by Ciara Graves
“Better?”
Cold water dripped from my face. My whole body trembled. “Yeah, thanks.” My reflection was terrible, almost worse than when I’d come home after the attack by Liam. The real attack by Liam.
“What was that anyway?” Bowen asked. “Mercy?”
“Just a nightmare,” I replied, but his arched brow and flaring eyes said he didn’t believe a word of it. “Help me to bed, would you? Unless you want me to fall over.”
He picked me up again and, in a blur, we were at the side of my bed, me dizzy.
“Can you not do that again?”
“Sorry, habit.”
I lay down and tugged the covers up, being sure to stay on my back, so my scar didn’t touch anything. The pain ebbed, slowly, but that wasn’t what bothered me. The nightmare of the night I lost my parents was so vivid this time. I was so little and traumatized by the event. I had no idea what truly occurred back then. No one else was there who’d survived, except those who caused it, and they were never caught. I’ve had nightmares all my life, but this time there were details I hadn’t noticed before… but the harder I tried to remember, the further away they were, until they were gone.
“Does this happen often?” Bowen asked quietly after he dragged over a chair, so he could sit nearby.
“Everyone has nightmares,” I whispered.
“Not everyone is cursed. Your scar. It’s bright red.”
Gingerly, I reached up, but I stopped short of touching it. Being that close was bad enough and extremely uncomfortable. My hand fell away. “No, not often. It’s been a while since I’ve had one that bad.”
“And these nightmares? What are they about?”
“What are you? My new nightly psychologist?” I snapped.
He tilted his head back and forth. “If you need me to be.”
Where was the harm in telling him? Not like I had to tell him everything. No, there was only one supe I nearly did that with.
“The night my parents died,” I told him. “The night I was cursed. But there’s no way to know what’s real, and I never remember the details afterward. Just snow falling, screaming, and the bright flash of light.” And the pain. Those were the only nightmares where I woke up experiencing the same pain I went through while sleeping. I assumed it was all part of the curse.
“There are ways to clear up your nightmares.”
“I know, but I don’t want to remember.”
“How can you not?” he hissed hotly.
I sat up when he vanished and reappeared at the windows, staring out over the sleeping city.
“I’m sorry I just… I’ve lost loved ones, and I too suffered afterward.”
“Did you find out who killed them?”
When he glanced at me sideways, his lips parted, and he snarled, eyes flashing the brightest red. “I drained them dry.”
A shiver raced down my spine. Bowen was more dangerous than I gave him credit for, but even though he looked the part of a furious vampire, I wasn’t scared. I was comforted by the knowledge that there was someone else out there who’d lost loved ones and sought revenge.
“Too bad I have no way to know who took them,” I reminded him. “And there were never any leads.”
“So you’re just giving up?”
“What else is there to do?” I shut my eyes and blew out a few heavy breaths.
Bowen let the subject drop.
Every now and then I thought I heard him walking around, but at some point, dozed off.
When I opened my eyes again, the afternoon sun shone through the windows and Damian was on the couch, instead of Bowen. He was reading a paper and drinking coffee from a cereal bowl. I hadn’t replaced my broken coffee mugs yet.
I sat up.
He set both down and nodded to me.
“I passed Bowen on his way out, just before dawn. Told me what happened last night at the bar.”
“And? You going to lecture me again?” I stretched my arms over my head and yawned, face not hurting now, at least. Though sleeping for another day sounded like a great idea. “Well?”
“No lecture, but you do exactly as Bowen says and do not overexert yourself.”
“Not like I started the brawl.”
“For once,” he added in a growl. “He left a note for you on the table.”
I shuffled my way over there, sniffing at the still-brewing pot of fresh coffee, wondering how many cups, or bowls, Damian had already gone through. When I reached the table, I picked up the note and read it.
Bowen left his cell number and said he’d be back after sunset, so we could make our plan to go to Sector 18.
As I read the rest of his note, I cursed and crumpled up the paper.
Rafael had been at the Wailing Siren the night before me. According to Bowen, he’d been asking about me and how I was doing. It would’ve been encouraging if Bowen hadn’t mentioned that Rafael’s partner was there with him. Apparently, she’d been questioning the werewolves about Jaxton. What was Rafael playing at? What was Iris up to?
“Something wrong?”
“No. Nothing,” I told Damian. “I’m going to freshen up.”
“Right, I’ll go grab some food. Have to swing by the office anyway and pick you up some weapons.”
“I have weapons,” I said, confused.
“If you’re going into that damned powder keg that’s ready to blow, you’re going to need more.”
As he drew level with me, his hand reached up toward my scar, and his lips thinned.
But his fingers never reached my face, and then he was out the door.
I hurried to lock it behind him, leaning against it.
After I’d fallen back asleep, there’d been no more nightmares, but that last one stuck with me all the same.
I’d seen something important… what the hell was it?
Chapter 5
Rafael
Sunday came, and I found myself wandering around the city while another round of snow moved in.
Dark clouds hanging overhead, I walked for an hour, then two, not really paying attention to where I was going.
