Wicked Hour

by Neill, Chloe

  “Glad to be here,” he said, shaking Wes’s hand. “My parents send their regards.”

  “Appreciated,” Wes said.

  Cassie looked at me, eyes appraising above a bright smile. “And you must be Elisa.”

  “I am. It’s nice to meet you. And thank you for the invitation.”

  “I wasn’t aware I had a choice,” she said, sliding a grin toward Connor.

  “Don’t be dramatic,” Georgia said, stepping up to us with Alexei.

  “Aunt Georgia,” Connor said. “This is Elisa.”

  “Welcome,” Georgia said, frowning at a smudge of something she tried to wipe from her grandson’s face. “Lovely ceremony, wasn’t it?”

  “It was beautiful,” Connor said.

  Cassie smiled, danced in place to keep the baby smiling. “And Will was surprisingly well-behaved.”

  Right on cue, the baby burped, gurgled spit-up across his front and his mother’s new dress.

  “He has good timing,” Connor said with a grin.

  “We’ll see how good his timing is,” Cassie said, putting the baby into Connor’s arms before he could object. But he situated the baby like a champ, tucking him into his hip and tapping at his little round belly with a fingertip so Will flashed his toothless grin.

  I hadn’t grown up with many babies—seeing as how I’d been the only baby vampire—but I did find them fascinating. Since that probably wasn’t a thing a human mother wanted to hear from a vampire, I kept the thought to myself.

  Will reached out, grabbed a lock of my hair, began babbling at it.

  “Sorry,” Cassie said. “He’s in the grabby stage.”

  “Not a problem,” I said with a smile, and offered up my index finger. The baby dropped my hair, wrapped his chubby fingers around mine and smiled like a madman.

  It twisted my heart a little to see Connor holding Will, the depth of his enjoyment—and match that against my biological weirdness. And the likelihood I couldn’t have children.

  What would I be forcing him to give up? I wondered, and hated the way the question tightened my gut.

  I forced myself to ignore it, to shake off the worry. We’d just started dating. Planning was fine, but it was unfair to both of us to put that much weight on the relationship. We’d cross that bridge—that very large and unstable bridge—when we came to it.

  A kid came running back toward us, a teenager of thirteen or fourteen with hair in tiny blond tufts at the top of her head, like fuzzy little ears. She was thin, with the slightly awkward build of a girl still growing. She reached Cash, who stood a few yards away, and stopped, nearly out of breath. “You have to come.”

  He frowned down at her. “What’s wrong, Ellie?”

  “There’s . . . Someone hurt Loren. He’s dead.”

  Connor turned back to Cassie, carefully shifted the baby back into her arms.

  “Show me,” Cash said, and the girl nodded, turned around again, and took off.

  Connor, Alexei, and I followed them at a jog. Georgia walked behind us, along with the other shifters who’d heard Ellie or seen the commotion.

  We moved toward the edge of the plateau, then jumped down the five-foot drop to the next level. The creek narrowed here, the rest of the space overtaken by trees and undergrowth. There was another trail, and we followed it to a small wooden bridge that arched over the creek.

  Ellie led us onto it, then pointed to the water below.

  Loren lay in the shallows at the edge of the creek, arms and legs spread like an “X” marking the site of his own death. And by the look of him, that death had been hard.

  His body had been horribly mauled. His skin had been cut, ripped away, streaked with bruises. Bones were broken, exposed. His clothes had been shredded and lay like streamers from a ruined party among the leaves and stones.

  Something settled heavy in my gut. Sorrow and sympathy mixing with anger. Death was a bastard. Death was a waste.

  Was this the thing the Pack had anticipated? Feared? The reason they’d seemed uncomfortable? Maybe they’d scented death, the dark smear of it beneath magic and joy and tumbling water, but hadn’t known its source. Or maybe they’d been the ones who’d done this, who’d left this body to be found by a child, the possibility of which only made me angrier.

