“I’d forgotten it’s Halloween today,” Cooper said, watching absently as they walked up the path to the house.
He had the clearest memory of standing in the shadow of a hedge in a rich neighborhood similar to this where everyone went hoping to get full-size candies. Completely under a sheet he wasn’t allowed to cut holes in, all he could see were his own sneakers, the pavement beneath them, and the occasional passing shadow and laughter of other kids.
He remembered thinking, he would never move from that spot. No one would ever find him, talk to him, or look at him again. He could just stand there under the sheet and disappear forever. The idea had thrilled and terrified him equally. How...disconnected he’d felt to the world. How he’d always felt slightly out of step with others.
Cooper rang the elegant four-tone doorbell, Park at his back. No one answered. But as they waited, a second car pulled into the driveway behind theirs. Out stepped Cola.
“Following us?” Cooper asked, a little irritated.
“Like I don’t have an entire secret agency to do that for me,” she said, walking right across the grass, seemingly not giving one fuck that her heels sank with every step, leaving holes in the turf. She stopped beside them on the stoop. “Reached out to undercover this morning, what with one of the subjects of their ongoing investigations turning up dead and all.”
“And?” Cooper asked. “Did they have anything to add?”
“There is no investigation,” Cola said bluntly. “They’d never even heard of Arthur Crane, which explains why I wasn’t flagged that he’d fallen on to their radar.”
Cooper shook his head, confused. “But Neil—”
“Neil Gerhart resigned last year,” Cola interrupted. “Whatever he was doing, it wasn’t for the FBI.”
Cooper was shocked. “Resigned?” Neil’s life was undercover. It was the only thing Cooper had ever really believed Neil loved. “Why?”
“The words ‘forced out’ weren’t said, but it was heavily implied,” Cola said. “He was behaving increasingly erratically, secretive and paranoid, always liable to go off and do his own thing; he wasn’t bringing in the results they’d used as an excuse to look the other way anymore. He also seemed convinced of some kind of cover-up within the agency.” She shrugged. “Probably wasn’t wrong, but madness to outright say to the very people you’re accusing. Due to his career record, he was given the option to retire.”
“What the hell is he doing working as Genevieve Crane’s assistant?” Cooper asked.
“I asked Genevieve a similar question this morning and she had some pretty interesting things to say. Namely that J.T. was obsessed with her husband, was constantly trying to get her to talk about him, that he’d frequently initiate sex with her when she was due to see Arthur soon and then after ask if she thought he could tell.”
Cooper wasn’t sure what kind of face he was making, but Cola gave him one look and snorted. “Just be thankful I’m paraphrasing. She hasn’t seen J.T since the gala setup.”
“How is Genevieve coping?” Park asked.
Cola shrugged. “Aside from seeing the savaged and malformed corpse of her loved one? Well. One might even say suspiciously well. She was quick to jump on Roy’s suggestion that Arthur was wearing a Halloween mask last night, but while complaining about Neil’s fixation on her husband, let slip it was more than just the cuckolding that got him off. It was like he was testing how well Arthur could scent him and that isn’t a paraphrase.”
Park made a noise and Cola nodded, then added for Cooper’s benefit, “How many unaware humans do you know who use the word scenting over smelling? Not ironclad proof, but my bet is Genevieve Crane isn’t quite so clueless as Arthur swore to me she was.”
“And neither is Neil?” Cooper asked.
Cola held up a piece of paper and a key with a little green plastic tag attached to it. “I don’t know, but I’ve got a warrant and Cult Town’s gatekeeper gave me a key if you want to find out.”
She reached past them and knocked hard on the door. “Neil Gerhart, this is Agent Margaret Cola of the Trust. If you are able to, please answer the door.”
There was silence. Cola used the key and announced herself again as they walked inside. “Agent Neil Gerhart, three Trust agents are entering the residence with a warrant to search your home. If you are able to, please respond.”