Nor had dropped a few hints that Iris and I would be heading to Sector 18 tomorrow. Or maybe even Tuesday. Neither one of us had returned to the Underground. We’d been too busy running over the background of the deceased alpha, as well as that of the two living ones. As far as I could tell, their histories weren’t that complicated, and there’d been no bad blood between them. Not bad enough for this. Not right now. So if there was a reason for one pack to go after the other, I wouldn’t find it on the computer. I’d have to find it another way.
The Feds already in Sector 18 claimed to have the situation under control, for the most part, but depending on what we uncovered during the investigation, a chance of a turf war breaking out was always probable. Add that to the fact that now there would be those vying for the alpha spot for the Silver Howlers and we were going to be walking into a very tense environment.
The beta would move up to become alpha, but from what I knew of werewolf packs, from now until the next full moon, which was only two weeks away, the beta could be challenged by anyone, up until the final hour of that full moon. Depending on who this beta was, either he or she, would be accepted as alpha and not have to fight, or it was going to be a long, bloody two weeks.
This was one of those times I was damned glad I was a demon, and we did not run in packs. My race had simply been fighting since the beginning for a place in this world and to not be seen as evil. Humans didn’t help our cause at all. Another reason I hated going to any of their sectors.
I rounded the corner at the next block and paused when I saw the Banshee 3000 on the curb.
Mercy’s place.
I’d walked here and hadn’t even realized it. Stepping out of the way of the pedestrian traffic, I moved into the same alley I’d stood the first time I’d surveilled her apartment. The sun would be setting soon, and I should be getting home to make ready for whatever shitstorm this week was g
oing to bring, but I remained right where I was, studying the windows of her place.
Was this borderline pathetic? Probably.
I should’ve called her and seen if she was home, then gone up and talked to her. But if she was still recovering, then disturbing her was the last thing on my mind. And on the other hand, if she was involved with Jaxton Sawyer’s murder, giving her a head’s up that I was on the same case would not end well.
So I watched and waited for a glimpse of Mercy.
The sun set and the street lights popped on. More supes roamed the streets, and I moved further back into the alley, keeping to the shadows.
Finally, a form moved to the windows as the last rays of sun faded away behind the buildings.
I growled. My hands curled into fists.
Bowen.
What the hell was he doing at her place? I was at the edge of the sidewalk, worried Mercy had gotten worse, when I saw her appear in the window next to him.
She threw her arms up and then paced away again.
Bowen was moving around, seeming just as annoyed.
They were arguing about something. Then another man was there. He looked familiar, half-demon as far as I could tell. He stared long and hard out the window, hanging his head.
Whatever was going on up there was not a happy gathering.
Mercy came back, arms crossed.
At least she was up and moving around. I’d take that as a good sign. Being a demon and having a demon’s eyesight gave me a chance to make out more details from this far away than if I was just a human, but I failed at reading lips. Though I tried.
I imagined walking up to her place, knocking on the door just to see what they would all do, until Mercy’s head turned. I panicked, worried she’d spotted me, and I took off down the street, blending into the crowd, walking as quickly as I could away from her place.
One way or another, I had a feeling I’d be seeing Mercy soon enough.
I just hoped it wasn’t to arrest her for the murder of the alpha.
Chapter 6
Rafael
“This is under control?” Iris said the second we stepped out of the transport in Sector 18.
had to agree with her.
She shook her head. “This is crazy. Does Nor know it’s this bad?”
All around us were shouting werewolves being forced behind police lines. The sector was divided worse than I thought, and we dodged a few flying projectiles being chucked from one pack to the other as we hurried to the waiting SUV at the curb. From the look of it, the werewolves were attempting to leave, but an order was put out by the governor that no werewolf was to leave or enter the sector, unless given strict permission. Until we had a solid idea of who the murderer was, they were all to remain here. Not that I could blame them for wanting to leave. With tensions this high, a turf war was bound to break out at any moment. I was surprised there hadn’t been any more deaths.
“Rafael, Iris.” The man in the passenger seat turned around to shake our hands. “Todd. I’ll be your liaison while you’re here. Anything you need, just ask.”
Todd was a lean man with red hair and a beard to match. His yellow eyes designated him as a werewolf.
“Thank you,” I said. “Which pack is yours?”
“Silver Howlers,” he replied, then shook his head. “But I don’t want you to think this will in any way affect you. I’m not technically on the case. Just here to help out where I can. I’m on good terms with all three packs.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, all the same,” I said solemnly, wondering if having him around was a good idea or not. He might not be leading the investigation, but he was part of the pack we would have to tear apart to get answers.
“Thank you. I’ll grieve once this is all over with.”
“Of course. Now then, we are going to speak to the beta first?” I confirmed.
“Jenella Sawyer. Yes,” Todd replied sadly. “His wife. The house will be quite busy, but I’m sure you can understand why. The guards have been tripled, and the family has gathered to be with her during this time.”
“Have there been any open challenges yet?” Iris asked.