  The scent of blood was faint—streaks across grass here and there, not the pools that should have gathered given the sheer number of his injuries, the depth of his wounds. But even in small amounts, it was still the blood of shifters. Potent and full of magic. Enough to make a vampire literally drunk on power.

  The monster stirred, curious. I let it look, let it see, let it evaluate. But not too close—still well hidden behind my eyes. Fortunately, its interest was only mild. The power was interesting, but the death repelled it.

  I blew out a breath and rolled my shoulders, trying to push out some of the tension. I happened to look over and found Georgia’s gaze on me, face drawn and brows furrowed.

  My heart thumped once, hard, and I swallowed down fear, kept my face blank. Maybe she’d think I was just dealing with a little run-of-the-mill bloodlust.

  Georgia finally shifted her gaze back to Loren, then to the child. “Ellie, go back to the cataracts.”

  Ellie prepared to argue, but a hard look from Georgia sent her on her way.

  “I don’t coddle children,” Georgia said as Ellie disappeared down the trail. “But she’s too young to see something like this.” She sighed heavily, and there was grief and weariness in the sound. “What the hell is happening in our clan?”

  Connor put a hand on her shoulder, squeezed.

  Cash pulled out his screen, tapped it. “It’s Cash,” he said to whoever answered. “We’re at the waterfall. And we’ve got a dead resident.”

  * * *

  * * *

  “The security guards didn’t come back this far?” I asked when Alexei had joined us and we’d moved several yards from the crowd.

  “I doubt it,” Connor said. “They’d have checked around the waterfall since that’s where the event was held, but not far beyond that.”

  “Whoever left him here believed someone would find him.”

  They both looked at me.

  “What do you mean?” Connor asked.

  “He wasn’t killed here,” I said. “He was left here for someone to find.”

  “Psychic?” Alexei asked, just as Connor had.

  “Observant,” Connor corrected, narrowing his gaze as he looked at me, considered. “What do you see?”

  “He looks like he was attacked by a wild animal—something with teeth and claws—not a knife or a gun or fists. He’d have bled a lot, but there was no blood where he was placed. No smears of it on the ground, on the plants. He’s tall and in good shape, and presumably would have put up a fight, but the grass around him wasn’t trampled down. He wasn’t killed here.”

  Connor nodded. “Wild animals certainly cache food, but we’d have seen evidence if they’d dragged something this large through the brush. And you’re right—there isn’t any evidence here.”

  “Which means this wasn’t an attack by a wild animal,” Alexei said grimly. “Humans or Sups did this.”

  “Which ones?” Connor asked. “And why leave him here for the rest of us to find?”

  “Someone who wanted to ruin the initiation?” Alexei asked. “Or make a statement?”

  “Could be either or both,” Connor said. “That’s what we’ll have to find out.”

  * * *

  * * *

  The sheriff was younger than I’d expected, a sturdy man with suntanned skin, short brown hair, and brown eyes set beneath dark and angular brows. His jaw was square, his chin equally so, but with a dimple in the middle, his bottom lip a little fuller than the top. Handsome in a rugged way, and probably in his late thirties. And he definitely wasn’t a shifter
.

  He wore a wide-brimmed taupe hat in the same shade as the perfectly creased uniform.

  “I’m surprised his first thought was calling a human sheriff,” I whispered.

  “Clan’s doing what humans would do in this situation,” Connor whispered back. “Call the authorities and let them come in and handle it. It’s the cost of pretending to be human.”

  Along with the cost of turning over control to humans, I thought. Was that worth it? Given the looks of displeasure on some of the younger shifters, they didn’t seem to think so.

  The sheriff examined the scene, hands resting on his loaded belt as he scanned what remained of Loren. After a minute of review, he looked over the crowd, pausing when he reached me and Connor, then turning back to Cash.

  “What was happening here?” he asked.

  “Baptism at the cataracts,” Cash said solemnly.

  As cover stories went, a baptism wasn’t terribly far from the truth.

