"Will do, L. Later."
"Later, Darryl."
I hung up and sat back in my seat pensively. The last few days of phone calls and pounding the pavements had not been productive. Although I was working for the Pack Leader, I was struggling to get help from my usual contacts on the ground. The fact was that, even though I hadn't said anything, everybody knew who the suspects were and they were not that happy about going against the brothers. Whether King was killed or not, there was still a chance that one of them would be the next Pack Leader somewhere down the line, and no one wanted to be on the bad side of a Pack Leader.
I glanced down at the notepad in front of me, on which, at some point that afternoon, I had scrawled three names; Arctic, Hokkai, MacKenzie. The other three Pack Leaders all had something to gain by assassinating King, and had even more to gain by framing one of the brothers. Come to think of it, framing all three of them - or framing a brother but not a specific one - would be even better. Frame Tanner, and Gray would be next in line, but if all three were suspected, then King's death would lead to chaos as power was dragged between different factions supporting each of the brothers. And in the midst of that anarchy, another pack could easily attack and take the Kenai territory. It would be the biggest power shift in the city for generations.
But the fact that it was plausible didn't make it so. The brothers’ motives were just as plausible, together or separately, and the poor relationship they each enjoyed with their father just made it all the more believable.
Since their unexpected visit last Saturday, I had done a bit of nosing around and made up a set of biographical notes on the brothers. It made for pretty wild reading. Tanner's temper had gotten him into trouble more times than I could count; when he was younger, he had crossed the border into MacKenzie territory simply because someone had called him a name. He had taken down five wolves by the time the police showed up and King had had to buy his son out of jail. Gray was more shadowy, he had had a mate, who seemed to have died - though I could find no details as to how.
He had also vanished for eighteen months when he was eighteen, no one knew where he had gone but he had come back with an imposing scar on his chest. As teenagers, they had all indulged a bit in drink and women, partying hard and fucking harder, but Hudson seemed not to have grown out of it. As a young man, he had favored older females of his own species, and however loose were werewolf rules on mating, he had still refused to be constrained by them, forcing his father into some very awkward conversations with members of the Pack Court, whose mates had been appropriated for one night, then abandoned. Perhaps for that reason, or because of changing tastes as he grew up, he had acquired a taste for human women looking for a bit of tail. Six months ago, he had gone missing for a week, and been found, passed out drunk, stark naked, with five human women. His clothing was never found.
At first, it made me wonder if King had a point, but the stories about the youth of the current Pack Leader were at least as wild and were all tempered with violence. There was not a story about Kenai King that did not end in blood.
Night had fallen while I stared at my notes, and I was still pondering what to do next when the phone on my desk rang.
"Malone."
"Miss Malone? This is Kenai Hudson."
These guys surprised me at every turn. I hadn't expected to sleep with Tanner, I hadn't expected to find the three of them in my office, and now they were calling me out of the blue.
"I thought I made my answer clear," I said, laying down the law before he had the chance to say anything.
"I need your help, I didn't know who else to turn to." Now, I could hear the panic, sharp in his voice. "Gray's been hurt."
"Where are you?" Surely, there were better people than me for him to call?
"Sleaford Street," said Hudson.
That was Hokkai territory. No wonder he hadn't called another wolf.
"I'll be there as soon as I can."
"Thank you." I could tell from his voice that he meant it.
I ran out of my office and took the stairs three at a time. Outside, I jumped into my car and headed off into the night, leaving the speed limit far behind me. Questions raced through my head as I drove; what were they doing in Hokkai territory - dangerous for any Kenai wolf, an act of war for a Pack Leader's son? How had Gray been hurt and how badly? And of course; was there a chance that this was a trick, and they were setting me up to get me out of the way?
While I lived next door to the border with Arctic territory, I had to drive all across the Kenai territory to cross into Hokkai-held ground. For a part-wolf, it was as easy as it was for a human, you didn't even notice you were doing it, but for a wolf there had to be a reason.
One of the first things I did when I went into my current line of work was to commit the map of the city to memory. I doubt that even a taxi driver knew their way around the city better than I did - it was my hobby to have an exact knowledge of the city, and I could pinpoint every street and the territory into which it fell. Sleaford Street was not right on the edge of Hokkai territory, but nor was it in the heartland. It was deep enough in that Gray must have had one hell of a good reason.
It was about half an hour after I got the call from Hudson that I rounded a corner onto Sleaford and my headlights caught Hudson standing by the wall with Gray, slumped on the ground behind him. But they weren't alone. Three werewolves stalked towards them, their bodies shaggy with hair, their claws held ready, their teeth bared for action. Hudson had put himself between them and his stricken brother, and as I watched, I saw him change, his shirt splitting as his muscular chest expanded still further, his bright blonde hair seeming to explode across his body. He roared back at his adversaries ferociously, determined to protect Gray.
I didn't hesitate. I slammed my foot down on the gas and plowed the car straight into the leader of the Hokkai werewolves. The wolf flew forwards, bouncing from the hood of my car into a shop, going straight through the plate glass window. Not enough to kill a werewolf, but enough to slow it down, for now.
The second werewolf took to its heels, racing off into the night, but the third stood its ground and snarled at me through my car window, daring me to step out. I did, brandishing my favorite handgun that I always kept in the glove box. The beast snarled, but then took a step back as a shaft of moonlight caught the cylinder of the gun, and the silver bullet within glistened.
