by Jane Godman
“And that’s an image we all need at the breakfast table.” Valetta attempted to reproach him, but joined in the laughter that followed his comment.
And, suddenly, without knowing how it happened, Maria felt comfortable. She wasn’t being judged. No one was asking questions about her ordeal. Madden had been right to bring her here. She felt secure, and knew that she would be able to heal in her own time in this nurturing environment.
They are werewolves. A little voice at the back of her mind insisted on speaking up. You haven’t seen those test results yet. She quashed it firmly. You might fit right in even better than you know.
As they ate, Hendrik spoke across the table to Maria. “Madden said you run an art gallery. I collect original art.” His face shone with enthusiasm. “I enjoy discovering emerging Alaskan talent. Although the consultant I’ve relied on for years to guide me in the right direction has just retired.”
“I could put you in touch with a few people if you want,” Maria offered. Her face fell as she remembered all her contacts were either in the cell phone she had lost when the Cage Killer snatched her, or in the laptop that was in the apartment she couldn’t return to until Madden was sure the murderer was behind bars.
Hendrik seemed to pick up on her confusion. “It’s okay. I was contacted by someone just the other day. He knew my regular guy was leaving the profession and offered to step in. I have a meeting with him tomorrow.”
For the remainder of the meal, Maria was content to let the conversation wash over her. Although the feeling of contentment continued, fatigue was already setting in, an insistent reminder that her body was a long way from healed. She looked up to find Madden’s eyes on her. There was concern and something more in their depths. It was the something more that made her heart beat faster. The memory of that kiss came back to her, making her lips tingle and her pulse race.
“Have you reached a decision about the test results?” His voice was low so that only she could hear.
She nodded, making sure the gesture was decisive . . . for her own benefit as much as for his. “I need to know the truth.”
* * *
Although Madden had suggested Maria might want to be alone while she read the test results, she asked him to stay with her. They went into Lowell’s study, a small room dominated by a huge desk and Maria sat in a chair next to the fireplace while Madden rested his hip on the edge of the desk.
“I can’t even open the envelope myself.” She held up her bandaged hands.
Madden interpreted the rueful expression that accompanied the gesture to be about more than her inability to use her fingers. “You can do this in your own time.”
That look he was beginning to recognize crossed her face. It could only be described as dauntlessness. It was the look of a woman who had stared hell in the face and walked away even stronger. “Let’s do it.”
Madden opened the envelope and handed her the folded piece of paper it contained. Although he already had a strong suspicion about the results, Maria’s expression as she scanned the information told him everything he needed to know. Her already pale skin blanched and her eyes widened. The piece of paper fluttered to the floor as she gazed into space for a minute or two.
Madden wondered how to support her through this. Just how many blows was fate going to throw her way to test her courage? He could try and reassure her, of course. Could tell her that mythology lied and popular culture had its facts all wrong. Being a werewolf was not a curse. He could explain to her about the wonders of the dual life he led. If she let him, he would show her the beauty of his wolf self. He would teach her the wild, raw pleasure that came from shifting and allowing the beast within to take over. If she let him. In that moment, Maria didn’t look like a woman who was going to open her mind and allow her inner wolf to break free.
When she raised her face to his that determined look was still there, but something had changed in the golden depths of her eyes. It was as if the shutters had been pulled down, closing her thoughts to him.
“Who was the other person?”
Madden was thrown off guard by the abrupt question. Clearly they were not going to be discussing the contents of that envelope any time soon. “Which other person?”
There was a hint of impatience in Maria’s frown. “The other person who was in that cave . . . basement, whatever it was, at Piedmont House with me.”
“Maria, I personally oversaw the search of those caves. We went over every inch. There was no one else in there with you.” Madden was concerned at what he was hearing. He had vouched for the soundness of Maria’s judgment, had assured his colleagues that she was lucid. On the strength of that confidence, they were working on the assumption that there could be more than one killer. What she was saying now didn’t make sense. Could he have got this totally wrong?
Her chin tilted and her eyes sparkled with a militant light. “There was someone. I never saw them, so I don’t know who it was. I don’t even know if it was a man or a woman.”
Madden had always believed he was a good cop because he trusted his instincts. It was possible that being a werewolf was part of that. While his human urged caution, his wolf was all about acting on gut feeling. Right now, his intuition was telling him Maria knew what she was talking about. There was no hesitation in her manner, none of the insecure body language he saw so often from witnesses. Her gaze was steady, her voice calm, her breathing regular. He’d be happy to put her on the witness stand right now and have her appear credible to a jury.
“Tell me what you do know about that other person.”
He sensed some of the tension leave her frame. “It’s not much.” She cast a look in his direction as though unsure whether to proceed. “This is going to sound crazy.”
“Crazy is what I do best.” Sometimes Madden wished that statement wasn’t true. The reality was it just about summed up his life.
“It’s hard to explain, but someone implies a person.” She frowned as though searching for the right words. “This was something. It felt like more of a presence.”