Both Cola and Park sniffed the air as they walked into the foyer. “I don’t hear anyone,” Park said, and Cola nodded. Cooper wandered past them into the living room, dining room, kitchen. It was even more bleak than the outside. Completely clean and...empty.
Not literally empty. Someone definitely lived there. The fridge had its orange juice carton, its almond milk, the dishwasher had been loaded and run, open boxes of cereal in the cabinet. But there was nothing personal. Not a single item that wasn’t essential to living. Demo homes had more personality.
Cooper thought again of the joke around the agency that there was no real Neil behind the covers. He’d thought they were naïve to think that. He’d thought they were lucky. The man Cooper had known was a bastard, but he was a—a person. The apartment where he’d lived before hadn’t been like this.
Looking at this eerily soulless house, Cooper wondered for the first time if the man he thought he’d known was just another cover. That without the job, he was...nobody.
He heard Cola going upstairs, and Park joined him in the kitchen, asking, “Anything?”
“Nothing. Fucking nothing.” Cooper gestured around them, still unnerved. “I mean, what is this? Who lives like this?”
Park shook his head and opened the dishwasher. “These have been here since yesterday, I’d say.”
“So he’s supposed to have, what, killed Arthur Crane, come home, done a load? Sure, why not. What else is there to do here?” Cooper looked around, exasperated. “This doesn’t feel right, Oliver.”
Park pursed his lips. “I—” He jerked his head up, looking vaguely toward the ceiling.
“What?” Cooper asked.
“I think Cola found something,” Park said as he quickly made his way back to the foyer and up the stairs, Cooper at his heels. Cooper got a peek of more blank walls, empty side tables and a pristine bedroom before he followed Park into what might have once been a guest room or office.
After the desert that was the rest of the house, walking in here was overwhelming. The desk, chair, bed, and dresser were all covered in camera equipment, files, books, photos, and electronics. Some had spilled onto the floor and appeared to have been shoved together in haphazard piles. On the table beneath the window sat a large vase full of coral-colored, long-stem roses.
The walls, though, that was what caught Cooper’s attention the most. Almost every inch was covered in photos.
Almost every photo was of Cooper.
Chapter Eleven
“Well, this was more than I bargained for,” Cola said calmly, as if they weren’t standing in the middle of a horrifying altar. But then, she’d had a few more moments to adjust to the shock. And her face wasn’t the one staring down at them from every angle.
Cooper glanced at Park, whose expression was unsurprisingly blank, like it usually was when he got the most upset. What was startling, however, were that his claws were completely out, hanging at his sides.
Seeming to sense Cooper’s gaze, Park looked at him, eyes glowing and fully gold. Cooper blinked and they were back to their average, human-looking amaretto brown. When he checked Park’s hands, the claws were gone too.
Park stared at Cooper as if waiting to see if he’d say something, but Cooper didn’t. Hell, he was disturbed enough to pop a claw himself, if he was able to. As it was, he could only stand there, arms crossed defensively over his belly, feeling...strange. Exposed. Unsafe.
He turned away and began to search the room. Behind him he heard Park do the same.
“
He’s definitely aware of wolves all right,” Cola said a few moments later, a pile of files in her hand. “And there’s more information about your life here, Dayton, than even I know. Born Jagger Valley, Maryland. Middle name Isaac. Medical records. An old résumé. Hmm, I didn’t know you worked at a movie theatre.”
“Lots of notes on the legend of the Moon,” Park said, flicking through notepads on the bed. Those were probably the most jumbled looking. All fallen to one side, as if someone had pulled the covers back to sleep right in the middle of all this madness. “A lot of these look like he was recording oral accounts. Who the hell was telling him our legends?”
Cooper was only half listening. He was studying the photos on the walls. It was difficult to tell, but he’d say most of them were taken within the last five months or so. Him leaving a coffee shop. Him taking out the trash at his old apartment. He and Park leaving one of the many houses they’d toured.
