Afterlife

by Dannika Dark

  Ren’s brow furrowed. “You shouldn’t strike deals with the dead.”

  “That’s what I heard. But it’s our last lead. If I can’t find a connection, I’ll have no choice but to drop the case. If it’s a virus, you’ll just have to wait for more Shifters to die. Maybe Graham can take a blood sample and find an infectious disease expert.”

  Ren tapped his finger against the can. “If it is a virus, we need to find out why it’s only killing some and not all.”

  “Maybe the ghost has something to say. If he does, do you want me to pursue it? This is your dime.”

  After a long sigh, Ren nodded. “If it seems legit, and you got something to go on, I’ll pay. It’s costing me, but fuck it.”

  I gathered up the Band-Aid wrappers and tossed them into the nearby trash. One of them floated to the floor, and I squatted to pick it up. “Can I ask you something if you promise to keep it between us?”

  He took another swig. “You know my word is my bond.”

  “This can’t get out, even to your Packmaster buddies.” I returned to my chair.

  Ren folded his arms and leveled his dark eyes at me. “Ask.”

  “Last night, Keystone took out a pack.”

  Ren’s face got stony.

  “Before you say anything, this wasn’t a normal pack. Only three women, I think, and a lot of kids. Mostly girls.” I waited to see if anything would click, but he kept staring. “Young girls. These were insidious men, and one of those little girls almost died trying to escape them.”

  Something shifted in his look, and it gave me goose bumps. “Predators?”

  I nodded. “If we had turned them in, who knows if they would have gotten the justice they deserved? Shit happens. People in high places pull strings, and money talks. I don’t know who those guys were, but one wolf I took out was big. I’ve never seen a wolf that big before.”

  Ren eased back. “Sounds like a pureblood.”

  “Pureblood?”

  “Most Shifters have bred with other animal types. Even if you’ve been living in a pack for generations, somewhere up the line, someone mated a cougar or panther or whatever. But purebloods were once considered royalty. Every animal type had one, and they never crossbred. It kept their blood pure—their power pure. Not all the wolves are big, but it’s a trait only associated with them. Doesn’t matter anyhow. You took him out?”

  “We took them all out. But we can’t turn these kids over to the higher authority, or they’ll find out what we did. Nobody hired us to do that specific job, and they’ll think we’ve gone rogue. Viktor’s afraid they’ll break up Keystone. Aside from that, they’ll find out what we were doing there in the first place, and that leads back to you. I’m doing everything I can to not only protect our reputation but yours. That’s why we’re not involving the higher authority.”

  “Yeah, I can see how that would be a problem.”

  “These kids are probably related, but we don’t know for sure. They grew up together, so we don’t want to split them up. They deserve a better home than an orphanage.”

  He combed back his dark hair with his fingers. “Are you asking me? Is that why you’re telling me all this?”

  “I guess so.”

  “How many?”

  “Fifteen.”

  His shook his head. “I can’t do it. That’s… that’s a big number. You gotta understand how complicated it is. It’s not only about space and having enough rooms—a Packmaster needs to make sure there’s enough money secured in his pack to feed and clothe his packmates. Most are making ends meet with just enough to sock away. When a new packmate joins, he or she brings in money. But kids can’t work, so they reverse the income. Since they don’t have parents, I’d need to find enough watchdogs. Fifteen? Holy shit. I don’t know anyone who could take on that many kids at once. You can’t split them up?”

  I shook my head. “Viktor wants them together.”

  “A pack would call attention to themselves with that many new additions, and if you spread them out among different packs, people are gonna start asking where they came from.”

  I propped my elbows on the table and rubbed the outer corners of my eyes. “We sure as hell can’t keep them. Viktor wants them in a pack environment with family. I just thought maybe you had the space.”

  “Not for that many. I barely got room for my own packmates the way they keep having babies and bouncing between jobs. I told them the heat house is there for a reason. Give a woman some privacy. But they catch one whiff of their mate in heat, and it’s all over. Next thing you know, boom. I got another mouth to feed.”

