Stain of Midnight

by Cassandra Moore

  Anguish and anger warred in his eyes. His jaw had set so tightly, Sonja wondered how he managed to get any words out through it. He bit every word off through his teeth, questions clipped and terse. She had seen him angry before, witnessed the cold, calm burn of rage when his long fuse burned to the end, but she’d never seen this. Anger backed by pain, by – guilt? By loss.

  He hadn’t noticed her yet. His glance slid to Noah, and Sonja watched him turn away to block the alpha from seeing his expression. She read the words, “No, I’ll tell him,” on Cameron’s lips. The urge to step into the room to offer sympathy struck hard, but instead, she slipped off with as little noise as she could manage. This was a time for friends to comfort each other. For pack to stick together.

  Whether it was longing or bitterness she tasted, she didn’t know. She did recognize the taste of irony, though.

  It should have surprised her to find stout cages in Noah’s basement. After all the troubles with the shadow wolves, she couldn’t muster the shock. Kayla lay in one, covered with a dark green quilt, still unconscious. Sonja gave the second cage an experimental rattle to test the strength of the bars. They would hold for a while. Long enough, she hoped. Another blanket sat folded next to one of the empty cells so she wouldn’t have to leave Derek cold.

  “We’ll figure this out,” she told the two shadow wolves before she went back upstairs. “I promise. You’ll wake up grumpy, we’ll let you out, and we’ll get all this sorted.”

  Only her stubborn determination kept her from feeling like a dirty liar.

  Noah had his hands tented over his nose and mouth when she looked in the living room door again, with his head tipped back on the sofa cushion and his eyes closed. “How many of ours?”

  Cameron had moved to sit next to him. The broad-shouldered enforcer had his elbows on his knees, hands dangling loose between them. “Just one. We think. Dani only recognized Glenn, and could peg another as one of Kiplinger’s shadow wolves, but the rest...”

  “Fuck.” Noah sighed. His hands dropped to his lap with a soft slap. “I need to—”

  “You need to stay right here.” Cameron shook his head. “Peter’s on the way here to help with your leg. And if Kayla wakes up, she’s going to need you. I’ll call Matt to give me a lift over there.”

  “I can do it,” Sonja said from the doorway. “Let me take you.”

  Both men looked over to her. They hadn’t heard her come in. Surprise opened their expressions to put the wariness and dismay on display. I’m one more problem to deal with right now. “Do you even know where we’re going?”

  “I don’t have to. You need a lift. Something else has happened, it’s bad, and I’d bet my boots it’s connected to what we’ve already dealt with tonight.” She folded her arms across her chest. “That’s all I need to know. Let me help.”

  Noah took a deep breath to blow her off, but Cameron held up a hand. “All right, Carter. You’re in. We may need your expertise anyway.”

  “Then let’s go. You can give me directions on the way.” She jerked her thumb behind her. “I put Derek in the basement. He hadn’t shown any sign of shifting back. Not even when I pulled the shackles off.”

  “I’m betting on them changing back when they come to,” Noah said. “Or when they get a little sunlight for a nudge, even if we have to drag them out into it. Thanks, Sonja.”

  “Anytime.” She sketched a mock salute before heading toward the door.

  Cameron’s heavier footfalls followed her. “Don’t suppose you’d let me drive.”

  “Not with a signed note from whatever deity you like best,” she said. “Where are we headed?”

  “Bonney Lake.” He didn’t look back as they walked out the front, just strode for her car. “You remember me talking to Dani on the way here? Telling her to check on the rest of the pack?”

  A lump settled in her stomach. “One of the shadow wolves got there before she did?”

  “Worse than that.” He yanked open the car door. It protested with a sharp creak. Charlie hopped off the seat and into the back.

  Sonja paused by the hood to look at Cameron around the passenger door. “Worse?”

  “There was another ritual.” Cameron held her gaze. “There are four people dead. Two folks we don’t know. One of our pack. And one shadow wolf.”

  Her eyebrows went up. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he kill his own wolves?”

