71

“My clan will not ally themselves with a parasite-laden pack of humans!” Tor Maphin, one of the assembled Haunt lords, shouted, rising from his seat.

Tilus, who was seated next to him, pulled him firmly back down, but his words were no more encouraging. “There has been peace between us for the past fifty years because of our segregation. The Haunt are strong enough to hold our own lands. If you are not, return to Earth.”

The Ronin beside Jackson, Armatris, growled. Jackson quelled him with a look.

Keilor, who, like Jayems, had said very little until now, said mildly, “Even Haunt band together against a common enemy, or to trade, Tilus.”

“Who should speak but the Haunt who's sired a half-breed abomination in the belly of his charmer?” sneered Tor Maphin. “We shouldn't wonder that you'd take their side. You and Mathin the Mad, with his fool’s talk of alliances.”