by D N Simmons
“So he's the top dog and shit, right?” Matthew asked, not noticing his play on words.
“Yeah, he's our Alpha. We do like that term to best describe the leader of the Pack. He has a life-mate, the Matron, our Alpha married her. I was raised by them when my parents were killed by hunters. They took me in right away and have been like parents to me.”
“What do you mean by 'Matron?'“ Matthew asked curiously.
“Well, she's the mother of the Pack, the Queen, so to speak. She is the caretaker, our Alpha is the protector, both are our providers. She can heal us if we're sick or wounded. She also helps raise any children born within the Pack,” Warren said, then he glanced at Matthew. “Do you need to go back to the crime scene to pick up your car?”
Matthew shook his head. “No, I hitched a ride with a black and white.”
“Okay,” Warren said as he entered the I-90 expressway heading toward downtown. The street wasn't nearly as congested as it had been only a few hours earlier. The morning rush hour traffic was thinning, making for easier traveling. Warren lane surfed between eighteen wheelers easily.
“How do you mean, heal?” Matthew asked, intrigued. It was amazing, he thought, how organized Warren's world really was. He was glad to be getting a peek over the other side of the fence.
“Well, she has a certain power within herself to heal. She can also lick the wound to heal.” He gave Matthew a sideways glance out the corner of his eye. He wondered what was on his mind.
“Do you lick your wounds clean and heal them?” he asked.
“Lick them clean? I can and I do if I'm alone, but they heal on their own, as you've seen. Wounds just heal faster with the aid of our saliva. But, if it's a more serious, life-threatening wound, then we all go to her and drink of her healing blood as she licks the wound with her healing saliva. Not every female can be the Matron, as I'm sure you realize,” Warren said, with raised eyebrows.
“Yes, I suppose. What kind of females can be Matrons?”
“Natural born females only. No bitten shifter can become one with the Alpha and become Matron. The magic or chemistry or whatever you want to call it, just isn't there,” Warren explained. “Same with male shifters. Only a natural born male can assume the position of Pack Alpha.”
“I see. Okay, what else? What tastes better? Cooked food or raw?” Matthew asked.
Warren thought about his answer for a moment. “Raw. But that's if I'm in wolf form of course. If I'm in human form, then I'd have to say I like the meat seasoned and cooked rare. At least I don't really get food poison, if I do, I pretty much puke it up within minutes of digestion and then I can go about my business, no long hours of night sweats and agonizing pain.”
“Lucky you, I don't even want to remember the last time I was sick like that. Okay, tell me more about the Pack.”
“Like I said, we have a King and Queen who, protect and provide for the Pack. On full moons, which we refer to as Lunars, we hunt together. Where my Pack lives, we have a private forest for our hunting grounds. However, only natural born wolves can shape-shift at will and hunt when we choose. Bitten wolves are at the mercy of a Lunar before they can join the hunt, but there are exceptions to the rules here as well,” he paused.
“Go on,” Matthew urged. Warren threw him a sly smile, flashing a row full of pearly whites.
“If a bitten shifter comes into the hunt and gets a strong scent of the blood from the kill, they might change. The hunger forces the body to change so they could feed. Our human form doesn't digest raw deer meat that well, you know with the bones and all.” Warren smiled. Matthew chuckled then Warren continued. “Our digestive tract changes specifically for a different type of feeding. Also, another thing that can induce the change is extreme fear or anger. If we are terribly afraid or upset then the change could be triggered.” Warren exited the expressway at the Ohio Street exit. He drove toward the precinct eight blocks away.
“I forgot to ask before, I know how thorough you are, did you get everything we need to make our report from the crime scene today?” Warren asked as he stopped at a red light.
“Yeah, you know I did. Man, I'm still trying to digest all this. So exactly how strong are you?” he asked.
Warren thought about it for a minute or two. “I could probably take one of these steel stop sign poles and bend it into a bow, easily. If I exert my strength, I could really do some damage. I have to monitor myself. I have to make sure I don't handle things under extreme emotions.”
