by Opal Carew
“Unless someone has a silver bullet,” Adam said.
“So few do.”
“Wait a minute. Doesn’t everyone he kills rise again?”
“No, thank God, or we’d be overrun. If he kills but doesn’t drink their blood or eat their flesh, they become a werewolf. If he partakes of the kill, they’re just dead.”
“I do so love when they beg for their life,” Henri murmured. “I usually give it to them.”
“Shut up, old man,” Adam said.
The incongruity of calling someone who didn’t appear a day over thirty “old man” made me choke back a giggle. Hysteria was obviously not far behind.
“Why are there no Ruelle girls?”
“What?” Adam blinked at the sudden change in subject.
“No girls born for over a century. I checked.”
“The curse. Grandpere’s voodoo queen wanted only men to suffer. I don’t think she cared too much for them.”
“Can’t imagine why.”
Henri grabbed the bars and rattled his cage. “Let me out!”
“Not so fast,” Adam said. “You will leave her alone.”
Henri’s gaze flicked to me. “What if she tries to kill me? Will you protect me then, petit-fils? Will you trust her with your soul? What about the boy’s?”
“If she meant to kill you, Grandpere, I’d be dead. She thought I was you.”
Henri frowned. I didn’t think he was the brightest star in the sky. Or should I say the fullest moon on the calendar?
“True,” he agreed. “She’d have slipped a silver knife between your ribs while you were doing her. That’s always the best time.”
“You two seem to have me confused with a psychopathic serial killer.”
“If she doesn’t want to kill me—”
“I didn’t at first, but now that I’ve met you I’ve changed my mind.”
“Diana—” Adam began, but Henri interrupted: “What do you want?”
“To prove a werewolf exists and show it to the world.”
“That isn’t going to happen.” Henri glanced at Adam. “Right?”
Adam sighed. “Right” He let his head fall forward, and his hair sifted over his face.
I stood, resisting the urge to shove it back.
He lifted his gaze. “I need the key.”
“He wants to kill me, or maybe screw me—”
“How about both?” Henri asked.
“Why you think I said I’d be your guide?” Adam demanded. “I wasn’t going to let him hurt you. I still won’t.”
Sadness filtered through me. Adam hadn’t hung around because of my charms—no kidding—but because he’d wanted to make certain Henri didn’t tear out my throat or worse. And what better way to get close than to pretend he wanted to sleep with me and then do so?
I’d been right: This wasn’t love. It wasn’t even lust, just duty.
Voices floated on the still morning air, startling us all.
“Frank,” I muttered. How had he gotten here so fast?
“Hurry up,” Henri said.
“I have to let him go, Diana.” Adam’s gaze captured mine. “If they don’t kill him here, they’ll dissect him somewhere else. If he dies and I’m possessed, there’ll be no one to care for Luc.”
“You think Henri should be free to kill people?”
“I do my best to contain him. And I spend the nights he can’t shift eliminating those he’s made.”
My eyes widened. “You shot Charlie and Mrs. Beasly.”
Adam nodded.
There was a shout, much closer, and Adam held out his hand. “Please.”
I looked into his eyes, saw the shadows and the pain. I also saw his fear, his need, and his son.
I gave him the key.
Chapter 38
Henri barreled out of the cage and started toward me. Adam hauled back and decked him on the chin. He staggered.
“I won’t kill you.” Adam jerked his head toward the tall grass. “But they will. Get lost.”
Henri glared at me, a promise in his eyes, but he went, gliding into the swamp and disappearing.
“I’ll take care of you. I swear.”
I wanted Adam’s words to mean something, but they were only words he’d say to anyone who’d helped him protect his son. He owed me, and while I should tell him to stuff his help, I’d looked into Henri’s eyes and I didn’t ever want to run into him again alone.
“Diana?” Adam took one step toward me, hand outstretched.
“Don’t move, asshole.”
Adam froze. So did I.
