by Michele Ryan
Ezra scrubbed his face. The more he learned about his son, the more he wanted to kill Marbella. “It’s all right, Lular. He’s out. Dell got him out and now he’s healing.”
“We should go to Whitechapel,” Clara said, changing the subject. “Seek out this conjurer.”
“I agree,” Omer stated. “It’s best to know who we are dealing with, then we can begin to fight.”
“Izetta, Lular, and Zena will be Grant’s guards until this is over. They know what Marbella planned and they will be able to protect him while the rest of us deal with the Baron and Marbella.” Ezra placed his trust in the three women sitting before them. If anything, they had inside knowledge. They’d be on their toes waiting.
“Yes,” Clara added. “I think it would do Grant and Miss Dell some good to have pack mates with them. Plus, it will give Grant a friend. We don’t have children in this home, and he has to be feeling restless.”
“I believe you’re right, my Creole Queen.” Ezra leaned in and kissed her forehead.
“Then we have our assignments?” Jonah took his Beloved’s hand and stood. “It’s time for our slumber.”
“I believe Miss Dell and I will have a cup of tea before taking our leave for the morning,” Omer stated, before becoming completely corporal.
“I’m going to join Miss Jemmy for a bite, then help her in the garden,” Mr. Nealy added.
One by one everyone left the library while his pack mates remained. He hated they’d been put into this position. They were forced to choose one person in the pack over the other, and he also realized, they’d be mourning whatever happened next.
“Why don’t you all go grab some rest. This house will be alive at the coming night, and the hunting will begin. If you need to bathe, there is a water closet near your room. Inside is a tub with running water and everything you’ll need.”
“Thank you,” Zena stated, standing. “I’ll make sure everyone is settled. Please tell whoever is tending to Grant, I will be up in a few hours to relieve them.”
Ezra chuckled. “Miss Jemmy might fight you. She tends to Grant and takes great pleasure in it. I suggest you and she talk before any feelings are hurt.”
“I will.”
Lular and her mother were the last to leave. Izetta stopped beside him and placed her hand on his forearm. “Thank you, Alpha.”
“There is nothing to thank me for.” He patted her hand. “I’m sorry for your loss. We will avenge her.”
Izetta’s sadness flooded him. She’d been holding it back. Izetta and Lular had been through hell and back under Marbella and he couldn’t help but kick himself for allowing this to happen under his nose. He’d hated Marbella so much, it’d blinded him to what happened right in front of his face. A pack member was a dead, a sacrifice to the Baron. The pure insanity of that knowledge confounded him.
“Not now, mate,” Clara whispered. “It won’t do us any good. Later after everyone is safe, you may dwell, until then you have to be strong for all of us.”
Ezra gathered his mate into his arms. “I remember, my Creole Queen.” He kissed her, lingering there as a wash of need cascaded over him. “Let’s go to bed. Tomorrow I am sure we will have a full day.”
Chapter Ten
The atmosphere in the house the last several days was solemn, even with Grant healing and back to a normal twelve-year-old boy. Clara knew his quick recovery had to do in part with Ezra forcing his son to shift to his wolf form.
The newest members of the Dreadfuls, Zena, Lular and Izetta were settling in. Slowly. Everyone had welcomed the girls, except Emmitt. The poor man was at a loss and had escaped to his sanctuary, mumbling about the mansion being overrun by females and it not being a good thing. Clara, knowing the reanimated ran needed time, stayed far away from her favorite place in the mansion, the library.
Life had gone on and shockingly, Marbella had been nonexistent.
Dell had commented just this morning, Marbella was lurking, claiming the she-wolf was waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Clara had to agree with the older woman as a sense of foreboding seemed to be lurking around every corner. They all felt it. All recognized it, since it was the exact same feeling they had when the Zombie Horde attacked.
Ezra proclaimed neither her or Grant were allowed to step a single foot out of the mansion without at least one Dreadful for protection. Grant didn’t seem to mind the restriction and was quite content to spend his afternoons with Mr. Tinnin, in the backyard. The two of them had formed a unique friendship.
