Mortal Sins

TWELVE

WINTER or summer, the backyard was Toby’s favorite place. He loved everything about it—the gazebo, the grass and flowers, the trees. Even when it was real hot, there was lots of shade.

Not that Toby really minded hot weather. Or cold weather, either, from what he could tell, though he hadn’t seen much really cold stuff, not in Halo. Dad said most lupi were like that, not much affected by hot and cold. The magic in Toby was mostly asleep still, but it was there and it had a pattern for him. He sort of leaned toward that pattern even now, years before he could run on four feet instead of two.

Dad started walking along the fence, moving slowly. It felt weird, walking around his yard like this with his dad. Soon this place would be for visits, not really his anymore.

Dad seemed to know that. “There’s a lot here you’re going to miss.”

“Yeah.”

“Make you mad?”

Toby stopped and stared. Sometimes Dad pulled the thoughts right out of his head, like there was a string attached to them he could tug on. “It doesn’t make sense for me to be mad. I want to go. I know it’s right for me to go. So how come it makes me mad when I think about not being here in my yard anymore?”

Dad smiled. “You’ve a strong sense of territory. Most of us do, but it’s stronger in some than others. You’ve been the only wolf here, so this yard is completely yours. It doesn’t matter to your wolf that your grammy is in charge—to him, she’s only in charge of your human self. So this place is yours in a way Clanhome isn’t. Clanhome is your grandfather’s territory—shared with all who are Nokolai, yes, but his. No matter how much you want to be there, you don’t want to surrender what’s yours.”

“Yeah! Yeah, that’s what it’s like. I want to be at Clanhome, but this . . . this is mine. Only how come I feel that way when my wolf’s still asleep?”

“Asleep or not, he’s there. Also, humans are almost as territorial as wolves, so the two instincts strengthen each other rather than competing. Though your wolf’s sense of territory may be somewhat different from your human understanding of it.”

They’d reached the back fence, where Grammy’s azaleas were thick and bushy and smelled so good. “I don’t think I can sort out what’s the wolf and what isn’t. It all feels like me.”

“It is all you. What did you dream last night?”

“Huh?” It took a moment to remember. “I was playing baseball, but there weren’t enough of us on the team and we were losing. The TV people were there ’cause it was a big game, and one of them had a lot of dogs and the dogs wanted to play, too. Grammy said dogs couldn’t play baseball ’cause it wasn’t in the rules, and how would they hit the ball? But you said it was okay, so then the dogs got to be on my team. And then we started winning.”

Dad’s mouth crooked up and his eyes went all pleased, as if that silly dream meant something to him. “The Toby who dreamed about baseball isn’t exactly the same Toby who plays baseball, is he?”

“Oh.” He thought that over. “I see what you mean. When I’m asleep, things seem different from when I’m awake, and I know different things and all. But it’s all me.”

Dad nodded. “For now, your wolf is sleeping so deeply that the awake Toby doesn’t know what the sleeping part knows. It’s like when we can’t remember our dreams—that doesn’t mean we didn’t dream. Just that our dream self is too distant from our awake self for us to claim the memories. After the wolf wakes and you take that form, you’ll remember that part of you all the time. You’ll see many things differently. Some of those differences will be confusing.”

“I know that,” Toby said, impatient. It wasn’t like they’d never talked about this before. “Confusing” meant that when First Change hit, his wolf would be real strong and people would smell like food, so when he was twelve he’d go to terra tradis, where everyone was lupus, so he didn’t hurt anyone. He’d have to stay at tradis after the Change, too, and be home-schooled there, but he’d probably be able to go to a regular high school.

That’s what he planned, anyway. Uncle Benedict said not to count on that. Most new wolves weren’t ready to be around humans all the time, not until they were real old—maybe eighteen. But some of them managed it younger. Dad had. Toby figured he would, too.

They’d finished their circuit of the yard, ending up near the patio. Dad stopped and turned to him. “I told you last night I had some clan business to take care of while I’m here. Because your grammy was present, I didn’t say which clan.”

“Oh. Oh! You mean you have to do Leidolf business? That’s why we’re going there?” Toby’s nose wrinkled. He didn’t like that Dad was connected to the other clan, who had been Nokolai’s enemies forever. Unless . . . He brightened. “Hey! Have you figured out how you can give the new mantle to someone else?”

Dad shook his head. “That won’t happen until the All-Clan.”

Toby didn’t exactly understand mantles yet, but they were sort of like magic blankets covering the clans, keeping everyone steady. It was supposed to be impossible for anyone to carry parts of two mantles, just like it was impossible to belong to two clans. But Dad was doing it.

According to Grandpa, that was the Lady’s doing, and maybe the reason for the mate bond between Dad and Lily. Grandpa thought the Lady used the mate bond—which came from her, after all—to help Dad because she wanted the two clans to be friends again. When Toby had asked Dad about that, he’d shrugged and said perhaps. That was one of Dad’s words—perhaps. He used it a lot.

But the Leidolf Rho was real sick and could die, and if he did, the whole mantle would go to Dad. Toby wasn’t sure what would happen then, but it must be pretty bad. No one wanted the whole mantle to go to Dad. Not even Grandpa. That’s why the Rhejes were going to shift it, but they had to all get together to do it, and that wouldn’t happen until the All-Clan, which was months and months away.

