White Wolf 2: The Call of a Soul

by Jianne Carlo

  Drake threw a pencil at the far wall. “You got out of coffee and cake with the Havelocks.”

  “Only because I’m too old for their precious Helena.” Mike shuddered. “I don’t envy you that one. Look on the bright side. It’s not dinner.”

  “What’re you going to do about Valérie’s engagement dinner? I have this niggling feeling Valérie’s going to insist Melanie be part of the catering staff.”

  “Motherfucker.” Mike slumped into his chair. “I figured the reason Valérie wanted in on the planning was to make sure Melanie wasn’t there. But you’ve hit the nail on the head. Humiliating Melanie would be her goal.”

  “You’ve got to preempt it.”

  “How?” He dragged a hand through his wind-tousled, knotted hair.

  “Don’t have a clue. But you’d better come up with something fast. It’s near four.”

  For three seconds Mike debated the merits of telling Drake about their soon-to-be involvement in the Caboose, but decided against it. A change of topic was in order. “Isn’t Helena younger than you?”

  Drake picked up a pencil and snapped it in two. “She’s a kid, for crying out loud. Not even eighteen. Is there some sort of time clock for grandkids? ’Cause that’s all Mom talked about this morning over three cups of coffee. Apparently all the women her age have a pack of ’em.”

  “Grandkids?” Mike buried his face in his hands. Hang on a hoppin’ second. Grandkids. He grinned. “I think I just found the perfect way to get Mom to accept Melanie.”

  If an entire body could grimace, Drake’s did. He gave an exaggerated shudder. “You ready for squalling brats and diapers and all that crap?”

  “Yeah. I sure am. A home. A pack. All the crap. Wait. When you find your mate, it’ll be the same.” Mike leaned back. “What do you know about birth-control implants?”

  “Huh? Mate lust addling what’s left of those gray cells?” Drake tapped his skull with the eraser end of the pencil. Then a rapacious grin swamped his even features. He tossed the broken pencil halves on the desk and stood. “Hel-lo. You got laid. And Melanie has an implant. Fucking A!”

  “Not fucking A. Not yet.” Shit. Was there a way to remove an implant without Melanie knowing? How deep were they planted anyhow? And how long did they last? The pill would’ve been so easy.

  “Hey. Where did my alpha bro go? Someone replaced him with a daydreaming idiot.”

  Hands jammed into pockets, Drake paced a tight circle between their desks.

  Mike recognized the taint to his brother’s distant stare. “What’s up?”

  “I paid a visit to the murder site after coffee with Mom this morning.” Drake sat on the edge of his desk and picked up the stapler.

  “Must you fiddle?” Mike snatched the stapler, and Drake promptly picked up the letter opener and twirled it. “Describe the site.”

  Drake hopped off the desk. “Gory. Blood on the tree trunks, leaves, everywhere. It was after the sheriff and his team had left. The remains had been removed. I can’t shake the feeling that I missed something. I took pictures. Check your in-box. Maybe you’ll see something I didn’t.”

  Mike jiggled his mouse. “What else?”

  Drake dropped his gaze to the wooden floor. “You know I don’t believe in that evil-good crap.”

  Their discussion on the existence of evil and good was an ongoing one and stemmed from polar opposite opinions. “I know. What of it?”

  “I smelled evil, Mikey.” Drake stared at him.

  His brother had been thrown off-balance big-time to have called him Mikey. “You’re not nuts, Drake. Evil has a distinctive foul odor. Once you’ve scented it, it sticks with you. I smelled it where Boyd was killed and again when I found the mother and her cub.”

  “So, that’s the black wolf stench…” Drake rocked on his heels. “I hate to admit it, but it rattled me so much my hands shook.”

  “Welcome to my reality.” Mike clicked through Drake’s e-mails and previewed the attachments. “How far did you say this was from the main house?”

  “Five miles away, give or take a few feet. Why?”

  “No one heard anything?”

  “Nada. But as you can see, the area’s heavily forested.”

  “Not so. Come here.” Drake moved to stand behind Mike. “See the yellow tape markings, here, here, and here. They form a small but definite circular clearing marked by the leaves piled against the pine trunks. Very similar to the site where I found the cub and mother.”