Clara on the other hand, was beside herself with Ezra’s restrictions on her. The mansion, now her home, was massive, yet the last couple of days it felt suffocating with the veil of protection the Dreadfuls had placed over it and her.
“What is Scotland Yard saying?” The library door had been open as she walked down the steps. Jonah and Ezra were deep in conversation.
“They’re worried they might have another Jack the Ripper on their hands,” Jonah answered causing Clara to stop at the bottom of the steps.
“And what do you think?” Emmitt asked.
“It is not a copycat of the Ripper. The cuts, as they were described to me, are not precise or made with a weapon.” Jonah replied.
“Is there any chance we could get a look at the body?” Andres Dunn inquired.
It seemed the Dreadfuls were having a meeting. Was Annabelle involved or was it just the men?
“It isn’ even da papers. The Yard is keepin’ dis quiet,” Mr. O’Keefe announced. “Lor’ luv a duck! How’d yew even find out?”
“My source,” Jonah said.
“Can your source be trusted?” Omer pressed.
“To date, they have never shown to be anything but,” Jonah replied.
“You said the cuts do not look like they were made with a weapon?” The worry in Annabelle’s voice had a shiver of fear racing down Clara’s spine. “Who or what do they suspect?”
Jonah signed. “They suspect a deranged person, intent on obliterating their victims until the point they are almost unrecognizable. They have yet to identify the victims. Of which there are three.”
“We need to see the bodies,” Emmitt stated.
Jonah cleared his throat, and Ezra appeared in the doorway, watching her intently. “Join us, as there is no need to eavesdrop.” Ezra held his hand out, palm up to her.
Not bothering to correct him, since he was right, she took a hesitant first step then crossed to him. Clara couldn’t get a read on him right now. His face was devoid of expression as were his eyes. Was he upset at her for not making herself known? Or was he focused on the task at hand, finding the Baron, dealing with Marbella, or was it this some new crisis which had come to rest on their front step?
Placing her hand in his, Ezra pulled her back into the library. All of the Dreadfuls were sprawled out around the room. Emmitt was sitting in the shadows, and although she had heard Jack O’Keefe speak, she could not see the Spector.
Clara crinkled her nose when she noticed Annabelle standing beside Jonah, her friend’s hand resting on his shoulder. It seemed as if they were purposely keeping her out. Clara could not fathom why, as she had also sworn an oath to Omer, becoming a member of his odd fellows.
“It was an impromptu meeting, Clara,” Annabelle declared, perhaps sensing her thoughts.
It seemed as if they were purposely keeping her out.
Squaring her shoulders, Clara studied each of the members, ignoring Annabelle. Her gaze stopped on Omer, who she now addressed. “It was my understanding cases were discussed with all members.”
“This is not a new case. We’re not even sure what this is,” Ezra answered. “Jonah had yet to explain his source. He suspects others of doing these killings.”
Jonah nodded, confirming her mate already knew about this case and they were briefing the group. “The wounds, as they were described to me, where as if the bodies had been shredded. One victim’s throat had been ripped out. Two disemboweled and according to my source, one
of those victims, it looked as if they had been fed on.”
“Werewolves?” she whispered, already knowing the answer. Ezra had explained some wolves had a craving for human flesh. He had gone on to assure her, if any of his pack did this, he took care of it. Immediately and brutally.
“More like a she-wolf bitch,” Ezra alleged, turning to face her.
“Marbella?” Clara asked.
“It would not be the first time she’s tasted human flesh,” Ezra stated.
Clara’s belly lurched and her throat burned with bile.
Disgusting.
“Holy bottomless pit. The bitch needs ter be stopped,” Jack O’Keefe proclaimed.
“We kept this”— Ezra gestured to those in the library— “quiet as you were with Grant. If I came up, asking you to join us, Grant would have wanted to come along, and he doesn’t need to be made aware of his mother’s abhorrent habits. My greatest regret is not ripping her throat out when I had the chance.”
