I only hope they’re enough.
He mounted a flight of stairs and entered the Quest Investigations reception lobby—another, stronger tingle here—and it looked . . . like a dentist’s office. Well, a dentist’s office decorated by somebody who’d borrowed their color palette directly from nature: moss green carpet, comfy chairs in brown brocade, stone-colored walls, and a pale-blue ceiling.
The room wasn’t empty. A man with curly dark hair and hipster glasses sat behind a wide desk. When he glanced up from his computer monitor, the glint of a spell on his lenses jogged Chase’s memory.
Demon. Oh, right.
While Chase had been checked out feeling sorry for himself, rebelling by reading psychology texts instead of law books, a revolution had occurred that shook loose some of the last chains binding supes to their traditional environments.
A tiny seed of hope sprouted under Chase’s heart. If demons were no longer relegated to the depths of Sheol, if they were allowed to seek new opportunities outside the reasons they’d been spawned, maybe shaking up pack expectations wasn’t so outrageous after all.
The demon smiled at him. “Good morning. Welcome to Quest Investigations. I’m Zeke. May I—” His dark eyes widened, gold sparking in their depths. “Oh, my stars,” he murmured, then stood up. “Please come with me.”
Chase blinked. “Don’t you, um, need to know what I want first?”
Zeke ducked his head and peered at Chase from under his curls. “I already know. Sorry.” He shrugged. “It’s a demon thing. But it does save a lot of intake time.” He gestured for Chase to follow him up a second set of stairs. “You’ve arrived at the perfect moment. Both our investigators are here, so—” His steps faltered. “Oh. I nearly forgot. One of them, His Royal Highness Niall O’Tierney, will be leaving shortly, and the other, Lord Maldwyn Kendrick, hasn’t been taking any cases recently for . . . personal reasons, but I’m sure we can work something out.”
“I, um, already know Mal.”
“You do?” Zeke grinned. “Then there’s no need for me to be so formal, is there?”
“Well, I’ve never met a prince before.” Chase glanced sidelong at Zeke, who didn’t seem any older than Jordan. “Or a demon, for that matter.”
Zeke paused, one step up from Chase, which put him at Chase’s eye level. “Does that bother you? I know some supes—you’re a were, right?—are still a little uncomfortable with the Infernal Host being allowed in the Upper World without Angelic Host supervision.”
“You’re all part of the same Host now, though, right?”
Zeke beamed at him. “Exactly! This way, please.”
Chase followed Zeke down a curved hallway—really, how did such an obviously rectilinear building end up with curved hallways?—toward the sound of muted conversation.
When Zeke paused in an open doorway, the voices stilled. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but we have a client.” He stood aside and gestured for Chase to enter.
Chase edged into the room—way to exude maturity and confidence. But although he told himself sternly to straighten up and behave like an alpha, it was really hard to do. One high fae was intimidating enough, but two at once? He was used to Mal’s perfection—the near-black hair, the cobalt eyes—but the other man was just as extra, although his hair was a lighter brown and his eyes dark. They’re both so . . . beautiful. And something about them—maybe it was the glint in their eyes—marked them as brothers under the skin.
But it wasn’t the two fae lords who caused Chase’s jaw to sag. No, that would be because of the third man in the office—average height, a little soft around the middle, medium brown hair, medium brown eyes. Yes, everything about him was ordinary.
Except he was human.
What the hells? Is this legal?
Mal, who’d been sitting on the edge of an enormous oak desk, stood up and grinned. “Chase!” His grin faded. “What’s wrong?”
“He wants to find the man he loves,” Zeke said.
Chase jolted. “I never said—”
Mal chuckled. “I thought you were out of the matchmaking business, Zeke.”
Red splotches bloomed on Zeke’s fair skin. “I don’t mean he wants to find somebody to love. He already knows who that is. He simply needs to locate him.” Zeke glanced at Chase. “Isn’t that right?”
“Um . . .” Chase’s shirt collar was suddenly too tight. “Love is— I don’t know—”
Zeke patted his arm kindly. “Love comes in many guises. But you do care for the man you’re seeking, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I do.” Chase straightened his shoulders. Maybe maturity meant finally admitting who you cared enough about to protect. If that was love, then maybe it was time to admit it to himself. And to Tanner, once we find him. And we will find him.
