorts. Certainly, if they ever moved beyond the natural enmity, they would make a striking couple on a purely physical level. Daniel’s classic, black-Irish good looks contrasted by Cole’s blond lightness and amber eyes, both men exceptionally fit and highly intelligent.

You will do something about that cousin of yours. She has the kitchen in an uproar.

Daniel snorted, shoulders losing a little of their tension. You came all the way up here to tell me that?

Cole offered a thin smile and said, Would you like to eat for the rest of your stay?

It’s a phase, Bishop. There are stranger things than her being a Vegan.

Not for Amoven. The Executive Chef is… finding the challenge a bit more than he wants to deal with.

Tough.

Cole’s eyes flashed and he half-snarled, Bring her in line, McTavish, or I will.

Daniel moved too fast to see. In a blink he had Cole against the wall, hand wrapped tight around the other’s throat. His body pressed Cole’s into the unyielding stone and his grip was strong enough to make Cole wince and struggle futilely to free himself.

Simon held his breath, wondering if this time they would actually erupt into violence. He glanced over to the bathroom, the nearest place he could hide. It was just about an acceptable distance if he had to run for it. One didn’t remain in the same room as battling Amoven if one expected to live, after all.

Don’t ever threaten one of mine again, Bishop, Daniel said in a scarily calm voice. You won’t live to do it a second time.

The calm was belied by the claws Simon spotted digging into Cole’s throat. One had drawn blood, a sharp contrast to the golden skin.

Cole didn’t bat an eyelash as he snapped, Don’t be ridiculous, McTavish! Let me go this instant!

Daniel held on a few more seconds, probably just to make a point, and then stepped back fast enough that Cole stumbled at the release. Offering the other Amoven a bland smile, Daniel said, They’ll deal with Josie’s food choices or answer to me.

He closed the door in Cole’s face.

Shaking his head, adrenaline making his body a little unsteady, Simon returned to his chair. He didn’t even remember making the bid for safety; instinct had taken over. Daniel paced the room and Simon could practically see the swish of an as-yet-invisible tail and the baring of fangs in his brother’s sharp, jerky movements. The main danger in having the Enclave, even on neutral Council ground, was the Alphas losing control and going after one another in a bid for dominance.

Despite being the ones in charge, Simon had observed Alphas to often have the least self-control. Daniel was an anomaly in that aspect. The McTavish had unusual discipline and controlled himself with a ruthlessness that Simon had never seen in anyone else, except maybe Uncle Walt. But then, the old man was from another generation entirely.

Sorry, Daniel said at last, stopping by the table. Cole just…

Gets under your skin?

Among other things.

Reassured by the wry tone, Simon asked, You have heard the jokes being made at Josie’s expense, right?

Daniel snorted derisively. She brought that on herself. I’m certainly not going to defend her against bad jokes.

Actually, some of them are quite good.

Oh yeah? Like what?

Well, have you heard the one about the Goth Vegan Amoven?

Before Daniel could respond, a reluctant grin already twitching around his mouth, the door burst open and Josie herself stormed inside. Henna tattoos adorned pale, perfect skin and her dyed-black hair made her seem even paler, accentuating perfect cheekbones and wide blue eyes.

The family eyes, Simon thought, his old jealousy long gone. He’d always wished for those vibrant eyes growing up instead of the plain hazel he’d been dealt. But then, he was adopted, not blood, so who knows where his eye color came from.

She flounced onto the bed and shouted, "I’m going home! I refuse to have those… those… dogs sniffing around me like I’m some bitch in heat!"

Daniel cleared his throat, a suspicious sound given the circumstances, and replied, Josie, technically, you…

"Do not finish that and expect to keep your balls," she snarled, eyes glinting gold.

Simon stood hastily and said, I think I’m just going to find Uncle Walt and give him the good news. I know he never checks his e-mail.

Daniel mouthed coward at him as Simon beat a quick retreat.

Simon escaped the room, holding the laptop protectively over his lower extremities as he dashed past the bed where Josie sat with fangs bared. As soon as he was safely out of Amoven hearing he collapsed in laughter against the nearest wall. Regaining his composure a few minutes later, Simon wiped at his eyes and went in search of Uncle Walt.

