A soundless explosion of light dazzled Makeda. Blinded by its brilliance, she stumbled back. Cool and slick, the wet rock walls did little to help her keep her balance. She blinked, shook her head, and gasped. Where the snake had been, sat a giant. Even seated, the ferhenjee, this stranger with red skin the color of a young curly horned antelope, was twice her father’s size. Mouth dry, heart hammering in her throat, her vision finally adjusted to the light.
The ferhenjee had a man’s body with sparks circling his head like embers from a blazing fire. A prominent beak-shaped nose dominated his profile. He stared at her with eyes the same color of the morning sky. His gaze pinned her to the rock floor. Behind him, wings—too many to count, fluttered and stirred up a breeze. Her brow, once hot and sweaty, cooled.
Hands clenched into fists, her mind alternated between wanting to fight the creature, run away, or freeze in his sky colored stare. Immobility won.
He must be the Sun God, angry with me for climbing this high. “I only wanted to catch the snake.”
The giant threw his head back and roared.
Released from his stare, Makeda fell to her knees and bowed her head. “Please don’t kill me, Sun God. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to anger you.”
“I’m not angry, child. I’m laughing.” He chuckled. “Don’t call me Sun God. It offends my King.”
She jerked her head up. The ferhenjee was smiling. “Who are you? Are you from the stars? Who is your king? How did you get here?” She took a deep breath, prepared to ask more questions.
“Stop.” His voice rumbled like the sound of a rushing waterfall.
She bowed her head again. Maybe she should flatten herself on the floor of the cave to please him.
“No, Makeda, please remain standing.”
Tremors shook her body and her teeth rattled. Just like she had heard the wolf’s thoughts, he knew hers—and her name.
He sighed and wind gusted in the cavern. “I am Metatron, humble servant of the greatest of all gods. I bring a message for you.”
She peeked up through strands of hair. “Me? Why me?”
“You have a majestic life ahead of you. Your son will rule a great kingdom.”
Despite her fear, the notion of being a mother tickled her gut and tore huge gulps of laughter out of her throat. He had to be blind. She wasn’t even a woman yet.
The creature stared at her. “You dare to laugh?”
“You don’t understand. I’m never going to marry. I will never have children—”
The giant creature stood, and his head touched the top of the cave. Her voice caught in her throat. He looked like her father had the day she heard the wolf speak. He glowered at her.
“Hear me, Makeda. You will become the mother of a nation of kings. Go home and prepare yourself. Learn everything you can about love, honor, and becoming a wise and just ruler, so you can teach your son and his son.”
She was terrified of this messenger and his god, but rules were rules. Her mother had been banished when she was a baby. Her father, the great king, forbid anyone to speak of her. No one ever mentioned her mother’s name, for fear of being put to death.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, whoever you are. I cannot rule my father’s kingdom unless I am a virgin. It is forbidden for me to marry. I was born to rule. It is my destiny.”
Sparks flew off him and the cave blazed with the light of day. Fear and awe filled her from head to toe when he grew larger and larger, filling up the space. One of his wings brushed her cheek, soft as the fuzz of a baby bird.
How could something so big have such a gentle touch?
“You are young and foolish. You will grow and learn. Above all else, you must seek wisdom. That is your destiny.”
Chapter One
Summertown, West Virginia, U.S.A., Present Day
A picturesque flight over the Appalachian Mountains to Summertown, West Virginia gave Special Agent Eliana Solomon of the Homeland Security, Science and Technology Directorate, Anomaly Defense Division time to process the urgent report she’d received by email. Up until this week, the existence of werewolf packs had been concealed from the general population. Now reports of the secretive shape shifters exploded in her inbox. Where had this information been all this time? Had the government monitored them all along? If so, why had her boss, Bert Blackfeather, insisted on her obtaining proof of their existence, along with the jinnis? She’d pry an answer out of that closed mouth man—someday. Right now, she had a more pressing matter at hand.