Reaching out, Clara placed her hand on his forearm. “You did not because of Grant.”
“It could explain her mental instability. As Jonah has written about Vampires and their oddities, other werewolves have done the same. We have those journals here, in this library. They claim feasting on human flesh turns the wolf mad,” Omer confided.
Ezra snorted. “Marbella was demented before ever tasting mortal tissue.”
Clara’s stomach flipped. She placed her palm against her belly in the hopes of preventing her dinner from making an unexpected appearance.
“It seems this talk is doing a number on your mate’s delicate sensibilities, Ezra,” Dr. Brew remarked.
“No. I’m fine,” Clara assure them, not wanting to appear weak to the group, or more importantly to Ezra. “I had no idea this was a thing or could even happen.”
“Thee would be surprised what is considered nawmal fer us, uvverworlders. Yeah?” O’Keefe interjected.
“They also claim she-wolves go insane when they go moon cycle after moon cycle without a mate. None of this has been proven, Omer. We need to keep to the facts,” Ezra cautioned.
Banging on the heavy front door caused Clara to jump.
“Charlie will get it,” Annabelle stated.
Seconds later the automaton man appeared in the doorway. “We have company.” Charlie’s head dipped, and he began to read from the card in his hand. “An Inspector Hoyt Sharpter. He has requested to speak to you, Mr. McRae.”
“Shit,” Jonah swore. “You better let him in. It would not do to piss off the Yard.”
Charlie nodded, disappearing, only to return again with the Inspector.
Clara watched the new arrival’s face, wondering if Mr. Sharpter had any clue what he was walking into when he asked to speak to their Immortal. Most likely not. Even with all the newspaper articles after the horde invasion.
Mr. Sharpter had not dressed how she would expect an Inspector to be. Instead of the black coat, black pants and black shoes Inspectors normally wore, their visitor was dressed no different than Jonah when he went out to either hunt or enjoy a quiet stroll with his Beloved. Light-colored woolen trousers, and shirt with suspenders.
“I apologize for arriving at your front door at such a late hour. It was imperative I speak with you all.” Mr. Sharper’s accent threw her also. Most men who worked for the Yard came from the surrounding boroughs of London and not from Liverpool.
“It is rather late,” Annabelle stated. “You are quite lucky you found us still awake.”
“Beg your pardon, Miss, we both know the late hour does not affect your group, or his.” The inspector gestured to Jonah.
“I’m afraid you have us at a disadvantage, Inspector,” Jonah stated, his accent more refined then their guest.
“We have a mutual friend, Mr. McRae, one who provides us each with the pertinent information we both require.”
Jonah’s right eyebrow quirked up and a smirk filled his lips. “Thomas?”
The good inspector nodded.
Clara gaze flickered between Jonah and their new guest, feeling slightly lost in their conversation. It was almost as if a very important piece of a puzzle was missing.
“How much do you know?” Omer inquired.
“I am not a stupid man and made it my job to know who everyone is, and what they are capable of.”
“You have no idea what we are skilled in, Inspector,” Dr. Brew stated, his eyes narrowing on the tall, thin man. Clara saw for just the briefest of seconds the man’s deranged other half flashing through his gaze.
The Inspector ignored the good doctor and continued. “Currently, I head the department which specializes in keeping track of your kind,” he stated.
“Our kind?” O’Keefe snarled, the chair he must have occupied tipping over as he stood. “Lawd above. Our kind, saved yaahr arse not an’ long ago, Inspector. Innit.”
“Our Queen and country thank you for that. It is why we have allowed you to continue,” said the Inspector.
Omer snorted. “Like your Queen or country could stop us.”
“So, noted. It was decided to allow you to handle the super natural, since mortals stand no chance.”
“Till you no longer need our help. Then you will search for a way to destroy us,” Annabelle said.
“I can assure you, it has never been discussed.”
“Should we then assume you have taken meetings with the Queen and know her intent?” Emmitt’s soft-spoken voice had everyone turning to look at the shadow sitting in the corner.
He rarely spoke around unknowns.