Given the older Amoven’s penchant for alcohol and solitude, he went to the east side of the castle, which held various studies and discreetly hidden bars. Simon nodded respectfully to the assorted Amoven whose paths he crossed and kept his eyes carefully on the floor in a deliberately submissive gesture. It was unlikely anyone would attack him, but he felt it best not to give anyone an opening. Daniel was under enough stress as it was. He didn’t need to defend Simon from some purist looking for a fight.

The halls were a lot colder than the rooms. Not a surprise since the place was massive and pure stone. Simon couldn’t help but wonder at the art on the walls. Amoven lived for so long that he would bet most were original pieces, even though no glass separated the viewer from the art. The rugs absorbing his footsteps were thick and likely the only new things in the fortress.

Simon found Uncle Walt in one of the libraries on the second floor reading a massive leather-bound tome. Walter McTavish, late Alpha and current beta to the McTavish Clan, looked almost as leathery as the book, small dark eyes almost hidden behind folds of weathered skin. He was the only McTavish who didn’t have the blue eyes, but then, Walt was an exception to a lot of rules. It was a stretch to imagine Daniel looking like that a hundred years down the line. Not that Simon would be around to see it.

Sitting beside the old Amoven, he asked, Anything good?

You tell me, Walt rumbled.

Simon tugged the book toward him and peered at the unintelligible scrawl. He made a face at Walt. It’s Amoven.

Walt half-smirked, wrinkles creasing further. Don’t tell me you haven’t figured that out yet, smart kid like you?

If I had a basis of comparison I most certainly could, but all the Amoven texts are kept here, Simon reminded him tartly. "It’s not as though there’s a lending library and someone won’t teach it to me."

True enough.

Simon scowled briefly, but it was an old argument. He paused dramatically and said, Five confirmed pregnancies and ten more matings to go tonight.

Walt went very still. Which Clans?

Setting his laptop on the table, Simon brought up the data file.

Walt quickly scanned the names listed in the spreadsheet and snorted in apparent amusement. Sanchez and Ross, eh? That’ll turn some heads.

Simon grinned and commented, I imagine Ramon’s going to have a bit of culture shock moving from Texas to Massachusetts.

Walt’s mouth twitched again. Just a little. Why such a high viability for them?

Ramon and Beth are both twins who come from twins.

Ah. Very nice. Might get a set of triplets out of them, or even a real litter of four or five.

Simon shuddered at the thought of even an Amoven carrying that many babies. While stronger than humans by nature, that would be stretching things a bit, pun intended. Beth Ross would be closely watched by everyone, there was no doubt about that. He brought up the next file, which contained the failed mating pairings, and waited for Walt to read it.

Walt scanned the list and shook his head with a sigh. Too many on that list. And Daniel. Really didn’t expect him to be one of the failures.

Simon withheld judgment on that comment. Walt made no bones about the fact that he wanted more children in the family. He just hoped the old man didn’t hassle Daniel about the failure. He took the higher road and merely said, But we might have ten more from tonight. We’ll know in the morning.

There should still be more. I need to figure out what went wrong.

Seeing that Walt had entered mad-scientist mode, as Josie put it, Simon simply closed up his laptop and informed him, Daniel’s meeting with Lauren at ten tonight.

Walt waved him off. Daniel can handle himself.

Even with Lauren?

Especially with Lauren.

Simon had his doubts but didn’t voice them. One simply didn’t doubt one’s Alpha outside the family home. The walls did, after all, have ears. Standing, he said, I’m going to find Sandy and the boys.

His comment fell on deaf ears as Walt immersed himself in the Amoven book, dismissing Simon from his mind. Amused and yet not, long used to his adopted uncle’s eccentric and condescending behavior, Simon left the library. He walked to the living quarters the McTavish Clan had been assigned. It didn’t take all that long to arrive and he knocked politely on Sandy’s door.

Come in, Simon!