  “Not a very auspicious one,” the sheriff said.

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “You hear anything? See anything?”

  “Nothing,” Cash said. “One of the kids was playing, found him, came back and told us.”

  “Looks like he’s been mauled,” the sheriff said. “A man was killed by a bear in Boyd a couple of weeks ago. Blew a tire while driving down a fire road, was attacked while putting on the spare. His dashboard screen caught the whole thing.”

  He scratched his jaw, the stubble making a scritch sound. “Looked a lot like this. Maybe he was taking a walk on the property, was attacked, taken down. I don’t see a weapon wound.”

  “I don’t, either,” Cash said. “Just these scratches, the bites.”

  As silence fell, I looked at Connor, wondering about all the things that hadn’t been said. Cash hadn’t mentioned the attack on Beth last night, and either the sheriff hadn’t noticed the fact that Loren had been placed there, or he’d decided not to mention it in front of us.

  Connor shook his head just enough to give me the signal. We weren’t going to talk, either. Not now.

  The sheriff turned away from Cash, settled his gaze on us again. It wasn’t difficult to guess that he’d done so because we were strangers. We were the odd men out.

  He walked closer, pulled off his hat, ran a hand through his short hair.

  “Ken Paulson,” he said, and didn’t extend a hand. “I don’t know you.”

  “Connor Keene. Georgia’s my great-aunt. We’re here from Chicago for the baptism.”

  “We?” the sheriff asked.

  “Me and my girlfriend.” He reached out a hand for mine, and I took it, squeezed, offered a smile that I hoped skirted just between shy and sad.

  The sheriff looked me over, but if he recognized our faces or biology, he didn’t mention it. “You see anything unusual?”

  “Not until this,” Connor said, gesturing to the scene. “We were talking with the family when a child ran up, said she’d found a body. You’ve seen the rest.”

  “I have.” He shifted his gaze to me.

  I met it, worked to look sheepish. And being a vampire, and skilled at fooling humans, I apparently pulled it off, as he settled the hat back on his head, looked at Cash.

  “He have family that needs to be notified?” Paulson asked.

  “If you mean biologically, no. We’re his family as far as it matters. Which means I guess we’d better call the funeral home. Or do you have to call the medical examiner?”

  “County doesn’t have an ME right now,” Paulson said. “We contract with Lake County, but it could take two, three days before they can get someone down here. And autopsies aren’t mandatory.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Cash said. “You mentioned that when Paisley was hit. I’d forgotten.” But the calculation in his eyes said that was a lie. He knew very well what the rules were.

  “Your people are having a hard month,” Paulson said. “I don’t see any need to add to that by forcing a discretionary autopsy. Especially since this looks like a wild animal attack.”

  And just like that, I thought, any chance of figuring out exactly what had happened to Loren disappeared. A very tidy result for Cash, which made me even more suspicious.

  “We’ll search the woods,” Cash said. “Look for signs of wild animal activity, for the bear, if that’s what this was. We don’t want to feel useless here,” he added. “We need to feel like we’re contributing.”

  The sheriff adjusted his hat. “Unfortunately, I don’t have people to offer up for that, either. Not since they made us a satellite office. I can call in, ask for help from Duluth, but I’d rather not if you can handle it. We don’t want word of attacks to spread, not with fall-color season approaching. Would be more helpful to locate the animal, get it down, get it tested.”

  Cash nodded. “We’ll contact Flanagan’s regarding the body, the service. And we’ll take pictures of anything we find on the search, keep you updated.”

  “That’s agreeable,” Paulson said. “I’ll check in with you later.”

  “What the hell was that?” Alexei whispered when Cash led the sheriff back toward the trail. “Doesn’t Cash want to know what’s happening?”

  “Or the sheriff?” I wondered. “No autopsy, no search, for a body that’s been brutalized?”

  “I don’t know what’s going on,” Connor said as he watched, gaze tracking the men’s retreat. “But I don’t like it.”