Matthew nodded, remembering the two times Warren had broken his car door handle. He seemed to be thinking about times, since their partnership, where he had noticed Warren seeming more tense of body than usual, as if he were struggling to contain something.
“One more question?” he asked as Warren pulled the car into the parking lot of the precinct. “What's up?”
“How in the hell do you keep passing inspections and everything, with all these test we've had to take?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“Well, it's not easy, I can tell you that. My Pack leader helps me out in that department. We have someone whose brother is in our Pack, she looks out for my records. She also does all the analysis and blood work for the precinct. And when I went to the military base, she hacked into the files before anything went public. She's a life saver, let me tell you,” Warren said with a nervous chuckle.
“You wouldn't be talking about Sara would you? Sara Washburn?!” Matthew asked, surprised. Warren nodded.
“Her brother was bitten ten years ago. She hides his identity, being as he's a lawyer and his career would be in the toilet if any of his rich, high-priced clients knew what he was. Even though the supernatural race has been exposed, we still have to hide. It sucks, but it's a fact. My Pack took him in and helped him through it. So to show her gratitude, she helps us out from time to time. My Alpha doesn't really want me to be a cop, but he won't force me to switch careers, unless he thought it would threaten the Pack.”
“What does he have against you working on the force?”
“That's a long story. A lot of my kind feel like it's a betrayal. My leader has mixed feelings about it. He'd rather not turn a shifter over to the humans, but if it can't be avoided, then he turns the other cheek, if you will. Now we got to go or people might start to think we're having a deep passionate conversation,” he said with a chuckle. Both men stepped out of the truck and headed inside.
They walked side by side into the brightly lit station. Uniformed officers were walking around talking with each other and looking over files. One thing Warren knew for certain was that he really liked the S.U.I.T. division's I.T. (Infiltration Team) uniforms. They reminded him of S.W.A.T uniforms, only better, more stylish. The black vest was equipped with hooks for ultraviolet grenades. There were numerous pockets on the vest and pants for knives, ammo and other things. A protective, thin, steel collar and cuffs were sewn into the turtleneck shirt to be worn under the padded vest. Steel-toed combat boots that snapped closed, securing your feet inside. Yeah, Warren really liked wearing the outfit when they were zeroing in on a suspect. But as a detective, he wasn't required to wear the Infiltration Team's uniform.
They signed in at the front desk before going to their desks to look up some of the most recent files on missing persons. Warren's desk was a cluttered mess, files spread askew over the surface. Matthew's desk had all of his papers and files stacked neatly on top in one pile or placed in alphabetical order inside his file cabinet. Both had computers on their desk, and telephones equipped with speaker and caller ID. Sitting at their desks, they turned on their computers. Warren tried straightening up the mess on his desk. He was unsuccessful, so he stopped trying.
“Okay, I'm going to look up the missing person reports for the past forty-eight hours. What are you going to do?” Matthew asked.
“I'll think of something,” Warren smiled.
Matthew looked at him differently now. He felt like he understood him better, more intimately. He was glad he'd lost hi
s reservations about not wanting to pry, deciding to ask questions in spite of himself, thinking it to be rude. He found a certain appeal to his partner now. He wasn't sure if it was because he'd always thought Warren was one of the sexiest men he'd ever seen or was it simply that he was accepting Warren's animal side? Was this just the effect of him being under the spell of an animal attraction, or both of the above? He wasn't sure if he should say anything about the way he felt.
He wasn't sure if he could be the lover of a shape-shifter. He'd thought of that possibility many times since discovering Warren's true nature. Knowing a little bit more about the life behind the hype was truly an eye opener for him. He cleared his mind of the rampant thoughts, trying to concentrate on the troublesome situation at hand. They had to track down and catch a killer, with very little to go on. He scanned through the files on his computer, reading the newest missing person reports on the list. It was sad to see so many people reported missing. This list had seventy-five people on it. There were forty-five throughout Illinois with the other thirty in Chicago alone.
