by Marc Daniel
“How do you know the witch brew was responsible for it?”
“Ez told me. He found some vials at David’s when he went there to clean things up. The Chemist was extracting the wolfsbane toxin from the plants, and the witch converted it into some form of serum. Unconverted, the extract was a powerful poison, which they used against the Houston pack and myself, but once converted by the witch, its properties were different.”
“It’s the serum form that masked the wolf scent?” asked Sheila.
“Yes, but it did more than that; it had a variety of virtues. Being made from wolfsbane, it was also toxic to some degree to the wolves, and David used this property to his advantage while staging his own attack. Without the serum in his blood stream, he would have healed unnaturally fast and I would have been onto him right away. But the serum acted on his praeternatural functions and significantly slowed down his rate of recovery.”
“He was a son of a bitch, but a smart one,” commented Sheila. “How did he manage to maul himself in the first place, anyway?”
“I am sure he had one of his wolves do it. Self-inflicted wounds would have been too obvious. I am not sure which one of them was kind enough to oblige, but it wasn’t Jack Moore. It wasn’t his scent I picked up at David’s after the attack.”
“What about Steve and his wife? Do you know which one killed them?”
“Definitely! David did. I recognized the odor as soon as he morphed. I think it was partially what kept me fighting as long as I did. Realizing he had executed Steve and Marge himself increased my hatred for the man just enough to keep me going.”
Michael fell silent as Olivia appeared at the top of the stairs. The death of her parents was not something the young woman needed to hear about.
Chapter 164
The showers were like everything else in the penitentiary, clean and austere. Two white walls facing each other harbored a total of twenty showerheads where the convicts could scrub amidst the total lack of intimacy that was the trademark of the place.
As a former assistant DA, Katia was a prime target for the animosity of her fellow inmates. The guards were relatively protective of her, however, and after two weeks spent in the penitentiary she could only complain of a few instances of verbal abuse.
It was nearing dinnertime and the showers were emptying quickly. Soon Katia found herself alone with a single other inmate: a small puny thing with scrawny arms, who was rinsing the soap off her body while carefully avoiding eye contact. Overall, the woman reminded Katia of an underfed scarecrow.
Four women walked into the shower room and immediately the scarecrow exited, making a visible effort to keep the greatest possible distance between herself and the newcomers. The four had no interest in her though, and completely ignored the sickly looking thing. Their attention was fully focused on Katia’s luscious naked body.
Katia was acting as if she hadn’t noticed their interest and was proceeding dutifully with her shower as the four women started approaching her. They all wore their hair cropped close to the scalp and were as feminine as a Picasso painting. The tight muscles, clearly visible on their naked bodies, testified to numerous hours spent lifting weights. They formed a half circle around Katia and stared at her in silence for an instant. The assistant DA’s body was in sharp contrast with their own. All curves and grace, it was an open invitation to debauchery in a place like this. The lust in the women’s eyes was unmistakable, but Katia pretended not to notice.
“She’s mine,” said one of them, in a voice used to being heard. She wasn’t the biggest one of the four, but she looked to be the meanest. She stepped towards Katia and grabbed her under the throat with one hand, pinning her against the wall while the others watched with visible excitement. Her free hand started caressing Katia’s breasts but as she moved it down towards her vulva, the ADA gave the woman a powerful shove that made her lose her balance. She landed on her butt as Katia stared at her with a provoking grin.
“You little bitch!” said the woman with a snarl, while getting back on her feet. “Now you gonna get it. You gonna get it good!”
“Hold that bitch,” she added in a commanding tone to the others.
The three of them rushed the assistant DA eager to obey their leader and put their hands on Katia's body.
A second later, Katia was effortlessly lifting the gang leader into the air with one hand, her fingers wrapped around the woman's throat in a grip that was as strong as a vice. Terror was clearly visible in the rapist’s eyes. The other three women all lay dead on the floor, their necks broken.
“It looks like you fucked with the wrong inmate, you pathetic little turd,” said Katia in a cool threatening voice. “I was the Alpha’s mate, and now I am the Alpha. Who the fuck do you think you are for even daring to look me in the eyes?” she asked the woman. To no avail… she had already choked her to death.
Chapter 165
The doorbell rang as Olivia was reaching the bottom of the stairs and she went to answer. She came back a few seconds later, closely followed by Detectives Lewis and Salazar.
“Good afternoon, Detectives,” said Michael, standing in the middle of Sheila’s living room.
“Mr Biörn, Ms Wang,” answered Samantha Lewis while her partner simply gave a nod by way of a greeting.
“Please make yourselves at home,” said Sheila in a cheerful voice. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Beer?”
They all agreed coffee would be nice with the exception of Michael who preferred tea. Olivia headed for the kitchen as Lewis was saying, “I believe we still need answers from you, Mr Biörn.”
“Please call me Michael.”
“All right, Michael it is. How about those answers, Michael?”