“Can you explain that a bit more for me?” A tingling sensation was beginning to track its way up his spine. It wasn’t anything definite, but it wasn’t a good feeling.
Maria shook her head. “That’s all. I just knew there was another presence there.”
“The whole time?” Madden asked.
“I think so.” She gave it some thought before nodding. “Yes, I’m sure. It felt like they were sharing—” She wrinkled her brow. “No, that’s the wrong word. Like they were participating in my pain.”
“So this other person—or presence—was also being tortured? He or she was another captive?”
The question had a curious effect on Maria. She rose from her seat and began to pace the room. Since it was a small space, each length took her only a few strides. Her agitation was evident and after she had taken several turns, Madden went to her. Being careful of her injured hands, he caught hold of her forearms, stopping her in her tracks.
“What have I said to distress you?”
“I’m not sure. When you asked if he or she was a captive like me . . . I’d assumed that was the case.” Her expression was troubled. “Now I’m not so sure. I wonder if they were observing me.”
Chapter Six
Staring at her face in the mirror wasn’t going to provide her with the answers. Not when Maria didn’t know what the questions were. It was the same face it had always been. Thinner and marked by the brutality of the Cage Killer, but her own wide, gold-colored eyes and delicate features gazed back at her. The once-luscious mass of white-blond hair was missing, of course. There was only a faint trace of silvery stubble on her head where it had been. In contrast, her eyelashes were dark, her brows twin black arches with a slight upward slant. It was a face that had always gotten her attention, often for her unusual coloring.
Do I look like a werewolf?
She tilted her head to one side. Her nose and chin were too sharp to be called p
retty and her mouth was wide and generous. Put them together and people called her face beautiful or striking. Her body was lean and lithe. She had been blessed with a metabolism that meant she could eat anything and not gain weight.
She laughed. Blessed? It doesn’t matter what I look like. I am a werewolf.
What the hell was she supposed to do with that information? She was aware that Madden had been watching her as she absorbed the details of the test results. She knew he had been waiting to offer her support, but she had held back from accepting it. I’m not ready to accept any of this. Not yet.
If she had turned to Madden in that instant, taken the comfort he was waiting to offer, she’d have collapsed into his arms. When they’d kissed, it had been the sweetest thing Maria had ever known. If it happened again, she didn’t want it to be because Madden thought he had found a new girl wolf to play with.
She winced at the trend of her thoughts. She had no idea how these things worked. In imagining that Madden wanted to mate with her she might be getting ahead of herself. He might already have a mate in his wolf life. He might have several. The details of Madden’s sex life probably shouldn’t be the thing that was uppermost in her mind in all of this.
There were other things she should be asking. Like how the hell did I get to the age of twenty-seven without noticing this about myself? What do I do next? Can I just ignore this? Do I want to?
As well as her new werewolf identity, there were other changes to consider. Changes that ran as deep, and were just as radical. Outwardly, she was shrugging off the signs of her ordeal. Inwardly? She was no longer the same person she had been when had responded to her name being called that day on the gallery steps. No matter how much she told herself she wasn’t going to let the Cage Killer ruin it, he had altered her life. It was up to her to decide how she would let it change her. She could become reclusive and embittered. Or she could emerge from the experience stronger. Maria knew what her preference would be.
She guessed the horror of her ordeal would fade in time, but she felt angry that there would never be a day when she didn’t think of him. He would always claim a part of her life. Whatever the future held for her, he would overshadow it. Love, marriage, children. If those things came her way—and she passionately hoped they would—there would always be a tiny corner of her mind that was shut off from those she loved. A tiny bit of her that he owned. And she would always have to fight to make sure that part didn’t grow and become out of control.
A knock on the bedroom door interrupted the increasingly frantic spiral of her thoughts and she went to answer it. Madden was there with Lowell. “Can we come in?”
Maria stepped aside to let them step across the threshold. The room immediately grew smaller as the two muscular Arctic werewolves dominated the space. There was a sofa positioned beneath the window and Madden indicated for Maria to sit there with him. Lowell sat on the edge of the bed.
“Lowell is an expert on werewolf history and folklore,” Madden explained. “When the issue of your test results came up, I asked him to research whether it was possible for a werewolf to be unaware of his or her status. I also asked him to find out if it had ever happened before.”
“Before Madden asked me about this, I’d have said it was impossible,” Lowell said. “I’d have believed the urge to shift into wolf form was too strong to be ignored, particularly once puberty was reached.”
“Would have believed?” Maria repeated. “That sounds like you no longer believe it.”
“That’s right. During my research, I came across the case of a medieval werewolf known only as Tumbolt. When he was born, his peasant parents were given a sum of money in exchange for their son. Tumbolt was taken from them to live in the palace and be reared by the kindly duchess who reigned over the neighboring counties. To prevent Tumbolt from shifting, the duchess gave orders that he must never see the full moon. The windows of his room were covered with blackened cloth and, to make doubly sure, he was not allowed to ride out during the hours of darkness. Tumbolt grew to manhood in blissful ignorance of his lycanthropic state.”
