Secret of the Wolf

by Cynthia Garner

  “Thought you saw…” Tori prompted, her voice as husky as his had been.

  “The bastard who attacked Nix and did his best to kill me and Tobias while he was at it.”

  She glanced around the scene. “Do you think he’d still be hanging around Scottsdale after what happened to Nix?”

  Dante clenched his jaw. “Who knows? He’s a crazy son of a bitch.”

  Again those luscious lips tightened before she murmured, “You’re probably right, but still, I’d hardly think he’d take the chance of getting caught by staying in town.”

  Dante hooked his thumbs over his belt and rocked back on his heels. “Well, I know I’ll feel a lot safer once he’s behind bars.”

  “But he won’t be behind bars, will he?” As she stared up at him, her eyes darkened. “Preternatural law is clear and concise on this matter. He drained Nix, knowing Tobias would turn her in order to save her. In doing so, the attacker has forfeited his life.”

  “Even though Tobias was the one who actually made Nix a vampire?” Dante almost added something along the lines of “and he killed other prets” but remembered at the last second that Tori didn’t know everything that transpired before that fateful day. She wasn’t aware that Tobias had taken the rift device from the vampire who’d attacked Nix.

  “Tobias carries no blame in this. He did what he had to in order to save her life.” Her lips tightened a moment. “The responsibility lies with the vampire who attacked her.”

  For a second Dante mused about how much like the Old West the laws of the other dimension seemed, at least those he’d heard about. An eye for an eye. Deal fairly with other men and you’d have no worries. But cross someone and you’d have more trouble than you could safely navigate.

  He looked at Tori. One of the things he liked so much about her was her strength of character. Her confidence. She was full steam ahead, no holds barred. He knew she’d be the same way in bed.

  His cock jerked. Damn it. He had to get his mind off of sex and on the job. “I think I’m going to head back to the station and file my report.”

  “Okay.” Tori took her hands out of her pockets. “I should probably head on over to the council and make my own report.” A smile tipped up her lips. “I’ll see you later.”

  He watched her leave, her hips swinging with long strides that really shouldn’t look as feminine as they did, but there it was. Tori was a compilation of contradictions, soft yet strong, feminine yet brutally wild.

  Dante walked over to his heavy-duty pickup and climbed behind the wheel. As he started up the diesel engine, he noticed the fuel gauge hovered near the empty indicator. Damn. While he needed this truck to haul his horse trailer, he really should drive something else for work. And it wasn’t as if the department offered unmarked vehicles for their Special Case detectives. The city felt it was the council’s place to provide cars and the council had decided it wasn’t, since the Special Case squad was made up of human detectives.

  Meantime, said human detectives were left to their own devices. He could feed the citizenry of a small country with what he paid in gas every week. Mileage reimbursement from the department helped, but that still allowed him to recoup only half of his fuel expenditures.

  Maybe it was time to buy that sweet little ride he’d had his eye on. He really couldn’t afford it, but he couldn’t afford to keep driving his truck, either. The car he was looking at needed some TLC, but once he fixed what needed fixing, put a modified engine in it so he’d get decent gas mileage, and got a new coat of paint on it, that ’69 Charger would be ready to go.

  He eyed Tori’s small vehicle as she pulled away from the scene. He sure as hell wasn’t going to drive a little matchbox car like she did. He wanted something with room, preferably a backseat.

  Of course, thinking of Tori and a backseat led to thoughts of Tori in his backseat and sent his libido into overdrive. His randy cock flexed, aching for relief. “Down, boy,” he muttered, and pulled out of the lot. By the time he reached the Downtown District’s station, an inner recitation of the department’s ten-codes had alleviated his problem.

  As he walked into the patrol squad room he slipped his keys into his pocket. He headed toward the smaller room where the Special Case team was housed, only to be stopped by his boss.

  “MacMillan. In my office.” Captain Scott beckoned him with the waggle of two fingers.

  “Whatcha do this time?” one of the uniforms muttered.