  “I see it now. Think it was cleared deliberately?”

  “If not, it’s a helluva coincidence.”

  “Yeah. Right.” Neither brother held much sway with weird coincidences. “One more thing. Another alpha was at the site. Scented him clear as day.”

  Mike did a double take and eyed his brother. “Funny thing, that first site with the bear cub and the mother? I thought I smelled another alpha too.”

  “Another fucking coincidence.” Drake blew out a long breath. “The pace of events are getting close to out of control.”

  “By the way, why were you kicking me under the table at the country club?” Mike pressed a thumb to his suddenly throbbing temple.

  “How in heck does Mom know Virgil?”

  “Why do you think she knows him?” Mike rolled his eyes. Why was Drake fixating on such a stupid point?

  “She mentioned him twice this morning, and she knows he owns the Caboose.”

  “Probably did some research for the damned engagement party. Focus. Anything else at the site that bothered you?” He rolled his shoulders, but the motion didn’t ease the tension in his muscles.

  “Nothing comes to mind. There is one other thing. Remember old Coat-check Harry?” Drake wore a frown Mike knew only too well.

  “From the country club? Been there forever? Yeah, spoke to him briefly today.”

  “Did you know his daughter died in the mill fire?”

  Mike frowned. “I knew two women died in the fire, but hadn’t made the connection. Why?”

  “Harry and his wife moved to a smaller place. Cleaned out his house. Said he found a couple of accounting books from the mill and would I like to have them? Shocked the spit out of me.”

  The squirrelly back-of-the-neck danger itch that had saved them in the past went on overdrive. “I hope you said yes.”

  “Picking them up later.”

  “Too many balls popping into the air. I don’t like any of this. Not one bit.”

  Drake hissed. “Agreed. It’s four fifteen. Thought of a plan as yet?”

  “Yeah. I have. I need to speak with Virgil.” Mike pushed his chair away from the desk.

  “Uh-uh.” Drake blocked Mike from standing. “You have that look on your face. The one that says you’re hiding something from me.”

  “Out of my way.”

  Dropping his hands, Drake sidestepped and shot him an amused glance. “By the way, I arranged to meet Brinda before she starts the evening shift. Around now.”

  “There are times when I could easily beat the stuffing out of you. Come with me, then.” Mike elbowed Drake aside, grabbed his jacket, and shrugged into the sleeves. “Any word on any of the autopsies?”

  “Nothing yet. I should have a copy of the Hurit homicide report by the time we get back.”

  They reached the elevators, and Mike stabbed the Down button. “How’d you manage that?”

  “Tiffany.”

  The doors dinged open, and they entered.

  The Ground Floor button glowed after Drake punched it.

  “What’s the point of meeting Brinda, then?”

  “I sort of got roped into teaching her daughter some self-defense moves.” The doors dinged open.

  Mike stopped and whirled to face his brother, who had colored pink and wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Sort of?”

  Drake scuffed his boot. “I volunteered, okay.”

  “Spill. How the hell did this happen?” They hurried out of the elevator.

  A blast of freezing air pumm
eled both brothers when the double doors to the building opened. Drake donned his coat, and the flaps went flying in the stiff breeze.

  “What can I say?” Drake rolled a shoulder. “People tell me things.”

  “Women, you mean.” Mike shook his head. “You can’t fix everyone’s problems, Drake.”

  “She’s being bullied at school. Could you leave that alone?”

  The pup knew how to win an argument. Mike had beat the crap out of two of Drake’s schoolmates when he’d found out they were bullying his brother. Years later, he’d realized that violence begets violence, and that the bullying not only hadn’t stopped but had actually intensified. And Drake had kept it a secret.

  “No. Do what you have to.” Mike resumed walking.

  “Don’t I always?” Drake hopped the three steps to the Caboose’s narrow porch.

  Mike joined Drake. “I’ve been thinking that it’s time to bring Gray White in on everything. I’d bet any odds he’s the alpha we’re scenting at the kill sites.”

  Drake frowned. “Why would you even think that?”

