Inquisitor (Witch & Wolf Book 1)

by RJ Blain

  Dr. Shepard returned to my bedside and checked all of the machines, pausing to scowl at the opened door. “I hope he didn’t tire you.”

  “It’s fine,” I replied, forcing a smile for his sake.

  “You’re fortunate, you know. Many patients have no recollection of what happened so close to when they suffered an injury as catastrophic as yours. I suspect if the FBI needs anything more from you, they’ll come and ask. In the meantime, is there anyone you want me to contact for you?”

  A surge of emotion kept me silent for a long moment. I stared at the sterile-looking phone attached to the bed. “Can I use the phone?”

  “Of course. No more than ten minutes, and only after we finish some tests. If you need to contact someone immediately, I’ll have a nurse place the call for you.”

  I weighed my options. “I was taking care of two kids. They were with me at the funeral.”

  Dr. Shepard drew in a breath in a long hiss. “I will see if I can find anything out, Ms. Hanover. What are their names?”

  “Emily and Alex Peters,” I replied. I didn’t mention James. “You’ll need my insurance information. And if you could contact one of the CEOs on the Marrodin board, I’d appreciate it.” I waited until Dr. Shepard was ready with his pen before giving him the information.

  “You don’t have to worry about the insurance information, Ms. Hanover. Your treatment has been paid for in full.”

  “What?”

  “An anonymous donor has paid for the treatment of all survivors,” he explained.

  Once again, my mouth opened, but this time I couldn’t force any sound out. I swallowed and tried again. “How many were injured?”

  Dr. Shepard stood, nudging the stool back to its proper place. “Over seven hundred were injured, and over three hundred died, Ms. Hanover. Unless the news has changed, it’s expected another hundred or so will not be as fortunate as you and succumb to their injuries. You’re truly fortunate.”

  I hesitated before asking, “How long?”

  The doctor’s triumphant smile returned. “You were in a coma for two weeks, Ms. Hanover. It’s been six days since you woke from your vegetative state.” With a dip of his head, he left me alone.

  I’d been in a coma for two weeks? That was pushing it, even for me. No wonder my wolf had been frightened. If I died, so did she. If I died, so did the witch in me.

  The three of us were one and the same, after all.

  ~*~

  The possibility of Anderson and several of the other CEOs of Marrodin being victims of the blasts didn’t occur to me until I listened to the phone ring. Sweat beaded on my brow.

  “Anderson,” a sleepy mumble answered after the fifth tone.

  “Layabout,” I replied, swallowing back my relieved sigh. “It’s not even eight there. Are you asleep?”

  Thump.

  On the other end of the line, I heard the phone clatter to the floor. Anderson cursed, followed by more thumping. I waited until I heard his breath. “Do you have the phone now?”

  “Oh god. Victoria? Some doctor called, but I didn’t believe it,” he gasped.

  Laughing hurt. “I suspected as much.” It wasn’t a lie, not really. After two—almost three—weeks, I doubted I’d believe it either. “It seems I managed to crack my skull, and until today, my memory has been questionable at best.” Telling him I’d been in a coma wouldn’t do any good. There’d be time enough for that later.

  “You sound fine now.”

  “The doctors have been prodding me non-stop for hours, else I would’ve called you sooner. I’m doing better. Head hurts like you wouldn’t believe, though. What can I say? I’m a wonder of nature.”

  “You’re really at Mayo in Minnesota?” Anderson asked.

  “So they say.”

  “How the hell did you get there?” I heard a thump, a drawer open, and papers being shuffled. “Plane. Plane, plane, plane…” After a wordless but triumphant noise, I heard the click of a retractable pen. “I’ll book the next flight out with the kids.”

  I sat straighter, hissing at the pain the motion caused. “The kids are okay?” Relief weakened my voice.

