A tour of Matthew’s room turned up several different types of knives and a gun in boxes under the bed, though Imogene’s assessment of, “None of that’s illegal so put it back” seemed to irk Paul. The entire room had an almost spartan feel with the lack of personalization, sticking to dark blues, and limited variety of clothing in the closet, almost entirely jeans and black or white shirts, some with sleeves and others without. Three identical pairs of black boots were lined up in the bottom and two leather jackets hung at the back. A box of kids’ drawings and keepsakes rested on the shelf at the top, but nothing truly alarming so they regrouped into the living room with a scowling Paul.
“You should definitely not play poker,” Landon remarked and earned a glare for himself. “The only place left to check is his workshop, but before we go in, I feel like I should warn you not to touch anything. Some of them are . . . active.”
Imogene’s eyebrows lifted. “How active?”
“Let’s just get on with it,” Paul snapped before leading the way out the back door toward the shed. He had to pause outside the door since the keys weren’t in his possession, but the door barely opened before he stomped his way inside. “What the hell . . .?”
Biting back a smile, Landon followed him through the doorway and offered a hand to help Imogene step over the lip of the doorway into the room. A flip of the switch turned on the lights and revealed a variety of metal creatures and contraptions sitting atop shelves or the worktable in the center of the room, strewn with parts and plans and tools. It was a larger space with more to see, but it still had the same grunge aesthetic that had once inhabited their basement to keep Matthew’s hands occupied. Some of the metal creations were familiar, though he kept his hands to himself as he investigated one of the walls.
“Matthew makes all of this?” Imogene’s tone contained shock as she trailed beside him, bending close to examine a small bird, though the second her finger touched it’s beak, it came to life and gave a squawk. Tiny, metal wings beat against the air as she stumbled back from the rising bird with a gasp. One of his arms hooked around her waist to steady her before he snagged the bird and felt for the appropriate button to freeze it then returned it to its resting spot.
“That’s why you don’t touch things,” he teased, grinning down to her. “And yes, he’s always been fascinated with metal and what he can create from it. He went to college for engineering and dabbled in metal working, but I guess he thought real world jobs were too boring? It’s a rare person allowed in here by choice.”
Pushing slightly to remove his hold, she moved further down the wall with a glance back to Paul who looked without touching at the items on the adjacent shelves. “You’re one of those rare people?”
He shook his head, immediately. “Nah, but his workshop used to be in the basement so I’d just wait for him and Charlie to go out then sneak down for a peek,” he admitted before pointing to a rabbit-shaped creature with extra long ears. “This one was supposed to do something with the weather, but he always said it was too big or the data wasn’t right.”
A feeling of nostalgia settled over Landon as he guided her further down the wall, pointing out and reminiscing about different creations that he remembered from his youth or inspecting new ones. It was almost possible to forget their actual purpose for being in the workshop, though Paul’s slamming around in the drawers of a toolbox guaranteed it didn’t happen. The occasional swear word said he wasn’t finding the proof that he’d been positive would be waiting, but neither of them bothered to say anything to him until they’d circled back to the main door.
“Satisfied?”
Imogene’s question earned a scowl before he grumbled, “Not even close.”
“We’ve been through every inch of that house and the workshop,” Landon pointed out, following them out and locking the door. He tested the knob then shoved the keys into his pocket for safekeeping. “If there was something to find, we’d have found it.”
Imogene gave a nod while Paul continued to scowl.
“Are we in agreement to tell the tribunal that we found nothing tying Matthew to the incident at the Langford Construction site?” she questioned as she stood opposite them on the front lawn. “And that Matthew is free to do as he pleases, including leaving the Miller house?”
“Agreed,” Landon said, glancing toward the neighbors as a curtain twitched, though no one came out to question their presence in the suburban neighborhood. “I’ll let Mom know once I get back.”
Paul finally growled, “Fine, but I still think he’s hiding something.”
Those words brought back his last conversation with Matthew in this very house and how he’d seemed more than the normal level of jaded.
I’m not blind anymore.
Chapter Twenty-One
Instead of the search at Matthew’s house settling tension between the packs, Imogene felt it had heightened. Only one tribunal had been held since, and it had been only the leaders of each pack, though Scott and Charlie had spent most of it silently glaring at one another. Thankfully, they’d had no pressing business so it had finished fairly quickly and allowed her to head back to Micah and Steven’s for dinner and less tense conversation.
However, a new batch of flyers at the library and the discovery of what could only be called a manifesto condemning werewolves had destroyed her barely restored peace of mind. While she hadn’t said anything to Lucinda, she’d sent a text to Micah and Steven then headed straight to their place after work, taking the manifesto and flyers with her. Something about the thin stack of pages printed in red ink made her uneasy, though she forced herself not to even look at it as she pulled into the driveway of her teenage home.
The two bedroom cabin was nowhere near the size of the massive cabins that housed the Miller and Langford leaders, but it had always been cozier. Soft colors, knitted blankets, and a plethora of family photos displayed on the walls, including her birth parents. She had a multitude of memories of sitting on the small porch for talks with Micah, cooking with Steven, or reading on the couch with Landon curled up beside her. Sometimes she’d read-aloud while he listened, having always said her house was quieter than his which hadn’t been hard with one teenager compared to six kids.