Five days ago, three nine-year-old werewolf boys and their three eighteen-year-old sisters went on a birthday expedition in the heavily wooded state wildlife area and disappeared. By day, local human authorities, volunteers, and bloodhounds brought in from surrounding jurisdictions combed the forest, the hills, and caves. By night, pack members ran through the forest using their extraordinary senses—olfactory, visual, and auditory—to hunt for their missing kin. Divers also explored the waterways, all to no avail. No clues to the kids’ whereabouts had been found, not even a backpack—until two this morning.
A night security guard discovered the boys in the middle of the Adalwolf Winery parking lot. Slightly bruised and scratched up, but otherwise alive and well, in their human forms, the youngsters had no recollection of anything between arriving at the park and waking up in the parking lot with their back packs under their heads—their five-day-old lunches untouched.
Rushed to the ER and examined thoroughly, the boys displayed no evidence of physical abuse. The blank space in their minds where the memories should have been was inaccessible to parents and psychologists. If it weren’t for the fact that the three older girls were still missing, the local authorities wouldn’t continue to press the boys for information. Over time, their memories could return, but without ransom notes, calls or clues, the clock was running down for a successful search and rescue. The local police, state troopers, sheriff’s office, and the West Virginia Bureau of Investigation feared the operation would soon become a search and recovery.
The plane touched down, bounced along the runway, and Eliana’s cell began to vibrate.
“Solomon.”
The gruff voice of her boss boomed in her ear. “New development in the case.” Blackfeather paused. “A hiker found one of the missing girls in a culvert near an abandoned mine. Bites, claw marks. Throat ripped open. Damn thing nearly tore her head off.”
She shuddered. “Black bear?”
“Based on the paw prints around the body, the first responders are saying these weren’t bear bites. More like a dog—or wolf.”
“Boss, aside from zoos and wild animal preserves, there are no wolves in the eastern U.S.”
He sighed. “I stand corrected. Werewolf.”
Her stomach lurched, and she gripped the armrest so hard her knuckles turned white. Shit. Shit. Shit. A werewolf attacking one of its own? Why? What the hell was going on?
“West Virginia Division of Homeland Security has a car waiting for you, fully loaded with everything you’ll need for the investigation. Get to that scene.” Her boss clicked off.
Bossy desk jockey.
A flush of shame rushed over her. He’d taken on the orphan Anomaly Defense Division of the Science and Technology Directorate that no one else wanted, along with a mission no one else supported or believed in. As abrupt and abrasive as he could be, the Gulf War veteran deserved credit for giving her the opportunity to pursue what everyone else thought was something out of the tales of The Arabian Nights: jinnis. With the needed proof of werewolves and jinnis from Project Aladdin, support surged into the division. A stable funding source made her jinni hunting work possible So far, it seemed wherever there were werewolves, there was jinni activity.
This case was no different. According to the report, relationships between the local humans and werewolves were more than cordial. They were so intermarried, almost everyone was family. A large non-denominational wedding facility placed Summertown on an international list of destinatio
n weddings, like Hawaii and Las Vegas, but specifically for werewolves. A thriving bed and breakfast trade supported the wedding industry, along with other leisure activities, such as biking, hiking, white-water rafting, and winery and sightseeing tours. Murder of a werewolf girl wasn’t just bad for the family, it was bad for the town.
Eliana tugged her long sleeves down and pulled on a pair of black latex gloves the moment she climbed out of the car. Ten minutes and a rough hike down the rocky slope to the culvert later, she came upon a hushed crowd of crime techs and investigators.
Odd.
Normally there would be some chatter. Crime scene investigators needed to distance themselves emotionally from the victim. By calling everything, including the victim, “evidence” and following a strict checklist, they were able to wall themselves off, keep the normal human responses of shock, horror, grief, and anger at bay. The usual professional, calm exchange was completely absent, leaving an acoustic void in its place. A twig snapped beneath her foot, shattering the silence.
She took a deep breath. “Who’s the lead?”