“Hey.” Dad ruffled Toby’s hair, then cupped the side of his head. “Don’t look so worried.”

“But if the Leidolf Rho dies and you have to take it all—”

“It will be okay. I’ll be okay, Toby. The Leidolf Rhej is a skilled healer. She’s keeping Victor alive, and I’m careful not to call on that mantle.”

Dad wanted him to feel better, so Toby tried. After all, even if the old Rho died right this minute, Dad had the mate bond, so the Lady could still help him. “You’ll be okay,” he echoed. “But I wish you didn’t have to do Leidolf stuff right now.”

“But right now I do have the heir’s portion, so in all honor I need to fulfill those duties their comatose Rho cannot. Two of Leidolf’s youngsters are ready for the gens compleo.”

Toby didn’t know much about the gens compleo, just that it was when a lupus was accepted into the clan as a full adult. But he knew it involved the clan’s mantle. “They—those youngsters—they’re already in the mantle, though, right? They’re already clan.”

“They’re clan and past First Change, so the mantle knows them, but they aren’t of the mantle yet. That’s what the gens compleo is for.”

That didn’t really explain anything, but Dad said that talking about mantles was like trying to wrap up color in words. No matter how good your words were, they ended up pointing in the wrong direction. He also said that, for lupi, talking about the mantles was like talking about sex used to be for humans—something you did kind of hushed, where others wouldn’t hear.

That had made Toby snort. The grown-ups he knew here in Halo still talked about sex like that. “Hey—you made sure no one was listening, didn’t you? That’s why we went outside and walked around. So you could be sure nobody would hear us, because the mantles are the Lady’s secret.”

“That’s right. We keep many secrets from the humans around us, but only one at the Lady’s behest—the clan mantles.”

Toby nodded. The Lady wasn’t like Santa Claus. She wasn’t like God, either, who you had to believe in, but not everybody did, and even people who did believe argued about Him. But the Lady was real, one hundred percent, and the clans didn’t argue about her because the Rhejes had the memories of what she’d said, only mostly she didn’t talk to them or do much. But sometimes she did. “Lily’s human, but she knows about mantles, doesn’t she?”

“She’s both Chosen and clan. She knows.”

“So the Lady didn’t say humans couldn’t know. Just the out-clan.”

“That’s right.” Dad touched his shoulder, smiling. “You’re full of questions this morning. If I . . . That’s Lily,” he said, and headed for the house.

Toby followed. He hadn’t heard anything. Maybe Dad just picked up that Lily was here? The mate bond let him know where she was, so . . . But it was a more ordinary connection this time, he saw. Dad had his phone up to his ear and was talking, then listening.

It didn’t sound like it was good news. “Shit. Yes, I see. Tell your reporter friend I appreciate the notice . . . No, that won’t be necessary.”

“What is it?” Toby asked as soon as Dad set the phone down.

“I’m afraid reporters are on their way here. They were tipped off about the hearing. I’ll have to talk to them, but you and your grandmother don’t.”

Toby’s heart sped up. “I think I should.”

“No.” Dad headed for the stairs. “Mrs. Asteglio?”

Grammy called back, “Almost finished. I’ll be right down.”

Toby figured he’d better talk fast, ’cause he knew what Grammy would say. “Listen to me! Listen. People like kids. I mean . . .” It sounded dumb when he tried to put words to it, but Toby pushed on. “You’re sort of the image for lupi, right? That’s why you went public and why you do a bunch of stuff, letting people see that lupi are okay. Wouldn’t I make a good image, too? I’m just a kid, but I’ll be a wolf one day, only I don’t look scary or anything.”

Dad stopped at the foot of the stairs. “You’re suggesting you would be good PR for our people?”

Toby nodded. “Humans need to stop being scared of us, right? Well, no one’s gonna be scared of me.” He grimaced. “Old ladies think I’m cute.”

“You’ve a good point, and I’m proud that you’re thinking of our people. However—”

“It’s not the paparazzi, is it? Just regular reporters?”

Dad’s eyebrows lifted. “What do you know about paparazzi?”

“Well, they hounded that poor princess to her death. That’s what Mrs. Milligan says, anyway. And they make up stupid stuff, like that dumb story about your love slaves that was in one magazine next to the alien baby pictures. And they try to take pictures of people when they’re naked.”

Dad’s lips twitched. “Not a bad description. Paparazzi are photographers who . . . you might think of them as lone wolves. A problem on their own, and dangerous when they travel in packs.”

“Rule, a van just pulled up out front. A television van.” Grammy stood at the top of the stairs, looking like she’d bitten into a rotten apple—and meant to spit it out on someone. “How did they find out?”

“That . . . is something I need to explain. Toby.” Dad knelt, putting his hands on Toby’s shoulders. Which made him feel queasy, because it meant he wasn’t going to like what Dad had to say. “I’ve some news that may be upsetting. Lily learned of it from an acquaintance of hers who works for the AP.”

Toby swallowed hard and didn’t say a word, because he knew. The moment his dad said “the AP,” he knew.

Dad’s eyes were angry, but he kept it out of his voice. “Your mother is in town. She’s told the other reporters about the hearing.”