  “I don’t think I care anymore, Carter,” he said as he finished getting in. “I just want him dead.”

  The slam of the car door served as punctuation and an apt symbol both.

  Chapter Four

  He wished he could drive. Feel the wheel under his hands, the vibration of the road a hum through it. Take control over velocity, direction, safety. It would have kept his mind occupied with the car instead of with the words Dani had growled into the phone.

  “Glenn is dead, Cam. He was sacrificed. Him and three others, and there’s— Blood, and I don’t know what else all over the ground. I don’t know where to start with this.”

  Neither did Cameron. He just knew where to end it.

  Sonja had let the quiet reign. Good, because he’d lost all his words. Dredging coherent thoughts out of the rage and grief would have taken more than he had to give. He’d known Glenn Riley since he’d showed up in Tacoma, new to the werewolf life and unsure how to live it. Cameron had guided Glenn into the pack, helped him find his place...

  And told him he’d be all right here. That having a pack meant he’d be safe. Cameron’s hand clenched. I couldn’t even keep him safe in his own home.

  “What good is a pack enforcer who can’t protect his pack?” he asked, unaware he’d spoken out loud until the sound of his own voice reached his ears.

  Sonja didn’t look away from the road. “What good are any of us if we can’t protect our friends?”

  “No good at all.” He sighed. “Ever since Kayla disappeared, I’ve felt like a fucking failure. Couldn’t find her. Didn’t know about Regina. Couldn’t find Kiplinger. And now...”

  “And now, he’s back, hurting people you love, because you couldn’t stop him.” She looked over with a rueful smirk. “Nevermind none of us could. If you’re judging by those rules, I’m as big a failure as you.”

  “But you don’t have people counting on you.” The words fell out of his mouth before he caught them. You sound like an asshole. “Carter, that was a dick thing of me to say. I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s true. No one’s counting on me. And I’m not counting on anyone else. It’s better that way.”

  He snapped his gaze over to look at her. Her full lips had flattened to a determined line, but the wistfulness in her eyes belied the tension in her jaw. Without that “it’s better that way”, so full of defensiveness, he would have snorted and wondered again why she didn’t join the pack if she felt so alone. That one sentence changed the entire picture. Who did you lose, Carter?

  “It’s not our fault. It just damn well feels like it,” he offered at last.

  Her eyes left the road to find his for a brief moment of connection. “That it does,” she said, then tore her gaze away.

  The quiet came back to roost in the cab. He watched the trees slip by in the darkness on the side of the road, and stole glimpses of the woman he rode with. Her thoughts had turned inward, he could see it in her eyes. Serious thoughts that made her squint, with one fingertip tapping the wheel now and then. Planning, maybe. Or brooding on your asshole comment. “What are you chewing on?”

  “Hm?” She blinked. “Oh. What we need to do when we get there.”

  He let her have the little lie. “What do you mean? Figuring out how we find Kiplinger?”

  “That, too. Figuring out what to do about the police.” Her hand lifted off the wheel to extend like she’d spread her hands, if she didn’t need to drive. “There’s four bodies and evidence of a ritual. We know one is a shadow wolf, and one is a werewolf. If either of them died whil
e even partially shifted, that changes how we have to handle this.”

  Cameron’s turn to blink. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Why would you? It’s not part of your job description.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “Solving weird problems is my gig. We’ll sort it out when we get there. I’ve got some contacts that can help, if it’s all squirrely.”

  Squirrely. Better than “bloody and fucked”. He blessed the euphemism. “Thanks, Carter. I mean it.”

  “You’re welcome, Roswell.” Another smile before she turned her attention to the road again.

  Glenn Riley lived on an isolated parcel of land outside the city proper. He’d bought it just last year with the intent of creating a place where the pack could gather. They’d christened the purchase with a huge barbecue, followed by a pack run around the property. Lack of city lights out here turned the nights all the deeper, but Cameron had never seen it so dark as tonight. Even the stars seemed muted, as if their light had trouble pushing through the thick blackness gathered in the area.

