Stephen reclined in a dark brown leather chair, watching me with eyes the color of a stag’s pelt. His dark hair was smoothed away from his face in a gentle wave, and his beard shaded his jaw line and upper lip without hiding his mouth. The violence of his energy suggested his wolf was very close to the surface, the fury of it screaming of a werewolf about to snap. And yet he remained relaxed in the chair, his feet propped up, and his head resting against the cushion.
“Officer Reid, I presume?” I held out my hand. “I’m Shade Renard. Please call me Shade.”
His eyes glinted, changing to the gold-brown of a tiger’s eye stone, as if his wolf paced restlessly inside him while his body remained still. He stared at my hand for a split second, giving my brain plenty of time to torture me with fantasies of having the limb bitten off. Suddenly, he levered himself out of the chair, and I almost swallowed my tongue as the pressure of his aura and my own surprise threatened to knock me off my feet.
“I wish I could say it was nice to meet you,” he said, taking my hand.
“I understand.”
He wasn’t as tall as Liam, but he was close, at least six foot. His hand closed around mine in a warm, firm grip. He didn’t try to intimidate me, dominate me by crowding my personal space. There was no fevered hunger, nothing to suggest he was deciding which fleshy bit would taste best. Even his voice was calm. My stomach sank. His control was incredible—not the sort of shifter that would lose control and take a bite out of someone. If he’d taken a bite, he’d meant to do it.
“Not a pleasant situation, I’ll agree,” I said, trying to keep my voice upbeat. “Needs must, though, right? Quick and painless, that’s the goal.” I straightened my shoulders and unfastened my coat so I could unzip the black tactical pouch fastened around my waist. “Stephen, if you could tell me in your own words what happened last night?”
Liam’s aura flared, adding a second wall of fire behind me. I kept my eyes down as I rifled through my pouch, trying not to sway on my feet as shifter energy battered me from all sides. How was a witch supposed to concentrate under these conditions? My hand brushed a push dagger, a bag of hard candy, and a hairbrush before my fingers found the collar.
I didn’t realize until I looked up from my search that Stephen was looking at Liam, not me. I frowned.
“I’m sorry, Shade,” Liam said. “We can’t discuss an ongoing investigation. I hope you understand.”
Steady. Breathe. “When Mother Hazel called you to inform you I was coming… What exactly did she say?”
“She said you would be coming to activate the suppression band.”
“That’s it?” I asked, already dreading the answer.
Liam crossed his arms. “That’s it.”
Damn her eyes. “She said I was only coming to bring the collar?”
“Yes.” A hint of exasperation crept into his tone. “What’s going on?”
I held the collar in front of me, but made no move toward Stephen. “I’m not here to activate the magic and leave. I’m here to work the case. At Mother Hazel’s request.”
Stillness crept over the werewolves. No emotion, no outward reaction. Instinct screamed at me, a primal urge to flee, now, before they could decide I was a threat and act accordingly. Relax, Shade, I chastised myself. No one’s going to hurt you. Still, I wished Peasblossom was on my shoulder. She’d no doubt make an inappropriate observation to break the tense silence.
Finally, Liam inclined his head in a small bow of respect. “Of course I’m grateful for Mother Hazel’s interest in helping. But I assure you it’s not necessary.” His deep voice was polite, but strained. “I requested the suppression band, but I in no way meant to invite anyone into this investigation.”
“No need to invite me,” I said with forced cheer. “Mother Hazel hired me. It’s all settled.”
I raised the collar, and whatever Liam had been about to say died instantly. Stephen twitched as if he’d fought not to take a step back, his gaze zeroing in on the leather circle.
No one spoke or moved. This wasn’t just a monitoring device, a simple means of Otherworld house arrest. It would keep Stephen from shifting. It would cause him pain if he tried to hurt someone. And it would make him an easy target if he left his land.