  “Are you all right, Vicky? Yes, the kids are both fine. They’re bruised and battered, but they made it out. A few stitches, but they’re healing well.” There was hesitation in his tone, so I kept quiet and waited. “Look, don’t think I’m crazy or anything, but…”

  Dorothy Lane’s reaction to the kids resurfaced. My wince was from more than the infernal splitting of my skull. “They’ve been screaming, haven’t they? Sounds like they’re howling at night?” I guessed.

  Anderson sighed, but didn’t reply for well over a minute. “Yeah. Had they been doing that with you?”

  “No. Put them on the phone, and I’ll sort it out, okay?”

  “Give me a second.” The relief in his voice drew another wince out of me.

  I closed my eyes. Prayer wasn’t my thing, but I hadn’t killed the kids. I wouldn’t have to carry that burden. I didn’t know what deity to thank for that, but I meant it for a change.

  “Hello?” I recognized Emily’s voice, but she sounded quiet and raspy from exhaustion.

  Doing better wasn’t good enough. Not if she had been reduced to such a pitiable-sounding creature after having only met me a few days before. Both of the kids deserved better. They deserved a family, a mother and father who could keep them safe and love them.

  All they had was me.

  That wasn’t good enough.

  “Hey, Kitten?”

  “Ms… Ms. Victoria?” Emily sniffled.

  “Yes, Kitten. It’s me. I’m sorry for worrying y—”

  She howled. Blinking back tears of pain and anguish, I held the phone away from my ear until she quieted.

  “Easy there, Kitten. I need you to do me a favor, okay?”

  “What, Ms. Victoria?” There was still sniffling on the other end of the line, but no more howling.

  “Be good and quiet for Mr. Anderson for me, okay? Help him with his chores, and tell him I said he’s to teach you your letters until I’m back. And yes, I’m coming back. I just don’t know when yet. Okay?”

  There was a pause and several more sniffles. “Okay.”

  “Hand the phone back to him, Kitten.”

  “You’re coming home?”

  I smiled. “Yes, Kitten. I’m coming home.”

  Somehow I managed to keep my voice even and confident. Home was such a flexible thing for a child. My chest hurt as though someone wrapped a vice around my heart and squeezed. Her momma was gone. Had she picked me to be her new family, her new home?

  Maybe there was more wolf in her than I’d thought. Pack was like that, but it’d been so long since I’d shared the bond with anyone I hadn’t remembered what it was like to need my pack mates.

  “Please put Mr. Anderson back on the phone. Tell your brother I said you two are to go to bed early tonight.”

  “Okay.”

  The phone was handed back to Anderson. I heard him sigh. “Are you really okay, Victoria?”

  “Got a couple of cracks in my skull, but the verdict seems to be that my brain didn’t make a great escape after all.”

  “Damn it, Victoria!”

  “Easy, Elliot. Don’t make me send you to bed early too. As for the kids, I doubt they’ll give you any more trouble. If they do, call Mayo and get me on the line. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Didn’t you only have them for a day or two before…?” Anderson swallowed back whatever else he was going to say.

  “We have an understanding.” I paused. “Is Amelia okay?”

  “In shock, but alive. She’ll… she’ll be a lot better when she finds out you’re alive.”

  “How did the kids get out?” I braced myself for the answer.

  “That’s the funny thing. Some Brit brought them to Atlanta to our offices. Then he goes and gets himself arrested for brawling with that damned Yank and his officer friend.”

  I blinked. Yank? D
id Anderson mean Mark? It made sense, if the officer friend was Officer Marten. But why would James fight with Mark? “Officer friend? You mean that Marten fellow?”

  “Yes.”

  “Think you can get him out? Seems I owe this fellow for getting the kids out of there alive.”

  “Not a chance. He’s been sent to D.C. as a suspect in the bombing.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “Not kidding at all. I don’t believe it, neither does Amelia. What kind of asshole would bomb a funeral, but save two kids?”

  I drew a deep breath, counted to ten, and let it loose in a slow, controlled sigh. “Okay. I lost my phone and purse. I’ll need replacements. Think you can get Amelia started on that?”

  “That Brit had them. Your purse is ruined, but your phone works. ID is a little scuffed and stained, but it’ll suffice. Don’t worry yourself about that.”