  Dante shrugged and changed direction. He’d worked with Captain Scott for five years now, from the time he’d made detective. When Scott had volunteered to have the newly minted Special Case squad housed under him, he’d pushed for Dante to join the team. Now, as Dante walked into the captain’s office, Scott motioned for him to close the door.

  “Have a seat,” the older man said as he sat down in his swivel chair.

  Dante dropped into one of the god-awful straight-backed chairs in front of his boss’s desk and clasped his hands over his stomach. “What’s up?”

  “You just come from the grocery store?”

  Dante nodded. “Not much to report. Vic wasn’t turned, and while it looks like it was the werewolf who attacked him and not the vamp, we won’t know until the hospital files its final report with the pret council.”

  Captain Scott leaned back, the resulting squeaking an ominous indication of the rickety chair’s ability to hold up his weight. He appeared to be considering something, working it over in his mind. Dante had seen him do this countless times before, and it usually meant whatever his captain was debating on telling him was nothing good. Finally Scott asked, “You hear about the pret attacks up in District Four?”

  “No.” Dante frowned. “What about ’em?”

  “I just got word this morning. We’ve got some freak changing humans into werewolves.” Scott shook his head and drilled the tip of one stubby finger onto his desk. “Like it’s not bad enough that in another four months the Moore-Creasy-Devon comet is going to open a rift between dimensions and we’re going to be hit with another influx of these damned EDs.” His eyes held poorly disguised fear that Dante had seen in the general populace. No one was immune from being taken over by a preternatural when they came through the rift in December. Human scientists had yet to find a way to keep the rift from happening to begin with. They had no clue how to stop alien beings from squatting in their fellow men and women.

  It was a bit unsettling to think you could be going about your business and then—wham!—you’re no longer in control of your own body, rather, you had to share it with someone else, someone whose personality gets melded with yours.

  All the prets he knew insisted that the soul or spirit, whatever you wanted to call it, of the human remained intact. The fact that the squatter had its host’s memories seemed to support that, but Dante wasn’t so sure. How could there possibly be room for more than one consciousness without the brain going into overload? And since there didn’t seem to be a prevalent number of schizophrenic prets running around…

  And what happened if he and Tori got involved and then he got taken over by a pret who hated her kind? What then? Would he have loved her only to lose her, as he feared?

  He shook himself free from the anxiety that tickled his gut. Instead of worrying about something that might never happen, he should focus on his job. “What do you want me to do?” Dante asked.

  Scott leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. “Keep your eyes and ears open. Nobody on the council seems to know anything about this, but I’d wager a month’s salary they have an idea who’s behind it. They either don’t care or…”

  “Or?”

  Scott’s eyebrows climbed, furrowing his brow. “They support it.”

  Dante straightened out of his slouch. “I…No, I don’t like to think they’d do that, sir.”

  “Well, who knows about them, right? They have their own agenda.” Scott shook his head. “I’d like to think they wouldn’t try to cover something up, but…”
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br />   “How many attacks have there been?” Dante asked. He’d have to remember to ask Tori what she knew about these attacks. Surely she’d been talking with the werewolf liaison of that quadrant. She might have more information than the council was releasing to its human counterparts.

  “There was one each on Sunday and Monday, then again one on Thursday and one on Friday.” Scott lifted a hand and scratched his head. “Four goddamned victims with just enough forensic evidence to get us nowhere. So far we’ve managed to keep a lid on it, but it’s only a matter of time before it gets out.”

  “Shouldn’t we warn people?”

  “And tell them what? ‘Be on the lookout for a rogue werewolf’?” He shook his head. “It won’t do us any good to have people panicking. We’d be right back to the days before the Preternatural Protection Act was enacted. Sons murdering their fathers, neighbors at each other’s throats…” He swiveled his chair to look out the window. “Just keep your ear to the ground and let me know what you hear about these werewolf incidents.”