  * * *

  * * *

  It took only a few minutes for Cash to return, boots cracking dry leaves and hard grass across the trail, with Everett in his wake.

  “The sheriff is content to let you investigate a homicide?” Connor asked, not bothering to hide his incredulity—or his suspicions.

  “Did you not hear the part about the bear attack?” Everett’s tone was aggressive.

  Connor didn’t spare him a glance. “I’m hearing a lot of things. Why did the sheriff walk away?”

  “We have an arrangement,” Cash said. “As long as we mind our own, he doesn’t interfere. Helps that the county’s short-staffed. Makes it easier for him to pass the ball.”

  Connor cocked his head to the side. “You aren’t trying to stonewall the investigation, are you?”

  “You’d better remember where you are,” Everett said. “This isn’t Chicago.”

  “Everett,” Cash said, but Everett shook his head.

  “No, Cash. They think they can come up here and tell us what to do? They arrive, and trouble starts. I say that’s not a coincidence. I say we send them back home.”

  “A good thing, then,” Connor said, “that you don’t run this particular show.” Then he turned his gaze back to Cash, as if Everett wasn’t worth even a moment’s time. “You got issues with the Apex’s leadership, you take them up with him. You have issues with me, I’m here, and I’m ready. But maybe, instead of arguing like children, we could concentrate on the member of your Pack who’s been murdered?”

  Magic had risen with each word, each punctuated sentence. And by the time he was done, the other members of the clan were watching, listening.

  Waiting.

  “We don’t want humans in our business,” Cash said. “If we have problems, we prefer to solve them on our own. We take care of our own,” he said, each word a punch of power and magic. “And we make a nice donation to the sheriff’s campaign to ensure it stays that way.”

  Apparently done with the explanation, Cash looked over his people. “Something attacked Loren. Maybe his luck ran out, and there was a wild animal. But I’ve yet to meet a shifter taken by a bear, so we are going to figure out what happened here.”

  There were rumbles of agreement in the sizable crowd that had gathered.

  “Everett, you coordinate getting Loren to Flanagan’s.”

  The barrel-chested man nodded.
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  “John, you check Loren’s cabin,” Cash said to a dark-skinned man with dark hair and a thick beard. “See if there’s anything amiss there. Everyone else, either get back to the resort, keep an eye on the kids, or stay here to help us search. We’ll split into teams,” he said. “Look for scat, footprints. Anything that tells us what attacked Loren and where it went.”

  “Elisa and I will take the woods to the east,” Connor said when shifters began to volunteer for assignments.

  “No fucking way!” Everett, arms folded across his chest, shook his head.

  “Excuse me?” Connor’s voice was low and threatening.

  “Everett,” Cash said, a low warning, but the man shook his head.

  “She’s a stranger, and a vampire, and this isn’t our property. For all we know, she was involved.”

  I started forward, but made myself stay in place because of the hand Connor put out to stop me. He kept his gaze—cold and flat—on Everett’s. “You want to be very careful before you accuse friends of the Pack, of my family, of murder.”

  “I didn’t say she actually killed him. Point is, we don’t know, do we? This is enough of a clusterfuck without involving strangers.”

  “She’s no stranger to me or mine,” Connor said. “And her being a vampire isn’t a weakness—it’s a strength.”

  Cash and Everett gave me head-to-toe appraisals. Cash’s gaze was at least considering; Everett just leered.

  “How is she a help?” Cash asked.

  “For starters,” Connor said dryly, “she’s a predator with night vision, and she’s been trained by Chicago’s Ombudsman. She’s exactly who you want looking for evidence. Refusing to let her assist doesn’t make you safer; it makes you look guilty. Elisa,” he said, shifting his gaze to me, “would you like to enlighten them with what you’ve noticed already?”

  “For starters,” I repeated, looking at Cash, “he wasn’t killed here.” And I told them what was missing from the place where Loren’s body had been, for lack of a better word, dumped.

  Cash watched me carefully. “You have had some training.”