"No, he never did."
They finally reached the fourth floor. The bellhop led the way into the hall and another fifty feet or so to her room. He used an electronic key to open the door and set her bags just within the entryway. She handed him a tip. "Thank you."
"Enjoy your stay." He smiled in acknowledgement and departed.
She stepped inside and the door shut with a thunk. The Art Deco theme continued through the suite. Victoria snagged the bags off the floor and dropped them onto the king-size bed. She bounced on the mattress, testing the firmness, and then peeked out onto the balcony—two-person patio set, great view, no ghosts.
Within two minutes she'd explored the entire suite, including a cursory inspection of the Gideon Bible stowed in the nightstand. Victoria bypassed patience in favor of restless pacing and even some fuming. She spoke aloud to Freya as she so often did when priestess and goddess were alone. "Daniel should be here by now. What do you think is taking him so long?"
Freya chuckled. Patience, Victoria. It's a virtue you should practice.
"Yes, Goddess." She reached the end of the room, pivoted on the ball of her foot, and marched back. "He probably stopped to check the Chevelle's fluid levels again 'cause it's only been an hour since the last time."
Freya's voice sprang into Victoria's mind. He is attentive. Considerate. Look how well he attends to his lady's needs.
Victoria snorted. "Lady, my ass. The man is obsessed with that high-maintenance car."
Which means he is qualified to take on a high-maintenance woman... In other words, he's perfect for you!
Oh, burn! Victoria fought laughter. Failed. She dissolved into helpless giggles.
A couple minutes later, Daniel joined her in the suite. He plunked down an enormous duffle bag—the impact produced a clatter, metal against metal. While he got settled, she caught him up on the spirit within the wall she'd seen in the lobby.
"Do you think it's a threat?" Daniel unzipped the duffle, revealing an arsenal of firearms and weapons—mostly knives, but also clubs and a katana. He fished a knife with a staghorn handle from within. The leather scabbard concealed the blade but even sheathed, the weapon emanated a powerful aura of enchantment.
"Probably not. I thought you said we were hunting ghosts?"
"We are, but I like to be prepared. This is able to harm spirits." He gestured to the knife.
"Aintcha gonna show me your knife, big boy?" Victoria employed more than mild sarcasm, but his manner struck her as furtive, as if he hoped she wouldn't ask about it. Which made her all that more curious.
Daniel looked askance at her but gripped the hilt. Metal sounded sweet as it cleared leather and the toxic scent of silver permeated the air. The double-edged blade was long and wide—marked by malevolent magic. Its fearsome aspect warped the fabric of the spiritual plane that surrounded it. The weapon possessed both ravenous hunger as well as its malicious intelligence.
"What the hell is that thing?" Dread coalesced in Victoria's gut. She stared in sick fascination, unable to look away. Horrifying acquired a new meaning for her.
"It's an ancient weapon. It's cursed. We don't use it very often." He hefted the knife and returned it to its scabbard.
"Cursed how?" She breathed easier once he sheathed the wicked thing.
"It's complicated." Reluctance hardened his tone. Clearly, he preferred not to discuss it, and she didn't want to know anyway. As noted before—the acquisition of hunter secrets marked forbidden territory she'd rather not venture into.
"You didn't want to have to show it to me, did you?" Victoria's skin crawled. As if the weapon being cursed wasn't offensive enough, silver was toxic to wolf shifters. Pure silver blades were invariably enchanted. Otherwise the metal was too soft to be forged into a viable weapon.
He grimaced. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to offend you."
"Offend, or was it distrust?" Victoria asked in an arched challenge.
"Offend." He fixed a steady stare on her. "I trust you."
Did he really? She harbored doubts but preferred not to express them aloud. Instead, she said, "I'm not offended, but I'm glad you showed me. If you hadn't and drew that thing in the middle of a fight..."
She shuddered to think of what might happen.
He cleared his throat. "Point taken."
"I do prefer you just be up front with me in the future."
"All right, I'll remember that."
