Chapter 12 Fear Is the Greatest Weapon

— Eveline —

“Allô, chérie!”

“Allô, Laeticia. How are you doing today?”

“Very well. Alpha Jean-Philippe is ready to receive you.”

“Thank you,” I told her.

It was the third time I visited Boisclair pack. It’s one of the oldest pack I’ve come across. There is rumours than one of Jean-Philippe Boisclair’s ancestors is the one who ended the reign of terror of the Beast of Gévaudan, which was, as per the rumours, either a werewolf who had been cursed by a warlock, or a werewolf with a severe advanced case of the rabies. Either way, there had been over 200 attacks and more than 100 deaths in 1600s France, which had freaked out the entire werewolf communities.

Many powerful wolves had been dispatched to stop the massacre.

Werewolves communities have always been quite secretive, and as history has told us, attracting human attention is always a bad decision. I mean, many don’t know this, but during the Spanish Inquisition, the second most hunted preternaturals, after witches, had been werewolves. Some European werewolf trials have become quite notorious throughout history.

Generally, it’s one of the first thing werewolf pups are taught by their parents.

Be careful of humans. If you’re among them, blend in. Otherwise, make yourself scarce. And don’t shift or show any signs of being a wolf unless you’re safe on a pack’s territory.

It’s also why many packs are not very fond of having humans coming on their territories. Why so many of them are isolated.

Humans can jump the gun so easily.

They have this weird idea that they are at the top of the food-chain. And anything that can challenge this misconception terrifies them. And, of course, like most scared things, they want nothing but to destroy anything they can’t control, understand, or dominate.

Their ignorance is baffling.

Werewolves are so much more than humans, yet we are not even close to the top of the food-chain ourselves. The only big difference between humans and werewolves is that we don’t fool ourselves as much about our place in the world.

The Boisclair pack had some of the best woods on their territories that I’ve seen. Every time I came here, I had to indulge in crazy runs.

The trees were ridiculously old and had those funky bends in them that made them stunning. And they were gigantic.

The first time I saw Jean-Philippe he was fifteen. His father had died the prior year, and he had been giving the full responsibility of Alpha. And as his mother was not of a strong bloodline, it had been considered better to put him in power right away.

But at fourteen, it’s ridiculously young to put someone in such a position and challenges are nearly always inevitable when one gets that position before they hit eighteen.

But Jean-Philippe’s father Marcel had worked a few times with my dad, and when Kaden began taking charge, the Moonhunters Brotherhood had decided to get on his back hard, and as dad was pretty sick, Marcel had taken it upon himself to back him up before the Brotherhood. Which had pissed more than a few people off, but had greatly helped Kaden solidify his position in the werewolf community and it’d helped with some of the politics.

Mom, at that time, was spending every moment free she had caring for Dad. Kaden had been mostly left to himself to care for everything, and Mom told me, he would never ask for anything or bother them, other than the designated periods every week Dad gave him to train him until he took full charge.

So when Marcel died and Jean-Philippe took over—around the same age Kaden did to booth—, of course, Kaden helped him. He’d even told him he’d champion for him on any challenge until he’d reach eighteen.

He did answer a few challenges for him. The first was from Boisclair itself—in front of the whole pack too. And, of course, my brother won without any difficulties. So it discouraged any others from trying the same thing.

The others were external challenges.

It’s really appealing to challenge a weak Alpha when you can gain one of the richest packs in Europe in the process.

One of those challenges, I heard, had been pretty brutal, and Kaden came back home in a terrible state, but victorious.

I was there for the last challenge. It was the first time I came here. It wasn’t the most brutal one, but it had opened my eyes to how violent they can get.

I mean, I’ve trained for combat, my parents and Kaden all insisted on me and my sisters to be combat capable, at the very least.

But there has not been a territory challenge in Blakemore or Blakewoods since Grandpa. I suppose the reputation of the Hellhound dissuaded most of those.

