Long Live Summons 41 Novels & Stories

There was a pause on the other end. “That is… interesting,” the elder said slowly. “The summons were sent a day ago.” So that was it. That explained her mood. The sleepless look. The distance. “What are the summons for?” I asked. “That is not information we share freely,” he replied. “But you are close to her, are you not?” I stayed quiet. “The council advises you to stay out of this,” he continued. “This is a clan matter.” The call ended before I could respond.

Expression carved from stone. “This is what he wanted,” she said quietly. “Yes.” “Are we in trouble?” He didn’t answer immediately. He walked over, took her phone gently, and turned it off. “Not the way he thinks.” That wasn’t reassurance. That was strategy. And she knew the difference now. By noon, a federal summons arrived. Not an arrest. Not an indictment. A request for testimony. Lewis read it once. Then handed it to his legal counsel. “It’s happening faster than expected,” his attorney said quietly.

We lay there for a long time afterward, tangled in each other, the cooling sweat making the night air feel crisp. The peace lasted exactly five minutes. My phone, sitting on the mahogany nightstand, let out a piercing, high-frequency chime. It was a sound I hadn't heard in years. The priority alert for the High Council’s Mandatory Summons. Tyrone felt my body go rigid. He sat up, his expression instantly shifting from sated lover to the cold, calculating Elder. Don’t answer it,” he muttered. “I have to, Ty. You know that chime. If I ignore it, they’ll send Enforcers to the pack’s borders within the hour.”

"This is the document that explains the conditions of your release, your new identity, and what the United States government expects of you as a beneficiary of the relocation program. When you leave this room, Elizabeth Anne Summers will be dead. You will never use that name again, do I make myself clear?" Agent Stanton was all but glaring at me, "You will not contact anyone who knew you as Elizabeth Anne Summers, nor will you ever return to any city in which you have lived. You will not frequent any of the places you used to shop, socialize, or congregate. Is that understood? The agency went to a great deal of trouble to help convince everyone Elizabeth Summers died on November 23, 2010. If

She met his gaze and gave a small nod. “Thank you,” she said. “For what?” “For standing where it mattered.” He smiled, quiet. “Anytime.” Her phone vibrated. A single message from legal lit the screen. Sophia read it once, then again. Across the city, Vanessa’s phone chimed with an official seal and a subject line that left no room for interpretation. A summons.

His voice echoed across the training grounds. "I prefer Lumira. Or Ms. Duskbane." Cool. "The Council of Ten does not deal in preferences." He pulled a sealed scroll from his sleeve. Black wax seal. Stamped with the numeral X. "You are hereby summoned to the High Chambers for immediate inquiry regarding yesterday's events. Presence required at the stroke of noon." The sidelines went deathly quiet. A Council summons wasn't an invitation. It was a subpoena from the gods of this world. "An inquiry?" Austin stepped from the pit. Brow furrowed. "She's a student in recovery. You want a statement, talk to the Dean."

I sent pics of both to his cell, as well. “Evander draw up an official summons to be executed immediate upon delivery. Make sure it lists Governor Insuley, his mate, his mistress Lenora, and his Beta Jackson Bender. Make sure it lists Lenora as the Governor’s human mistress. That way if his mate is unaware of Lenora’s ‘duties’ she will know upon reading the summons. Benji and Dante accompany Beta Kevin, take one of the black Range Rovers, use Paxton as a driver, and serve Mr. Insuley with the official summons. This is 100% official pack business, if Governor Insuley refuses, or stalls in any manner, kill him where he stands, and bring me his head. It is in our bylaws that no Governor, for an

The official wax seal of the High Council of Elders burned a deep, authoritative crimson against the dark vellum envelope resting on Liam’s war desk. The heavy parchment seemed to radiate an old, bureaucratic malice, its edges perfectly crisp despite the hundreds of leagues it had traveled via armored courier. The formal summons for the Mid-Year Regional Summit had arrived, demanding the presence of every high-tier Alpha, Commander and lineage head in the northern and southern territories. It was not an invitation; it was a mandate, backed by the full archaic weight of the law.

In a formal script that glowed with a soft golden hue against the dark surface, the message read: By Order of the Supernatural Tribunal, Calla Elena Reyes is hereby summoned to answer charges of Bloodline Theft and Consorting with Enemies of Pack Law. She will present herself before the Seven Elders at the designated place of judgment three days hence, at the hour of midnight. Failure to appear will result in immediate sentencing and maximum penalties. This summons is binding under ancient law. No appeal is permitted. The air around the stone seemed to thrum with a heavy, charged energy that was hard to ignore.

He put the envelope down on the counter and looked around. “You can’t possibly think that you’ll succeed with this.” He had to see the anger swirling in my eyes. There was no way he could miss it. A blind man would be able to see it, because now I was beyond pissed off with this arrogant fool. “I already have. Our claim’s been approved. Each member of your pack is receiving a summons as we speak. The date and venue have been set; you just need to show up.” The smile on Alexander’s face made him resemble Franklin more than Malachi.