  Dante knew a dismissal when he heard one. “Will do.” He pushed to his feet and left the captain’s office. Once at his desk, he booted up his computer and sat back in his chair. He had his report typed up within fifteen minutes. He printed it off and added it to his folder of pending reports, intending to file it with the clerk later.

  His cell buzzed. He pulled it out of his jacket pocket and glanced at the display. It was one of the Special Case detectives from District Four. Dante pressed the phone icon on the touch screen and put the device to his ear. “Hey, Manny,” he greeted.

  “Dante,” Manuel Rivera responded. “I hear you had some werewolf trouble this morning.”

  “Good news travels fast.” Dante put one hand on the back of his neck and rubbed the tense muscles there.

  “Yeah. In some ways Scottsdale’s still a small town. So?” The other detective’s voice held hope.

  Dante felt for the guy. Four werewolf attacks in a little under a week meant he was under the gun to produce results. Having the suspect handed to him would be a godsend. “I didn’t talk to the guy, Manny. Sorry.” Dante heard Rivera’s sigh and added, “But I can check with our werewolf liaison and see what she thinks.” He’d have to get over this lust thing he had going on for Tori. He had to keep things strictly professional between them so he could keep his emotional balance. For the time being, at least.

  “Hey, man, I’d appreciate that. We got nothing so far. No hair. Or fur as the case may be,” Manny added, his voice deeper with sarcasm that quickly turned to frustration. “No fiber, no usable DNA, no nothing.”

  Dante frowned. “If he’s biting people, how the hell can you not have DNA from his saliva?”

  “Bastard washes the wounds with bleach. Whatever DNA’s still present gets degraded, and subsequent tests are inconclusive.” Rivera muttered a long string of expletives in Spanish, then said, “He’s a clever mutt, I’ll give him that.”

  “How are the victims connected?” Dante remembered the case he’d first met Tori on, where a group of vampires killed other vamps. At first, there had seemed to be no affiliation other than the obvious, but then deeper connections had surfaced.

  “None that we can tell. First one is a twentysomething med student, the second one is a bricklayer, third one’s a stay at home mom, and this last one…” He sighed. “He’s a councilman from ward six.”

  Dante let out a low whistle. There’d be hell to pay on that one. And a local council seat to fill. Prets weren’t allowed to serve in human governments at any level. Equal but separate was the motto of the day. “Well, I can see where a wolf might have thought he could use the councilman, but, still…He had to know as well as anyone else that the man would lose his seat.”

  “You’d think so.” Manny sighed again. “Thanks anyway, amigo. Keep the faith,” he said with his usual farewell.

  “You, too.” Dante ended the call. He slid his phone back into his jacket pocket and pondered what Rivera had said. At first blush it seemed the attacks by the werewolf were random. Maybe it was a pret who’d snapped and couldn’t keep his fangs to himself. Maybe it went deeper than that. At the very least, Tori would have an idea if their guy from this morning’s attack was involved. He pulled out his phone again and speed-dialed her.

  “Hello.” Her dulcet tones pulsed through him all the way to his toes, pausing to dance along his cock for much longer than was appropriate at work.

  “It’s Dante.” His throat closed up. He cleared it and tried again. “Ah, it’s Dante.”

  “What’s up?” The rhythm of her voice didn’t change, so he had no idea what her mood was. She seemed glad to hear from him, but considering the schizoid way he’d acted at the crime scene, he couldn’t be sure.

  “I just got a call from Rivera in District Four. He asked me about our guy from this morning. He’s wondering if maybe he’s the same one who’s attacking people up north.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Dante heard voices in the background, then some snarling. What the hell? “Where are you?” he asked.

  “At council headquarters, waiting my turn to file my report.” She lowered her voice. “They’re not too happy with the liaison from the north quadrant. They expect instant results and it’s impossible in this case without viable forensic evidence. I feel sorry for him.”

  “So…he’s the one who’s snarling?”

  “No, the snarlers are a couple of werecats being fined for drunken and disorderly conduct. They’re not too happy, either.”