Liam watched Stephen with an expectant look, a silent plea. I’d seen that look before. Usually on the face of a parent giving their child an ultimatum they hoped they wouldn’t have to go through with. The alpha didn’t speak, but I could see the words in his expression.
This is your last chance to tell me the truth.
Stephen’s jaw clenched. He set his feet shoulder width apart and raised his chin. One hand closed over the opposite wrist behind his back. At first, it seemed defiant—a declaration that he had nothing to say. But the veins in his neck bulged, and sweat coated his temples. I suspected the stance was as much to stop himself from shaking, to keep himself from running, as it was a show for Liam’s benefit.
“Do it,” Liam said quietly.
Stephen kept his gaze straight ahead while I reached up. My heart pounded as I remembered Liam’s warning about wolves panicking when the time came for the spell to activate. Stephen swallowed hard, then, with a surprising show of control, bent at the waist, making it easier for me to fasten the clasp. His aura grew hotter, a painful crackle against my skin as my fingers brushed his neck.
I traced a finger over the smooth leather. “Vincio.” Gold magic coiled around the collar, snapping as the spell sank beneath the leather and touched the silver. I thought I heard a sound in Stephen’s throat, a noise somewhere between a groan and a whimper, swallowed before it could pass his lips.
The energy in the room died, the sudden absence of all that fire staggering. All that remained was the steady buzz of Liam’s aura against my side.
Nobody moved. My mind tortured me with images of Stephen’s beast inside him, the howl of mourning as the metaphysical cage door slammed closed. I looked away, unwilling to see the pain in Stephen’s face. I didn’t know what was worse. The pain I knew he was going through, or the fact that his rigid control, his implacable serenity as I’d fastened the device around his neck, was the most damning evidence against his story he could have offered.
I dug around in the pouch, frustrated as a knot of twisty ties and paper clips kept me from getting a grip on the business card I wanted. I threw them out of the pouch onto the floor, then held the card out to Stephen.
“I’m a good listener,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. “I don’t judge. When you’re ready to talk, please call me.”
Stephen didn’t accept the card. I hadn’t really expected him to. I laid it on the arm of the recliner he’d been sitting in then collected the debris I’d scattered on the carpet and backed toward the door of the den. His gaze followed my movement, but the rest of him remained frozen in place. I couldn’t read his emotion right now. Thank the Goddess.
“Thank you for your help, Shade.” Liam picked up the card and slid it into his pocket. “I’ll see you out.”
I held his gaze and took out another card, putting it in the same place on the chair. “Lead the way.”
The muscle in his jaw flexed, but he didn’t take the second card. I waited for him to start for the door, keeping myself between him and the card, then fell into step behind him. I didn’t speak until the den door closed behind us, giving Stephen the privacy to mourn his new circumstances.
“Detective, I understand your reluctance, but I really am here to help with the investigation.”
“No, I’m afraid you don’t understand.” Liam held open the screen door that led onto the front stoop. “The coroner hasn’t declared this a homicide yet. The suppression band is a formality, nothing more.”
Well, that was a lie. If Liam had requested a collar before the death was ruled a homicide, then he’d been angry. Either Stephen had killed that man, or he’d lied to Liam. Either way, that collar was no “formality.”
So much for playing nice. I sighed and
straightened my spine to give myself all the height I could manage. “No, I’m sorry, detective. The fact of the matter is, my mentor instructed me to solve this murder—and she does believe that this was a murder. Even if I wanted to leave now, I can’t. Disobeying her would be the same as one of your wolves disobeying you. And I’m sure you can understand how serious such a defiance would be. It would be easier for us both if we cooperated.”
A tiny weight tugged at my hair, followed by the familiar sensation of Peasblossom climbing up my spine. My nerves calmed, both from the reassuring contact with my familiar and the promise of more information in the near future.
I stepped away from Liam, noting the way his eyes followed me with that easy intensity only predators managed. “You obviously want the truth, or you would never have called the Vanguard. And you clearly doubt Stephen has been completely honest with you, or you wouldn’t have asked for the collar. Accept my help. Work with me. We will find out what happened.”