  “Do you have any suggestions?”

  His eyes slanted down. After a thoughtful pause, he said, “Can’t say I do. There might be packs in another state, but you’ll be taking chances. Nobody’s going to accept that many kids without question, and besides, you don’t want to pick some random pack you don’t know. You could be putting them in an even worse situation, and they’ll be too far away for you to monitor.”

  I heaved a sigh and got up. After pushing my chair in, I glanced at the Band-Aid on my arm where the pain was pulsing beneath. “I know you and Crush like to give each other hell, but ease up on the dog situation. He refuses to accept help from anyone, and I worry about him being out here alone. Especially with all the enemies I make. A dog is a security system, and he needs a companion. I’m not here as much as I’d like to be.”

  Ren stood up and stretched out his arms. “Can’t complain about his mood lately. He’s struttin’ around like a peacock. I don’t think I’ve seen him this happy since you came back. Besides, it’ll give him exercise.” After finishing his soda, Ren lit up a smoke and moseyed toward the door. “If I were you, I’d keep an eye on him when he goes for those long walks.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Ren put on his aviators and cracked a smile. “I’d bet my left nut he took that dog up the road to shit in Lou Johnson’s yard. Those two haven’t been on speaking terms since Lou knocked over his mailbox. See ya.”

  As I held my spot in the doorway, I noticed Crush ambling back. Harley was trotting alongside him, tail wagging and looking about three pounds lighter.

  Chapter 22

  “Who is Aaron again?” I asked.

  Blue spread out papers on the floor and then handed me one. “Age nineteen. Wolf. Planned to leave his pack but died three days before. They found him lying in a field.”

  Blue leaned against the sofa, one elbow on the cushion and her head propped in her hand. We’d been discussing the case for the past two hours, using the floor in Wyatt’s office since it had the best light. Wyatt was at his desk, bopping his head and typing away on his computer while the singer shouted “Stroke me, stroke me” through the speakers. He had all the bright lamps off on his side of the room, but his cylinder desk lamps were set on a purple hue.

  “Is your friend here yet?” she asked him.

  Wyatt swiveled his chair around. “Nope. Maybe it’s my lucky day and he slipped out the front door and into oblivion.”

  Blue yawned and pointed her toes as she stretched. “Those kids wore me out today.”

  I leaned against the connecting sofa. “I bet.”

  “Switch slept all afternoon so he could guard them tonight. Are you his backup?”

  “I guess so, but he didn’t need me last night.”

  She swept her long hair to the side and drew up one knee. “That’s gonna wear him down. He can’t sleep a few hours, teach Hunter in the day, and then guard the kids all night. He’ll have to suspend his teaching duties, and that means Shepherd will have to put aside work and look after Hunter.”

  Claude strutted in and tossed something at Wyatt. “That’s all there was.”

  Wyatt held up the bag. “What the immortal hell is this? Organic kale chips?”

  “Is something wrong with your machine?”

  “I’m out of chips, and I don’t get my next order until Tuesday.”

  Claude plopped down to my righ
t and hooked his long arms over the back of the black sofa. “Take it or leave it. At least she’s buying snacks.”

  Wyatt flung the chips into his wastebasket. “Whoever showed her the organic section of the website is going on my hit list.”

  I sniffed and turned my head toward Claude. “What’s that smell?”

  He smiled lazily, a smile that had certainly seduced many a woman. “Organic mint bodywash. You like?”

  “You smell like a Christmas tree. All you need is a star on your head.”

  Blue chuckled. “He’s got the shiny gold shorts to match.”

  “You slay me.” He leaned forward and gestured to the paper pile. “Any progress?”

  I reached back and kneaded my shoulders. “The night is young.”

  His hands rested on my shoulders. “May I?”

  Blue smiled knowingly. “He’s got magic fingers. Say yes.”

  I glared up at him. “Okay, but no funny business.”

  Claude wasn’t just an excellent hairstylist—his hands were also made for working out muscle knots. Once he started, all the tension melted away. I lowered my head, closed my eyes, and didn’t protest when his thumbs made circles around my shoulder blades.

