A plan slowly began to form and his eyes narrowed.
First, I'll find a way in and retrieve those stupid pictures. That'll get the elders off my ass. Then, I'll kill Kessler's little girlfriend and make it look like our rogue did it. Maybe I'll get lucky and kill the beast, too. The pieta will be all heartbroken and pathetic and I'll be the hero. The Council will probably make me an elder instead of that bitch.
His cell vibrated against his hip and he rumbled in irritation, annoyed at being interrupted when he was in the middle of scheming. Looking at the read-out, he couldn't identify the caller and almost let it go as a wrong number. Just before it went to voicemail, he answered. He couldn't afford to allow anyone to think he was shirking his duties, especially if it was one of the elders calling for a progress report.
"Dalton."
"Hey, Aaron. This is Xander Chiesel. How have you been?"
The voice wasn't familiar and it took a moment for Dalton to remember the man, a skinny, insipid undergraduate from Paul Smith's College at Lower St. Regis Lake. Like most shape shifters in the area, they both majored in Forestry. He had no great desire to talk with the lion-changer, but curiosity won out. What would the Felidae pride leader's son want with him?
"Is there something I can do for you?" Dalton snapped.
"Aw, now. Is that any way to talk to an old fraternity brother?"
The question told him this was going to be personal and that Xander was already trying to kiss up, so it was something not just anyone would be receptive to. In college, Dalton only hung out with Chiesel because of who his father was, going to the same parties and pretending to actually like the guy. Now it looked like all that wasted time might be about to pay off.
Xander spoke into the silence. "Uh, you remember my brother? I'm calling because he's missing and I hoped you'd agree to help me find him."
"Are you talking about that nut who used to follow you around? That's your brother? I thought you just felt sorry for the loser."
Quiet filled the airway and Dalton wondered if he'd gone too far. He didn't mind hurting the little twerp's feelings, but his interest was still piqued. Finally Xander responded.
"Last time I saw him, he was in treatment again up in Canada, but I called and they told me he was released a few months ago."
"Okay, so what do I care? I don't have nothing to do with no institution."
"Well, here's the thing," Xander said anxiously, "No one has heard from him; not me, my dad or even his mate, Thelma. She said she saw him once, about two months ago, but that was it and she said he's not looking very good. I'm afraid he might be in trouble."
"Sorry about your bad luck, but I don't see what I can do for you." Dalton was starting to wish he hadn't answered the phone. He had enough on his plate without getting involved with the Coalition.
"Look, the truth is that he's always been a little different, easy to anger and that kind of thing. Your Pieta was up here about some killings in the area and you know how he always liked the forest around there. If he is up there, someone might suspect him of being involved when I know he isn't."
Dalton started to retort that Kessler wasn't his pieta, but the full impact of Xander's explanation hit him. No matter what he said, Chiesel thought his brother was the one they were looking for.
"Do you mean he's the murdering bastard who's running around tearing up the countryside? This is great; the Council's going to have a meltdown when I tell them this."
"You can't do that!" Xander shouted. "We might go to war over this, and what if it's not him? A lot of people could get hurt and we still wouldn't find the one who's really responsible. Please, his mate is pregnant. At least consider the cubs."
Dalton snorted in disgust. "I heard you'd turned into an emotional wreck, even got a mate and cubs of your own. How cute. The truth is I don't really care about your problems. There's nothing in it for me."
"I'll pay you." That caught his attention and he listened as Chiesel continued. "It's not him, I know it's not. But if it is, we can stop all this before it goes any further. We can get him back and the killing will stop. No one ever needs to know what really happened."
"How much?"
Hearing the future leader of the pride beg for his help was music to Dalton's ears. He'd made up his mind to assist before Xander offered to pay him, but it would be for his own reasons. Not some imagined greater good.
"Fifty thousand?"
"Make it one hundred, half up front and half when we find the runt."
"Done." Xander didn't complain about Dalton's description of his sibling, illustrating just how desperate he was. "I can be in Harmon by noon. Can you meet me at the old lumber yard?"
The building had been abandoned for years and there would be no threat of being seen, but Dalton didn't like being told what to do. He needed time to revise his plans for Kessler, using this new situation with the Chiesels to bring about her fall from glory.
"No. I'm busy looking for your twisted brother and if I suddenly disappear without reason it might look suspicious. I'll contact you later today and tell you when I'm available."
Dalton hung up without waiting for Xander to respond, his mind swirling through scenarios. Movement near the edge of the woods drew his gaze and he watched a heavy raccoon waddle out of the brush, headed toward the back of the house. His jaguar rose up, insisting on being freed to pursue and consume. He almost allowed it until he felt the energy pulsing from the small icon.
Kadin frequently had a counterpart to balance their power, almost like a familiar to a witch. Christine Mafdet had used a raccoon and while Dalton didn't know if this was the same creature, it had the same aura. He wanted to eat it. He sensed the pulse, smelled the warm, meaty flesh and his mouth watered, but he resisted. No one would touch the icon, not even him, but the situation had just become more complicated. If it was here, Chris' replacement had been chosen. Then he realized there was a loophole he could exploit. Grayson wasn't in power yet and until she was, anything that happened to her would be seen as just a tragic accident. There would be no reason to investigate.