“Chase, this is my business partner and almost brother-in-law—assuming he’ll ever pop the question and make my brother an honest man—Niall O’Tierney. Niall, Chase Denney, the RA of Howling Residence Seven, aka the Doghouse.”
Niall circled the desk to shake Chase’s hand. “A pleasure. Mal has told me stories about some of the juniors in your charge. You’ve definitely got your hands full.” He flashed a near-blinding grin. “Although he says you do an outstanding job with them.”
“Th-thanks.”
Mal slapped the human man on the back. “And this is Ma— Hugh, our surveillance guy. He’s not a supe.” Mal slapped Hugh again, and Hugh rolled his eyes. “But we don’t hold it against him.”
“Don’t mind him,” Hugh said, shaking Chase’s hand. “He thinks he’s funny.”
“I am funny. I’m a bloody riot. But this is not about me.” Mal gestured to a conversational grouping in the corner—sofa, loveseat, and two armchairs, arranged around a glass-topped coffee table with a gnarled wooden base that looked as if it were growing out of the floor. “Have a seat.”
Chase perched on the edge of one of the armchairs, Mal across from him in the center of the loveseat. Niall took the other chair while Zeke and Hugh sat on either end of the sofa. “On November twenty-third, I took the guys to the Bullpen for Tanner’s twenty-oner party.” Chase blinked, remembering the one other significant event that evening that didn’t involve a massive failure on his part. “You, um, were there that night too.”
Mal grinned and his eyes got a faraway look. “I was indeed.”
Niall groaned. “Don’t start rhapsodizing about your fiancé, Maldwyn. We’ve all heard it before.”
“Shut it, O’Tierney,” Mal said affably. “Besides, don’t you and Zeke need to get your arses in gear? If you miss the band’s warm-up, both your boyfriends will blame you if their concert tanks.”
“Oh!” Zeke leaped up from the sofa. “That’s right. With the time difference, I forgot.” He smiled apologetically at Chase. “We never miss a Hunter’s Moon concert. My boyfriend is the drummer—”
“Hamish?”
Zeke beamed. “Yes. Do you know him?”
“He was very kind to me and my charges once when he didn’t have to get involved at all.”
It was Zeke’s turn for a faraway look. “That sounds exactly like him.”
“And my brother—” Mal paused, raising his hands, and when he nodded and swept them through the air like a conductor, Zeke and Hugh both joined him to chant “—the last true bard of Faerie, can throw an epic diva fit if Niall isn’t there to hold his hand.”
“Gareth isn’t a diva. He’s sensitive. An artist.” Niall ignored Mal’s snort and glanced at a camelback clock on the bookshelf opposite the door. “But . . .” His gaze, dark and intense, slid from the clock to Chase to Mal. “. . . you’d better go on alone, Zeke. Tell Gareth I’m sorry, but I’ve got a case.”
Zeke’s eyes widened. “You’re going to miss a concert? You’ve never missed a concert.”
“I think a missing supe takes precedence over one concert of many. He’ll understand.”
“Now just a bloody minute.” Mal jabbed a finger at Niall. “Have you forgotten tha
t we’re partners?”
“Yes, but have you forgotten you’re getting married in less than two weeks and I promised your fiancé I’d keep you out of the field?”
Mal winced. “Ah, bollocks.” Then his gaze landed on Chase, and he puffed out his chest. “But this one’s personal, mate, for Bryce and me both. In fact, he’d probably cancel the wedding and boot me to the curb if I didn’t take it. So bugger off.”
Niall hesitated, but must have read the determination in the set of Mal’s jaw—and alpha potential or not, Chase certainly wouldn’t want to challenge it—because he jerked a nod. “Right, then. Let’s go, Zeke. We don’t want to miss the sound check, and if we run into traffic, things could get tight.”
“Yeah,” Hugh said. “I hear New York traffic can be a bitch.”