Grandpa has this idea that fear is the greatest weapon a wolf can wield. He would tell all sorts of stories. It reached a point where no one knows how much of this even happened or is pure fabrication. It’s also him who started the whole ‘Hellhound’ thing. And he’s the one who began calling Dad that, and later, Kaden. He’s both the holder and giver of the title. He says the best battles are won without a fight, and if the fear of a name can end a war before it even begins, then that name should be cherished and fed until it grows so much, it’s only uttered in both fear and awe in hushed voices in dark corners.

Despite his thug identity, he’s always had this weird philosophizing persona. I think Dad and Kaden are a little like that too. Kinda like closeted bookworms.

I can’t really say he’s wrong about the whole fear of the name theory.

After traveling some, I’ve realized its power and used it a few times myself.

There was once this chick who decided she didn’t want me in the same room as her mate. I never understood excessive feats of jealousy and possessiveness, I mean the guy can’t even be in the same room as a girl without risking her throwing a fit—I’d dump someone like that in a heartbeat. Anyways, she was all about butt-kicking, and I was about to get to one of my first meetings abroad on my own, and I really wanted to do this right, not come in late and bloody—so I just told her, “You sure you want to start a fight with the sister of the Hellhound?” with the coldest stare I could muster, and just like that, I saw her deflate, and her boyfriend dragged her away in a hurry. I had been pretty proud of myself that day. I went into that meeting strutting like I’d just won a UFC cage match. So I guess I can understand the appeal of such power.

Jean-Philippe had been sixteen last time I saw him, so he should be around seventeen now.

The last time I’d seen him he had decided to live up to the Frenchman reputation at last, and was flirting like it was out of style.

It was kinda cute, until it became overbearing. I’d had to push it down a notch. If he wasn’t such a nice guy, I might have taken offence, but he never went too far, just a little too much. But everything had seemed resolved when I’d left.

He lived in the pack house, which was a medieval castle that had seen major restoration during the renaissance, and other that the addition of plumbing and electricity during the Victorian era, nothing more than maintenance had been done.

It was absolutely beautiful. The kind of place to give any girl fantasies. The little girl in me just couldn’t get enough of this place.

Yet, winter night here were a brutal affair, and the brutality had nothing to do with violence and everything to do with the cold.

By the night, it was cold. And when you slept through the blaze in the fireplace, you were guaranteed to wake to frozen toes and nose, buried under a metric ton of blankets. Old fireplaces are not as efficient as modern wood-burning stoves. The cheery fire would died too early, and there was nothing but cold ashes in the morning.

But it was charming. Everything was charming here. The food, the people, the architecture, the forest. Everything.

“Eveline!” I heard before I’d even opened the door of Jean-Philippe’s office completely.

“Hi!” I said.

Wow! He’d fill in. He use to have a scrawny look about himself, but the shoulders had begun to take shape. He had the physic of someone who trained a lot too, which looked good on him. He’d probably started shaving too.

And when he got up I gasped and put my hand upon my heart mimicking surprise.

“Since when are you taller than me?” I asked in shock. Not only that, but he was taller than me in my heels. He’d always been on the small side. I’d teased him about it.

And now he looked like I’d given him the best compliment in the whole world.

He came to hug and kiss me on the cheeks.

I was right about the training assumption, as I put my hands on his arms. He was fit.

Man, if this kept up, in a few years he would become one of the most attractive bachelors of the whole werewolf community.

Rich, handsome, living in a castle. Damn!

“You’re about to become quite a catch,” I told him.

“About?” he asked. His English was a lot better too. His accent had smoothed out and was far easier to understand.

I smiled at him. “If this keeps up, I might have to present you to my sisters.”

“What, not enough for you?” He smiled.

“I’m sorry, but I found my mate.”

His smile faltered. “I should have snatched you when I could.”

“Nah, I’m a handful. I’d wipe the floor with you.”

He smiled again. “Maybe that’s just my thing,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I blushed.

Since when does little Jean-Philippe makes me blush.