When he reached for the front of his pants, unfastening that big brass buckle, Victoria's mouth turned as dry as the desert. Great goddess of chariot cats... Was the man taking off his pants? Had all of her prayers just been answered? But alas, he was only attaching the scabbard to his belt.
Victoria sighed in disappointment.
"Have you seen anything interesting up here in the room?" Daniel looked down as he managed his task—the addition of the holstered weapon to his belt. In that moment, the man embodied the essence of oblivious.
Victoria snickered. "Not yet, but the night is still young."
Chapter Four
* * * *
The old building had a soul all its own, and contained more than one. Victoria sensed them—close but out of sight, lost spirits trapped within the walls. She didn't want to create a disturbance for fear of drawing them all out at once. Of course, ghost hunting was her assigned task on this mission, but doing so while committing a felony struck her as a not-so-good idea.
The third story hallway of the hotel was deserted aside from the two would-be burglars. A "No Service" sign hung from the doorknob of room 302 where Macan Guffin had checked in but hadn't checked out. Victoria fervently hoped they didn't discover the missing hunter within, dead roach-style on his back. For one, it'd be hard to explain how they'd found him.
Daniel crouched in front of the door while she kept watch. Unfortunately, Victoria's gut wouldn't stop rumbling and Daniel's position put his ear level with her abdomen—in the perfect position to hear every gurgle and grumble.
He stopped working the electronic lock long enough to turn his head. "Hungry?"
"A little. It's been hours since I've eaten."
"As soon as we're done here, we can go grab a bite. How does that sound?"
"Good." She needed to eat soon or her wolf would gain ascendance and overtake her psyche. When she started to slip into her animal half—look out. Instinct overtook reason.
"You okay? Your voice is weird."
She hesitated and forced out a quick admission. "I've never broken and entered before. I'm nervous."
"Don't be. I'm doing all the breaking and entering. You're just a lookout."
"Does that mean I wouldn't be charged?"
"No, you're still an accessory." He chuckled when he caught the look on her face. "Stop worrying. We're not committing a real crime. I'm a sheriff investigating a missing person case."
"This is Yavapai County, not Maricopa... And do you have a warrant?"
"Macan isn't going to bring me up on charges. Ah ha—" The light on the electronic lock turned green and it clicked. With a murmured sound of satisfaction, Daniel pushed the door open to reveal a darkened interior.
She and Daniel hustled to clear the hallway. The offensive, combined scents of stale booze, sweaty body odor, and old cigarette smoke slammed her nostrils and she gagged. Her nocturnal vision kicked in, allowing her to survey the interior in the more limited dimensions of grayscale. The room was smaller than theirs and lacked a balcony. Aside from the two of them, it was unoccupied, although the unmade bed and belongings scattered about the room pointed to signs of recent habitation.
Daniel hit the wall switch and the lights came on. An open suitcase sat on top of a luggage stand. The hunter went straight to the bag and rifled through it while Victoria looked on. His inspection turned up a handgun and a bayonet, both of which he took.
"He left his weapons behind. Is that a bad sign?" she asked
"This isn't his primary arsenal. They're just backups." Daniel finished with the suitcase an
d moved on, checking both the closet and beneath the bed. For what, Victoria had no idea, as his inspection turned up nothing of note.
"How many weapons do you have on you?" Victoria posed the question more from morbid curiosity than an actual desire to know. She had exactly one weapon on her person at any given time—a small belt knife.
Daniel stopped and faced her. He considered, perhaps conducting a mental inventory, before answering. "Right now? I've only got two guns—"
"Only two?" She arched a sarcastic brow. He'd taken off the holster he'd been wearing strapped to his hip earlier. She surmised the location of the concealed weapon as being tucked into the back of his faded Levis. His shirt had a tail long enough to conceal the handle.
"One of them isn't mine." He tipped Macan's pistol to make his point.
"Okay, how many knives?"
Daniel flashed that killer—killer's?—smile. "Four."
"Four?" Her eyebrows quivered while her skeptical gaze swept his body. Good goddess, where? Where could he possibly be keeping that many weapons?