“What happened to him?” Maria asked.
Lowell smiled. “As with all good stories, these things never go to plan. One day, the duchess fell ill and Tumbolt, fearful that his kind benefactor might die, decided to ride out and seek help from the village wise woman. It was night and, you’ve guessed it, the moon was full. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.”
“It sounds like a fairy story,” Madden said.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Lowell nodded his agreement. “But Tumbolt existed. He was a duke who ruled a small kingdom in what is now Germany, and there are many well-documented stories that suggest he really was a werewolf.”
“How does Tumbolt’s story relate to mine?” Maria asked.
“It’s the sensory deprivation part that is important.” Lowell turned his attention fully back to her. “The duchess controlled Tumbolt’s inclination to shift by depriving him of the stimulus. She hid the full moon from him. I don’t know the result of your test results, Maria—”
“I am a werewolf.” There was no point in hiding it.
Lowell nodded. “Then, given your coloring, you are an Arctic werewolf. You are, like Madden and myself, one of the rare breed of werewolves whose stimulus for shifting is not the full moon. It is the midnight sun.” He leaned forward, a passionate glow in his eyes. “Have you ever allowed the midnight sun to warm your body?”
Maria swallowed. “I live in Anchorage. I join in with the solstice traditions every year.”
“Were you born in Anchorage?” Madden’s eyes were on her profile.
“I don’t know where I was born,” she confessed, turning to face him. “My real parents abandoned me in a train station restroom. I was adopted by the couple I grew up with. As I was growing up, we never traveled far from Anchorage. My parents were an older couple and my father wasn’t in the best of health, so our vacations were always camping trips close to home in case he needed to see a doctor. Since they died, I’ve been too busy with the gallery to travel.”
“Living in Anchorage probably created the perfect conditions for you to grow up not knowing you were an Arctic werewolf,” Lowell said. “It’s close enough to the Arctic Circle and the midnight sun to nourish you, but not close enough to trigger your werewolf instincts. If you had traveled farther north, you might have felt the urge to shift. Had you gone farther south at any time in your life, you’d have struggled with the climate and the loss of the Arctic influence and become ill.”
“So my parents inadvertently did to me what the duchess did to Tumbolt?”
“It looks that way,” Lowell said.
Maria turned her eyes to the window. She was in Fairbanks. Three hundred and fifty miles north of her home. She was closer to the Arctic Circle. It was summer, so it was light here almost twenty-four hours a day. There were other lands that could more accurately claim the title of the land of the midnight sun, but she understood why Madden and his friends chose to call this place home. She felt a tingle of excitement building within her, a desire to know more about the point at which sunrise and sunset met.
“Our former leader, Gunnar, used to tell us that you don’t choose the midnight sun.” Madden’s voice held a depth of emotion that surprised her. “It chooses you.”
Her lips quirked into a smile. “It seems to have chosen me without my knowledge.” She smiled at Lowell. “Thank you for telling me. It helps to make sense of it all.”
He rose. “Happy to be of help.” With a wave of his hand, went out, leaving her alone with Madden.
“Will you take a walk with me at midnight?” Madden’s smile was irresistible. “I promise not to bite.”
The words sent a tremor of something decadent thrumming through Maria’s body. Unable to speak, she nodded. How could she have gone from the decision to keep him at arm’s length to a quivering mass of longing in such a short space of time? She didn’t know . . . and, more importantly, sh
e no longer cared.
* * *
Being in charge of a statewide team was a logistical nightmare. Theoretically, Madden had the necessary resources to run an investigation of this type. When the Cage Killer struck, the plan was for the Alaskan Frontier Force to travel to the area and call on the local force to provide any additional manpower they needed. For a variety of reasons, things didn’t always work out that way. Madden didn’t have time for the petty jealousies and point scoring that sometimes went on within policing. Often, it wasn’t that simple. Lack of resources, geography, communication issues in rural locations . . . all of these impacted on his ability to swoop in and make a swift impact on the case.
In terms of managing his team, he relied on video calls for updates. As he prepared for the latest call, he made notes about Maria’s most recent revelation. The mystery presence she had felt during her captivity could have been a figment of her imagination. Then again, he, or she, might have been real. Madden didn’t believe there was another victim in that weird cave-basement setup. They had found no forensic evidence to indicate that anyone other than Maria had ever been held there.
If he accepted that someone—or, as Maria had suggested, something—had been present while she was imprisoned, he had to try and unpick why. What was the reason for that other being’s attendance at her incarceration? The human capacity for evil never ceased to amaze him. A number of reasons presented themselves. Amusement? Sexual gratification? A shared interest in torture and murder? As shocking as those things might seem, Madden had seen many things during his time as a police officer and he was ruling nothing out.
Since they hadn’t found evidence of another presence in the caves, Madden couldn’t think of any way of discovering whether that shadowy individual had been a feature of the other murders. He ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. Maria’s disclosure had added another layer to the case rather than helping to solve it.