Simon opened the door, knowing that Sandy had caught his scent through the crack under the door. It was a handy ability and one he frequently wished to have. Immediately jumped by a four-legged furball yelping with excitement, Simon fell over backward with an oof of displaced air. He landed partway in the hall, laptop clutched to his chest with one arm and puppy held safely in the other, licking his face.

Mason! Get off your Uncle Simon right now!

The dark-furred, bright-eyed puppy, still a good size when Shifted, sniffed in obvious disdain and licked Simon’s face again before trotting away.

Catching his breath, Simon sat up and found himself surrounded by the other Clan kids, all Shifted as well. Giving Sandy a bewildered look as he stood and closed the door, Simon demanded, What on earth are you thinking?

Sandy waved airily at him, a McTavish gesture that always irritated him. The kids were bored. I figured this would keep them occupied and wear them out at the same time. Win-win.

It was a challenge to reach the sofa without stepping on one of the three wickedly fast puppies running this way and that. There were five children in total, two belonging to Daniel and three to Sandy, and they were the Clan’s most prized asset. Mason and Malcolm, ten-year-old twins, were diametric opposites, but showed traits of their father in different ways. Stella, Amber, and Kyle took after Sandy to varying degrees, but all had been born with a great deal more common sense, even at 14, 12, and 10 respectively.

The girls waved to him from where they sat in a corner, each plugged into an individual laptop, probably chatting online with friends.

How’re the matings going? Sandy asked curiously.

Simon winced, but Sandy had no problems with talking about sex in front of the kids. It was something she and Daniel had disagreed about many, many times. Personally, Simon was with Daniel on that one. Clearing his throat, he replied, Better than expected. Daniel’s to speak with Lauren tonight.

Dried-up old bitch, Stella commented from the side.

Simon sighed and looked at the pretty, dark-haired girl. "All the languages you can speak, and that’s what comes out of your mouth?"

She smirked, a disconcerting sight on a fourteen-year-old, and amended, "Putain ratatinée. Is that better?"

Since it was French for the same thing, Simon just sighed again and shook his head.

Sandy ran a hand through her long hair and asked, Have you seen William today?

Simon hid a grin at his sister’s unsubtle bid for information on the bodyguard. I expect he’s been busy looking after Daniel, but then I rarely spot him anyhow.

A distressed, muffled yelping caught everyone’s attention. Simon hopped to his feet, directly behind Sandy as they raced to one of the bedrooms. Mason was stuck halfway back to human form. It was a ludicrous and somewhat nasty sight, bones misshapen and fur only partially covering the small body. It was the most vulnerable five minutes of an Amoven’s life, Shifting from one form to the other. The ones who’d been doing it for years could manage it in under two, but they were still helpless during those two minutes.

Sandy crouched beside the whimpering child-puppy and urged, You can do it, Mason, just concentrate. You know what to do, sweetie. Listen to what your body tells you and will yourself to become how you know yourself to look like as a boy. That’s it. Good boy, you’re doing wonderfully! Good job!

She cradled the quietly crying youngster in her arms, now fully human, and stood to announce, I think it’s past bedtime for certain young McTavish men. Everyone in the bathroom to clean up for bed.

Malcolm and Kyle grumbled perfectly normal boy-grumbles, having Shifted without problems. Kyle made fun of his recently stuck cousin and Malcolm punched the bigger boy in the arm, ready to defend his brother. Just as Kyle spun to return the favor, Sandy called from the bathroom, In here now, boys!

You’re so dead! Kyle hissed, pushing Malcolm aside to reach the bathroom.

Shaking his head, remembering tussles of the same sort from his own childhood, Simon returned to the living-room area of the suite.

Human or Amoven, it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s just the number three, Simon mused, sitting back down.

Hey, Uncle Simon?

Glancing over at Amber, Simon managed a tired smile as he asked, What is it, Amber?

What happens if the Enclave fails?

It was such an innocent, curious question from a girl who shouldn’t even know that the extinction of her species was possible. Knowing that she wouldn’t be satisfied with a pat answer, Simon answered slowly, In the immediate future? Nothing. Life goes on. There will be fewer children, though, and eventually the Amoven will die out.