  “Careful, Raven. I’ve heard that’s how he gets women in bed,” Blue quipped.

  The purr rumbling in Claude’s throat quickly died. “Pleasing a woman is in my blood, but I have too much respect for the females in this house to seduce anyone.”

  This conversation was heading south, so I leaned away. “Okay, that’s enough fingerplay.” I glared at Wyatt. “Can’t you put out an all-points bulletin? If he doesn’t poof his way in here, I’m shutting this case for good. It’s probably not a good idea to accept help from someone we killed. It feels like a trap.”

  Wyatt used his heels to walk his chair toward us. “Patience, buttercup. They can sense electricity, so the office is easy to find. Trust me on that one.” He flung his beanie onto the sofa and ran his fingers through his wavy hair. Wyatt looked more like himself again. Not so tired and sickly—his cheeks had color, and his eyes weren’t bloodshot. He glanced over his shoulder. “Speak of the devil.”

  I straightened up, trying in vain to sense an energy change in the room. We followed Wyatt’s gaze as he looked up to his right.

  Wyatt signaled me. “Well, tell him what’s up.”

  “Maybe you should do it. I don’t like talking to thin air.”

  “It’s not like he can’t hear you. Anyhow, this is your case.” Wyatt crossed his leg over his knee and fiddled with his loose sock.

  Instead of staring up, I looked at the files on the floor. “Wyatt says you want us to relay a message in exchange for information. We agree to those terms, but we need to have the information up front. You can trust we’ll uphold our end of the bargain.”

  Wyatt glared at the empty space beside him. “Because I want you gone, and if we don’t make good, I have to stare at your ugly face every night.” He shook his head. “I’ve never had any complaints from the numerous ladies that—”

  Blue snapped her fingers. “Hey! Focus.”

  Wyatt’s stubborn mouth stopped moving. For a second at least. “Specterpath,” he mumbled. “It’s a crazy lost soul that doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about, that’s what it is.”

  Claude reached out and shook Wyatt’s chair. “Silence.”

  “We’ve got all these deaths that we think might be connected,” I said, gesturing to the papers. “Lots of young people. It happened all of a sudden, similar symptoms reported in some. That’s why we’re questioning all these Shifters; we’re trying to figure out if there’s something more devious going on. It could be natural causes and accidents, but nobody lived to tell the tale. If there’s something you know about one of these people who might have been in your pack or den or whatever, that’s what we need.”

  Wyatt straightened his legs and crossed them at the ankle. “He says that he lived to tell the tale.” Wyatt glanced up. “Technically, you didn’t live.”

  Blue surged forward. “He’s one of the victims? Which one?”

  Wyatt took on a mocking tone. “He says his name is King Freeman, son of Sambah Freeman.” Then Wyatt smirked. “That’s what you sound like.”

  “King?” I uttered, completely dumbstruck. “Your father said you were found on the stairs. Did you fall?”

  “No,” Wyatt replied.

  Christian waltzed in. “And what do we have here?”

  “Shhh,” we all said at once.

  Christian threw his hands up and stayed on the other side of the room, leaning against the desk with his arms folded.

  “He was sick,” Wyatt continued. “Says he was going downstairs for… a glass of what?” Wyatt shuddered. “A glass of boiled roots. He was having some chest pain, and it wasn’t going away like before.”

  “So he was chronically sick?” I asked.

  Wyatt paused a minute as he listened to King. “Occasionally he got heartburn. Says he was under a lot of stress about whether to start his own pride or take over for his father.”

  “Start his own pride,” Blue repeated. “Sambah didn’t mention King was an alpha, but maybe I should have asked by the way he spoke about him. Usually the firstborn is the alpha of the family.”

  “That’s why he has so many siblings. Insert laughter here,” Wyatt said, making air quotes. “I’m not apologizing. You kept me up all night when I was at death’s door.”

  Christian snorted and lowered his head.