  Dante shook his head. If he lived to be ninety, he didn’t think he’d ever get used to this new world he lived in. It was like being in a never-ending episode of The Twilight Zone. “So, about our guy this morning,” he said, putting the conversation back on track. “Rivera tells me any DNA that’s at the scene is too degraded for testing.”

  “I really don’t think Barry is responsible for the attacks in District Four. He said he wasn’t, and I believe him. He may be dumb, but he’s not stupid. He attacked the man this morning unintentionally. The attacks in District Four are full of intention. And foresight, obviously, if the suspect is doing something to degrade his DNA.” She sighed. “They’re calling for me. Look, I’ll talk to the other liaison.” Voices filtered over the line, people walking close by her, and her voice went husky as she lowered it. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  “Okay. See ya later.” Dante disconnected the call and sat back in his chair. God, that voice of hers touched places in him he hadn’t known existed. He knew things with Tori could get complicated fast. She was a pret, a werewolf. He couldn’t ignore the fact that she could break his neck with the flick of a wrist. He supposed it would make having sex with her very interesting. All things considered, it might be worth the risk.

  It was just…the timing sucked. He had to keep things platonic between them. At least for now, when his attention was needed elsewhere. Maybe down the line he could learn to follow his feelings.

  Only today was not that day.

  Chapter Four

  Tori slipped her phone into the back pocket of her jeans and started toward the big double doors of the main chamber where the council members waited. She couldn’t go in and face three of the most powerful preternaturals in the region with fantasies of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sexy floating around in her head and playing havoc with her libido. She drew a deep breath and blew it out, trying to clear her mind of everything Dante. As she passed the liaison coming from the room, she murmured, “Ash, I need to talk to you. Can you hang around for a while?”

  His normally blue eyes held flecks of amber. “Why the hell not? It’s not like I’m actually doing a job or anything.”

  She scowled. She wasn’t going to take any crap from him. From anyone. “Don’t take your ass-chewing out on me.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced. “Sorry. Sure.” When he looked at her again, his eyes were their usual hue. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Come get me when y
ou’re done.” He glanced inside the chamber. “Hopefully, they’ve gotten their nasty mood out of their system.”

  Tori watched him walk away. Her phone buzzed, and she dug it out to find an e-mail from the hospital. Opening the attached report, she read that they had indeed verified that the victim from this morning was bitten by a werewolf and not a vampire. She heaved a sigh. Poor Barry.

  Her name was called again, this time with impatience, and she shoved her phone back into her pocket as she went into the cavernous room to report her initial findings. She gave a slight bow to signify her deference to them. “Ati me peta babka?” she asked in the common language from the other dimension. How may I serve?

  The bright center light, recessed in the ceiling, clearly lit the front of the auditorium-sized room. She looked at the three men sitting in ornate, high-backed chairs on the other side of the long mahogany table. Deoul Arias, president of the council, was a high elf who’d come through the rift over five thousand years ago. There were only two other preternaturals in the region who were older than him, one a vampire and one a demon. But not just any demon. The demon. Lucifer. He was the oldest of them all, as far as anyone knew, and he had tremendous power and influence because of it.

  And Deoul couldn’t stand it, which meant it rather pleased Tori. She’d use any excuse she could to stick it to the snooty elf.

  Sitting next to the president was Caladh MacLoch, a seal shapeshifter and frankly her favorite council member. She and Caladh had met in 1903 and soon thereafter developed a friendship that started as an apprenticeship of sorts, leaving her with a deep affection for the man who had helped make this world a little less lonely.

  Next to him was the newest member of the council, vampire Tobias Caine. He had been appointed to his seat as a replacement for the former vampire councilor who’d been killed. His murder was still officially unsolved, though Tori suspected it had something to do with the rift device she had secreted away at her house. Tobias hadn’t told her where he’d gotten it or how he’d come by it, but she didn’t believe in coincidence, especially where murder was concerned.