Dalton watched the animal climb the back steps and enter the house through a small flap. Once it was out of sight, he stripped and folded his clothing. He hid them behind a clump of brush and assumed his more powerful form, the shape he preferred. Strong hind legs propelled him into the cusp of the tree where he settled down to see what would happen next and await his opportunity to break into the house, perhaps for more than just stealing a few ridiculous photographs.
Chapter Twenty-Four
"HELLO. WHAT ARE you doing here? Just drop by for some breakfast?"
Lee spoke nervously to the gorgeous beast with the twitching black nose. The raccoon had sauntered through the dog door as comfortably as Cleo ever had. It was more than a little unsettling and she still wasn't convinced he was completely healthy, yet there he stood.
Keeping one eye on the critter, Lee finished rinsing out her coffee cup and then set it in the sink. Cleo wandered into the kitchen and approached their uninvited guest at a slow and steady pace. Her body was low to the ground, almost slinking, but not out of any attempt to stalk the animal. Rather, she seemed to be trying not to startle it. When the two were only a few inches apart, the raccoon reached out as he'd done before and rested a gentle paw on the crown of Cleo's head. The dog froze for a second before her inquisitive personality took over and she sniffed the air in front of her new friend.
Lee was surprised that she didn't feel threatened by the raccoon's presence near her dog. Instead he brought a sense of peace to her tumultuous emotions, jangled by the incident with Jamison last night and then meeting with Debbie this morning. A killer running rampant didn't seem as life-altering as it had before.
It's just a raccoon, Lee, she chastised herself. But it didn't matter. Silly or not, she was glad to see him.
The animal dropped the human-like paw from Cleo's head and ambled toward her. He stood up in what was quickly becoming a habit and held his front
legs up, waiting to be held. Lee chuckled and hefted him into the air, wondering if she would see images of the forest again. The thought made her frown.
Chris supposedly had the power of insight and had written that Lee's dreams were the doorway. Now, she was seeing things that were hard to explain. She had witnessed her own body partially transformed and her eyes swirling with unexplained color. Just an hour ago she realized she had to accept what was happening as reality and that meant she had to face that fact that she had inherited her aunt's...gifts.
With the raccoon in her arms it seemed easier to face these impossible things. No longer did they seem like flights of fancy or the product of someone's overworked imagination. They felt real, but there was a part of her that still struggled against the incongruity of something she had always thought of as folklore. She reached down and took the raccoon's small hand in hers. The pads were soft, like a kitten's, but the claws were wickedly sharp. A dichotomy of lethal and benign.
"I'm starting to think you need a name."
He cocked his head and looked into her eyes. Then he twisted to the side and gazed at the floor. "You want down?"
Lee set him on the floor. "What do you think of Benjamin? Or how about Benny?"
The little fellow reached up and took hold of her index and middle fingers and she smiled. "Okay, Benny. Let's hold hands." But he wasn't content with that. Benny tugged insistently.
Looking for a snack? What do raccoons eat, anyway?
He toddled on his hind legs, gripping her fingers as they traversed the room and halted at the door to the lower level. She didn't question his actions and entered the basement without a second thought. For some reason, Lee still felt reassured around the animal and where normally the smell in the root cellar was enough to deter her from going downstairs, this time it was no big deal. Lee was eager to learn what the raccoon was up to and found it interesting how his behavior could be considered almost sentient.
They stopped in front of the warped, root cellar door and Lee finally acknowledged the beginnings of trepidation. Her smile faded as she realized his purpose for standing in front of this particular room. Obviously, he wanted her to enter. Benny looked at the door and back up at Lee, but she still stubbornly refused to move. The raccoon opened his mouth and emitted a soft shrill cry, the first noise she could ever remember him making.
"What? What do you want from me?"
He reached toward the handle with his other paw, but couldn't quite reach it and even if he could, he would never have been able to open the door. The smell emanating from within was stronger than ever. At least she wouldn't have to worry about it much longer. Jamison promised she would be there by ten and although Lee hadn't heard from her this morning, she trusted the woman to keep her word.
Lee finally, reluctantly, opened the door and the raccoon slowly walked inside while keeping his grasp on her index and middle fingers. He headed straight to the back of the darkened room and she pulled the light chain as they passed. Two wooden barrels with iron bands around the top, middle and bottom sat at the very end of the long, narrow space. Soon, they were as close to the containers as Lee had ever been. She could see a small clamp around the top metal ring that held the lid in place. Benny reached up as far as he could and rested his little hand on the side of the wooden surface before he looked at Lee once again.
"Oh, no. You're kidding me, right? You don't seriously want me to open that." Just the thought of it made her want to gag. "Let's wait until Jami gets here."