  Charlie whined. The sound ended in a growl. Cameron reached down to put a hand on the dog’s head. “I’m with him,” he muttered.

  Sonja killed the engine. “Me, too.”

  They both jumped when Dani came out of the house. Sonja had a flashlight the size of an ambitious baton pointed at her before Cameron could do more than startle, and a pistol right next to it. Fuck, she’s fast. He opened the car door while Dani blinked into the sudden, bright illumination. “Just us,” Cameron said. “Carter and me.”

  The harsh LED glow of the flashlight showed the lack of color in Dani’s face all too well. In the name of pack protection, they’d both seen some shit no one should have to. Never once had Cameron seen Dani this shade of pale, or so rattled. She shielded her eyes until Sonja dropped the light. “Cameron, thank fuck. You too, Carter. It’s... It’s bad.”

  A night breeze carried the scent to them. Cameron felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Even from here, he could smell the blood, but another scent lurked under it. Cloying and dark, repulsive enough to make his skin crawl, but familiar. His mind refused to tell him where he’d smelled this before. He could all but feel it shy away from the memory.

  He blinked when Dani said, “Cam? You all right?”

  “Yeah,” Cameron answered. “Why?”

  “Because you stopped moving. And your hands are shifted.”

  Surprised, he looked down to find his fur-covered claws balled into fists. He hadn’t even realized he’d changed them. “Let’s talk about it inside,” Cameron said, with as much calm as he could muster. Calm didn’t describe him at all, but Dani needed him to pretend. “Unless the— The scene is inside.”

  “No. Out back. I closed the blinds on the back door.” Dani sounded apologetic, as if she should have been able to stomach staring at carnage without a flinch.

  “Good idea. Carter?” Cameron turned to look for Sonja, to find her buried to the waist in the back of her car.

  She pulled herself out with a large bag slung across her body. “Coming. Charlie, watch.”

  The dog sat in the passenger seat with his ears up.

  Cameron gestured toward the front door with his head to lead them all in. His stomach knotted tighter with every step he took. “When did you get here, Dani?”

  “About ten minutes before I called you. Glenn was one of three pack members who didn’t respond when I texted and called. The others were fine. One in the bath, one who’d run their phone battery out. But Glenn lives the farthest out of all the pack, so I headed here last.” Cameron recognized the guilt in Dani’s voice. “If I’d come here first—”

  Cameron cut her off. “Don’t even start down that road. You couldn’t have done anything. This isn’t your fault.” He glanced back at Sonja to find her gaze seeking his. A wry smile quirked one corner of her lips.

  Dani shook her head. “No. I just— Damn it. Glenn didn’t answer the door, so I went in a window. The house looked all right until I got to the back door. Then I went out back...” She swallowed heavily, a little green.

  Sonja cleared her throat. “Have you moved anything? Touched anything on the scene?”

  “No. I went out back, but I walked around the perimeter of the, ah, the scene.” Dani grabbed hold of the clinical term like a life raft in a very ugly sea. “Only close enough to identify everyone. I didn’t have to check pulses to know they were dead.”

  Cameron stopped with his hand on the door. It took all his strength to turn the knob, though he couldn’t tell if he wanted to turn around or rip the mechanism out of the frame. “All right. Have you called anyone else?”

  “The rest of the crew. A couple offered to come up here, but I told them to wait until they heard from you. You want me to call them?”

  “No. No, let us have a look first.”

  From the interior, Cameron would never have known the night had gone so wrong. It looked just like the last time he’d been here, with Glenn’s mismatched throw pillows on the couch and the framed poster prints of California’s redwood forests on the walls. A pint glass sat in a ring of its own perspiration next to a coaster on the coffee table, beer foam smeared in sloppy parabolas above the unconsumed contents inside.

  “The TV was on,” Dani said in a soft voice. “I turned it off. The talk show host looked too happy after I’d been out back.”

  “Those fuckers are relentlessly happy,” Cameron said to fill the quiet. “Like it’s their job or something.” As he spoke, his mind worked over what he saw. Almost full glass of beer next to a coaster, not on it. Television on. Windows and doors unbroken. They lured him out. “The rest of the house is undisturbed?”

