Sohna and Vivian - My Brother's Keeper

"Wolf, you don't have to carry me," insisted Virginia. "I'm fine now. Really."

They were headed back upstairs from the dungeon, Wolf having decided that if he still felt no effects from the moon by noon on the third day that he was safely past his time of the month. But he'd scooped her up from the bed where she'd been sitting, not even allowing her feet to touch the floor for their walk back up to the main floor. Thinking back on it, she was amazed he'd even let her go to the bathroom unaided, but she remembered then she'd had to fight to do that alone as well.

"I just don't want you walking up all those stairs," he said.

"Wolf, I can't go the next eight months being carried up and down stairs every time I want to go somewhere."

"I can carry you, Virginia," he assured her. "I don't mind."

She'd been half joking herself, but his comment sounded deadly serious. Oh, no, she thought. How am I going to talk him out of this?

Almost as if in answer, she felt a tug at her left hand. It was her free hand, not the one around Wolf's neck. She brought it up where they could both see what it had to say.

"Don't you worry; don't you cry,
The child inside will not die."

"Oh, thanks," she said dryly. "Where were you before when we were scared half to death?"

As soon as the words had left her mouth, however, she began to wonder if the ring might not have spoken before because there had been no assurance of the baby's safety for it to give them until now.

"Never mind, don't answer that," she told it quickly, then looked at Wolf and said, "See, I'm fine, just like I told you. So will you put me down now?"

His eyes met hers and she could see him relenting.

"As soon as we get to the top of the stairs, okay?" he said.

"These stairs," she clarified.

The corners of his mouth quirked. She started to giggle; their heads drew closer. But just before they touched, Wolf's attention jerked away, focused suddenly on something up the stairs, above them.

"What?" she asked.

"I heard a scream," he said, still distracted, then amended, "She's still screaming."

Virginia looked up the stairs as well.

"Who?" she said. She hadn't heard anything, but she knew Wolf's hearing was far more sensitive than her own.

"I don't know," he said, increasing his pace.

"We'd go faster if you'd put me down," she pointed out, though she knew he could have run full speed holding her if he'd wanted to.

He was too distracted to comment.

When they reached the massive oaken door which separated the dungeons from the rest of the castle, he kept his word and set her down. Virginia watched as the single panel of four feet wide, five inch thick wood swung silently outward on three immense iron hinges, thinking, as she did every time she saw it, that she was glad the escape route she and her dad had taken led out through the armory instead of to this door. She'd never have been able to chop through it with an axe as she had the panel door to the guardroom. Of course, she wouldn't have had an axe then, either, she thought.

Whoever it was that had been screaming had apparently stopped. The palace was quiet.

"It was coming from the direction of the kitchen," Wolf told her.

She smiled.

"Of course it was," she teased. But when the door had been opened, she'd smelled quite a few delicious food smells herself, so she really couldn't blame him. It was past lunch time, after all, and neither of them had eaten yet. Plus, she thought, someone there might know something about the screaming.

It turned out he was right, though. Only two people were left in the kitchen to tend to the cooking fires. Virginia saw the rest of them huddled just outside the large multi-paned window that faced onto the vegetable and herb garden. Further observations were cut short, however, when she saw her dad standing just beyond the door. Eagerly, she ran outside to meet him, leaving Wolf behind.

"Daddy!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him.

"Sweetheart!" he cried as he hugged her tightly, then stepped back, his hands still on her waist. "I've missed you."

"I missed you too," she said.

Wolf walked up beside her, holding what looked like half of a cooked chicken. Her dad smiled at him.

"Oh!" said Virginia, "Wolf said he heard someone screaming. What was that all about? Do you know?"

She realized after she'd spoken that her dad had been about to say something to Wolf, but he turned to her instead and said, "One of the servants was killed, apparently last night. The woman who found the body screamed."

Wolf shoved a chicken leg in her face. She shot him a distracted look, her brow furrowed.

"Oh my God," she murmured, continuing the conversation with her father. "Who was it? Not anyone we know?"

"You need to eat, Virginia," she heard Wolf say. Her father looked clearly uncomfortable. She began to have a bad feeling about the victim's identity, and tried to wave Wolf and his food away.

"Not now, Wolf."

"Virginia, you can't skip meals while you're pregnant, remember?"

Oh, shit.

Her father's eyes widened.