  James had gotten a hold of my purse? Hadn’t I been carrying it? Then again, in the confusion of the explosion, it was possible James had found the purse and not me in the tangle of bodies. But the other possibility set my heart racing in my chest.

  Keeping me out of the Inquisition’s hands didn’t mean keeping me alive. He might’ve left me for dead if he thought it’d fulfill Donnie’s command. Had I been played the fool again?

  “Oh good,” I lied. “Here’s what I want you to do. Schedule board meeting for tomorrow. I don’t know when they’ll let me make a phone call, so tell them to be ready to drop what they’re doing to gather in the conference room at a moment’s notice. I want everyone to hear my voice. Hold out on those plane tickets until I find out how long I’ll be here for.”

  Business as usual was the best cure for insecurity. As soon as I convinced the board at Marrodin I wasn’t going to keel over quite yet, I could get back to work.

  “Okay, Victoria. Thank god you’re all right.”

  “Hey, look. I know you don’t have to, but I promised I’d teach the kids how to cook and read. They’re supposed to be helping with the chores, too.”

  Anderson laughed. “Never fear. They’ll be world-classed champions at making ramen noodles and grilled cheese by the time you come home.”

  I shuddered. “Good,” I lied, trying not to be sick at the thought of what I’d be forced to eat soon enough. “I’m counting on you. Tomorrow, Anderson.”

  I hung up. The nurse returned, clucking her tongue in disapproval. I couldn’t force a smile, so I opted to suffer through her poking and prodding in silence.

  Chapter Nineteen

  There were disadvantages to being a freak of nature. Despite my efforts at feigning an illness, the doctors figured out there was something unusual about me. I endured their tests with as much grace as I could manage, keeping my snarls in check, lest they believed me to be some beast.

  While my being a beast was the truth, they didn’t need to learn that.

  After another round through their demonic machines to confirm I still had a functional brain, I managed to convince them I needed to make a phone call. Unlike Dr. Shepard, the doctor I was saddled with glared at me, but allowed me twenty minutes. I waited until he left the room to make a sour face at the door.

  I dialed Anderson’s secretary from memory.

  “Marrodin Inc., this is Elizabeth speaking,” she answered on the fourth ring.

  “Elizabeth, can you put together a conference call for me?” I asked, careful as I braced the phone between shoulder and ear. The motion hurt, but it freed my hands to work on my laptop, freshly shipped from Atlanta. The same box had all of the contents of my purse, including my damaged phone. The screen was shattered, but it still worked. So long as I was gentle with it, I wouldn’t end up with glass shards embedded in my fingers.

  The young woman on the other end of the line squealed.

  “Ouch,” I chided, though I didn’t mask my amusement.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Ms. Hanover. Oh, oh, I’m sorry. It’s just…” Elizabeth did a good impersonation of Emily’s howling.

  “It’s okay, Elizabeth. I’m fine. Really, I am. Can you put Anderson on before my keepers steal the phone from me?”

  Within three minutes, Elizabeth connected me to a very noisy conference room. Judging from the number of voices clambering to be heard, I imagined every employee in the building crammed into the tight space.

  “Settle down, kids,” I said. To my surprise, they obeyed. “Guess what? I’m mostly intact and hope to be back in Atlanta annoying you all within the next week or two.”

  A few voices whooped. Someone groaned. A smile tugged at my mouth. “There’s work to be done, and it can’t wait until I return. I hope at least one of you has something to write with in there.”

  “I have a notepad, Ms. Hanover,” Elizabeth said.

  “Take notes. Anderson, cut the recordings. This is off of the record, ladies and gentlemen. This doesn’t go out any further than those who can hear me. Understood?”

  A chorus of assent answered my question.

  “The recording system is offline,” Anderson said.

  “Amelia?”

  “Nice to hear you, Victoria.”

  “Same here. I want Smith & Sons fully involved in all prosecution proceedings. Find us a legal way to go about it. I also want you involved in the prosecution for all of the murders of our people.”