Cooper felt a wave of fury at that. That Park was up on this wall because of him. That Neil had ever sat here, lain in this bed and looked at Park...no.
Besides Cooper, there were photos of Arthur Crane and James Finnigan. Separate and together. Old and new. Cooper even found the same photo of Arthur that he’d seen on Finnigan’s phone.
“Oliver,” Cooper said softly, and heard Park approach and pause a long moment behind him. Then, with a slightly unsteady hand, Park pulled the photo off the wall. Stared at it. His fingers brushed almost disbelievingly at the faces of Daisy and Benjamin, his expression a little lost.
“They look like kids,” he whispered finally. “How did I never realize how...young they were?” Cooper touched his hip, comfortingly.
“Oliver, come here,” Cola said from across the room.
“What?” Park looked up distractedly, the photo still clutched in his hand.
“Did you find something?” Cooper asked.
“Just—please, come here,” Cola insisted, a steely note in her voice. Her dark brown eyes were wide and serious, and when she held out her hand, beckoning Park forward, Cooper saw her claws were out. He’d never seen Cola slip. Ever.
Park made to move toward her, and Cooper grabbed his arm.
“Let go of him,” Cola snapped immediately.
“What—what are you doing?” Park protested, sounding appalled.
“I said let go and back away,” Cola repeated. The hand that had been beckoning before had rotated into a distinctly threatening pose. Half raised, as if about to slash down.
Cooper could feel those claws inside of him as if it was already happening. Phantom pains implied something lesser than. A partial remembrance of the original. But this hurt all the more because it was his own body betraying him. Hurting himself.
The one thing keeping him calm was how utterly baffled and unconcerned Park was. Park, who would leap in front of a train to protect him, or fight the clouds if he thought the rain caused him pain, was completely relaxed and loose beneath Cooper’s hands.
“What’s going on?” Cooper asked.
“You tell me,” Cola said, holding up a file. She tossed it on the ground a few steps away, and Park pulled out of Cooper’s loose grasp to retrieve it.
Cooper kept his eyes on Cola, and Cola stared right back at him. Even so, he could sense Park go still in his peripheral.
“What is it?” Cooper asked. “What does it say?” Cola lowered her hand, and he risked a glance at Park, who was still staring at the file. “Oliver?”
Park still didn’t look at him, but he did hand the file over, and Cooper accepted it cautiously. The tense silence in the room made him not want to open it.
But curiosity won out. It always did.
It took a moment for Cooper to understand what he was looking at. Someone had glued ripped up bits of paper to a stiff piece of cardstock like they were fitting together a puzzle. It looked like a printed out results sheet. The sort with sparse words and numbers and a mile of ominous white in between. The sort waved under your nose after medical tests or a bad financial diagnosis. In other words, the sort that never boded well.
None of the pieces were touching and some bits were missing, so it was difficult to make out what the results were for until Cooper saw the familiar, looping purple script at the bottom of the page—Impossible—and knew exactly what he was looking at.
He didn’t need to read the rest to remember what it said. He’d been the one to rip it up, after all. Right after finding it in some hidden files at the Maudit Falls retreat.
His AQ test. The one he’d been told was inconclusive but had actually tested 100.
Impossible.
Cooper looked up at Park, who was studying him like a stranger, like he was looking for something, or someone, he’d never seen in Cooper before.
“You recognize it,” Park said. Not a question.
“Yes,” Cooper said anyway, and Park nodded. Cooper didn’t know what else to say. He felt strange, defensive. Like Park was waiting for him to explain something, admit something.
But Cooper hadn’t lied to him. Hadn’t hidden anything from him either. He’d told Park that he’d found his tests in Maudit and that they were weird. He’d said he thought the nonconsensual drugging had messed with the results, and that was still true.