“Shit, I've got about seventy-five people here in Illinois alone that have been reported missing. Thirty just from Chicago. Think it's safe for us to rule out the other states, or no?” Matthew asked, hoping that Warren was on the same page as he in thinking that the people reported missing in the state of Florida, were still in Florida. He wanted to narrow their search as much as possible. They didn't have a motive. Warren suspected that whoever the killer was may also know what he was, possibly wanting to expose him. It could be true, could very well hold water. Although, he wasn't willing to bet his whole paycheck on it, not yet at least.
“I think we should focus on Illinois, mainly Chicago's south side and the areas closest to where we're finding the bodies. I want you to know...this shit really sucks,” Warren said as he read Matthew's report of the most recent murder scene. “Even though the body wasn't in the same condition as the first one, it was still missing a lot of blood and its head. And I think it's the same killer. We need to go down to see Galen to see if he's found anything useful.” Matthew nodded in agreement as he printed out the long list of names with all the information from the missing persons' report.
They rose from their seats, heading toward the chilly basement to reach the morgue. Marshall Galen was their own pathologist working in the same facility. He dealt with the victims of supernatural crimes only. They walked through the double doors of the morgue. The walls were painted gray. The light gray cement floor shone with a soft glow, reflecting the bright florescent lighting equipped with ultraviolet lights for emergency backup. There was a long wall layered from top to bottom with drawers for the numerous corpses that filled the morgue. A small, stainless steel sink was in the middle, right beside two draining holes. They saw Marshall, his six-foot-three, thin frame hunched over the remains of the body they had viewed earlier. He was working with silver tongs and scalpel. His salt and pepper hair needed a trimming, loose curls dropped low, covering his eyes. His thick, black-rimmed glasses were smudged. He was wearing worn brown loafers, gray wrinkled slacks and a long white lab coat over his green button up shirt. Warren thought about Xander and Adrian, of how they would want to drag him away to make-over heaven.
“Yo, doc find anything interesting? Anything we can use?” Warren called as they approached the coroner. Marshall straightened up, looking at the two officers. The deep breath he released meant that he did not have good news. Taking his glasses off his face, he pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his glasses clean. After holding them up to the light, he placed them back on. He looked at the two men again.
“Well, gentleman, there wasn't a whole lot left to this person,” he said, gesturing to the five chunks of flesh decomposing on the stainless steel examining table.
“So, can you tell if it was a man or woman? That might give us a pattern we can trace,” Matthew inquired.
“Man,” Warren said. Matthew gave him a questioning look. Warren shook his head as if to say, “don't ask yet”. He looked at the coroner who was looking at him curiously.
He shrugged. “Lucky guess, I suppose. Do you think I'm right, doc?” Warren asked to cover up his blunder. Marshall Galen gave him a small nod, apparently satisfied with Warren's explanation.
“From the size of the fragment of bone in this piece here,” he poked a chunk of red flesh so Warren and Matthew could see what he meant, “is pretty thick in circumference, which suggests a male.” Both men nodded. The blood oozed out more as he moved the flesh. Torn muscles and nerves dangled from the boulder of flesh like tentacles. Matthew paled a bit then shifted from one foot to the other. Warren was happy he'd had a full breakfast, his stomach didn't betray him now.
“And furthermore, you see this?” the coroner said, pointing to a dark dryness inside the bone fragment.” This tells me that this body belonged to a mortal man about average height...hmmm, what's this?” he said, leaning closer to the table. Even though the room temperature was very cold, the smell of the numerous corpses, past and present, filled the room with a thick stench, like rotting meat. Warren figured the scent wasn't so strong for human senses. One thing was for certain, he didn't particularly care for the scent of decaying flesh. The smell in the room made it easier for him to control his hunger, that and the fact that he had a full belly.
“Is this what I think it is?” Marshall asked as he looked closely at several strands of silky black fur between his tweezers. Warren and Matthew moved closer to get a better look. Warren gestured for the tweezers and Marshall held them out. Taking the tweezers from Marshall, he held them up to the light. He turned his back to the coroner so he wouldn't see him smell the fur, taking in the scent. He turned toward Marshall, returning the fur with the tweezers.