“I have not had the pleasure of meeting our Queen,” Mr. Sharpter answered.
“Then you have absolutely no idea what the Queens or her advisors’ intentions are with regards to our kind,” Jonah hissed.
“My superiors are of the same mindset I am and they have advised the Queen to allow this to play out. Your teams are a help, not a hindrance. We would be foolish to not allow you to fight those we cannot, and I can assure you, neither Scotland Yard or the Queen is ever foolish.”
“So, what you are saying is, status quo, until we are no longer needed?” Emmitt inquired.
“Indeed,” the Inspector replied his gaze darting around the room. “I would much prefer to discuss the reason for my visit than discuss possible what if scenarios.”
“Quite easy for you to say,” Annabelle pipped up. “Since you would not be wanted by Queen and country.”
“True. I have reasons for my visit, beneficial to us both. I purpose a symbiotic relationship and in good faith, I will share the information we have collected on the three recent killings of which, the papers feel is a copycat Jack the Ripper.” The Inspector reached into his coat, pulling out a folded stack of yellow papers and handed it to Jonah. “Autopsy reports, along with any and all evidence from the crime scenes.”
“How apropos,” Clara mumbled.
“But you suspect a copycat?” Jonah gazed at the papers in his hands.
“Lies fed to the newspapers to distract from the real culprits.” Mr. Sharpter claimed.
Jonah now done with the reports, handed them next to Ezra and since Clara currently stood beside her mate, she read them as he did.
“Did you collect blood samples or any physical evidence for that matter. It does not say.”
“We did.”
“If possible, we would like them, so we can run our own tests on them. Especially any blood samples.”
Clara frowned, wondering why Ezra wanted the blood of the dead.
“I can have what we collected to you first thing in the morning,” Mr. Sharpter said. “My team suspects Vampires are the culprits of these crimes. I disagree with them. Those victims were killed by werewolves.”
Ezra growled.
“I take it, beast man, my theories are correct then?”
“They are,” Omer said, and Ezra gave a little sigh. “Ezra, please inform the good Inspector of our hypothesis.”
“Vampires are not known to play wit
h their food as such.”
Jonah snorted. “Most of the time.”
Ezra sighed “Most cases, Vampires get off on the chase, the spike of adrenaline in the blood system is addicting to them. These murders though, were pure, unadulterated hatred. The murderer enjoys causing pain. Feeds on it and most likely toyed with their victims, keeping them alive while disemboweling them.”
Clara’s stomach churned again, acid burned her throat and she fought to keep the meager contents in her stomach down.
“You know who is responsible?” Inspector Sharpter cocked a brow.
“I believe it was a former pack member,” Ezra admitted. “Blood samples will hold the scent of the murderer, the rage, the madness would have released strong scents, mixing with the victim’s blood.”
“You can do this?”
“If it is a member of my pack, yes. If it is from another pack, I can at least pick out the scents to recognize it in the future,” Ezra assured him.
“They have help.” Jonah explained to the Inspector about the Baron and Marbella and what they suspected they were doing.
“It is me he wants,” Clara admitted, a shiver of fear skirted down her spine. “Nothing will stop him till he has me in his clutches,”
Ezra growled, wrapping his heavy arm around her shoulders, pulling her tightly to his side. “You have nothing to fear, my queen,” he whispered softly in her ear.
“He will not get close enough to you, Clara. I assure you as we have safeguards in place,” Omer stated.
“Nothing is ever full proof, Omer, and you do not know or understand the power of the Baron. My grandma feared no man, yet she feared him and she passed her fear onto my mother and me,” Clara reminded him. “I need him out in the open. Once he is, I believe I have the spell in which can send him back to the underworld.”
“So, what is your hold up, miss?” the Inspector inquired.
“We have no clue where he is hiding. You see, it is what he does best. He lurks in the shadows, planning and maneuvering those of us he considers pawns. Often when he finally does reveal himself, he has already captured his prey.”
“He’s using Marbella for his reconnaissance,” Ezra added.