She tried to turn and walk away, but Benny held on and whimpered. When she looked at him, he slapped against the wood, creating a small thudding sound. She frowned, thinking the noise didn't seem right. Lee had always assumed the barrels contained rotted vegetables, floating in their own disgusting soup, but now she wasn't so sure.
Lee closed her eyes, mentally bracing herself for what she was about to do. "If these are just stinky old vegetables, you're cleaning up the vomit."
She shook his paw loose and unscrewed the clamp holding the top in place. She set the heels of her hands under the lid and pushed upward. At first the metal disc refused to budge, but then it wobbled just a tiny fraction. Lee crouched down just a little and tensed her whole body in a final upward heave. The top suddenly flew off and collided with the wall behind before it clattered to the ground.
The odor hit her full force, causing her to double forward at the same time that an involuntary retch clenched her stomach muscles. Distantly, she heard a keening cry and realized it came from the raccoon that was just as obviously affected. But the smell was nothing. Her vision narrowed down until the only thing she saw was a man's left forearm and hand sticking up obscenely from the congealed blood and gore.
JAMISON SMILED, DRIVING up the narrow lane to Mafdet Manor. It was a few minutes to ten o'clock and following dutifully behind her, as promised, was the man who would cart away the foul-smelling containers. Daryl Hines worked for Waste Disposal, but was more concerned with his personal side business of refurbishing and selling items he found in the garbage. It took some work to drag him away from that endeavor, but a fifty dollar bill did the trick.
She made the final turn that led up to the front of the manor and forgot all about her reason for being there. Black and white law enforcement cars were parked haphazardly on the front lawn. Jamison counted five. To her knowledge, that was the entire compliment of vehicles at the local office. Sheriff Macke must have called in all deputies from every shift.
Lee.
Her first thought was that something had happened to Lee; that a neighbor had found her. Dead, grisly images of finding Hank inside his house caused her heart to stutter. Then she saw Lee standing on the front porch near Sheriff Macke with her arms folded. Her head was down, eyes on the floorboards as they spoke, but she appeared to be fine. The relief that flooded her system left Jamison's hands shaking in reaction.
She stopped as near to the porch as she could past the patrol cars and quickly shut off the engine. Lee looked up and their eyes met through the windshield. A small smile graced her lips and Jamison stepped out of the truck and rushed toward her. Without thinking she embraced Lee, gratified when long arms encircled her neck.
"What happened? Are you okay?"
"She's fine," Sheriff Macke answered, "but I'm glad you're here, Ranger Kessler. I'd like to speak to you for a minute."
Frowning, Jamison looked at Lee for any indication of what the officer wanted, but Lee only shook her head that she didn't know. "All right."
They walked down to the end of the porch while Lee sat on the steps.
"Ms. Grayson called our office this morning because she found a body in her basement."
"A body?" Jamison was completely caught off guard by the statement. "Was there an accident? What happened?"
Sam gave a quick, solemn shake. "Nothing like that and it appears this person has been dead for a while. She found him in the basement stuffed in some old wine barrels."
"Great Mother," Jamison whispered and closed her eyes.
"You know something about that?"
"Only that an awful smell has been coming from the basement for a while now. We just thought it was some old, rotted vegetables."
The sheriff raised an eyebrow and hooked a thumb in her gun-belt as she considered the information. "I don't know how long you consider a while to be, but it definitely wasn't vegetables and the man can't have been there more than five days."
"How do you know that?"
"Um," Sam hesitated and then answered. "Because we think we know who it is."
Jamison was confused. If they had a body, the sheriff should know who it was unless the person had been disfigured in some way. And how could they know the victim had only been there for five days?
"What is it you aren't telling me?"
"Come with me."
Sheriff Macke led her into the yard. Jamison glanced toward Lee as they walked by, but Lee never looked away from the tree line, her expression distraught. Two woo
den barrels stood at the side of the house and Jamison wondered how they got there until she saw a hand dolly nearby. She could smell the decomposition from a hundred feet away, but Sam halted before she could actually see anything.
"I hate to do this to you, Kessler, but I'm going to have to ask you to make an identification. He's not in very good shape and like I said, we think we know who he is. I just need confirmation."
"There's only one person I know of that's died in the last week and whose body is missing." Jamison swallowed nervously. "I'm guessing you've discovered Hank's remains?"
Sheriff Macke nodded. "We think so."
Sam walked toward the containers and Jamison followed reluctantly. Still six feet away, she saw his left hand sticking up in the air. It was close enough. "It's him."
"You sure?"
"I recognize his ring." Her voice caught and Jamison took a steadying breath. "What the hell was he doing here?"
"I don't know. Unless this is someone's idea of a sick joke, we just can't figure it out. Ms. Grayson has called my office twice before and now this, so I'm not sure what's going on."
"You can't possibly think she has anything to do with this?"
Instead of answering, Sheriff Macke asked, "What are you doing here this morning? I noticed you brought someone with a flatbed truck."
"I'm not trying to make off with the evidence, if that's what you're suggesting. I told Lee I'd have someone come out to remove those damned things because they were stinking up the whole house. You didn't answer my question, either. Do you think Lee is involved?"
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