"Not necessary," said Charles. Anna wasn't sure he noticed the other man's mouth flatten. More probably he just didn't care.

The Emerald City Pack was hosting the meeting, and for Charles to refuse housing might look like he was not acknowledging them as allies. Charles preferred to be independent-separate from the people he might be called upon to kill. Charles was his father's assassin and justice dealer, and that grim responsibility affected everything he did. He didn't go out of his way to make friends among the werewolves, not even in his own pack. He would feel more comfortable on his own.

That didn't mean that Anna couldn't smooth things over.

"We appreciate the offer," Anna told Ian. "But we're newly mated and..." It didn't require any effort on her part to blush as her voice trailed off. And whatever offense he'd felt was overshadowed by interest.

"So it's true?" Ian glanced at Charles, then quickly away. "I had heard that."

"Shocking, I know," murmured Charles.

The other wolf stiffened and gave Charles a worried look, too wary of Charles to hear the humor.

"He's a terrible tease," she told Ian, trying to help.

The Emerald City wolf's face loosened in utter disbelief.

Charles saw it and grinned at her. It was too bad Ian didn't see her mate's expression, but Charles's usual-in-public granite facade was back before the other wolf glanced his way.

"Right," Ian said. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Well... Angus asked me to tell you that the only people we're waiting for are the Russians and the French. He thought you might also be interested to know that the British Alpha came alone with his mate. We'll know when the Russians get here-they're staying in the apartment Angus's company owns."

"Angus's company?" asked Anna-they'd packed in a hurry, and she hadn't asked him much about what they'd actually be doing here.

"Angus runs a high-tech company," Charles explained. "They put together programs to keep other companies running. We'll be using his facilities this week-he's given his staff an early vacation for Christmas." He looked at Ian. "I'd wager the French wolves have arrived already. Chastel will want to check out his hunting grounds before the prey arrives."

"They haven't checked into the hotel they booked."

Charles shook his head. "Tell Angus that Chastel would never stay in a hotel. Too public. He'll have rented a house, something nice. He's here, probably has been here for a week or two."

Charles claimed not to be good with people, not to understand them... and maybe that was true. But he understood predators just fine.

The trees thinned, and a house emerged from the forest. Like Bran's house, it had been built to take advantage of the natural topography, and the surrounding trees effectively hid a good deal of its bulk. Angus's company must be pretty lucrative.

"Angus says it is the Frenchman who will cause the most trouble," said Ian.

"Don't underestimate the Russians," Charles said. "But Angus is probably right. Jean is powerful, scary, and mad as a hatter. He likes killing, especially if his prey is weak and frightened-his life wouldn't hold up to the kind of scrutiny we're inviting by introducing ourselves to the world."

"Angus says that Jean Chastel will carry the vote because everyone else is scared of him."

Charles smiled wolfishly, his eyes cold and clear. "This is not a democracy: there is no vote. Not on this. The Europeans have no say in whether or not we tell the world about ourselves. I'm here to listen to their concerns and decide what we can do to help them mitigate the impact of becoming public."

"That doesn't sound like what I've picked up from the European delegations who've arrived." Ian was careful not to sound as if he were disagreeing with Charles.

"What about the Asian werewolves?" Anna asked. "Or African and Australian? And South American?"

"They don't matter." Ian dismissed her question.

"They matter," said Charles softly. "They have been dealt with differently."

The sharp scent of fear coiled around Anna's nose; there had been a threat in Charles's voice when he thought the other wolf had overstepped himself-and Ian had clearly caught it. She gave Charles a frown. "Stop terrorizing him. These are things I ought to have known. Tell me about the non-European werewolves."

Charles raised an eyebrow at her but answered her readily enough. "Werewolves are a European monster, and we've done pretty well here in this part of the New World, too. There are a few of us in Africa and even fewer in Asia, where there are other monsters who don't like us very well. There are two packs in Australia, about forty wolves. Both of their Alphas have been informed of our plans, and neither voiced objections. Bran has also discussed his intentions with the South American wolves. They were less happy-but, like the Europeans, they have no say in what my father does or does not do. Unlike the Europeans, they know it. We've offered them the same sorts of aid we're offering the Europeans, and they are happy with that. They were invited but chose not to come."

THE battered and abused Corolla was a four-speed stick shift with a touchy clutch, and it kept Anna's attention firmly on driving until they were on the interstate headed for the city.

"Okay," she said. "I need to understand more. I should have asked more questions, but this came up awfully fast. The British Alpha, by not bringing more wolves, is telling everyone he can handle anything anyone can send after him?"

Charles nodded. "There's some bad blood between Arthur Madden, the British Alpha, and Angus." He paused. "Actually, I think there's some bad blood between Arthur and my father, too. If it looks like an issue, I'll call Da and see what it was about. Da says that Arthur's the only Alpha who will stand up to Chastel-and that's a good thing to have. We'll need every advantage we can get."

He sounded... not worried. Intrigued. It was, Anna thought, going to be a different manner of fighting this week; not fangs and blood but a battle of wits. All those dominant wolves... most of the Alphas in the same room. Arguing. Maybe it wasn't going to be a different way of fighting. But for now, she was driving and had absolutely no idea where they were headed.

"Are we going to the hotel?"