  “Been going over that year.” The year their world had shattered. “Gray’s an alpha whose father and grandfather died on the same day. A few days later the only murder, well until now, in Chabegawn’s known history occurs—Uncle Boyd’s. If you were him and so many killings suddenly started occurring close to home—what would you do?”

  “Good point. Maybe I’ll ask him to help me show Yvonne some defensive moves. You’ve been checking your phone for messages every three seconds. Talk about needy.”

  “Needy? Can’t wait for you to find your mate so I can make you eat your words.” Mike snapped the door to the Caboose open. “Have fun with Brinda and Yvonne.”

  “Welcome to the Caboose.” The cashier greeted them as if they were long-lost relatives. Relatives she didn’t like. Even the woman’s numerous wrinkles seemed to turn down at the edges to match her dour expression. But she’d been in the kitchen when Mike had carried Melanie out to the back parking lot, and it appeared the Caboose’s entire staff felt protective of his mate.

  “Afternoon, Janie. Brinda in?” Drake flashed the cashier a smile.

  The woman batted her eyelashes. “Drake, honey. Didn’t see you behind him. She’s in the back booth waiting for you. Sliced a big piece of peach pie for you.”

  Mike raised an eyebrow. Drake, honey?

  “Thanks. You’re the peach, Janie. I bet you’re the one who suggested the pie.” Drake leaned on the counter and pecked Janie on the cheek.

  Janie giggled; the sound was so incongruous with her grimness that Mike did a double take. “You go on now, boy. You deserve ice cream and pie for helping poor Yvonne. Nothing worse than a bully. And that snarky Nadine de Verteuil deserves to be put in her place.”

  “That’s some feat. That woman actually blushed,” Mike muttered as the brothers made their way around the U-shaped counter and stools.

  “What can I say? Charm—you should try it sometime.” Drake grinned.

  The back booth came into view.

  “I’ll go out the back and come in when Mom and Valérie arrive.”

  “Brinda.” Drake halted at the booth and half blocked Mike as he edged by. “That pie for me?”

  Mike feinted in the direction of the men’s room and then switched course and hurried through the swing doors. The kitchen wasn’t bustling like it had been this morning. He glimpsed Homer Sledden peeling a fat potato by the wall of sinks.

  “Hi, Mike. Virgil’s not here.” Homer flashed Mike a brilliant smile.

  “I can see that. Do you know where he is?”

  “He’s out back on a break.”

  “Thanks.” Mike lengthened his stride and was out the door in seconds. Though the hour hadn’t changed, the days had become noticeably shorter. Not yet four thirty and already shadows crowded the edges of the parking lot. He spied Virgil, seated on one of the benches shaded by a grove of birch trees, nursing a glass of what looked like red wine, and puffing on a cigar.

  “Mike.” Virgil waved him over.

  “Enjoying the calm before the storm?” The Caboose’s early bird specials attracted crowds from the surrounding counties during the week, but an hour’s wait for a table was the norm on Fridays and Saturdays. Mike took a seat next to Virgil.

  “You bet. Didn’t expect to see you here until dinner. What’s up?” Virgil blew a smoke ring.

  Mike outlined the situation and his plan.

  “No problemo. Piece of cake.”

  “Virgil, anyone asking questions about our return?”

  “People talk. Everyone’s curious. You’re not the type to ask an idle question. What’s on your mind?”

  “Talk of the mill fire popping back up?”

  “Some. The talk died down a while back. With your uncle dead and so many jobs lost, no one really had time to spend on idle gossip. Out of sight, out of mind, you know what I mean. But since your mom returned to town and then you two bought the Laroque building, everyone’s wondering if you plan to rebuild the mill.” Virgil drank the last of his wine. “We know better, of course.”

  Small mercies. “We do indeed. Have you set a retirement date as yet?”

  “Nah. Now that it’s finally a reality, I’m not sure I want to retire. There’s only so much fishing a man can do.”

  “I thought you wanted to RV across America and Canada.” Mike glanced at the fading sun.

  “No fun doing that alone.” Virgil stubbed his cigar on the asphalt and tucked the half a finger left into his shirt pocket. “Gotta get cleaned up for that meeting with your mom.”

  “I’m going to wait for her and Valérie out front. See you in a few.”