"Four." He smirked and moved closer to the desk. A tall, misshapen stack of paperwork was on the desktop. He hooked the wheeled base of the chair with his foot, pulled it out, and dropped into it.
Victoria stabbed at an empty pizza box on top of the television, but it yielded no secrets aside from the greasy smear. She breathed in through her mouth, drawing air across the sensitive olfactory glands at the back of her palette, and scented the room.
"Do you smell anything?" Daniel rifled through the top layer of papers and picked up a leather-bound journal which he opened.
"Whisky and chewing tobacco." Victoria's nose wrinkled in distaste.
Daniel snorted. "Yeah, that sounds about right."
She followed her nose to where a wet hotel towel was draped across a trash bin. Lips curled over her teeth, she pinched the edge, tossed it aside, and conducted a visual survey of the contents. She refused to come into contact with any of it without sterile gloves. "Do Budweiser and Twinkies sound like Macan?"
"Yeah, that sounds just like him. Anything in the bathroom?"
To oblige him, Victoria leaned into the bathroom and hit the switch which activated a light/fan combination. "No bodies in the tub."
The buzz of the exhaust fan created a moderate din but she still caught his reply. He called out, "Glad to hear it."
She flipped off the light and popped into the main room. "What do you have there?"
"This looks like Macan's research into his genealogy and the history of the area. This is grandfather's journal—" He patted the leather-bound volume and scooted some other papers aside to make room for a crinkled, yellowed map. "And this was on top of everything else, so I'm assuming it's important. I'm no expert, but I recognize a survey map when I see one."
Curious, Victoria moved to stand behind him. Trouble was, the man was still too blasted big so she pretty much wound up pressed against his back to obtain a good view over his shoulder. The position resulted in her resting against him, her breasts smashed against his back. He held up well under tactile examination—soft cotton over firm muscles. Nice.
A ripple of reaction traveled the length of his torso. She inhaled, savoring his scent. His basal aroma acquired a pungent punch; the earthy note of arousal. He turned his face toward her and she viewed him in profile—an expression of wry amusement and awareness.
"Why do I suddenly feel like I'm on the menu?"
"I'm a wolf and I'm hungry. Better feed me soon," she infused her tone with deliberate menace.
He snickered. "I'll consider myself warned. There's a restaurant in the hotel. How does that sound?"
Not quite as appealing as hunter a-la-mode, but it'd do. She smiled but regretfully eased off him. Priorities—stomach first, missing hunter second. Okay, so maybe that was a bit screwy, but they had a crap load of stuff to sort through, and she wasn't going to be able to focus until after she ate.
Still, she stared at the map, hoping it'd yield a useful clue. The key bore an illegible scrawl that she assumed was a name and the date—1865. She tapped the corner. "Granite Creek was a mining town in 1865."
"Yeah, when Prescott was the territory capital."
"You said Joseph Briggs, the first hunter to disappear, was a treasure hunter. Maybe he was looking for a lost gold or silver mine." A reasonable speculation based on the evidence.
"It fits. I want to take all this and study it in more depth." Daniel moved a pile of papers, sorting and organizing, and shifted material to the leather brief case that appeared to have held everything originally.
Victoria got out of his way since it was really a one person job. "What else do you know about Macan's search? Anything specific?"
"No, only what I've told you." His scent remained unchanged along with all the other physical markers she used to judge truthfulness. "The last call I have from him was time stamped this morning just after nine, but it went to voicemail. He sounded excited—said he thought he was onto something. I called him back before ten but he didn't answer." He shrugged. "When he missed his check-in time, I started to worry. I called the front desk and they confirmed he left sometime before ten but didn't check out..."
"And then you decided to fabricate an elaborate charade to check into the honeymoon suite before you'd even confirmed I was willing to come with you?"
A flush crept across his throat. His smile was bashful. "Better than sitting on my hands. If you'd refused to come, Cali would've." When her eyes narrowed with distinct displeasure, he chuckled. "You were my first choice—Cali isn't a seer."