  Dani nodded. “As far as I can tell. None of the windows jimmied, nothing rifled through.”

  “Then let’s have a look out back.” Cameron walked through the house from the living room to the back with measured steps. Nothing looked out of place to him, either. Not until he opened the door.

  And then it was chaos. Chaos and blood.

  A patio chair hung wrapped around one of the porch supports, thrown with enough force to bend the metal into a haphazard pretzel. Cameron noticed it first, thought how it looked like pictures he’d seen of the mess tornadoes leave behind. He remembered the caption printed with the photospread: The tornado uprooted our entire lives. Nothing will be the same again. Standing in the doorway, focused on one warped chair, he knew he’d reached the same place. Nothing would be the same again after tonight.

  Upended furniture fragments scattered across the patio, thrown with great force. Thin streaks of blood stained the false-grass carpet that covered the porch. They started at the back door and smeared out, until they became a puddle at the pair of wooden porch steps. Beyond that lay an incomplete darkness which shrouded dead forms in a nightmarish tableau of shadows and gore. Four distinct shapes – four bodies, he realized – sprawled across the ground, one for each cardinal direction. His night vision faded in as Dani closed the door of the house behind them, and with it came more detail. Terrified faces. Torsos torn open. Glenn’s arm outstretched, reaching toward the distant mountain.

  Odors of fresh meat and bloody ground hung in the air, all but overpowering, yet Cameron caught that horrid, familiar scent again. Stronger now, close enough to coat his tongue with the thickness of the smell. Fur prickled over his forearms, scurried up his biceps, but he didn’t bother to stop it this time. Let it come. Let it cover him and claim him, so he could salve his soul with the hunt for whomever had perpetrated this unholy offense.

  “Give me light, Carter,” he growled.

  Sonja turned the flashlight on the scene. Dani retched.

  Broken ribs poked up from the torsos of all four victims. The killers had cracked the sternums to splay the ribcages wide. A gruesome display, a vulgar one, to leave the most private parts open for the world to see. Within lay an empty wreckage of blood vessels, lungs, and bone fragments.

  Two of the four victims had tried
to shift shapes. Glenn had not gone down without a fight, Cameron could see it from here. Neither had the shadow wolf. Why? The other two appeared human. He thought he might know one of them, a middle-aged woman at the south quarter of the ritual, but his mind refused to give him her identity. Thoughts skittered around too quickly, all slick with the blood on the ground before him.

  It’s not only blood. The thought struck him as his gaze focused on the ground beneath the victims. Viscid liquid pooled there, unabsorbed as if the ground didn’t want it. He’d taken it for blood at first, but now, it looked too black. Too thick. The glow from the flashlight did not reflect from it with the glossy wetness he would expect from any liquid.

  —the burn of acid on paws, a morass of black slime, the two-legged mass of liquid darkness that had laughed at him and tried to trap him—

  All at once, he knew what he’d scented since they arrived. He’d smelled it in his dream.

  “Don’t call anyone else up here. I don’t want the pack near this place,” he said. “I’m going to get a closer look. Dani, check in with the rest of the crew. Make sure the pack is taken care of. Anyone who doesn’t feel safe, get them a very public hotel room.”

  “On it,” Dani said, and went into the house. Cameron didn’t begrudge her the tone of gratitude in her voice.

  Sonja set her bag down on the porch. “I’m going with you to take a look.”

  Cameron canted his head. “You don’t have to do that, you know. It’s pretty well above and beyond what you signed up for. That’s... That out there is fucked up.”

  “I told you I’d help. I’m the one here who has the most experience with magic and ritual. Unless you’ve been holding out on me.” She pulled a rolled-up white lump out of her bag.

  “Not me. I didn’t think werewolves could do magic.”

  “They can’t.” She bit the last word off as she spoke it. “The innate power of lycanthropy interferes with focusing energy in the way witches, warlocks, and other practitioners do it.”