“Well, that just confirms what we thought already. From the way the flesh was torn, it looked like a shifter murder,” Matthew said as he walked toward the gray double doors, followed by Warren. “Just fill us in if you find out anything else, Marshall, thanks.” When they stepped outside the morgue, Matthew turned to Warren, wanting to know the answer to the question he couldn't ask until now.
“How did you know it was a man's body?” he asked.
Warren smiled slightly. “I could smell the iron in the blood. It's stronger than the iron in a female's blood stream,” he said, his smile widening.
“How come you couldn't tell that earlier when we were at the crime scene? The blood was a little fresher then?”
Warren sucked air through his teeth, making a 'smacking' sound. He stopped walking, catching the other man's arm to stop him from going any further. He leaned closer to his partner to whisper in his ear.
“Well, at the crime scene, I was focusing too much on controlling my hunger and maintaining my composure to focus my senses. Now, I'm not hungry, the flesh doesn't smell all that appealing and I'm able to concentrate. That's why I wanted to smell the fur he found. I've got a more defined scent now. I don't know how much that's going to help us, but at least it's a fucking start,” he whispered. He didn't want anyone to hear that little bit of information. He knew there were cameras throughout the building and didn't want to get caught revealing this aspect of his nature.
“You two look like love birds,” observed an officer walking down the hallway who had caught Warren invading Matthew's personal space by leaning against his ear like a lover whispering sweet nothings to his mate.
“Well, we're not, asshole! So you can keep walking. Show's over.” Warren said as he flipped Officer Ronen the finger. Officer Ronen held up his hands as if he was preparing to defend himself from an attack. His blue eyes widened as he shook his blonde crew cut head from side to side.
“Hey, all's I'm saying is, it looked questionable. What you two do in the privacy of your bedrooms is certainly none of my damn business. I'm just saying, keep that shit in the bedroom where it needs to be,” he said jokingly, with a hint of malice. Those two always seemed a bit sexless to him. Never flirting with the fema
le officers in the division or a female, period. He couldn't remember a time when he'd ever heard either of them even talking about fucking a female. He'd just assumed they were both gay since they weren't married or involved.
Both Warren and Matthew rolled their eyes and walked away from Officer Ronen. He watched them walk away, side by side down the hallway. One word formed in his mind and he whispered it through his lips “Fags.”
Warren's ears picked up the insult. His shoulders tensed. He fought the urge to turn around and march right back to that prejudiced son of a bitch and put him in a hurt-lock, before planting his body into the plaster covered cement wall. Instead, he continued to walk away. It would be hard to explain how he'd heard him from more than fifty feet away in the first place. Very hard indeed, especially since superhuman hearing is a standard characteristic of the very being they were trained to police.
“What an asshole!” Warren said as they stepped into the elevator. Matthew pushed the number two button. The mirrored doors closed, leaving them with their reflections staring back at them.
“Yeah he is, which is why he can't keep a fucking partner longer than six months. No one wants to work with the motherfucker. The partner he's got now has lasted the longest, they might be birds of a feather, ya know. Both assholes,” Matthew said. Both men chuckled as they walked out of the elevator and headed toward their desks to look over the printout on the most recent missing persons.
CHAPTER 12
Sergio lifted his head up lazily, looking at the sun shining brightly through the floor length French windows of his bedroom. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the light, then let his head fall back, face first into the pillows. He was trying to will the sleep out of his body. The angle of the light meant it was late in the afternoon, showing he had slept most of the day away. Rolling over on his back, he stretched the long length of his well formed body. His back arching up high, released the tension in his muscles. He relaxed, staring at the ceiling, letting his mind wander. His hands rested lightly on his stomach, two fingers playing with the black curling hair trailing from his abdomen to his groin. He lay there, thinking about the night before and what he wanted to say to Elise. He had to figure out a way to make her see him, she needed to be with her own kind. He didn't like Darian, but he respected him for being honest. He knew right away from Darian's behavior that he had never promised Elise the life she fantasized. He had never claimed to love her. Sergio allowed himself to wonder just how good Darian was in bed to have a woman like Elise so enthralled with him. He thought it was safe to say that Elise was...what do you say when a woman is “pussy whipped”? “Cock slapped”, perhaps?