“None, but it’s only a matter of time.”
“Even if she’s well liked?”
He nodded. “It’s ingrained in us to test the beta before they turn into the alpha. To ensure they’re strong enough. Most are probably giving her a bit more time to collect herself, but the challenges are coming, that I have no doubt of.”
With any luck, they’d hold off until we finished our investigation. The ride to the home of the Silver Howlers’ alpha and beta took a solid half hour. The road went from pavement to gravel, and the buildings of the town gave way to open fields and forests thick with trees. This was certainly the perfect place for werewolves to roam. Plenty of open space for them to let their beasts out when the time came.
We pulled into a long drive that wound through dense overgrowth so dark it was as if night fell around us. The house that waited at the end of the drive was massive, stone and dark wood, and three stories high. The wrap around front porch was filled with werewolves. They all stopped what they were doing when the SUV parked.
Todd hopped out, nodding to the werewolves.
“Be careful here,” I whispered to Iris before we got out. “Half the pack seems to be here. No siren magic.”
“I know how to do my job,” she said, without a snappy tone, “and trust me. The last thing I want to do is set off an entire house of werewolves.”
We stepped onto the gravel drive and started for the house. Todd remained by the SUV, keeping his distance. I assumed this was because he was part of this pack. I made a note to myself to ask Nor if it was a good idea to have him around, just in case the situation turned ugly.
Todd’s pack mentality would demand he take a side and he would have to decide if he was going to be a werewolf or a Fed first. At the front porch, I waited for the werewolves to snarl at us, give us grief for being there, but they parted and let us inside.
Two large men, about my size, blocked the stairwell as two more closed in from the right and left.
“What’s your business here, Fed?” the baldheaded man to my right asked with a snarl.
I showed him my badge, as did Iris.
He checked them over then handed them back.
I put mine away. “Here to speak with Jenella Sawyer, if she’s up for it. I know how hard this time must be for her, but I’m afraid the longer we wait, the further we’ll get from the truth.”
“That might be, but I think it’d be best if you came back later,” the werewolf said, not rudely, but firmly.
“Thomas? Let them in,” a woman’s voice called from behind him.
He sighed but didn’t say a word against the beta and stepped aside, whispering, “Keep it short,” as we passed.
The room was a parlor of some sort and sitting in a winged armchair by a hearth with a roaring fire was a beautiful woman who appeared to be in her fifties, though I knew her to be much older. Werewolves aged very slowly. Her hair was greying along the sides, mixing with the stark black. Her eyes glowed softly, watching our approach. Scars covered her hands as she motioned us to a small loveseat across from her. Those scars were a sure sign she’d known plenty of fights in her days as beta. She wore nothing fancy, only a single ring on her left hand. But her face was drawn, and she appeared beyond weary.
“I’m sorry for the intrusion,” Iris said softly, “but we need to ask you about your late husband.”
“The alpha, yes,” Jenella mused quietly. “I’m afraid I don’t know how much help I can be in this matter. I wasn’t home when the… the murder occurred, and by the time I received word, well, there wasn’t a scent to follow.”
“You were going to track the killer?” I asked, not surprised.
“I’m sorry, I misspoke,” she said with a growl. “We did track him, but the trail died once we reached the woods leading back toward town.”
“Could y
ou tell anything about the culprit?”
“Male,” she replied. “But the scent was tainted.”
“How do you mean?”
She pondered my question then finally said, “Magic. The scent was corrupted by magic. A witch, if I had to guess, but I can’t say for certain.”
I wanted to say right out it couldn’t be Mercy since she was not a male, but at the same time, the magic tainting the scent could mean she had completely changed herself to take on the task. I’d seen the faces Gigi was able to conjure. How hard could it be for her to transform Mercy fully into another person for a few hours? In my questioning, I’d hoped to learn that Mercy had nothing to do with the murder. But now I was left questioning her all over again.
Iris shot me an odd look which I ignored.
“Can you tell us about the hours leading up to his death?” she asked when I didn’t ask another question. “Was there trouble with any of the other packs? Or any of your own members perhaps?”
“None Jaxton told me about.”
“Did he keep things from you?”
If that was the case, it would be a shock. Most alphas told their betas everything, so if anything happened to them, they would know the specifics of the pack and could take over effectively. Then again, I wasn’t a werewolf, so I could be wrong.
Jenella’s grip on the chair arms tightened as a quiet growl slipped from her lips. “No.” Her eyes flared brighter for a split second.
A sure sign that she’d lied.
“My husband and I had no secrets from one another about anything.” She turned her glare to the fire. “Whoever killed my husband is a coward. That’s the only other thing I can tell you. A coward for not coming outright and challenging him.”
“Was there anyone who wanted to take the pack from him recently?” Iris inquired.
I sensed we were pushing our luck.
“No, not at all. Everyone loved my husband.”
“As they love you?” I asked.
She whipped around to glower at me.
“Just wondering if we should be concerned for challengers coming forward soon. Any of them could be a suspect and if I could get their names now, then maybe—”