"What?!" he demanded. He glanced over at Wolf. "You were serious, then, calling me Grandpa?"

"Well, of course, Tone," came the answer, uttered as if her dad were a bit dim.

Virginia finally took the proffered chicken leg, thigh and drumstick still joined. Wolf licked his fingers and leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.

"I'll go see what happened," he said, and set off gnawing on his quarter of the chicken.

Great, she thought sarcastically. Just announce to my father that I'm pregnant and then leave me here by myself to explain!

Her dad studied her for a moment. Then he touched her elbow.

"Let's go over here and sit down," he said, gesturing to a wooden bench nearby.

Virginia took a bite of the chicken. If she was chewing, she decided, she'd have a little bit longer to think about what she was going to say. But as usual, the first bite of food she took made her realize how hungry she really was. She swallowed it and quickly bit off another piece as she sat down stiffly on the bench.

Tony looked down at the gravel path as if he weren't quite sure how to begin, either. Then he looked up at her out of the corner of his eye. To her surprise there was nothing of the incensed parent about him; he simply looked sad.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Now her mouth was full when she wanted to answer immediately. She nodded, chewed, and swallowed.

"Yes," she said. "I'm fine." There was no need to tell him about what had nearly happened in the dungeon, she thought. It was already in the past. The ring had said so.

"Virginia ..." he seemed at a loss for words. She didn't know what to say, either, so she took another bite, waiting for him to continue.

"Wow, you're really going after that chicken," he commented.

She rolled her eyes self-consciously and looked away.

"It's kind of a side effect," she tried to explain.

"You're not going to get like ..." he nodded in Wolf's direction, smiling.

Am I? she suddenly wondered. No, I haven't really noticed it getting worse. At least not yet.

"I think this is probably as bad as I'll get," she said, and explained what had happened to her when she'd skipped a meal.

He smiled, then bit his lip.

"Honey," he said, "Are you sure this is what you really want?"

Her mouth was full again and she couldn't answer him in words. So she nodded.

"Because I know you've always said you never wanted to have children," he continued before she could swallow. He scratched the back of his head. Clearly uncomfortable, he plunged on, "Virginia, you know I love you and I wouldn't trade you for anything in the world, but I don't want to see you go through what your mother did when I talked her into having you. Are you sure you're not just going through with this because it's what Wolf wants?"

She swallowed the last bite of meat.

"No, Dad," she said. "At first I did think that, but I know now it's what I want too."

He gave her a puzzled look and she finally told him what had nearly happened to her.

"Are you all right now?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

In the rear of the garden she saw Wolf engaged in a heated discussion with a man she didn't recognize. Tony glanced over his shoulder to see what had distracted her, shrugged, and turned back to her.

"Have you seen a doctor?" he asked. "And I don't mean a medieval quack. I mean in New York."

"No, I don't have any insurance."

He looked genuinely chagrined, as if he'd completely forgotten all about mundane things like that.

"Where did you stay?" he asked. "Were you able to get back into the apartment?"

She smiled, at last finding an opening to talk about something she thought he would like, and launched into a description of his new penthouse. But she hadn't gotten very far when the argument Wolf was having grew loud enough to hear.

"NO WOLF DID THIS!" he roared, his words clear even at this distance. From the look on his face, she could tell he probably wanted to bite the man he was shouting at, but Wendell seemed to be holding them apart. The other man, whose face was turned away from her, said something about "conclusive evidence," but she wasn't able to make out any more. Distractedly, she got up and started over to them, dropping only a hasty "excuse me" to her father.

He caught up with her, planting himself firmly in her path.

"Just stay away from there," he said. "You don't want to see it."

Virginia had already had enough of Wolf's over-solicitousness. She didn't want more of it from her father. Glaring daggers at him, she pushed past and nearly ran the rest of the way over to where the three men were standing.

She'd been interested in the argument, but her eyes were inexorably drawn to the pale blotch of whiteness lying amidst the green of the surrounding herbs. Emma! Eyes bulging, her neck a mass of bloody red meat, covered with flies ...

Virginia's stomach lurched. She ran blindly away, out farther into the garden, almost reaching the stone fence before she lost everything she'd just eaten. Shaking uncontrollably, unable to move, she just stood there until she felt Wolf's arms go around her. Then she turned and buried her face in his chest, sobbing.