Big, muscle-bound men with bandoliers of bullets strung across their impressive chests spilled into the clearing. Each of them had a rifle in his hands, a pistol on his hip, and a knife strapped to his thigh.
Another man walked into the clearing carrying Frank Tallient. Frank’s legs hung uselessly over his helper’s arm, revealing why he’d sent me to find the loup-garou instead of coming himself.
He placed Frank atop a rotted stump at the edge of the clearing. Frank pointed a handgun at Adam’s head.
“How did you get here so fast?” I asked.
“I knew you’d find him this time, Diana.” Frank never took his eyes or his gun off of Adam. “I came to New Orleans yesterday so I’d be close by when your call came.”
“He-he got away,” I blurted.
Frank made a tsking sound. “He’s right here. Henri, it’s been a long time.”
“No—” I began.
Adam shot me a silencing glare, and I zipped my lip. Then he returned his attention to Frank. “Do we know each other?”
Fury washed over Frank’s face. “I suppose it’s nothing for you to wipe out an entire family and leave a man crippled.”
“Where was this?” Adam asked.
“You really don’t remember?”
Adam shrugged.
“Iron Mountain.” At Adam’s blank expression Frank continued, “Upper Michigan.”
Michigan? When had Henri gone there? And if he’d traveled that far, where else had he been? How many others had he killed? How many werewolves had he made?
“When was this?” Adam’s voice was a bit hoarse. Frank didn’t seem to notice.
“Seven years, one month, three days, and five hours ago, you son of a bitch.”
Seven years meant Henri had left Louisiana before Adam had taken over his protection. That information was irrelevant to Frank. His family was dead and he meant to have his vengeance. But he had the wrong man.
I stepped forward and Adam yanked me back. “No.”
One glance at his face and I understood. Adam was going to let Frank riddle him with silver bullets on the off chance the man didn’t know a werewolf would explode. Then Frank would leave, believing his vengeance complete.
“Protect Luc,” Adam whispered. “Find a way.”
He was putting his son in my care? I didn’t like this plan. However, I didn’t have a better one, except— “He isn’t Henri.”
“Diana... “
I ignored Adam’s plea. Henri had lived this long; he’d no doubt live a lot longer. He was probably halfway to Acapulco by now. Frank hadn’t been able to find him without me, and I wasn’t going to oblige him by locating Henri a second time.
“The one who killed your family and hurt you is out there.” I pointed to the swamp. “This is Adam. His great—a bunch of times—grandson.”
“Bullshit,” Frank said. “I saw Henri maliciously murder everyone I loved. Then he left me alive to remember and mourn.”
“He was a wolf; how do you know it was Henri?”
Frank’s eyes glazed with the memory. “I’d taken my family to our cabin. We were having dinner in town and Henri was at the bar. He and I struck up a conversation. He was an interesting, intelligent man. I even considered fixing him up with my daughter.” He shuddered. “You should have seen what he did to her.”
No, I shouldn’t.
“He leaped right through our picture window. I
tried to stop him, and he knocked me down the steps. Something snapped in my back, and I couldn’t move my legs. I watched him kill them all. I’ll never forget his eyes. I see them every night in my sleep.”
“The curse makes all the Ruelle men look alike.” I wasn’t certain that was true, but the explanation made sense, especially when combined with the lack of females born into the family since the voodoo queen had done her thing. “This is Adam,” I insisted, “not Henri.”
“I don’t believe you.” Frank sighted down the barrel of his gun.
I threw myself in front of Adam as the weapon fired. I expected pain; instead all I felt was Adam’s arms close around me.
“He missed,” I breathed in wonder.
Adam glanced at his bicep, where blood dripped from a two-inch gash. “Not exactly.”
“Get out of the way, Diana. I don’t want to, but I will kill you.”
“I’m not moving,” I said.
Adam’s hands tightened on my shoulders. I smiled, thinking the movement was affection, then gasped when he tossed me aside to land with a thud out of the line of fire.
“Adam!” I shouted, scrambling up, tensing in expectation of a gunshot, but there wasn’t one.