"Huh. Thanks. That's flattering." Not.
"Hey, it worked out the way I wanted so I'm not apologizing." He finished bundling the papers, maps, and journal into to the case, closed it, and fastened the snaps. "Let's go. Apparently, hungry wolves are grouches."
Victoria blushed so hard the heat overtook her face. Zing—he'd nailed it. She'd have to watch her mood until they managed to eat. Grumbling to herself, she followed him from the messy hotel room.
"Do you know his license plate? I saw some traffic cams on the way in."
"Yeah, I do. I was planning on doing that. I'll call my friend, Gus. He works for the Yavapai County Sheriff's Department. He'll have access to those cameras..." Daniel already had his cell phone out before they reached the stairwell.
"Must be nice being connected," Victoria muttered beneath her breath because she didn't actually want him to hear her. She took the descent fast, trusting her natural surefootedness, and reached the bottom well before he did. So she waited by the exit—and listened.
He followed at a more sedate pace, talking with his friend on the phone. His rich baritone carried in the enclosed space so Victoria caught the general gist of the conversation which began with pleasantries, moved on to good-natured ribbing, and tumbled into business—talk about license plate numbers and BOLOs.
She'd never realized before how hooked into modern technology the Barrett family was, but now she had a clue. They had more than federal funding—like access to law enforcement and, presumably, government databases. The more she thought about it, the scarier the implications. Thank the goddess they were allies and not enemies.
Chapter Five
* * * *
Daniel concluded his call and they exited to the lobby. A handful of other people were about, including the staff behind the front desk. As they crossed toward the restaurant, their strides matched—short and sedate. By unspoken agreement, they tilted toward one another, sharing an easy intimacy.
Daniel cocked his head and grinned. "So you're saying there's no such thing as a vegetarian werewolf?"
"No such thing," Victoria drawled. "All wolves eat meat. It's instinct, not a choice."
"Huh. I feel so disillusioned..." He pantomimed vast disappointment.
She fought to keep a straight face. "Although, I will concede—organic vegetarians do taste better than those raised on GMOs."
Daniel's foot caught on the tile
. He caught himself, did a double take, and then a huge grin split his face. "Oh you're funny."
"Thanks, I try."
When Daniel reached over to wrap his arm about her shoulders, she leaned into him just as she fell into laughter with him. Scary comfortable—the sort of rapport she expected to share with another wolf.
The hotel restaurant was nice, but fortunately not too fancy for their casual attire. They both wore t-shirts and jeans, although Daniel's dress was arguably more formal than hers thanks to his boots. She had on flip flops because shape shifting invariably destroyed shoes and she had no idea what the rest of the evening might hold.
The server who greeted them only spared the firearm holstered on Daniel's belt the barest glance; his dagger didn't rate a second look. Ah, such was life in an Arizona small town. They requested seating on the patio where the black wrought iron furniture and glitzy bronze planters asserted the Art Deco theme. Outside, the temperature had dropped to the mid-forties already. Shifter blood naturally ran hot, so Victoria preferred the cold, but she worried for Daniel. The guy had grown up in Phoenix where it was still in the seventies at night.
"Chilly—we can eat inside if you'd be more comfortable."
"I'm fine." Daniel tucked the leather briefcase beneath the table and took the chair across from her after she was seated.
She dipped her chin and took the man at his word. She counted it as a definite bonus that they were the only customers who'd opted to dine on the patio. They ordered and received their drinks, engaging in small talk while the waiter was within earshot. The quietude persisted for a time after their server's departure, which Victoria found refreshing. Men who talked to fill up silence displeased her on so many levels.
Fortunately, the hotel's kitchen was fast. Their appetizer arrived in record time—bacon-wrapped jalapeno poppers. Five for two people. She always wondered about the idiots who created starter menus with dishes that couldn't be evenly divided as a composite number. So she tried to eat slowly, but still managed to finish both of hers before Daniel got to his second, which left her hungrily eyeing the last popper.
Hunter's Mark: A Star-Crossed Book (Loki's Wolves 0) Page 4