Persephone Alcmedi 00 - Wicked Circle

crown.
    The crowned rampant wolf was the symbol of the Zvonul; the shield was indicative of the local den. Each pack had its own coat of arms.
    The screen faded, showing an array of seating. One grand throne was elevated; other thrones were arranged to either side of it in three rows of five. A short pillar loomed in the foreground; atop it sat a wooden box that appeared to have a small opening in the top.
    Within seconds, men started strolling past the container and dropping something inside before finding their seats.
    I tried to text Zhan. It wouldn’t go through. Renaldo leaned over. “You can’t get a signal in here.”
    “Then you’re going to have another woman coming up your stairs.” I put the phone away and thought apologies to Zhan.
    After long minutes of men walking by the box, the studious group assembled in the seats on the screen. Two seats were empty, one of which was the elevated throne. Lastly, a man in a long black cassock strode past, ignoring the wooden box. He placed three stones upon the empty throne: white, red, and black. Then he ceremoniously took his place on the remaining seat.
    “They’ve replaced the Rege already?” I whispered.
    “Taine Vega,” Gregor whispered back.
    The new Rege had dark hair in a style that would have satisfied any drill sergeant. The tribal tattoos on his square face began between his dark eyes to mimic the arch of his brows. Lines defined the bridge of his nose and pointed to his high cheekbones. Accentuating his thin lips, a pair of swirls graced his chin.
    A shirtless young boy scurried into view on the screen. He set three small plates before the pillar where the camera and those assembled could see them. He opened the box and retrieved a small white stone from within. Over the next minute he sorted twenty-nine stones. “Eight black. Six red. Fifteen white,” he said.
    The new Rege stared into the camera. “Eight of my brethren oppose you, Mr. Newman.”
    “Fifteen do not,” Johnny said.
    “And yet six are indifferent. My old seat is unfilled.” He gestured toward the seat he’d placed the stones upon and I noticed his hands had tattoos as well. “Should those six be swayed to oppose you and should my successor choose to oppose you, the vote is split.”
    “It is your vote that decides, Rege, regardless of the democratic process you’ve asked your respected peers to engage in.”
    “Indeed.”
    His gaze conveyed seriousness but not pride, like that of an official whose new responsibility brought with it a dose of loathing. On the plus side, he didn’t look like he was suffering from a swollen ego. On the minus side, he didn’t look happy at all.
    At first, I expected Johnny to ask him what bribe he required. The former Rege had candidly stated he would not confirm Johnny as Domn Lup unless Johnny gave him something—namely me. He’d learned of my ability to perform the spell that enabled wærewolves to retain their man-minds while in wolf form. While that deal-making had occurred in private, this Rege had his peers present to witness the proof of Johnny’s power. He’d also had them vote and had had the stones tallied before everyone so he could consider his peers’ opinions before making his decision.
    As the silence wore on, I was glad Johnny didn’t inquire about that bribe. This Rege’s thoughtfulness proved he was quite different from his predecessor. That could be good. Or it could be just as bad in a different way.
    On-screen, the new Rege tapped his fingers on his thigh and said, “I confirm you, John Newman.”

CHAPTER TEN

    A s the assembled Cleveland pack members showed their enthusiasm by howling and applauding, Johnny struggled internally to keep his poise. Always before when he transformed, even for the few noncyclical complete changes, his beast had roused and paced within, growling, but safely caged.
    Not this time.
    This time, his inner wolf had burst into sentience with such intensity that all his previous transformations suddenly seemed semiconscious by comparison. Though his man-mind had remained, the instincts of the beast ambushed him, enveloped him in vehement desires so powerful he could barely keep the impulses from becoming actions.
    It was so overwhelming that he’d willed an immediate reversion to human form.
    The wolf had withdrawn into human flesh, but it did not slumber as before.
    On the screen, the Rege called for silence. “Let us talk soon about the date of your coronation. I need to assess