Detective Sullivan stood behind Frank, pressing his sidearm to the base of Frank’s skull. “Drop it,” he said. “And your friends, too.”
Frank complied, as did his goons.
“You don’t understand—” Frank began.
“I understand plenty.” The hula dancer on Sullivan’s tie undulated with the force of his anger. “You’re under arrest. You tried to kill that man, and you threatened that woman.”
“But he’s a werewolf.”
Sullivan blinked, then glanced at me. I shrugged and made the crazy sign by rolling my index finger next to my ear.
“He asked me to find a wolf in the swamp.” I looked at Adam, who was letting the blood drip down his arm and into the ground, making no attempt to stanch the flow. “I didn’t realize he was nuts and meant a werewolf.”
“This is the guy you work for?” Sullivan asked.
“Not anymore,” Frank muttered.
Sullivan put away his weapon as the clearing filled with cops who began to cuff the minions and collect the evidence.
“Do you know who I am?” Frank shouted. “I’ll have your job for this.”
Two cops carried a struggling, cursing Frank Tallient away.
I hurried across the short space separating me from Adam, tearing a strip off my shirt as I went. He must have been feeling pretty woozy, because he let me bind his arm without arguing.
“Why did you come here?” I asked Sullivan.
“Some guy wanted to know where Charlie died. Since that’s an open case, I got suspicious. I came to your place and saw them head into the swamp. That much guns and ammo, couldn’t be good. So I called for backup and here we are.”
“I appreciate the help.” Adam offered his nonbloody hand.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while.” Sullivan took it and they shook.
“Talk.”
“You know anything about the man strangled on your property?”
“No.”
“Ever seen any animals behaving oddly? Maybe rabid?”
“No.”
Sullivan’s gaze slid to mine. “A regular fountain, isn’t he?”
“You have no idea.”
“The rabies expert has arrived. He was supposed to meet me at the mansion—” Sullivan glanced at his watch. “Damn. I need to get back there.”
He disappeared pretty quickly for such a big guy. Within moments, everyone else had followed, and Adam and I were alone.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to do,” Adam murmured.
“Now?”
His lips quirked before he reached out and yanked the gold chain from around my waist, then tossed it into the weeds. He lifted his hand and another spilled out—interlinking silver fleurs-de-lis. “I’d put it on for you, but—” He shrugged, then winced when the movement tugged his wounded bicep.
I took the gift and looped it around my belly, unreasonably touched. I had to admit, silver flattered my skin much better than gold. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” Adam shifted his gaze from my stomach to the trail. “Sullivan’s expert will be Henri bait.”
“You don’t think Henri is long gone?”
“Even if he left, he’ll be back. This place is as much a part of him as his fur.”
“I’ll have to tell the expert there’s no wolf, no rabies. Considering my credentials, maybe he’ll believe me and go away.”
Adam continued to stare into the swamp with a frown. I followed his gaze to a nearby cypress tree where a tall, gaunt, ancient man watched us from the shadows.
“Hello,” I called. “Are you lost?”
He approached slowly, his gait more measured than pained. Despite the heat, he was dressed in black, which only made him appear more skeletal. I figured his age at eighty-plus. His hair might once have been blond but had faded to a dusky white. His blue eyes had faded, too, but they still shone with a fervor that made me want to snap a salute.
“Diana Malone?”
The accent was German—less pronounced than if he still lived in the motherland but thick enough to reveal he’d been born there.
“Yes?”
“I am Edward Mandenauer. I was called by Detective Sullivan about a rabies problem.” His gaze flicked to Adam. “Would he be you?”
Adam merely shook his head.
“This is Adam Ruelle.” I spared Adam a “don’t be rude” glare. “He owns this land. Detective Sullivan returned to the mansion to meet you.”
“I must have missed him. His men directed me here.” Mandenauer strode to the cage, inspected the lock, the moss, the bars, then lifted a yellowed brow in my direction. “You caught nothing?”