“To be clear,” Liam said calmly, “did your mentor send you because she lacks faith in me as a detective? Because she believes I cannot solve this case on my own? Or does she doubt me as the alpha of my pack? Because she’s under the impression I would turn a blind eye to a member of my pack killing someone?”
“If you want to turn my presence into a personal insult, I can’t stop you,” I said. “But it changes nothing. I’m here. And I will remain here until I can tell my mentor with absolute certainty how Oliver Dale died.” I tilted my head. “For what it’s worth, I have faith in you as both a detective and an alpha. As such, I doubt it will take more than twenty-four hours for us to find the truth. Together.”
Liam watched me for a long minute. He took more time to size me up than before, looking past the leggings. I imagined he gave my fanny pack a disparaging look, but I sensed camaraderie on the horizon, so I ignored it.
“All right.” He glanced at the house before looking at me. “I’ll walk you to your vehicle, then you can follow me to the station.”
I waited for Peasblossom to settle in the neckline of my coat before following Liam to where I’d parked at the bottom of the driveway.
“So how much did Mother Hazel tell you?” he asked.
I rooted in my pouch for a notepad and a pen. “She said a boy called 911 and reported a body that looked like it an animal gnawed on it.” I frowned down at the Transformer, wondering how the toy had gotten in my pouch. “The dispatcher called you because you’re the head of the Wild Animal Task Force and you went to investigate. That’s when you found Stephen in wolf form with blood on his mouth.” I found the notebook and beamed at the pen tucked into the spiral binding. Perfect.
“Basically, yes. When I got the call, I contacted Stephen. He was on duty that night, patrolling the park.”
“But you didn’t get an answer.” I removed the pen and flipped open the notebook.
Liam’s mouth tightened. “I knew there was a problem, but at first I thought something else had attacked Oliver, and Stephen had engaged it. I had to consider the possibility that he might be hurt—I don’t have to tell you the kind of dangerous creatures roam the forest at night.”
“Barghests and crocottas.” I shivered. If humans knew what sort of monsters lurked in the forests, they’d burn them to the ground and salt the earth.
“To name two.” He stopped at my car and leaned against the hood, bracing his hands against the slate-grey metal. “When I found Stephen with blood on his face—human blood”—he shook his head—“I had no choice but to prepare for the worst. I called Blake, my second-in-command. He’s a detective, so I assigned the case to him. He went to the station where the witness was waiting. I told him to take the kid’s statement, then get to the scene and lock it down before calling the forensics team.”
“And you questioned Stephen.”
“Yeah. He said he spotted the body when he was on patrol. When he got there, he smelled barghest. He thought he’d interrupted it and it might still be close by, so he shifted in the hope he might track it down before it found a replacement meal.”
Barghests didn’t need to feed often. A single large meal a month was usually sufficient. Unfortunately, when it did come time for them to eat, they were ravenous, and very violent. A meal could be a fully grown deer, but they favored humans if they could manage it. Only a human dinner would feed their magic as well as their physical body.
Liam paused, and I didn’t press him to continue. He studied the small trees lining the road for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Hunger when you’re a wolf isn’t the same as hunger when you’re human.”
I leaned against the driver’s-side door, absorbing the warmth from the sun-heated metal. “Given the different brain structure, it’s not surprising. The amygdala is more dominant in wolves than in humans.”
Liam looked at me. “That’s right.”
I crossed my arms, mirroring him even as I resisted the urge to scoot closer. Now that he wasn’t being a jerk, the temptation to bask in his aura returned. I slid farther away. “I’m a witch, detective. You shouldn’t act so surprised when I know something.”
“I didn’t realize being a witch meant studying medicine,” he said.
“It means studying everything. I have the equivalent of at least five PhDs in terms of human education.”