“I brought tons of things for you to read, and sign, and be all Alpha-like with.” I change the subject.

I was always less formal with him.

“Mmh,” he said and took the mallet I gave him.

I had the feeling he wanted to say something more, but he didn’t. Actually, he got all business-like for a while, which was a nice change.

I suppose he had discipline drilled into him hard in the last few years. It makes a kid mature real fast.

Looking at him now, it was hard to think of him in terms of a kid.

At that point Marie came in. She was probably done with the paperwork with Laeticia—Jean-Philippe’s secretary—, and we got to business.

We had a lot of documents to cover. And tomorrow morning I had to represent Kaden as a moderator in a territorial conflict between packs of which Jean-Philippe was another moderator and host for the negotiations.

It was the first time I’d ever done anything like that, and I was thrilled that Kaden thought I was up for the job.

I suppose with Marie here, it would help.

She’s seen those things happen more than a few times and would be able to guide me through it. But mostly I’d been told I was to sit around and listen. I wasn’t even the deciding party, and only there with one other to vote with Jean-Philippe if his decision was contested. And he had to decide only if the opposing parties in question couldn’t come to a decision by themselves.

Mostly, this was organized in a way to limit hostilities and the risk of war between two major packs.

Obviously, I drilled Marie all evening about what could happen, and all the possible outcomes, and how I should act. And I did so until exhaustion—Marie’s I mean.

Mads was also here, of course, and I questioned him some, but he’d never been the biggest talker.

He’d been the one sent with me every time I’d gone abroad, and I’d learn to see through his facade.

He was a pretty decent guy.

He was in his late twenties, and not bad to look at; dark hair and tan, and always an impeccable suit. He had a permanent scoff on his face, but it was not attitude. Actually, I’d come to learn his biggest secret. The guy was shy.

It was mostly why he didn’t talk much, why the scoff. It wasn’t bad temper, just discomfort and social anxiety.

He liked that the job pretty much demanded of him to be no more than a shadow, lurking about, not talking to anyone, and looking intimidating.

I also discovered, after I saw a woman at a party a little too drunk coming at him a little too hard, that he blushed easily.

I had to really hold back the laughter when I saw this. But having him with me always calmed me. He always made me feel safe, no matter what. I knew he always had my back. So I didn’t bother him too much about the ins and outs of tomorrow’s meeting.

* * * * *

“Your men walk on my land, I told you,” argued Alpha Fredericson.

“That most have been a mistake,” replied Alpha West.

“There is a freaking electric fence, it’s not something that can’t be mistaken.”

It went on and on like this for hours. I nearly fell asleep during the whole ordeal. I must say this is pretty anticlimactic. It’s not and interesting as I thought it would be. I get why Kaden didn’t even bother. They nag about the most insignificant things, it’s a real pointless mess.

Pass noon, I started to look at my watch every half hour, afraid I might have to delay my flight.

* * * * *

“Wait! You’re leaving already?” asked Jean-Philippe after he learned of my early departure after our dinner. “I thought you’d be there for the weekend at least.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m leaving for a few weeks on Monday, so I have to prepare this weekend.”

He looked sour.

“I hope you hadn’t planned anything?”

He didn’t answer. I felt like he did.

“I’m really sorry. Maybe next time I’ll stay longer. Could be there for the week.”

“Maybe,” he mumbled.

He hugged me and his smile returned.

We made our goodbyes, and were gone within the hour.

There was a febrility on Sunday evening that I don’t remember ever feeling before traveling.

I wanted to spend all the time that I could with my family and friends, but the moment I was with them, I just wanted to be alone. My nerves were killing me. So much so that I had to take sleeping pills on the plane.

Mads was coming with me—per my brother’s order—until he could assess my security and decide to return, or stay for the full duration if he wanted to. I don’t remember seeing my brother going to such length for nothing. It got me a little worried, until I remembered that I’m the first of his little sisters to get her mate. So could just be him being all brotherly on me.