  Mike made it to the front parking lot as Valérie’s daffodil Corvette squealed to a stop. He groaned, for his ashen-faced mother sat in the passenger seat. After Dad’s car accident, Mom had developed a fear of speed.

  As he helped his mother out of the car, Mike whispered, “I’ll drive you home.”

  “Thank you, son. I don’t think Valérie quite realizes…”

  “Hi, Mike. Twice in one day. I must’ve won the stud lottery.” Valérie hooked her arm through his.

  He clenched his jaw and forced a smile. “I’m sure Justin will be happy to hear that.”

  “Why, Mike Dorland, are you jealous?” Valérie tossed her shoulder-length, auburn mane and rested a palm on his shoulder.

  “I hear you two’ve set the date.” Mike carefully disengaged himself from Valérie’s grasp the second they stepped into the Caboose. He spied Virgil standing next to Janie behind the register.

  In a quick, deft move, he took his mother’s left side, putting her between him and Valérie. Mike cupped his mother’s elbow and halted at the cashier’s desk. “Mom, this is Virgil Sledden. Virgil, meet Lucinda Dorland.”

  “Mrs. Dorland. A pleasure. Mike and Drake talk about you all the time.” Virgil held out a hand.

  “They do?” Mom patted her chin-length bob, and her cheeks went rosy. She touched her palm to Virgil’s for the briefest of seconds.

  “They do, ma’am, and I understand why. Mike, you didn’t tell me that your mom had you as a teenager.” Virgil moved around the desk and offered his arm to Lucinda. “There’s a nice, quiet booth in the back where we can talk about the dinner. You said sixteen people?”

  “Yes.” Mom glanced over her shoulder at him, frowned, and then returned her gaze to Virgil’s. “It’s to celebrate Valérie de Verteuil’s engagement to Justin Laroque.”

  “How generous of you, ma’am. I know both young ’uns, of course. Have you a menu in mind?”

  “Lucinda. My name’s Lucinda.”

  Mike almost fell over his own feet. His mother on a first-name basis with Virgil?

  “Lucinda. What a beautiful name. Beats Virgil hands down. Now are you planning a dessert surprise?”

  “I hadn’t thought of a surprise. Virgil is a lovely name. A shortened form of Vergilius, I believe. He was a Roman poet circa 70 A
.D. and also known as Vergil the Grammarian.”

  Mike stumbled again. The narrow spaces between tables forced him and Valérie to trail behind Virgil and his mother.

  “No kidding?” Virgil waved at the booth. “Have a seat, Lucinda. Can I offer you a glass of wine? Mike, why don’t you take Valérie to the counter while we get the menu settled? If we’re to plan a surprise for dessert, she can’t be within hearing distance.”

  One look at Valérie’s stunned expression and Mike had to disguise his snicker with a fake cough. He had to hand it to Virgil; the man had outmaneuvered the most scheming female in Chabegawn. Virgil had totally deviated from Mike’s plan of presenting Mom and Valérie with a list of available employees for the dinner. A list that excluded Melanie, but this little diversion worked even better and excluded Valérie from the planning completely.

  “Holler when you two are done.” Mike grabbed Valérie’s arm and hauled her around. “No need for you to stay and wait. I’m dropping Mom home.”

  “I brought your mom here. I’ll take her home.” Valérie hissed the words.

  “I don’t know what you’re up to, but listen real good. You cause my mother any grief and I’ll make your life hell. You, of all people, should know she hates speeding. I ought to shake the daylights out of you.”

  “You can shake me any time you want, baby.” She shot him a half-lidded glance.

  “Cut it, Valérie. I’m not interested. And you’re wearing Justin’s ring.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Ring, shming. Justin and I have an understanding.”

  He led her out the Caboose’s front door and down the steps. “Again. Not interested.”

  “You used to be very interested, baby. Remember that night in the library?”

  “We all make mistakes. The trick is not to repeat them.” Mike stopped on a nickel when they reached Valérie’s flashy sports car. “Enjoy your drive home.”

  “You’ll pay for that snarky remark, Mike Dorland.” She jammed her hands on her hips. “Your mother’s welcome back to society can be very short-lived. If I hadn’t supported the resolution to let her back into the country club—”