  “Twelve sons and seven daughters,” Blue added, telling me something I hadn’t known. “Shifters live a long time, but usually at some point, they stop making babies. They like to sit back and enjoy the fruits of their labors. Sounds like Sambah was trying for a successor. No wonder he chose the name King. That’s too bad.”

  “He says he was going down the stairs,” Wyatt continued. “He suddenly got a terrible pain in his head that blinded him. He fell. When he hit the landing, he was still alive, but he couldn’t call for help. The pain got worse, and then he couldn’t breathe. After that, everything went black.”

  Blue cupped her hands over her mouth, appearing deep in thought as she stared at her feet. “Alphas are stronger. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Has anyone else in his family died under similar circumstances?” I asked. “Or of unknown causes?”

  Wyatt shook his head. “Some people just have a bum ticker.”

  “I’m not sure that was a heart attack,” I said. “It sounds more like a stroke. Did he have any other pain before it happened?”

  Wyatt cocked his head to the side as he listened, and then he replied, “Just the chest pain, only it was different than before. Sharper and more intense.”

  “Sounds like a pulmonary embolism,” Christian remarked. “But I can’t say those happen at the same time as a clot in the brain. What are the odds?”

  I shoved a short stack of papers aside that we had ruled out. I thought back to every interview. Some who were among the last to see the deceased alive made remarks about them not feeling well. “Chest pain, heartburn…,” I muttered.

  “Even Andy mentioned it,” Blue said. “Remember that guy?”

  “You mean the beta who threw a knife at me? Yeah, I remember.”

  I noticed Christian ease away from the desk.

  Blue glanced down at the floor. “He said she was having chest discomfort and went to bed. That fits the pattern.”

  I fished his paper out of the stack. “Damn. I thought maybe his snitch of a packmate was right about him killing her. He seemed like the aggressive type.”

  “Could be some gene mutation.” Blue sat cross-legged and lined up a few papers. “But they don’t belong to the same animal species.”

  “Then we have to consider it might be contagious.” I turned a paper clip between my fingers. “If that’s the case, not everyone’s getting infected—or at least, not everyone’s dying from it. Maybe they’re just carriers. But what do these people have
in common? It can’t be the same blood type, or we’d have a bigger list.”

  “How would you know?” Wyatt asked, staring at the empty space beside him. “I thought you only hung around your own kind.”

  Blue looked up. “What did he say?”

  Wyatt rolled his chair back a little. “That there are a lot of alphas in your pile.”

  I stared at the papers, remembering Ren had mentioned a few alpha wolves. “Who does he recognize?”

  Wyatt kept rolling backward. “He knows the young motorcycle guy—Rain. Met him in an Italian diner. And—slow down, you’re talking too fast. They don’t need to hear your life story.” Wyatt changed direction and scooted toward us, still staring up at nothing.

  I twisted my hair back. “Ferro mentioned his son was an alpha, so that’s not a surprise. We’re just not sure about his death. He fell off his motorcycle.”

  Wyatt spun his chair in a circle. “He says that boy wouldn’t fall off that bike if you turned it upside down. And he also heard about the little alpha who drowned.”

  I perked up. “The boy was an alpha?”

  “Alphas always know another alpha. Even children.” Blue suddenly lurched forward and opened a file where we’d put a few photographs that were offered to us. Then she held one up. “She’s a redhead. And so is the teenage girl. Do you think—?”

  “Do I think what?” I asked. “The men could be alphas? That’s possible. We didn’t exactly ask everyone, and they probably didn’t think it was relevant to mention. But what about the rest?”

  “Redheads have a higher probability of producing alphas. Nobody knows why, but maybe it’s something in their DNA. Something that makes them just as vulnerable to a virus as the alphas.”

  I tossed the paper clip onto the floor. “We need to make some calls.”

  Blue sat back and stroked her feather earring. “We have to play it cool. If we ask that kind of question, it’ll raise a red flag.”

  “Everyone’s got a phone these days,” I said, mulling over an idea. “Why not ask them to send us a photo? People are discouraged from collecting pictures, but we know they probably have at least one.”