Amber frowned. But I thought Amoven lived for hundreds of years.

They do, Simon confirmed. But you can only have children for a limited time period, just like human women.

She went silent, turning back to her computer with a thoughtful air, still frowning.

Simon noticed the tense set to Stella’s shoulders, though the girl didn’t turn from her laptop to join or prolong the conversation. He worried about her, about how much she internalized, but she was too much like Daniel. Unless she was ready to talk about it, Stella remained silent as the grave, the biting comments hiding what she was really worried about.

Sandy came out about a half-hour later, just in time to usher the girls to their beds. There weren’t any protests, which told Simon they were still thinking about his words. He grimaced to himself and thought, Not exactly pleasant bedtime thoughts.

Since the girls pretty much took care of themselves, Sandy was out in less than five minutes. She sank onto the sofa opposite and gave a tired grin. I love them all, but I’m exhausted.

I don’t know how you do it, Simon told her honestly. I’d’ve gone crazy about thirteen years ago.

Sandy laughed softly and replied, That’s because you men are weaklings.

Simon chuckled with her. And don’t I know it.

There was a hesitation before Sandy said, I know a dozen women off the top of my head who’ve all asked for your number and an introduction. We all want you to have your own family, you know?

It was something of a revelation to know that they’d been talking about him like that, especially given that no one had ever questioned him directly on the subject before. He thought about it a moment – more about how, rather than what, to say – and finally explained, I saw what Daniel went through with Elsa and what you went through with Greg, Steve, and Mark, and decided that it wasn’t for me.

"But you need human contact, Simon, she countered, clearly worried. You can’t simply make us the be-all, end-all of your world."

Simon offered a brief smile. Too late for that, I’m afraid. And it’s not as though I’m deliberately avoiding romantic entanglements. It’s just… I’m very particular. I won’t risk any of you to those who would hurt you. Never. If that means I don’t have my own kids, well, I’ve got three wonderful nephews and two exquisite nieces.

What about sex? Sandy asked bluntly.

He chuckled and assured her, Not to worry. I have that whenever I get the urge.

She huffed, obviously not amused, and informed him firmly, It’s time you settled down, Simon. I’m going to find you the perfect woman.

Alarmed, Simon sat up straight to try to divert her but the door opened and Josie flounced in, interrupting him a second time that night. As the young woman began her women’s rights rant on her elder cousin, Simon could only hope that the topic would slide from Sandy’s capricious and often forgetful mind. At least for the time being. If Sandy said she was going to do something, then she would.

Snorting to himself, Simon thought, Stubbornness. The other main McTavish family trait.

Worse came to worst, he’d go on a few blind dates to satisfy Sandy’s romantic streak. He’d meant what he’d said. He would never risk his family, not even for his own happiness.

Chapter Two

New Alliances, Old Enemies

Lauren Bishop was called many things by many people: ruthless, efficient, judgmental, eerily smart, intimidating, and rigid were foremost among the choices. At one hundred thirty-seven years old and Alpha of her Clan for the last century, she’d earned the right to say and do whatever the hell she wanted. Or, that’s what others said to make allowances for behavior that would otherwise start Clan wars.

Daniel knew that ultimately, he and Lauren had the same goal: protect the Amoven. Regarding how to bring about that goal, they didn’t – and likely never would – agree. Further descriptors that he would add to the previous were deluded, technophobic, shortsighted, narrow-minded, and just plain mean. She said and did whatever the hell she wanted because no one dared to stand up to her. She’d been the head of the North American Council going on forty years and on the International Council almost that long. While not the first female Amoven to wield that kind of power, Lauren was the only one in the last five hundred or so years.

They were both political animals and Daniel had learned much of the game at her feet whether Lauren knew it or not. He’d been watching her every move since first forming the plan to rebuild the McTavish Clan when he was fourteen. He’d spent the last twenty-one years in an unceasing internship, studying Lauren Bishop and others as well as Amoven politics in general. This was his first real opportunity to pull off his long-term goal. If the Enclave failed, so did Daniel; at least for a good, long while.