Wolf held her tightly and stroked her hair, mentally cursing himself for not realizing that his outrage would attract her attention. He'd just become so incensed at the implications behind the doctor's conclusions that he hadn't been thinking clearly. It hadn't helped that the doctor had begun by accusing Wolf outright of killing poor Emma. Wendell, of course, had known he was innocent and quickly said so, much to the doctor's ire, Wolf had noted. Yet Mellifict had stubbornly insisted that a wolf had to be responsible, if not Wolf, then some other, since the fur he'd removed from her hands was obviously wolf fur. But Wolf could tell the fur was old, long dead, as its owner undoubtedly was. He knew the killing was only meant to mimic what a wolf would do, except he couldn't prove it, not to someone without a wolf's senses. And Wendell was clearly swayed by the doctor's assessment.

The probable reason for the king's wanting to spend the previous night in the dungeon with him hadn't been lost on Wolf either, even at the time. He didn't think it would take a genius to figure out that Wendell was getting cold feet about the pardon he'd granted: half the servants in the king's own castle reeked of fear whenever he got anywhere near them. And he knew he'd contributed to Wendell's anxiety by asking to be shut in the dungeon in the first place. Not that there was anything he could do about that now. But he wanted to prove this killing for what it probably was: a means to firmly convince the king that the pardon had to be revoked; to convince him that wolfs were just too dangerous - too much like animals - for true justice to apply to them.

He was almost shaking with anger again thinking about it. He knew he'd allowed himself to hope too much about the pardon - he'd envisioned a world where his children would never have to live in hiding the way he and his family had. But he realized now that it wasn't going to be possible. Even if, by some miracle, the pardon remained in place, the fear and hate most people felt for half-wolfs would hardly go away.

Virginia's arms tightened around him in a hug. He squeezed her back - not too tightly - and looked down at her face. As always, it helped to calm him.

"Let's go inside," he whispered to her. She nodded, and they set off, arms around each other, for the nearest entrance. The least he could do was comfort his mate. He was very tired of trying in vain to convince Wendell, though he admitted that it probably had not been politic for him to have pointed out that the most glaring reason why a wolf obviously did not kill Emma was that she hadn't been eaten! No wolf, unless insane, killed just because he could, even during the full moon. A wild dog might, but ...

A idea suddenly occurred to him. It might not work, but he had to try it. It was just possible.

"Virginia?" he asked. "I think I know how to settle this. I hope."

She looked up at him. He could see her face was still very pale, but she didn't protest the delay. Yet he couldn't make her wait out here in the sun for him. He squinted over at the mass of kitchen servants still huddled outside the door. As a unit, they cringed at his gaze. Except for one. He pointed to her and beckoned. After a moment, she grasped that he was talking to her and walked over to them.

Cripes, he thought. She's no more than a cub! What is she doing working?

She dropped him a curtsy, which both amused and embarrassed him. Though he hadn't at first intended to, he asked her name.

"Molly, sir," she replied.

"Molly, would you take Lady Virginia up to her room and get her some water to drink and wash her face with?"

She nodded.

"Yes, sir," she replied.

As he'd expected, Virginia began to protest.

"I'll be up in just a moment, Virginia," he said. "I promise. And you're going to need those things anyway."

She didn't say anything else, just quietly turned away with Molly. He thought she looked very tired.

He didn't waste time staring after her when they'd gone inside, however, but rushed quickly back over to where Wendell, the doctor, and Tony were now standing.

"How is she?" asked Tony.

"Tired, I think," he replied. "I sent Molly in with her."

"Ah, yes," Wendell commented. "I noticed her earlier. You think she'd make a good replacement for ..." he gestured to the body still lying in the tansy.

Mellifict was regarding them all with a sour expression. Wolf ignored both him and the king's remark.

"I believe I can prove to you that the wolf fur found in Emma's hands was not pulled from a live wolf," he said.

"Oh, well," remarked the doctor maliciously, "If she somehow managed to kill it first, where is its body? Unless of course she ate it?"

Wendell ignored Mellifict and nodded to Wolf.

"Go ahead," he said.

He held out his hand for it and the doctor reluctantly surrendered the evidence. He sniffed it again, just to make sure the odor he was looking for was still powerful enough after all the handling. He needn't have worried. The stench of decay almost curled his toes. He handed it to Wendell, who took it but continued to stare at him expectantly.