Lewis and Salazar were the only humans in whom Michael had confided, with the exception of Sheila. He had done so more out of necessity than choice. There were simply too many potential loose ends the police could stumble upon. Too many problematic questions could be raised: questions with the potential to jeopardize the necessary secrecy surrounding the existence of praeternatural beings. Having the detectives in charge of the case on his side had been Michael’s only option. After all, if a journalist could keep quiet about the whole thing, two detectives should be able to do the same. Michael also took comfort in the fact they would likely be taken for lunatics by their colleagues if they started going around the station talking about werebears, werewolves, and witches…
“I guess I’d better start at the beginning,” said Michael, comfortably settling back into his armchair. “Since you already know what Starks’ goals were, and by which means he had planned on achieving them, I’ll focus on how I figured things out.”
“That would be much appreciated,” commented Salazar, who liked people who got to the point without rambling on about useless details.
“When Steve called for my help and I arrived in Houston, I was working under the false assumption there was a single pack operating in the greater Houston area. And after Steve’s murder, Starks skillfully manipulated me into thinking Clemens was behind the police officers’ assassinations, even though it never felt right. The idea that Clemens was maybe not responsible for the attacks kept nagging at me, but for the longest time I purposefully suppressed it to focus on the most logical explanation, which of course turned out to be the wrong one. It was only much later that I realized Starks’ hidden agenda. David recognized me as a threat the moment we were introduced. And by playing me against Clemens, he hoped to kill two birds with one stone. He didn’t know whether the Houston pack or I would finish on top, but it was a moot point. No matter the outcome, it was a win-win situation for him.”
“What about Ivanov?” asked Lewis as Olivia was coming back with a tray carrying five steaming mugs.
“Ivanov was just a cover Starks used when he was in charge of the assassination case. His plan was to use the mob as a scapegoat for the whole thing. He hadn’t planned on one of his wolves losing control and leaving compromising evid
ence behind him at Sullivan’s domicile, but even then he caught a lucky break. He knew of Clemens’ and Ivanov’s business relationship and used it to explain Clemens’ involvement in the killings. It worked too… since I bought it. I don’t believe Starks had planned for things to degenerate between Clemens and the mob, it just happened—”
“But how did you figure out that David was behind it all?” interrupted Salazar.
“We have Sheila to thank for that,” replied Michael, turning towards the journalist who looked as surprised as the others by the revelation. “I was banging my head against the wall trying to make sense of all this when she said something that made me understand a point which had been puzzling me for weeks.”
“What did I say?” asked Sheila, clearly taken aback.
“You said that David should have kept better tabs on his girlfriend.”
“And that statement solved the case?” asked Lewis dubiously. By the looks on the others’ faces, she wasn’t the only one in need of convincing.
“It did,” replied Michael, unmoved by his audience’s skepticism. “You see, one of the things which had been bothering me for a while was how quickly Clemens was able to find out where I was, no matter where I went, and no matter who I told. Even when I didn’t tell anybody about my intentions, Clemens was able to find out within hours where I had relocated. When Sheila made her comment, I had been upset with Starks for a couple days. He was supposed to help me locate Clemens, as I was certain the pack had Olivia in their custody. It shouldn’t have been too difficult for David to obtain the information I needed but he never gave it to me. When Sheila started talking about him keeping tabs, my mind immediately jumped to the cell phone he had given me to keep in touch in case of emergency. I opened the phone and found the tracker he had placed in it. Once I figured out Starks was a bad guy, the question became whether he was working with Clemens or against him. No matter how I looked at it, I couldn’t find a good explanation to Starks’ actions if he had been working for Clemens. I therefore decided he was against him, and in this light, things started making a lot more sense.”
Michael took a break to grab the cup of tea Olivia had placed in front of him. He took a few sips and quickly returned to his story.
“At this point, Sheila had just found Thompkins’ picture online and had identified him as a Captain in the Texas Rangers. We knew for a fact Thompkins was part of the Houston pack, which left only two possible explanations. Either Clemens was behind the murders, but in this case what was Starks’ agenda? Or Starks was behind them, and Thompkins was truly one of Starks’ men. I found the second explanation by far the most satisfying as it also explained how Starks was leaking information to Clemens concerning my whereabouts. If Starks’ agents had infiltrated the Houston pack, everything was starting to make sense… I was starting to have a pretty good idea of the way things had happened, but to make sure my logic wasn’t flawed, I used Sheila as a sounding board.”
They all turned towards Sheila who acknowledged the attention with an exaggerated shrug, while gesturing for Michael to resume his explanation.
“There were a number of points which needed to be elucidated and I went down the list one by one to make sure they could all be explained by my new theory. The first points were concerning the evidence found at Sullivan’s. The window had been broken from the inside—a strange thing. Usually, an assassin or even a burglar would break a window to gain access to a house, not to leave it. The broken window indicated to me that whoever left the house had entered it a different way. I knew from the beginning that Sullivan’s murderer was a werewolf, so the fact he had left through the broken window indicated he had been unable to regain his human form before leaving the house. This could only have happened with a relatively young individual who had morphed into his wolf form by accident in the first place. The accidental morphing could have been caused by the unanticipated presence of Sullivan’s Rottweilers for instance. This explanation also accounted for the two guns found at the crime scene. Jack Moore had come with the intention of shooting Sullivan but had been unable to retrieve his gun once he had morphed into his wolf form.”