Despite his teasing of Simon earlier, Daniel knew exactly what he was going to say. Every move, down to the color of his socks and choice of shoes, had been planned with great care and forethought. He knew that while they could compete for Most OCD he had Simon beat hands down, especially where it came to all things McTavish. The difference between them was that Daniel didn’t advertise his need for order and rules amidst the often-chaotic life of an Amoven Clan, even one as small as theirs.

Striding across the Council chamber to where Lauren, Cheyenne, and Albert Krause sat in their respective seats, Daniel kept a neutral expression in place. He stopped at the prerequisite five paces from their dais and gave a short, formal bow.

Good evening, Albert began, his voice still strong at one hundred fifty-nine years. We welcome The McTavish to our Council.

Daniel bowed again, slightly deeper, and replied, The McTavish gratefully accepts the Council’s welcome and offers fealty and service to the Council, evermore.

Very pretty, Lauren rasped. Get on with it.

While impatient himself, Daniel was a little thrown that she would so flout standard practice. Smirking only on the inside, he thought, Must still be pissed that Uncle Walt’s support of the Enclave tipped the votes needed to form it.

Daniel offered a brief, conciliatory smile before reporting in a scrupulously neutral tone, To declare the Enclave’s success is perhaps premature but I am willing to stand by that judgment. Already there are five confirmed births to come from last night’s matings. Data from tonight’s matings will be collected in the morning and added to the report. Also, tomorrow night bodes well for another round of matings, with half the women still fertile on the final night of the full moon.

Lauren’s voice dripped with hostility. There were nineteen failed pairings last night. You call that success?

I do. It was difficult to maintain a respectful tone, but he managed. One of last night’s pairings will likely end in a multiple birth, and three of the pairings look to be permanent attachments. Given the couples’ now-proven fertility, we can count on further births from them. As well, those who failed last night and tonight have another opportunity with other potential mates in the future.

Albert frowned, and even as the least imposing council member it was still a possible complication. This is all so… cold and calculating.

Daniel paused, as if giving the words consideration. I suppose it may seem that way, but in this time when our population is in such dire straits, unusual methods must be used. And given this success, international Enclaves would further increase the stability and diversity of all our bloodlines. Lastly, how does it really differ from the arranged marriages of the Old World? Here the participants have a choice to take part in the first place instead of being forced into unwanted marriages.

Albert sighed, silently conceding the point.

Lauren, however, had more biting words. "Soon you will have everyone’s genetic marker on file somewhere and will play matchmaker based solely on that. Technology will reduce us to a human level."

Daniel couldn’t help an irritated twitch of the lips, restraining the outright scowl by the skin of his fangs. Given that two of my Clan are human I do not believe that to be such a bad thing. They are, perhaps, even more devoted to Amoven ways than some Amoven.

Banging her ceremonial cane on the floor, Lauren snapped, What say you, Cheyenne? You’ve been awfully damn quiet on the whole subject.

Daniel’s gaze turned to the Native American elder seated on Lauren’s left. If Albert was the science and brains, and Lauren the drive and ambition, Cheyenne would be termed heart and soul of the Council. No one knew how old he was or his true name or Clan. He’d simply appeared at the Council chamber eighty years ago and never left. Normally filled with stories of histories from around the world, as well as smiling dark eyes and a wicked sense of humor, Cheyenne had been unusually silent since the start of the Enclave.

He was Daniel’s biggest worry. Even those who listened to Albert and Lauren paid Cheyenne heed when he backed something. The old Amoven was wise and filled with a goodness with which no one could argue. If Daniel had to pick an official life mentor, it would be Cheyenne, even though they’d barely exchanged ten words in all of Daniel’s life. The other Amoven’s wisdom was like a gift and Daniel had soaked up all of it that was written down in their histories.

Cheyenne stared at Daniel and then stood after a long minute of silence. He walked slowly but steadily down the dais stairs and gripped Daniel’s shoulders with both hands. The grip was astonishingly strong and Daniel bit back a gasp of surprised pain but didn’t falter. He stood straight and stared right back at the old man.

"The Dark Night