A Fate Foretold (formerly: A World Gone Mad)

A Fate Foretold

         The clock's ticking overpowered any other sounds in the hushed house, and had to be taken out of the room. Its two inhabitants wanted to be able to hear any irregular noise that might disturb them, even the faintest footfall.

           “I think I’ve found something for you, Alianora,” the old man said. He looked well-kept, although worn by time. His lightly lined face and harsh eyes left one unprepared for his hesitant, halting manner of moving that betrayed his old age. His fierce appearance demanded respect and the thought of him in his prime was fearsome. He addressed a woman of about twenty, who wore a cloak with the hood thrust back, revealing her newly dyed dark brown hair. It was only in the safety of this room that she dared expose her face.

            They were sitting in his small, cramped library, dominated by the large desk stuffed into it. Apart from the oversized desk, everything was orderly, an indication of its owner's sharp, no-nonsense organization. It was nearing midnight and the servant had long been dismissed for the night. Only then would the young visitor risk dropping by. They spoke over cups of tea, and amazingly Alianora did not seem daunted by her formidable associate. She had her own aura of authority that filled the room.

            “Dare I ask what it is?” She was still adjusting to her American accent. Cornelius knew her real voice, but it would be easier if she kept the façade up permanently. And safer.

            “I had a talk with the alpha of the Sullivan Pack today,” Cornelius began. That got the girl’s attention. The Sullivan Pack was the largest in the Americas. Their territory extended from Alaska, through the western half of Canada, the United States, and all of Mexico, ending in the Yucatan peninsula.

            Cornelius' voice was clipped and authoritative, as sharp as it had been fifty years ago. “He told me of a delicate situation he’s dealing with, concerning his heir’s mate. The chosen mate suffered an accident, which left her infertile and incapable of even engaging in sex. However, the alliance to her family is still highly favorable.”

            “But an alpha needs heirs of his own,” Alianora put in, hoping to speed up the story.

            “Exactly,” Cornelius said. “George Sullivan said that in the olden days, they would have solved the situation with a nat amatra.” He observed the famously stoic girl for her reaction.

            Alianora laughed quietly, but Cornelius could see her mind working through all the aspects of this possibility. “Won’t a nat amatra attract attention? There hasn’t been one in over a century.”

            “The girl would live with the son, who has been sent to oversee the pack’s affairs in Alaska, in order to acquire leadership experience. I got the impression that they would do their best to keep a nat amatra out of the limelight.”

            “They always were, but a new one is bound to attract unwanted interest,” she spoke still turning matters over in her mind. A nat amatra would be well protected. Living in an out-of-the-way pack house in Alaska would ensure minimal exposure.

            “I will go with you to introduce you to George Sullivan in the morning,” Cornelius said.

            “Thank you,” the young woman murmured. “I have much to consider, Cornelius. This isn’t a decision I can take lightly.”

            “You’ve never been one to take any decision lightly, Alianora.”

            She was silent for a few minutes. “Call me Ally, from now on. Alianora is a dead giveaway. How old is the Sullivan heir exactly?”

            “I’m not sure, why?”

            “I would prefer if he were young enough to wait a few years before expecting children. If everything went perfectly, I could be back in Geneva before having to bear any Sullivan children. Children will only complicate matters.”

            “Is it worth the risk?” Cornelius asked.

            Alianora was still thinking. Was it worth the risk? This would be a nearly perfect solution, if it weren’t for the possibility of children. If she had children she’d face a similar set of problems twenty years down the line.

         “You’ll stay here, tonight?” Cornelius asked, when Alianora didn’t say a word, immersed as she was in her thoughts.

          “Hm? Oh, yes. If that’s alright with you.”

          “Of course. I am at your service.”

          She smiled, if a bit weakly. “But always by your own volition, Cornelius. You left the service of my family willingly, and no one stopped you. That in and of itself is indication of how much you were valued.”

         “Go to bed, my dear. I will wake you at two hours past dawn.”

         The girl nodded and moved toward the door that was secreted in the bookcase. It led to a musty secret passageway, littered with cobwebs. “Good night, Cornelius. And thank you.”

         The older man smiled. “Good night – Ally.” Alianora smiled at her new name. She had never had a nickname before. Code names, yes, mostly for security; but never a nickname.

         When she reached the small, dingy room only accessible by the hidden stairwell, she laid down on the narrow bed and tried to close her eyes. She had trusted Cornelius this far, she might as well trust him enough to sleep in his house, even though her natural instinct was set to worry. She did trust him. She knew he would never betray her mother’s daughter, and she knew he would never work together with her stepmother.

         Even so, she kept her shoes on, and wrapped the cloak around herself like a blanket. This time tomorrow, she could be out of New York and headed towards Alaska to be a nat amatra. The idea was ludicrous, and in more peaceful times she would split her sides laughing at it.

         Nat amatras hadn’t been around for a hundred years. Even traditional werewolf society had accepted the gradual demise of the practice. It had caused trouble between the females in packs. Only alphas ever had both a mate and a nat amatra, but many women felt they should support the alpha’s wife over what was essentially his mistress. Pack sanctioned, of course. In times of greater conflict between packs, alphas often married for power, instead for love of their true mate, and took on nat amatras to beget more heirs when so many were killed in battle. With the consolidation of packs and settling of land agreements, nat amatras were no longer quite as vital, had been resented, and finally phased out.

         Ally smiled to herself in the dark. If anyone had told her a year ago that she would become a nat amatra, she would have howled with laughter. And if the wrong person had overheard them, the joker would have found themselves banished to the northern Siberian coast. And yet while she still had to meet George Sullivan, here she was leaning towards becoming his son’s nat amatra. The world must be going mad. But her world had always been mad.