by Juniper Hart
“I was just coming to look for you,” Hazel interjected. “Kirk and I have a lead that we need to follow up on.”
Castillo lost the wary look, excitement replacing his initial cynicism.
“What is it? Why wasn’t I briefed?” he demanded. “The mayor has been in my ear all morning about the Werewolf, asking if Seattle is out of danger now that he’s moved out of state.”
“We’re not sure it’s anything,” Hazel said before Lev could speak. “We don’t want to jinx it.” Castillo didn’t seem convinced, but Hazel was already heading out of the office space. “You coming, Kirk?” she called, and he hurried after her, shooting his superior an apologetic shrug.
“Check in with me,” Castillo called after them. Hazel didn’t respond, and she punched the button for the elevator as Lev joined her.
“I thought you were going to clear your appointment with him,” Lev said.
“I changed my mind,” she replied. “He doesn’t need to get paranoid about my health until I know there’s anything to get paranoid about.” Lev stared at her. “What?”
“Have you ever let anyone take care of you before?”
The question startled her.
“Are you offering?” she joked.
“No,” he answered quietly. “It’s not an offer.”
Oddly, the answer filled Hazel with disappointment until she heard his voice in her head again. It’s not an offer. It’s a commitment I’ve already taken on.
Hazel shook her head, as if she was trying to clear it, but when she met Lev’s gaze, he seemed to be looking straight through her.
It’s this damned brain tumor that’s messing with you, she growled to herself as they stepped into the elevator.
“You don’t have to come with me,” she said, reclaiming her almost defensive posture. Lev reached for her hand and squeezed it gently.
“And you don’t have to fight me at every turn,” he said softly. “I’m here for you, Hazel.”
She didn’t know what to say, but she could feel her cheeks flushing with the words. He doesn’t even know me. Why is he treating me like we’re old friends… or lovers?
The idea of lying naked in his arms was almost insurmountable at that moment, and Hazel clamped down on her lower lip as she envisioned them in a pile of arms and legs. She became aware of her hand still in Lev’s, and with a quavering breath, she pulled it away. Lev chuckled.
“What?”
“You’re just a concrete wall, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know you!” Hazel protested. “I’m not in the habit of holding hands with my partners. At least not literally.”
Lev snickered again, but he didn’t speak, and they made their way toward Hazel’s car near the door.
“VIP parking,” he commented as she threw the keys at him. He caught them easily in his left hand and sauntered to her side to open the passenger side door for her to get in. Her eyes grew wide.
“We’re not on a date, Lev.”
“So?”
“So you don’t have to open the door for me.”
“You know, I have a theory,” Lev offered before closing the door to the passenger side. Hazel stared at him expectantly when he climbed into the driver’s side.
“Well?”
“My theory is, stress will kill the average person much faster than anything else.”
“It’s a scientific fact,” Hazel agreed. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’m suggesting that maybe your constant over-analysis of everything is what’s causing your memory loss.”
Hazel tensed as he backed out of the parking spot. “I didn’t tell you I was having memory loss.”
“Sure you did,” Lev said without skipping a beat. “In the breakroom.”
Hazel shook her head, her face flushing. She didn’t remember telling him that. In fact, she had gone out of her way not to say anything about it at all.
“No, I didn’t.” Lev grunted in exasperation.
“Is there anything you don’t fight about, Hazel? Obviously, you told me. How else would I know? See, this is what I’m talking about. Your constant scrutiny is only going to cause you more health issues in the long run.” He eyed her pointedly, and she was forced to consider his question.
Paranoia. Memory loss. Hearing voices. This all leads to psychosis. Something is really wrong with me. She thought about the truck she believed was watching her the previous day. I need to slow down and think about what I’m saying. I’m beginning to seem neurotic, and right now, Lev is the only one I have.
“Sorry,” she breathed. “I’m—I forgot.” He shrugged.