“Nothing.”
He turned to the nearest cypress, where my tree stand remained.
“Hmmm,” was all he said—until he turned with a pistol in his hand. “Where are the werewolves?”
Chapter 39
“Werewolves?” I laughed. “You’ve been watching too many B movies.”
Mandenauer’s face didn’t change. He didn’t find me funny. Imagine that?
“You lie to everyone else, but you cannot lie to me. I have hunted these beasts for longer than you have both been alive. Unless... “ He considered us. “Unless one or both of you are possessed by the demon werewolf.” His gaze lowered to Adam’s bloody arm. “I don’t suppose you were shot with silver.”
“As a matter of fact—” I began, and Adam elbowed me in the ribs.
“Who the hell are you, mister?” Adam demanded.
“I will be happy to tell you as soon as you prove you aren’t evil.”
“And how are we supposed to do that?” I asked.
“Well, in the good old days, I would just shoot you and see if you exploded. But as everyone has been telling me, that causes too many questions. I hate questions. So I have come up with another way.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a huge silver crucifix, throwing it at me before I knew what he was up to. I had no choice but to catch the thing or let it hit me in the nose.
“No smoke,” Mandenauer said. “You live.”
My silver fleur-de-lis chain had disappeared down my shorts. I tugged it free. “I could have shown you this.”
He glanced at Adam. “Are you wearing one?”
Adam cast him a bland glance.
The old man lifted an eyebrow in brow in my direction. “If you please?”
“I’ve already done this test.”
“Humor me.”
I pressed the cross to Adam’s nonbloody bicep, then glanced in Mandenauer’s direction. “No smoke, no flame, no explosion. Happy?”
The old man lowered his gun. “Ecstatic. Now where is the beast?”
“What beast?” I asked.
“You have a cage in the swa
mp. You have been hunting from a tree. You understand about the silver. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were one of mine.”
“Your what?”
“Jager-Suchers.”
“My German is a little rusty.”
“Hunter-searchers,” Adam said.
Mandenauer’s gaze narrowed. “You know of us?”
“I know a little German. My guess is you hunt things no one else believes in.”
“Ja.”
“You’ll find nothing here.”
“I know better. Even without the physical evidence, the newspaper reports of disappearances and deaths, the rabies concern, there’s what I know about her.”
“Me?”
“Diana Malone, obsessed since her husband’s untimely death with finding evidence of a paranormal creature and clearing his name. For the past four years you have traversed the globe searching. But at last I think you have found one. Why are you not calling the national media?”
I tightened my lips and kept quiet.
“Could it be because you’re in love with the thing?” His gaze turned to Adam. “Lycanthropes are accomplished at the physical. They will do anything, say anything, to keep themselves alive.”
“Are you hinting that I’ve allowed myself to be seduced to the dark side?” I asked.
“It has happened before,” Mandenauer muttered.
“I just showed you that silver doesn’t affect him.”
“Perhaps the beast in the swamp is a different kind of beast from the one I am used to. Perhaps whatever hunts beneath the crescent moon in the Crescent City has grown strong enough to survive the usual methods.”
He lifted his gun, and I stepped in front of Adam again. “No. I mean, yes. But... hell. Adam, I think we should tell him.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“I sent a man down here a few weeks ago,” Mandenauer continued as if we’d said nothing. “He saw wolves where they did not belong, led by a black wolf with all too human blue eyes. Then my man disappeared. Now I learn he was strangled not far from here. Do you know anything about that?”
I started to sweat—actually I’d been sweating all along, it was hot, but the sweat trickling down my back turned cold.
Although Adam hadn’t told me so, I was pretty sure he’d been responsible for the strangulation. What would Mandenauer do if he discovered Adam had killed one of his operatives to protect the evil, murdering loup-garou? Edward Mandenauer might appear too old to do much of anything, but in his eyes I recognized a steely resolve, a lack of compassion reminiscent of the beasts he hunted, and that made me nervous. Because even my grandpa could fire a gun.