“That also explains the shoes,” intervened Salazar, suddenly very excited.
“You and your shoes…” retorted Lewis, emphatically rolling her eyes.
“We found a pair of size eleven shoes at Sullivan’s. Except that Sullivan’s shoe size was a nine,” explained Salazar to the others. “But Moore was a size eleven…”
“That doesn’t explain how the shoes landed on the shoe rack,” objected Lewis.
“Actually the wolf could have easily placed them there himself. The rest of his clothing would have been most likely still sticking to his body, or at least easy to carry away with him in his retreat, but the shoes would have been problematic,” intervened Michael supportively. “By placing them on Sullivan’s shoe rack, they were more likely to be overlooked, I suppose.”
Salazar gave his partner a condescending look, which Michael took as a cue to resume his account.
“But if the wolf attack at Sullivan’s had been the result of an involuntary morphing, the evidence found at Steve and Marjory Harrington’s simply did not make sense.”
Sheila shot a discreet look at Olivia, but the young woman’s face betrayed no emotion at the evocation of her parents’ murder.
“The evidence didn’t make sense… unless it were staged! The window had once again been broken from the inside, and a werewolf was clearly responsible for the attack—”
Suddenly Olivia excused herself, got up, and went straight to her room.
Her departure was followed by an awkward silence quickly broken by Sheila. “I’ll go check on her in a minute.”
Visibly relieved, Michael nodded and resumed. “Clemens would have had no interest in attracting attention to his wolves, but Starks would. By killing my friends and making sure I knew a wolf had done it, he was pointing me towards the Houston pack, effectively turning Jack Moore’s botched assignment to his advantage.”
“Did he have Steve killed simply to throw you off track?” Lewis was clearly bothered by the possibility.
“I had to think about that one for a while,” replied Michael, “but I think I finally found out why he killed Steve. Of all the murdered cops, Steve was the only one who didn’t fit the profile. All the others had high positions in their respective organizations, positions that would benefit Starks’ agents if they were to be promoted into them. But no one would profit from Steve’s murder. David had no reason to kill Steve. That is, unless Steve knew something about Starks he shouldn’t have. If Starks saw him as a threat he would have killed him without a second thought, and I believe that’s exactly what happened. The day I arrived in Houston, Steve took me to a restaurant to meet David. During dinner, there was a mix-up with their phones and Steve ended up checking David’s text messages. I don’t think Steve found anything compromising on Starks’ phone or he would have mentioned it while driving me back to my hotel, but maybe he did and simply hadn’t realized it yet. At any rate, Starks would have very likely been unwilling to take any chances and I believe he decided to kill Steve before he became a liability. Marge was just collateral damage…”
“Bastard!” interjected Samantha Lewis, and no one disagreed with her.
“Starks could sense I didn’t like him, so he staged his own attack to throw me off his trail. A very clever move. But the fact he was the only one so far to have survived an attack, and more importantly the fact his enemies had not even tried to correct their failed attempt, started becoming suspicious after a while.”
Sheila got up and walked upstairs to Olivia’s room.
“What about the Chemist? What was his role in all this?” asked Salazar.
“The Chemist extracted and refined the toxic molecule contained in the wolfsbane plant, one of the few poisons which can harm a werewolf. Starks had two usages for the toxin. Part of the extract he used as weapons against the Houston pack and me, but another fra
ction of the toxin was converted by a witch into something entirely different. The shadow pack was using the witch brew as a drug they administered to themselves as intravenous injections. The drug had several virtues, but the most important one was to mask their scent to other praeternatural creatures. Without the witch brew I would have picked up on Starks’ scent the first time I met him, and so would have Clemens for that matter…”
“How did you even start suspecting Starks was a werewolf if you couldn’t smell the wolf on him?” asked Lewis.
“I only found out about the function of the witch’s brew recently,” replied Michael, not giving details about the way he had found out; Ezekiel was off limits to the detectives. “But I had seen its effects without knowing the cause. Jack Moore had been in his wolf form when I killed him in Sheila’s bedroom. A normal werewolf would have remained in its wolf form in death, but Jack reverted to his human form. Even more surprising was his odor; the wolf scent had completely vanished from him. Once I remembered this fact, I knew whoever was behind this could be a werewolf without smelling like one.”
“Werewolves, witches, werebears… I sometimes wonder if I’m not dreaming,” said Salazar, only half joking.
Sheila and Olivia walked back into the room. Olivia had obviously been crying, but she had a timid smile on her lips now.
“I believe you now know as much as I do,” said Michael, and since the two detectives did not ask any other questions, he assumed they were satisfied with his account.
“Will you have dinner with us, Detectives?” asked Sheila. The two detectives accepted the offer, and after a brief debate they all settled on ordering pizzas.
Epilogue
Olivia picked up her MP3 player from the coffee table and, without a word, walked upstairs to the guestroom she occupied.