“No big deal,” he said magnanimously, and she could tell he wasn’t fazed by her attitude in the least. But it was a big deal to Hazel. She was losing control of her well-scheduled life, and it was terrifying.
7
Fern’s eyes were as large as saucers when he saw Lev arrive with Hazel. To his credit, he played dumb.
“I’m Hazel Carrington. I’m here to see Fern for my noon appointment.”
“Yes, yes, Ms. Carrington. Please, this way.” Fern looked conspicuously about, and Lev stifled a groan. Hazel was going to notice his odd behavior. On the other hand, all lab techs were a bit odd, weren’t they? It was a prerequisite for the job.
“Want me to come with you?” Lev asked. Hazel shook her head, as he had expected she would. He didn’t need to be in there, anyway. He knew Fern would do what he needed to do without having his hand held.
Keep your mouth shut, Lev told Fern silently, and both Hazel and the tech looked at him. He flashed them a smile.
“You’ve done enough by bringing me here, Kirk,” she assured him. “When we’re done here, I’ll buy you lunch. I mean, assuming you want to stick around.” Lev grinned and nodded.
“I am not about to refuse a free lunch,” he agreed, and Hazel shot him a smile.
“Thank you,” she muttered before following Fern back into the patient rooms.
Well, that’s a start. She’s warming up to the idea of me, at least. Not bad for twenty-four hours of face time, he reasoned. Even though it wasn’t going as quickly as he would’ve liked, it could have been going worse.
Lev tried to mask his impatience by pretending to read a magazine, but it wasn’t doing anything to distract him from what was going on in the other room.
What could they possibly find in her bloodwork? She’s immortal, he thought. She’s got self-healing powers and is impervious to sickness and injury. Whatever this memory loss is about can’t be physical. Can it?
Then again, before the appearance of the four women Gabriel had turned, Lev had never heard of a Lycan being unaware of her shifting abilities. What had Gabriel done to her?
There were many questions surrounding him and the rogue pack he’d created. For one, why hadn’t he simply taken the women when he’d turned them? No one had any idea what had happened when it had happened. Hazel was clearly no different.
All Lev knew for certain was that Gabriel was unable to turn any more mortals thanks to Landon and Lane Aldwin, the witch hybrid on the Council of Seven. There was a powerful spell upon Gabriel that kept him and his pack stagnant and unable to procreate with anyone other than the protected women he had turned.
Gabriel isn’t your problem right now, Lev scolded himself. Whatever he did is done, and there’s nothing you can do to change that now. Whatever we find out about Hazel, you’ll deal with it.
A few moments later, the pair reappeared in the waiting room. Fern caught Lev’s eye and nodded, indicating that the job was done.
“Your doctor will be in touch—” Fern started to say but abruptly clamped his lips together. “I mean, I’ll be in touch with your results.”
Hazel nodded, apparently unaware of the gaffe he’d made. Lev, however, heard it and glowered. Most of the time, the lab results would have been forwarded to the doctor to be read to the patient, but in this case, Dr. Whitby couldn’t have any knowledge about what Hazel’
s blood contained.
Don’t screw this up, Fern, Lev warned the wolf silently. Fern hung his head.
“What about the MRI?” Hazel asked suddenly, looking blankly at Fern and then at Lev. Lev stared at Fern, willing him to answer in a manner which wouldn’t rouse her curiosity.
“We’ll start with the bloodwork,” Fern offered quickly, darting a glance at Lev. “If need be, we’ll arrange for an MRI after.” Hazel studied him for a moment.
“Dr. Whitby said he was scheduling an MRI,” she said slowly.
“You don’t do MRIs here, do you, sir?” Lev interjected, and Fern shook his head quickly.
“No.”
“Oh.” Hazel exhaled. “Okay. I’ll just call the doctor about it then.”
“Let’s go get that lunch you promised me,” Lev said, taking her arm and steering her out of the office. He gave Fern one last look over his shoulder and nodded in thanks before escorting Hazel outside.