“My apologies.” He gazed across the street, into the distance toward the Rocky River Reservation. “Stephen told me he forgot to eat before he went on duty. After he shifted, what had been annoying hunger pains became something more. And there he was, standing over a still-warm, bleeding body. He took a bite before he could stop himself. As soon as he had meat in his belly, he regained his senses and ran off after the barghest.”
I didn’t look at him, didn’t trust what expression was on my face. It was a pathetic story. Liam had to know how pathetic his story sounded.
“He’s not feral, as far as I can tell,” I said.
“No, he’s not feral. If he’d gone feral, he would have attacked me. Possibly hunted down the boy.”
I didn’t point out that he could have been interrupted by new prey and simply abandoned one meal for the temptation of a better one. Feral werewolves weren’t like wolves or men, but rather the most twisted version of each—very unpredictable. If Oliver Dale had already been dead, a fresh kill might have been appetizing enough to lead him away. Liam knew that already.
“Tell me about Stephen.”
“Born a lycanthrope, both parents also lycanthropes. Mother and father were both very loving and very supportive.”
“That’s good,” I said. “Loving, supportive parents who are in a position to help him throughout the transition after his first shift. That must have made it easier for him.”
“Too easy, perhaps,” Liam agreed. He stared at the front window as if he could will Stephen to come out and apologize, admit he’d held back and confess everything. “Sometimes I think he’d have benefited if his parents had challenged him more, doted on him a little less.”
“What makes you say that?”
He shifted his weight, leaning more heavily against my car. “A lot of things come naturally for Stephen. He’s strong; he’s fast. Played football in high school and college. Could have gone pro, but chose to join the force instead.” He glanced at me. “How much do you know about our hierarchy?”
“I’m not sure what names you give the different positions in your pack,” I said. “In my experience, that varies from pack to pack. But my understanding is that there’s an alpha, then a second- and third-in-command, and two enforcers that act as personal bodyguards to the alpha. There are other positions a pack fills as necessary.”
Liam nodded. “I’m called the kongur.”
“Old Norse for ‘one who steers the helm,’” I noted.
“Blake is my second-in-command, the jarl. My third-in-command, the stallari, isn’t on the force, so you probably won’t meet her. The hersir are my enforcers. Stephen is one of them.” He braced his hands a
gainst the hood of my car. “When someone joins the pack, they have the option of challenging someone in an existing role to take their place in the hierarchy. Stephen challenged one of my hersir and won.” He looked at me. “Easily won.”
“But?”
“But he never even considered challenging for stallari. I don’t think he could win against Blake for jarl, but he had a solid chance for stallari. Stephen wouldn’t even try.”
“You think he was afraid?”
Liam scoffed. “No. I think he took a position high enough in the hierarchy to be dominant to most of the pack, but not so high that he would have more day-to-day responsibilities. And if someone wants to challenge for alpha, they have to start with my third-in-command, my stallari.” He scratched his chin. “I feel like a father telling his son to live up to his potential. I keep telling him, if he’d put in a little more effort, he could have anything he wanted. But he’s happy where he is. So he says.”
“Do his parents know about what happened?”
“No. They moved to Montana a few years ago. I’m not going to contact them until I know something. If Stephen wants to call them, he can.”
“I doubt he will,” I said, crossing my arms. “You said you feel like his father. Did you ever have to discipline him?”
“No. Stephen is stubborn when it comes to leaving his comfort zone, but he doesn’t disobey me.” He stared at the house, frustration deepening the crease between his eyebrows. “Until now. I don’t know what happened.”
“Were there reports of any other injuries, or dead animals?” I asked. “Anything to suggest there might have been someone or something else in the woods last night?”
“Another ranger—a human, Emma—found a dog that was in bad shape. But it hadn’t been attacked; it was just a pet that got away from its walker. Poor beast got itself caught on a tree root near a ravine and almost hung itself.”
Monster (Blood Trails Book 2) Page 4