"The way that smells is definitely the scent of something long dead," he said, giving Wendell what he hoped was a meaningful look. The king drew his eyebrows together in confusion at first, but as Wolf watched, he saw it slowly dawn on him what it was Wolf wanted him to do. And righteous indignation replaced the confusion.

"What exactly do you expect me to do with this?" he spat through clenched teeth.

"Serve justice," replied Wolf simply. "Your sense of smell isn't as powerful as it used to be, but once you've learned something like that, you don't forget it."

The comment might not have worked under ordinary circumstances. Knowing how Wendell felt about any references to his life as a dog, Wolf had only a slim amount of hope that it actually would work; he'd simply had to try. But help arrived from an unexpected source.

"Justice!" roared the doctor. "They're animals!

Animals don't deserve justice! Half-wolfs have never been anything but savage criminals and everyone knows it! At least before they stayed in their place. But now they're putting on airs! All this proves is what a mistake that idiotic pardon of your was in the first place!"

Wendell blinked, and his jaw clenched tighter. He turned and looked at the doctor, and then very deliberately raised the bit of fur to his nose.

"You can't be serious!" Mellifict exclaimed.

"It is old fur," the king announced stiffly. "Wolf is right."

"That's highly irregular!" objected the doctor. "I don't see how the way some animal identifies an odor could possibly be used as testimony in a court of law!"

Wendell's expression was unreadable.

"Which are you most interested in, Mellifict?" he asked quietly. "Seeing justice served or persecuting wolfs?"

"Anyone with any intelligence knows it amounts to the same thing," came the reply.

Wendell nodded.

"I see," he said coldly. "Well, as you have already observed, Emma is quite beyond your help, so I don't believe there's any further need for your presence here. You are dismissed."

The doctor began to protest, but Wendell cut him off. "I am still the king," he declared. "Intelligent or not, my commands and my laws will be obeyed. Now go."

His eyes narrowed, Mellifict swept out of the garden. When he had gone, Wendell absently let the fur fall from his hand, excused himself and went inside. Since identifying the evidence he'd looked at neither Wolf nor Tony.

Wolf turned to leave as well.

"Wait a minute," Tony told him.

"I promised Virginia I'd be right in."

"This won't take too long," his almost father-in-law assured him. "I hope."

"What?"

"Don't you want to know who did kill her?" asked Tony. "Or do you only care about proving it wasn't a wolf? If whoever killed her gets away with it, they're liable to kill someone else, you know. And they may correct that ‘old fur' mistake next time."

Cripes, he's right, he thought.

"But just how do we do that?" he asked.

Tony explained the methods he'd seen detectives use on television. Not all of them could be used on Emma, but together they did what they could, Wolf noting that the large bite mark in the center of her throat had been made after she had died and Tony concluding that she had probably been strangled. There was also some evidence that she had recently been picking herbs, although no amounts of any significance were found in her apron pockets. At Tony's insistence, Wolf ripped the apron off her at the waist and handed it to him. Then, at last he went inside to see his Virginia.

He could have used the servants' stairway to reach her; it was closer to hand. But he knew his presence spooked them, so he tried to avoid them when he could. Besides, it wouldn't take him long to make up the difference, he knew, as he hurried along a side passage to the main hall and its central stairway.

Millie walked slowly from the audience chamber. The king had not agreed to pardon her son, but she still had hope. He had said he'd review the case, but it would take awhile because of her people's habit of not revealing their names. He wasn't certain how many cases he'd have to look through to find her son's, so he had no idea how long it would take, and he couldn't promise any results. But she knew things were definitely better than they had been.

King Wendell had actually treated her with respect, which she found doubly amazing, considering she wasn't even one of his subjects. Next she planned to visit the prison to see her son in the hopes that learning his identification number might speed things along. Not that that was the only reason. It had been a long, long time since she'd seen him - since at least a year before he'd been arrested. Going to the prison before wasn't something she'd been able to do, but now, finally, she felt safe enough to try.

Her musings, however, were abruptly interrupted by the sight of a tall, dark-haired man who shot out of a side passage in front of her and turned up the grand staircase. She froze, her mouth open, staring. Then the backwash of air he'd created as he ran swept over her and she knew. Still, he was nearly to the landing before she was able to find her voice.

"Simon?"