“Let me just call Dr. Whitby and see about the other appointments,” she said, stopping on the sidewalk.
“Or you can do that after we get lunch,” Lev suggested, his mind racing. If she called the doctor, it would be game over. He needed to schedule an MRI appointment somehow, but there wasn’t a tech in the city he knew that could do it.
I’m going to have to call in someone from Virginia and have them flown in here. I really need to make new contacts here in Seattle. This coverup was becoming a hassle.
Maybe you should just tell her, the pesky voice hissed in his ear.
“Tell me what?” Hazel demanded.
“What’s that?” he asked, cursing himself silently.
“Oh, never mind,” she muttered. For the first time since they’d met, Lev tuned into her thoughts, guilt flooding him as he did.
I can’t tell him I’m hearing voices, she was thinking. He’s going to think I’m nuts.
Lev withdrew from her head and smothered the shame flooding his gut. Gaslighting her was not his intention, particularly not at a time when she was so vulnerable, but what other choice did he have? Eventually, the truth would come out. Now was not the right time.
“Lunch first?” he propositioned. “Anywhere you want. I’ve decided it’s my treat, after all.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Hazel asked with a smile, tucking her phone back into her purse. “I haven’t exactly been pleasant to you since you arrived.”
“I can see past your hard exterior.”
Her eyebrow shot up. “Can you?”
Lev shrugged. Before he could say a word, their phones rang in unison. They paused by the passenger side of Hazel’s Camry.
“That can only mean one thing,” she sighed, and he nodded in agreement.
“Kirk,” he answered his cell.
“Carrington,” she answered hers.
“There’s been another murder,” Castillo grunted in both their ears over a three-way call.
“Where?” Hazel demanded, her eyes fixed on Lev.
“Here and in California,” Castillo sighed. “I’ll text you the information so you can get to the scene.”
“It’s definitely the Werewolf?” Hazel asked, but Lev knew Castillo wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t the work of the serial killer.
“Yes,” Castillo answered. “Of course.”
“We’re on route,” Hazel said, hanging up her cell. Lev followed suit. “I guess lunch is going to have to wait,” she commented, casting him a sly look.
“I guess so,” he agreed, but secretly, he was pleased that Hazel had a distraction from her own medical worries for the time being.
Not that I’m happy there are more murders, Lev thought, opening the car door for Hazel to slide inside. Especially when I know a wolf is responsible for them all.
Like all the crime scenes Lev had studied before, this one was a perfect calling of the Werewolf’s characteristic method. The victim was a thirty-eight-year-old contractor from Bellevue who lived alone.
“They all live alone, don’t they?” Lev heard himself comment aloud, and Hazel nodded.
“It was the only thing we could find in terms of a connection. Race, social class, gender—they are all different. Ages, hair color, eye color…”
“It doesn’t fit a serial killer profile to act strictly on opportunity, though, does it?” Lev mused, eyeing the telltale fang marks in the man’s neck. A part of him had hoped it was the vampires’ problem, but it was clear by the depth of the marks that the cuts were made from Lycan teeth.
Still could be a bear, he reasoned hopefully. He didn’t want to think that one of his own would be capable of such a bloody rampage, even though the evidence was certainly looking that way.
Other than the dead body on the floor, there was nothing out of the ordinary. No signs of struggle, no breaking and entering, nothing to suggest that Navid Chopra had been attacked by a stranger.
“Get CSU in here,” Hazel sighed.
She knows they won’t find anything, Lev thought. They never do.
“Let’s get out of here before we disrupt the scene any more than we already have,” he said. “We’ll start a canvas.”
“I already have the local PD on it,” Hazel replied. “They’re starting to know the drill like the back of their hands now.”
That’s sad.
“There’s nothing we can do except get back to the office and put this one on the board with the others,” Hazel told him. “I’ll call Ortiz and find out what’s going on in California.”
“Find out what the TOD was on the victim in California,” Lev told her. She nodded, dialing out to speak with her partner. Slowly, the picture was becoming clearer for Lev, but he kept his mouth shut. It was not just one killer—it was a pack.