Hell, he’d even stolen all the research that had to do with both of them before the Trust could get their hands on it. Park had watched him shove it all into the cupboard. He could have looked at it himself any time. He was the one who said he didn’t want to. Too offended by the fanatic mind behind the research, too shaken by the way one person’s obsession with AQ had become so twisted and violent. He’d even apologized for being so curious and pushy about Cooper’s results beforehand. Said he wasn’t going to get so caught up in it again.
Looked like that was no longer the case.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were—why didn’t you tell me?”
“That the test was messed up?” Cooper asked, bewildered. “I did tell you.”
“You didn’t say you scored 100,” Park protested.
“Okay,” Cooper said. “Does it matter?”
Park didn’t say anything. Just kept looking at him.
“You told me that wasn’t a possible score,” Cooper continued eventually. “The doctor said it wasn’t a possible score. You literally said the test doesn’t hit zero or a hundred. Clearly, I screwed something up, as per usual, and I was embarrassed to talk about it. What does it matter what the exact error message was?”
“It’s not—it’s supposed to be impossible,” Park said. He opened his mouth. Closed it.
“All right,” Cooper said slowly. He glanced at Cola, who just looked thoughtful now. “So what’s the problem? I haven’t told you my SAT scores either. Why? Because they’re made up, nonsensical bullshit. And I certainly wouldn’t have told you them if I’d taken them dosed up on some mystery drug and the results came back as a unicorn doodle.”
“He has a point,” Cola said. “How’s he supposed to have known it might have meaning if you don’t tell him?”
“A minute ago you were gearing up to fight for our lives,” Park said accusingly. “Now it’s all eh, no big deal.”
“I’m revising my understanding of a situation based on new information; you should try it sometime,” Cola said. “You can’t keep picking and choosing which bits of our world to expose him to and then get angry when he doesn’t know that something’s worth mentioning.”
“I’m not angry, I’m scared!” Park shouted.
Cooper was so shocked all he could do for a minute was stare while Park’s words seemed to ring in the air between them.
“Not—not scared of me,” he said finally, and his voice skipped a bit. “Right?”
Park’s face turned sad, apologetic. “No,” he murmured. “No, of course not. I’m sorry, Cooper, I—” He dragged his hand through his h
air. “You’re right, it really is supposed to be impossible. And a month ago, a week ago—hell, yesterday morning—if you’d told me your number I’d have agreed with you that yeah, the test is faulty. You filled it out wrong. It doesn’t mean anything. No big deal.”
“But...” Cooper prompted when Park didn’t continue.
“But,” Cola said. “In case you haven’t noticed, the ghost story we were raised on as children is haunting DC and if this little aberration gets out, wolves are going to start thinking it’s you.” She paused. “Are you?”
“Am I an all-powerful being risen straight out of folklore here to wipe out all the little wolf sinners? Well, I’ll have to check my agenda, but let’s pencil in a soft no for now,” Cooper said, irritated.
“You need to stop dismissing anyone who believes the Moon might be more than a fantasy as fools, Dayton,” Cola snapped, an unexpected edge to her voice. “These things are not as clear cut for us. Your fairy tales are our reality. Or do I need to remind you that you’re standing in a room with two werewolves?”
Cooper felt a blush of shame and glanced at Park, who was staring back at him, obviously still tense. “I’m sorry,” Cooper said to both of them. “I’ve been rude and I just—I’m sorry. You’re right, this sort of thing is...beyond my experience. Which is why I don’t understand why you’d think I was the Moon. Even if AQ is real. Even if mine is one hundred, what does one thing have to do with another? I’m a human. An outsider.”
“The being we call the Moon is not necessarily a wolf,” Cola said. “They’re just supposed to be...powerful. Someone able to influence wolves in unprecedented ways. An alpha unlike all others. Someone destined to change the status quo. Your alpha quotient is quite literally off the charts. Your results indicate unprecedented power. And you certainly seem to shake shit up for our kind every few months.” She gestured around. “Even Neil Gerhart can do that math.”
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