“Not the New York traffic. The traffic in Faerie. Since my brother started up the FTA, the ceilidh glade is one of the main thoroughfares, and it’s worse than Times Square on New Year’s Eve.” Zeke raised both eyebrows, and Niall chuckled. “All right. Not quite that bad, but we don’t have time to dodge surly duergar and self-important naiads today.”
Mal made shooing motions with both hands. “You two go ahead. Hugh and I can handle this one. We’ll brief you later if we need your help.” Mal waited for Zeke and Niall to leave, then turned to Chase. “I take it something’s happened to Tanner.”
Chase jerked. “How did you—”
“Boyo, it didn’t take an oracle to see how you two felt about each other.” Mal leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “It’s commendable that you held off while he was your charge.”
“Maybe not all that commendable,” Chase muttered.
“Give yourself some credit. If it had been me before I met Bryce? It would never have occurred to me to resist.”
Hugh held his hands up in a T. “Time-out. Can we backtrack and fill me in?” He grimaced at Chase. “I’m still learning all this supe stuff.”
“Yeah, I, um . . .” Chase cleared his throat. Why didn’t they have etiquette rules to cover this? “Is that . . . allowed?”
“You mean because I’m human?” Hugh grinned wryly. “Yeah, it’s totally legit—the supe council cleared me and everything.”
Mal chuckled. “Hugh was instrumental in helping us solve our first case. Let’s say it’s a long story and leave it at that for now. Why don’t you explain a little more about werewolf protocols? For his”—he smirked at Hugh—“notes.”
“Yeah, yeah. Bait the human. Like that never gets old,” Hugh grumbled, but the smile playing about his mouth told Chase that he wasn’t really angry.
“Well—”
“I’m sorry!” Zeke bustled back into the room, carrying a tray with a coffee carafe and three cups. “I should have handled this when Chase first came in, but I was just so distracted by his aura.” He set the coffee service down on the table. “I’ve been taking lessons from an incubus friend. It’s not that different than reading angel interface communications, but—”
“Zeke? Don’t you have someplace to be?”
Zeke blinked. “Oh. Right.” He smiled sheepishly. “I’ll give the band your best. And don’t worry—I used David’s coffee beans.”
Zeke hurried out as Mal shook his head with a grimace. “He’s still getting used to working in the Upper World without some asshole supervisor or another peering over his shoulder.” Mal filled all three cups neatly. “So I try not to be an asshole supervisor.” He nudged the tray forward so Hugh and Chase could each take a cup, then took a sip from his own. He closed his eyes, bliss suffusing his face. “Ahhh.” He opened his eyes and grinned at Chase. “David—my brother-in-law—won’t tell us the secret of his magic coffee beans, but he’s always willing to share.”
“Considering his aunt is a druid elder,” Hugh said tartly, “the beans probably are magic.” He slurped his coffee. “Not that I’m complaining.”
I’m jittery enough already. Coffee is the last thing I need. But Chase picked up his own cup and cradled it in his hands, if only to be polite. The warmth seeped into him, seeming to creep from his fingers to his hands, up his arms and across his chest to settle under his heart, where his calon was located. For the first time since he’d discovered Tanner’s absence, Chase’s shoulders relaxed.
Mal watched him, head tilted and eyebrow quirked. “I’ll be buggered. It’s magic even if you don’t drink it.” He gestured with his cup. “Sorry. Carry on.”
Where was I? Oh. Werewolf politics. “Do you already know that Oregon werewolf packs are organized by county?” Hugh nodded. “But only in counties where there’s significant forested land.”
“Is that so you can all run around as wolves at the full moon?”
Chase didn’t bristle at the question because Hugh sounded sincerely curious and not contemptuous. “We aren’t compelled to shift at the full moon. We can do it whenever we want—or never, for that matter. But shifting at the full moon and running in the forest with our packs is a holdover from the old days. It’s more of a . . . a . . .”
“Team-building exercise?” Hugh asked.
Chase chuckled. “I was going to say spiritual experience, but that will do as well. It’s a chance to reconnect with our pack mates and our heritage. But as the Wider World has gotten more populous, we’ve had to rein in our primitive instincts pretty tightly. It’s critical to our survival to pass as human.”