  “With pleasure.” The old woman made a sound suspiciously like a sniffle.

  “Good. Anderson?”

  “Yes?”

  “I want the figures on the daycare additions in my email yesterday. I also want security measures included. I don’t want a sniper able to get near a single one of our buildings. Lock down our companies. Profile the past targets, and if you can find any common links, figure out who might be targeted next. If the police can’t protect our people, we will. Understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  “Good. Any other pressing business?”

  There was a long moment of silence. Anderson cleared his throat. “There have been more murders. Four of them were employees of one of our companies. Three more weren’t associated with us at all. Two of them were found this morning, but we don’t have any more information than that.”

  “Email me with all of the data. I want HR files, the circumstances of the murders, and anything else you have that might be useful. I’ll have nothing but time for the next few days, so I’ll start looking at what we have and see what I can learn.”

  “It’ll be there within the hour,” Anderson promised.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I don’t care what you have to do, but I want the killer—or killers—found. Start scanning bank accounts for identical transactions or anything suspicious. Amelia, keep us legal as we do it, however best you see fit. Just make sure you do it quietly. Understood?”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Amelia replied.

  “Good luck, and take care of yourselves.” I hung up.

  Until I found out the truth, not even an extended stay in a hospital was going to stop me from seeking justice. And if I had to take matters in my own hands, so be it.

  Samantha and all of the other victims of the Inquisition deserved that much. I couldn’t afford to sit back and hide in the shadows any longer while my people—my unofficial, unacknowledged pack—were slaughtered for simply existing.

  ~*~

  It took me three days to find the links between the victims targeted at my company. I stared at the bank records of each of them, side by side, focusing on the matching charge codes in their checking accounts.

  All of my employees had infrequent charges to the same gas station in rural West Virginia. A quick search of the Internet proved the location to be deep within the mountains. I tapped the arrow keys on my laptop, copied the business’s code, and checked all of the accounts for the third time.

  Pulling up the matching transactions, I had to admire the victims. They had been careful, although not careful enough. They never went to the place at the same time, staggering their purchases over a d
ay or two.

  The charges only appeared near the full moon.

  I bit my lip. With the data in front of me, it was so obvious I wanted to kick myself. It confirmed everything I feared, too. The victims were werewolves, and their bank records were leading me straight to their hunting ground.

  The door to my room opened, but I ignored the sound of the approaching footsteps, emailing the address of the gas station to my phone.

  “Ms. Hanover.”

  I ignored the doctor.

  He cleared his throat. “Ms. Hanover.”

  Shutting the lid on my laptop, I huffed a little and looked up at him. “Yes, Dr. Shephard?”

  “Your scans came out clean. You’re healing well. You’re cleared to go home. That said, I want you to go to a hospital for weekly checkups to ensure that there are no problems. If you begin experiencing any headaches, I want you to call me. If you tell me which hospital you want to use, I can give you a referral.”

  “Then a clinic closer to Atlanta is fine?”

  “I’d prefer you seeing one of my colleagues if possible. Is Baltimore okay?”

  “That’s a long haul. Surely Atlanta has a suitable doctor?”

  Dr. Shephard sighed. “Baltimore would be best, but I’m sure arrangements can be made.”

  I stared at him, not quite sure I believed what I was hearing. “You mean I can leave?”

  The corners of his mouth twisted up in a rueful grin. “Please go. If only all severe trauma patients made as clean a recovery as you have, then I could truly be pleased with my work. I can’t say we’ll miss how focused you are on your work when we’re trying to do our jobs, but it’s a forgivable sin.” His smile softened. “The nurse will help you get discharged.”

  “Any chance for a cab?”

  “Ask the front desk.”

  “Thanks, Doc.”

  “Good luck. Just be careful with your head, okay? I don’t want to see you back here.”

  I matched his smile with one of my own. With a polite, triumphant nod, he left me to deal with the waiting nurse. She came armed with a stack of papers. I eyed the stack and sighed.