Grabbing the printed pages plus her phone, she jogged up the small trio of steps and gave three quick knocks before letting herself in. The smell of fresh tomatoes and herbs immediately assaulted her nose as she headed toward the kitchen, smiling at the sight of Steven in his Kiss the Cook apron.
Placing the flyers and manifesto on the table just before the island, she moved to his side then leaned up to plant a quick peck on his cheek.
“There’s my girl,” he greeted with a smile, pausing in chopping something green. “I told Micah we were having spaghetti tonight, Nonna’s recipe, since you so rarely come to dinner anymore. Wine’s in the fridge, if you want to pour a glass.”
“You’re the best.” Imogene kissed his cheek again before moving to retrieve a wine glass to match the one on his left. Taking out the bottle, she began to pour and questioned, “Where’s Micah? He said he’d be here.”
Steven’s chopping resumed before he dumped the bits of green into the nearby simmering saucepan. “Constance called so he’s pacing around the house, resisting the urge to tell her to shut up. I didn’t care enough to guess why, but I’d imagine she’s on team Matthew did it even if we can’t prove it.”
Frowning, slightly, she lifted her glass for a sip then tried to strain her wolf’s senses to pick up Micah’s voice, though she heard nothing unusual. Only a radio somewhere in the house and Steven’s preparing dinner sounds were audible so she focused back on him to question, “You think Melanie gets these phone calls, too?”
He scooped a spoonful from the sauce and offered it to her with an order of, “Try this.”
She blew on it a couple times then accepted the bite and gave a nod, removing the spoon to toss it into the sink. One thumb came up to show her approval.
; “And you know as well as I do that Melanie isn’t going to humor her like Micah does plus we all know Melanie is biased when it comes to the Kings.”
She gave a nod of agreement and took another sip from her wine, leaning against the counter nearest the sink. “I wish Micah would just tell the Langfords to screw off one good time,” she said with a sigh. “I did notice Melanie is at Bordertown more lately.”
Steven shot a look her way, eyebrows raised. “And what are you doing at Bordertown so much lately, Im?”
“Keeping an eye on Letty,” she replied, automatically and watched his brow arch a little higher. “I am there for Letty.”
“Not even a little part of you is there to ogle a certain Miller whose name starts with L and ends with on?” His words teased, though she knew from the heat in her face that she’d blushed. “I thought so. You really want to go back down that path, honey, when you have so many other options? Like the fireman Micah introduced you to or that nice accountant nephew of Lucinda’s.”
Imogene stared into the depths of her wine glass while she thought about his words then mumbled, “It’s not the worst show.”
She took a drink of wine to wash away the words. “But it’s not like that, Steven. We’re just friends so I’m not diving headfirst into anything, with anyone.”
Steven set the knife aside and took a drink from his own glass before he informed her, “So you said from thirteen to eighteen, but what happened at the end of that year?”
Only the backdoor opening saved her from answering or reliving what their friendship had become, and she gave her attention to Micah. He smiled before moving to her side, brushing his lips against her cheek.
“I thought I heard your voice,” he said before stealing her wine to take a drink. “I expected you to be later.”
Imogene’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “We weren’t too busy so Lucinda let me skip out a little early. Everything okay with Constance?”
Micah’s lips turned down before he replied, “Is it ever with them? It’s nothing that won’t hold until morning so don’t give it a second thought. Also, I second that just friends had an expiration date with you and Landon, and the fireman’s name is Hank.”
The color in her cheeks worsened as she busied herself with retrieving and filling a replacement wine glass. Micah’s taste test of the sauce ended with a thumbs up before he said, “I also know that the heart wants what it wants whether we admit it or not and whether others approve or not. I’m going out on a limb to guess yours still has a section just for Landon?”
The sappy smile exchanged with Steven, his life partner of several decades and fellow survivor of numerous bigots, wasn’t lost on her despite causing a pang at having planned as a stupidly naive teenager to have this kind of future with Landon.
Rather than lie, Imogene sighed. “Do we have to talk about this? It’s only been a little over a week since I decided to give friendship with him a second chance,” she complained, staring down at her wine again while Steve continued to bustle around the kitchen for dinner prep. “I’m still not happy about how he just fell off the planet for over a decade, but I understand why he came back.”
“Something you want to share with the class?” Micah questioned, curiously.
She shook her head then set aside the wine to take down plates. “No, it seems unfair to share his secrets,” she said, ignoring the two pairs of eyes she could feel on her back. “Suffice to say he saw what could be and decided it was worth coming back.”
Steven made a sound that might have been disapproving, though Micah questioned, “And what about his crazy motorcycle friends? Will they be making a return visit?”
She hesitated again then admitted, “He says they’re all dead, and no, I don’t know details on how or why so don’t bother asking.”
“Spoilsport. Micah, get the bread out of the oven,” Steven instructed, turning off the stove and pouring the pasta into a strainer set in the sink. “Im, go ahead and fix your plate.”