Round-eyed, a big man with high cheekbones and a dark blue jacket pointed at a tall red-haired female wearing a police uniform, a bright gold badge, and name tag that said “Chief Jane Novak.”
Jane nodded at Eliana. “You are?”
“Agent Solomon. Homeland Security Science Directorate. Call me Eliana, please.”
The cop snorted. “Your reputation precedes you, along with some not so subtle threats from your boss to cooperate with you—or else.”
She repressed a groan. Bert meant well, but sometimes his heavy handedness with the locals put her in a tenuous position. No matter how she tried to reason with him, he always pulled the national security card. Yet, she couldn’t apologize without appearing to undermine him.
“He wanted me to see the evidence as soon as possible, before any more decomposition set in. There are still two women missing. Much as I hate to say it, national security could be at stake.”
Jane nodded. “I hear you. You can look, but don’t touch. Follow right behind me. Don’t even think of messing up my crime scene.”
Eliana glanced overhead at the tree canopy, half-expecting a voyeur to be crouched on a limb, admiring his handiwork from afar. “I trust your team has panoramic videos and stills of every angle around the body and casts of the paw prints around her?”
Jane nodded. “Yes, but entrance and egress in an area this large is overwhelming. That’s especially true when a werewolf may be involved.”
Eliana marveled at the other woman’s matter-of-fact tone. This wasn’t her first time at the shape-shifter rodeo. Werewolves were nothing new to her, or her unnaturally quiet techs, it seemed. She gave a mental nod to the West Virginians for trading pitchforks for professionalism.
“We’re trying to keep the crime scene intact as long as we can. At least until Mayor Schaeffer shows up.” She shook her head. “Then we’re screwed. Shifty Schaeffer loves to grandstand. I expect he’ll be here with a reporter any time now.”
Eliana took a deep breath, preparing for the worst while the other woman pulled back the blue tarp. Her boots-on-the-ground stint as a weapons expert in Iraq should have numbed her to the sight of bodies and the ravages of war. Still, tears stung her eyes. The girl was so young and beautiful—before her throat was ripped open.
Naked, except for the light fur on her body, it appeared whatever killed her attacked the girl while she attempted to shift into her wolf form. Bite marks and puncture wounds covered her body. A slash of scarlet replaced her throat. Eliana forced herself to crouch next to the remains. The smell of burnt matches singed her nostrils. Jinni stink. She stood and turned to the chief.
The victim was someone’s daughter. “Does the family know?”
“Not yet.” Jane’s eyebrow quirked. “Well? Is it—”
“Jinnis?” Eliana shook her head. “Can’t say. I need more evidence.”
Jane gave her an incredulous look. “She’s a werewolf. We’re near an abandoned mine. You’re the jinni hunter. I do my homework, too. It’s like the case in Kentucky.”
“What more do you need?”
“My own team of experts.” She pulled out her cell.
The woman dropped the tarp back over the girl/wolf. “You might as well try sending up smoke signals. There’s no service out here.”
“Fabulous.” She pocketed the useless phone. “Anything else I need to know?”
Static flared on Jane’s radio, and a voice crackled. “Shaeffer’s on his way down.”
Novak bit her bottom lip and frowned. “Let me keep this short and to the point. The Adalwolf family runs this town.” She signaled to the techs to put the body in a waiting bag. “Lowell Adalwolf likes to keep his paws in everything. Rich, influential, protective of the pack. Some people—” she nodded at her techs “—are saying it may even be a rogue werewolf.”
Just what she needed. An obstructive powerbroker. “Can’t wait to meet him.”
“Control freak, your regular, big, bad alpha wolf. Tight with the mayor. He’ll insist on telling you the history of the pack and showing you his wine cellar. I’d go with you, because I want to see him squirm, but I need to notify the victim’s parents.” She sighed. “Some days, I hate my job.”
Eliana knew just how she felt.