“The Secrecy Pact, right?” Hugh asked.
“Yes. The packs in the more urban counties”—Chase ticked them off on his fingers—“Multnomah, Clackamas, Washington. Lane, my home county. We have to watch ourselves even closer because the concentration of humans is higher. Despite being very long-lived, weres aren’t very populous, and while we’re landowners, we can’t develop the land. It would invite too much human scrutiny, and a lot of pack territories are bounded by public land anyway. Consequently, we’re not wealthy as a rule. Each pack’s economy is different, based on where they’re located and what resources they have at their disposal. The adult pack members are usually occupied keeping the pack businesses afloat. When it comes to training young weres how to function in the Wider World . . .” Chase shrugged. “They don’t really have time. And young weres—the ones who’ve passed their level one shifting certification—”
“Level one? What’s that?”
“They’re at least eighteen, and they can shift both into and out of their wolf form on command.”
Hugh scribbled something on his notepad. “Got it.”
“I mean, we all get the equivalent of a K-12 education at dedicated supe schools, but the focus there is on the basics and on learning to interact with other supes. After weres pass the level one cert, they’re still struggling with not shifting on impulse, learning how to control their instincts, and developing living and coping skills. In order for them not to disrupt the pack, they’re sent to a group home with other weres of the same age.”
Hugh scratched his head with the end of his pencil. “So it’s what—some kind of werewolf rumspringa?”
Mal guffawed, slapping his knee. “Good one, Hugh.”
“I suppose.” Chase didn’t really see the humor. “An RA with alpha potential takes charge and helps them learn how to function in the Wider World without endangering the Secrecy Pact—or themselves or others. Once they’ve passed their level two cert and hit twenty-one, they’re officially adults and can return to their pack.”
“Wait—‘alpha potential’? So werewolves really have that alpha/beta/omega thing going on, like in all the romance books?”
Chase tried not to wince, although judging by Mal’s chuckle, he wasn’t very successful. “That’s just fiction. Everyone without alpha potential is de facto a beta, yes. But there’s no such thing as an omega. And just because you’ve got alpha potential, it doesn’t automatically mean you’ll be a pack alpha. For one thing, there are more weres with alpha potential, both male and female, than there are packs, so we’re groomed for other leadership-type roles
instead.” He glanced down at his coffee. As dark as Tanner’s eyes. “Middle management, I guess you’d say.”
“So is this RA assignment a trial-by-fire for middle manager alphas-in-training? I mean, it sounds like a pretty rough gig, if everyone in the house is out of control.”
“The first adult duty a were usually faces is their service commitment—three years in an unpaid position of some value to the pack structure. Being an RA for a Howling residence is one of the service options. It’s the one I chose.”
Hugh held up his hands. “No offense meant, man.”
“It’s all right. Most weres have the same attitude.” Chase had learned exactly how lightly others took RA responsibilities when he’d undergone his ridiculous “peer counseling.” “But I wanted to do it. I’ve loved it.” I wish I could do more.
Chase set his untasted coffee down, and immediately his shoulders inched toward his ears. “Anyway, Tanner Araya was partway through his third year at the house. His birthday is in November, so he’s always been—”
“Older than everyone in his class,” Hugh said. “Been there. December baby myself.”
“We were at the Bullpen on his birthday in November—”
“The twenty-third,” Mal said, with a smile that on anyone less beautiful would have been positively sappy.
“Yes. I don’t think Tanner was enjoying it all that much. It was really the other guys who wanted it. Wanted Tanner to have the experience, since he comes from a very isolated rural pack, where, from everything I could glean, he didn’t have many friends. We were joined by a group of other weres. Older. Old enough to have completed their service commitment and matriculated at OSU. Things got loud and chaotic, a number of things happened—most of them after you left, I think, Mal.”
“I heard that somebody tripped the Bullpen’s underage drinking spell.”
“Yes, that was Gage.”
Mal’s eyebrows rose. “Gage? I’d have thought Jordan.”
“No,” Chase said dryly. “Jordan was in the middle of getting lectured by me for taking an unsanctioned trip to the fight pens.”
Howling on Hold Page 9