He would need confirmation that the murder in California had happened around the same time as the one here, but Lev’s gut had never steered him wrong in the past.
His phone was ringing as Hazel wandered off to speak with Ortiz, and Lev’s eyes bugged in amazement when he saw who was calling.
“Landon,” he breathed, turning his back away in a semblance of gaining privacy. “What’s wrong?”
“When were you going to tell me that you thought a genuine Lycan really was the Werewolf?” Landon hissed in his ear.
“I can’t be sure who’s responsible,” Lev said evenly. “You probably have more information than me.”
“You’re on the case!” Landon exploded. “When were you going to tell me that?”
“I’ve been on it for less than twenty-four hours,” Lev answered, unperturbed by Landon’s hair-trigger temper. “In fact, I’m at my first crime scene.”
“This is unacceptable, Lev.” Lev wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
“Why are you angry at me? I’m not the Werewolf,” he said in a flippant tone, which Landon didn’t seem to appreciate in the least.
“I’m angry because I expect to be kept updated with whatever my packs are doing.”
“I put in for this transfer a year ago, Landon. You knew I was eventually coming this way.”
“And I did my best to make it happen,” Landon retorted. “But if I’d known a Lycan was the one behind all these murders, I would have sent you sooner.”
Lev bristled. He did have a way of getting me to Hazel sooner, and he sat on it. What a prick!
“I’m a prick who can still hear your thoughts,” Landon barked back. “And your romance was the least of my concerns. My concern is the protection and safety of my packs.”
“Your packs aren’t in danger,” Lev reminded him.
“If this animal is picked up, we’re all in danger of being exposed. Please don’t play dumb with me, Lev. Who is this wolf?”
“I can’t even be sure it is a wolf,” Lev rasped, glancing over his shoulder to ensure he wasn’t being overheard. “It might be a bear.”
“That makes more sense,” Landon agreed. “I’ll have to bring Theo into this.”
Great. Now the entire Council of Seven is going to
be up in this case.
“Why don’t you just sit tight until we know more?” Lev sighed. “There’s no point in hitting the panic button when we’re not exactly sure what we’re dealing with.”
“Panic button?” Landon scoffed. “I sit on the Council because I’m impervious to panic, Lev. You’d do well to remember that.” Was everyone going to fight with Lev today?
“Landon, I’ll let you know what I know, all right?” he promised. “Right now, we’ve got nothing. No leads and only a hunch.”
“Well, you have to do better than that. Is Hazel safe?”
Nice afterthought, Landon.
“Of course she is,” Lev snapped, annoyed by the question. “Have I ever let you down?”
“Not yet.”
“And I won’t,” he concluded. “I’ll get back to you on the case.” He disconnected and turned, his heart leaping into his throat.
“Who were you talking to?” Hazel demanded, suspicion clouding her face.
“Oh,” Lev laughed, shaking his head. “One of the agents in DC. He was asking me about a case I was working on when I left.”
Hazel’s face softened, and contrition flooded her eyes.
“Oh, sure, of course,” she mumbled. “I shouldn’t have been listening.”
Lev exhaled. “What did Ortiz say?”
“The medical examiner is still with the body, but the initial time of death was guessed to be around eight last night.”
“Damn,” he muttered.
“Two hours before our guy.” Hazel nodded. “There’s no way we’re dealing with one killer now.”
“Copycat?” Lev suggested, and Hazel shrugged.
“That was my thought, but the details about the puncture wounds and the placing of the wounds were never made public. If it’s a copycat, he’d have to be privy to that information somehow. Ortiz is sending over what they have in California so far.”
Lev gritted his teeth. Not one killer. Not a copycat. It’s a pack. And there’s only one pack capable of this mess. It has to be Gabriel’s.
“Lev?”
“Hm?”
“You okay? Your jaw looks like it’s going to crack in half.”