Fixing plates gave Imogene an escape from the interrogation of her renewed friendship with Landon, and she kept the conversation on other topics throughout dinner. The flyers and manifesto had been placed on a side table for after dinner which almost felt normal, though as usual, she found herself eating too much. Steven’s cooking was always worth the extra bit of discomfort so she happily accepted the offer of seconds and made a false promise to herself that she’d go running tomorrow.
A replacement glass of wine had been poured by Micah when hers emptied, though all too soon, the scraping of forks on plates faded to silence. He lifted one of Steven’s hands to kiss the back of it before saying, “Wonderful dinner as always. I’ll handle the dishes.”
After the plates had been cleared, she offered the manifesto and flyers to Steven who made a disgusted face at the graphic drawing. “That’s not even the right shade of red for blood,” he complained, opening the first page of the self-made book. “Such colorful language, though substitute human for werewolf, and I might just believe Scott wrote this.”
Steven’s echo of an early thought made her frown, but she finished off her glass of wine while he read. Only the sound of Micah washing dishes and putting away leftovers broke up the silence, though her offer to help was rejected so she concentrated on not tapping her fingers or foot while waiting for Steven to finish reading. She’d only skimmed, but the contents had made her nervous enough to seek them out as she did her best to remain patient and wait for him to speak.
She rejected Micah’s offer of a wine refill, though Steven made a gesture to top his glass off as he went through the last few pages. His frown had only deepened yet another minute passed before he said, “I’m of two minds about this and neither one is going to make you feel better.”
“Is there a lesser of two evils?” Micah’s question sounded like a joke as he lingered behind the chair, hands on Steven's shoulders, though the lack of response made him frown. “That bad?”
“Lesser would be it’s someone’s terrible idea of a joke which is a problem in and of itself with some of the facts given in there,” he began, setting aside the stack of papers. “When combined with the flyers and the obvious recruitment vibe, the greater evil is we’re looking at a movement against wolves.”
Imogene frowned. “But Worsham has been on good terms with the packs for close to seventy-five years, right? Ever since the Millers and Langfords bought what’s now the pack land.”
“Most people have been on good terms,” Micah corrected as he began to massage Steven’s shoulders. “There have always been a few stragglers who would prefer we disappear or stay out of town. A lot of them have kept their mouths shut, though because well, do you want to anger a bunch of wolves?”
Despite agreeing to stay on the good side of predators like them was for the best, Imogene couldn’t help frowning. How many people were kind to them out of fear rather than being a good neighbor? The thought troubled her as she thought over all her interactions throughout the day, but nothing immediately stood out as worrisome; however, the manifesto and flyers said someone did not approve of their presence, possibly more than just a few someones.
Almost a full minute passed before Micah said, “I can only think of one human who might have some insight, and after Paul’s scene, it may be a long shot plus if Scott or Melanie gets wind that you’re going outside the pack, they might try to put a foot down.”
“Matthew,” she guessed correctly from his nod. “I’ll swing by his place after leaving here, and hopefully he’s still on our side.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
An immediate feeling of unease washed over Imogene as she pulled into the small driveway for Matthew’s house and cut the ignition. There wasn’t a single light on within or on the porch despite it being barely nine and him being more of a homebody than most. The foreboding sense deepened as she opened the Bronco’s door then slid out, grabbing the papers from the passenger seat. Only a streetlight blinked on as she made her way up the drive
and onto the porch then strained her ears to hear, though it remained completely silent
Steeling herself against the urge to return to the car, she lifted a hand and gave two quick knocks on the wood. No one answered so she tried again then listened, stretching her wolf’s hearing only to pick up complete silence. No television, no footsteps, just silence.
“Matthew?” she called before giving the door a much harder hammer with her fist. “Matthew, open up!”
Again, no one responded, and she couldn’t pick up any smells or sounds of distress nearby, though the sudden rumble of a motorcycle had her turning around. Instinct had her claws pushing free on one hand to defend against a threat even as only one potential rider came to mind. Headlights illuminated the entire front porch as the rider came to a stop beside her car then slid off the bike, removing his helmet to squint at her.
“Imogene? What are you doing out here?”
She relaxed at Landon’s familiar voice, claws sinking back into her fingertips, but she took a minute to ensure her voice would come out normal rather than a growl before she said, “I’m looking for Matthew. Do you know where he is?”
Landon’s grimace said plenty as he rubbed at the back of his neck with one hand and approached the porch where she stood. “Matthew went off the grid,” he finally said, hands shoved into the pockets of his black and red riding jacket. “He sent a text a couple days ago saying he needed a break then promptly disconnected his service, and we haven’t heard from him since. We’ve been taking turns doing drive-bys of the house just as a precaution.”
Imogene frowned. “And Scott didn’t say anything about someone recently accused of crimes against the packs vanishing?”
He scoffed in response. “Crimes against a pack, and you really think Matthew asked permission? Charlie said he does this sometimes and that he’ll turn back up eventually. Scott’s pissed, but no one can get in touch with him so what can they actually do? Paul’s started sleeping at the construction sites like he expects the worst.”
Rule of Claw: Wolves of Worsham #1 Page 12