After a brief meeting with the mayor, who, as Novak predicted, spent more time grandstanding than speaking with her, she now stood in the chilly wine cellar and tugged at her jacket sleeves—wishing for a pair of warm gloves. Despite the cavern’s bright fluorescent lighting and a giant wall hanging of workers harvesting grapes, her chest tightened. Werewolf politics, the scent of a jinni, and a subterranean vault sure to trigger her claustrophobia. Could this day get much worse? At least the elevator and emergency stairway were just a few steps away.
You can do this. Focus on the case.
“What can you tell me about the girls?”
The gray haired CEO, Lowell Adalwolf, raised his shaggy eyebrows and favored her with a piercing, green-eyed gaze as if sizing her up, searching for deficiencies.
Okay, two can play at this game. She stared back at him. Yes, she was tall for a woman. Yes, her Ethiopian and Moroccan heritage gave her a permanent tan, and her thick black hair pulled back into an unruly ponytail needed a cut. He needed a good barber to trim those caterpillars over his eyes. But then again, he was a werewolf.
“You need to understand who we are and where we come from before you can start grilling people. When we decided to leave Livonia in the early 1600s, we settled in these hills. They reminded us of home. The pristine land and waterways were filled with wildlife, perfect for our people. We became model citizens, even fought in the Revolutionary War. The coal mining industry took off in West Virginia. Our pack owned the land and the coal beneath it, and we prospered. Over the centuries, however, we noticed the wildlife disappearing, and our hunts became sparse.”
He shook his head, and Eliana had a sudden image of him in wolf form, large, proud, and gray. She blinked and the vision disappeared. She shivered and looked at the glowing red exit sign for the tenth time. “And?”
“There was a falling out in our pack. I’ll spare you the gory details of our civil war. The death toll was high. Too high.” He sighed and passed a hand over his creased face. “My faction won the money and the property. We followed the guidelines for closing mines and land reclamation, stopped up the deeper coring tunnels, and kept this one to remind us of where we’ve been and what we sacrificed.”
A fresh crop of goosebumps erupted at the thought of a full-scale intra-pack war with werewolves tearing at each other’s necks. And at the thought of the young woman lying in the woods with her throat torn out. She opened her mouth to ask him about the girl, but he talked over her. This guy was all about him, his pack, his business.
“The vineyard was my mate’s idea. We brought in a highly regarded wine master from Livonia. Old Thiess is one of us.”
En
ough with the history lesson.
She had to get the conversation back on track. The murder would be treated as a separate case from the abductions, but the two cases were connected. “How well did you know the kids who went out to the park?”
“One way or another, we’re all related. They’re my great-nephew’s pups. I usually see them at our family gatherings.”
What was the relationship between the kids’ disappearance and the winery?
A smart kidnapper would have dropped the boys off at some non-descript location like the outlet mall just a few miles down the road. If it were an angry vineyard employee, it would be like painting a target on the company.
“Any disgruntled former employees? Someone you fired?”
He shook his craggy head. “No. Everyone is happy here, been here forever. They’re all part of the pack.”
“Any unusual behavior among the members of your pack lately?”
He cocked his head and looked puzzled. “How do you mean?”
“We have to rule out all possibilities, even distasteful ones. It is possible the kidnapper or killer could be one of your pack mates.”
He growled, “Absolutely not. There are no rogue wolves in our pack.”
“Sorry to upset you, sir, but under the circumstances, everyone is under suspicion. We need your maps, design plans, specs, engineers’ notes, everything you have on your cellars, the surrounding areas, and the old tunnel sites.”
“The mine was sealed. We followed all the rules, did everything according to the state’s requirements. We planted thousands of trees and reforested the area, too.” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I oversaw the operation myself.”
Good grief. Why did everyone take these investigations so personally? On the other hand, why was he being so defensive? She needed to throw him a bone, so to speak, to get his cooperation.
“Mr. Adalwolf, this isn’t about investigating you.” She locked eyes with the older man. “There are still two girls out there. Don’t you want to find them?”
His mouth opened, and his hand flew to his chest. “Of course, I do. What kind of animal do you take me for?”
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