an asshole, he was a persuasive speaker when he wanted to be, although I sincerely doubted he’d be the one who’d bring over groceries and check up on the old man—blood relative or not.
“You volunteer for that? Making sure he’s got food and he keeps his house? Out of your own money?” Peter wondered. He sounded extremely doubtful Jonathan would follow through.
“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” said Jonathan.
Everyone at the table knew he was a goddamn lazy-ass liar. The duty would fall to Nora. It would be her money too, and she wasn’t even at the table to agree to it.
“You can afford your house and his? And food?” Peter pressed.
“Between Nora and me, we’ll figure it out,” assured Jonathan. “I still get my pack subsidization toward my rent, don’t I?”
“Of course.” Peter looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but he was good, he didn’t.
“Then I can do it,” said Jonathan rashly.
“It might be better if the old man moved in with you,” suggested Peter and the whole pack nearly burst into derisive laughter.
“Yeah, right,” said Jonathan with a sneer. “I haven’t got room for him in my tiny little house. There’s hardly enough room for me and Nora as it is. Be real. I said I can do it. Either you believe me or you don’t.”
“Do I understand correctly that the old man deliberately hid the fact that he accidentally severed the brake line?” Colin asked. “He knew he did it back then? He’s confessed to it, right?”
“Yes,” agreed Allerton.
“And he let Constance be blamed instead? Because he was too ashamed?” Incredulity spread across Colin’s face.
Murphy’s expression was sour. It apparently rankled that Colin defended me.
“Yes,” Allerton said. He had his fingers steepled in front of him on the table and looked very authoritarian.
Colin did roll his eyes. “Well, then, what is the issue? Is he senile? Has that been established?”
“No,” said Allerton.
Jonathan said, “The old man is losing his marbles. Just because we don’t have some doctor’s note confirming it doesn’t mean you can’t see him losing it for yourself. You don’t know him, I do.” He gave Colin a condescending smile which Colin returned with interest.
“Two years ago he was presumably more in control of his faculties than he is today,” Colin said, making people shift uncomfortably in their seats at the logic of his words. “He knew he did it, he covered it up. There’s no question what we should do. Just because he’s old doesn’t give him a pass to obliterate three people’s lives—two of them dead, one made to suffer and go without a pack for something she didn’t do. He needs to be put to death, and if the Council say we can’t do that, we have to do what we can, which is exile. If he’d been thirty or fifty or eighty years old, we wouldn’t even be arguing about this. The grandfather card cuts zero ice with me. I vote exile.”
“Are we ready to put it to a vote?” Allerton addressed the table at large before Jonathan, his face red, could say something inflammatory. One by one everyone nodded.
“Where will he go?” Devon asked, in clear distress.
“You can abstain from voting, my dear,” said Allerton. “He’ll be taken from this state. That much we’ll arrange. We can make sure it’s a warm climate. Florida, perhaps? So if he does end up homeless, he won’t be likely to freeze to death.”
“No, just starve,” sniped Jonathan.
Devon sighed—an unhappy, anguished sound. She looked pleadingly at her bond mate and he gave her an encouraging nod as if to tell her she could do it—it wouldn’t be pleasant, but she could do it.
I thought about a fatal glass of warm milk. No matter which way they voted, Grandfather Tobias was not going to leave this safe house alive.
“Do we want to do this anonymously or out in the open?” Allerton looked at everyone around the table, skipping no one, not even me and Murphy.
“In the open,” decided Callie
“You volunteer for that? Making sure he’s got food and he keeps his house? Out of your own money?” Peter wondered. He sounded extremely doubtful Jonathan would follow through.
“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” said Jonathan.
Everyone at the table knew he was a goddamn lazy-ass liar. The duty would fall to Nora. It would be her money too, and she wasn’t even at the table to agree to it.
“You can afford your house and his? And food?” Peter pressed.
“Between Nora and me, we’ll figure it out,” assured Jonathan. “I still get my pack subsidization toward my rent, don’t I?”
“Of course.” Peter looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but he was good, he didn’t.
“Then I can do it,” said Jonathan rashly.
“It might be better if the old man moved in with you,” suggested Peter and the whole pack nearly burst into derisive laughter.
“Yeah, right,” said Jonathan with a sneer. “I haven’t got room for him in my tiny little house. There’s hardly enough room for me and Nora as it is. Be real. I said I can do it. Either you believe me or you don’t.”
“Do I understand correctly that the old man deliberately hid the fact that he accidentally severed the brake line?” Colin asked. “He knew he did it back then? He’s confessed to it, right?”
“Yes,” agreed Allerton.
“And he let Constance be blamed instead? Because he was too ashamed?” Incredulity spread across Colin’s face.
Murphy’s expression was sour. It apparently rankled that Colin defended me.
“Yes,” Allerton said. He had his fingers steepled in front of him on the table and looked very authoritarian.
Colin did roll his eyes. “Well, then, what is the issue? Is he senile? Has that been established?”
“No,” said Allerton.
Jonathan said, “The old man is losing his marbles. Just because we don’t have some doctor’s note confirming it doesn’t mean you can’t see him losing it for yourself. You don’t know him, I do.” He gave Colin a condescending smile which Colin returned with interest.
“Two years ago he was presumably more in control of his faculties than he is today,” Colin said, making people shift uncomfortably in their seats at the logic of his words. “He knew he did it, he covered it up. There’s no question what we should do. Just because he’s old doesn’t give him a pass to obliterate three people’s lives—two of them dead, one made to suffer and go without a pack for something she didn’t do. He needs to be put to death, and if the Council say we can’t do that, we have to do what we can, which is exile. If he’d been thirty or fifty or eighty years old, we wouldn’t even be arguing about this. The grandfather card cuts zero ice with me. I vote exile.”
“Are we ready to put it to a vote?” Allerton addressed the table at large before Jonathan, his face red, could say something inflammatory. One by one everyone nodded.
“Where will he go?” Devon asked, in clear distress.
“You can abstain from voting, my dear,” said Allerton. “He’ll be taken from this state. That much we’ll arrange. We can make sure it’s a warm climate. Florida, perhaps? So if he does end up homeless, he won’t be likely to freeze to death.”
“No, just starve,” sniped Jonathan.
Devon sighed—an unhappy, anguished sound. She looked pleadingly at her bond mate and he gave her an encouraging nod as if to tell her she could do it—it wouldn’t be pleasant, but she could do it.
I thought about a fatal glass of warm milk. No matter which way they voted, Grandfather Tobias was not going to leave this safe house alive.
“Do we want to do this anonymously or out in the open?” Allerton looked at everyone around the table, skipping no one, not even me and Murphy.
“In the open,” decided Callie
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