I smiled and took aim.
The werewolf's legs seemed to spin on the spot for a minute, like when Scooby Doo started running, and then he took off after his friend like a streak of black, hairy, lightning.
I took a moment to feel smug, but no longer; chances were, he had gone to fetch some friends, and a groan from the shop window reminded me that we were still not alone.
"Get him into the car," I snapped at Hudson, who had been standing, staring, and was clearly impressed by what he had seen.
Now, he leaped into action, shifting back into human and gathering up his brother in his strong arms. I caught the sight of blood in the moonlight and the scent hit me moments later - I may have been only a part-wolf, but the smell of blood is keyed into my DNA at a very primal level.
Hudson laid Gray onto one of the back seats and got in beside him, while I leaped back in and fired up the engine.
"Let's get the hell out of here."
It was only once we were out of Hokkai territory that I spoke. "Any of them know who you are?"
Hudson shook his head. "I don't think so. They knew we were Kenai wolves, but not..."
"You sure?"
"No," Hudson admitted. "But I guess we'll know tomorrow."
"When the whole damn world comes crashing down?" I snapped. "Yeah, that will be a pretty good hint."
"Hey, this wasn't my idea," Hudson defended himself sharply. "And maybe you want to hear the whole story before you start laying into Gray."
Well, that was the sort of opening that a private investigator doesn't ignore. "Perhaps you'd like to tell me that
whole story, then?"
Hudson looked away, down at his unconscious brother. "It's not my story to tell."
"And you aren't my responsibility to rescue. Unless you want me to dump you back in Hokkai land, I suggest you talk."
He shook his head. "I don't think you'd do that."
"Probably not, but I still want to know what happened tonight."
Hudson nodded. "Can we get him home, first?"
I glanced in my mirror to see the face of Kenai Hudson as he looked down at his brother. It was hard to square that face, so filled with fear and love, with the stories of the rampant party animal who thought with his dick and cared about nothing and no one beyond his own pleasure. One look at that face told me that there was at least one other thing that Hudson cared about, and that thing was bleeding on the back seat of my car.
"We're going to need a doctor," I said. "Do you know anyone we can trust?"
Hudson nodded and reached for his phone. "I'll have him meet us at Heir’s House. I believe you know the way?"
I caught the hint of a grin on his face as he referred to my one-nighter with his brother, but it was masking his worry. Hudson was one of those who would be making jokes on his own deathbed, desperately trying to use humor to distract from horror. Right now, I thought he was doing it more for his own benefit than anyone else's. You didn't need to be a medical expert to see that Gray was badly wounded. The thought of losing his brother was more than Hudson could stand to consider, and so he made his jokes, and I was happy enough to let him.
Truth be told, the thought of Gray dying upset me more than I would have expected, as well. Why did I care? I barely knew him. But there it was.
Inexplicably, irrationally, unwillingly, I cared.
And that was bad. Very bad.
“Let’s go.”
Chapter 7
The lounge of Heir’s House was one of those rooms that seems bigger than it is, and it was not small to begin with. The only light came from the roaring fire in the huge grate beneath the marble mantel, and from a pair of elaborate candlesticks on the side tables, which framed the vast couch on which I perched.
Werewolves live in the modern world, they have tablets, iPhones and, of course, electric lights, but many still prefer candlelight and a grand gothic aesthetic - for the look of the thing. This central light source made the boundaries of the room vague and shadowy, the location of the walls and corners became uncertain, making the high-ceilinged room seem more cavernous, as did the grand size of the furniture.
Spread out in front of the fire was a rug that seemed to be made of some animal skin - shaggily haired - but was too large for that. I wondered if it was the skins of King's enemies, stitched together. Three club chairs were arranged about the fire, either side of the couch, their elderly leather, creased, stained and scratched, dented in the middle from the bottoms of successive generations of werewolf nobility. The couch on which I sat was about twice the length of a normal couch, its frame was ornately carved in dark wood, and its cushions had been patched and recovered over and over without ever bothering to remove the previous fabric, making it a hodge-podge of styles and colors in various shades of faded. It was very comfortable, but I sat on the edge of it, clasping my knees, wondering what might happen next.
Confidence was always key in dealing with werewolves, but I wasn't sure where I stood at this moment. I had surely betrayed my client, Kenai King by, yet again, colluding with the people I was supposed to be investigating. On the other hand, I had saved his son's life and potentially averted a war; that had to count for something.
But Hudson had called me. Me. Of all the people out there he could have called - and of all the brothers, Hudson had the most human friends - he had called me. Talk about getting too close to a case. If Gray lived, then probably none of this would matter, the doctor was trusted, I would keep my mouth shut, and neither Hudson nor Gray wanted any of this to come out. But if he died...
The heavy doors that sealed the lounge, opened, creaking on their aging hinges, and Hudson entered.
"How is he?" I asked, but the question was almost unnecessary as I could already see the relief on Hudson's face.
"The jackass has managed to get himself torn up pretty good," smiled Hudson, even his choice of words broadcasting the good news, "but they seem to have gone out of their way to avoid clawing anything too important. He needs to rest up, but he'll be fine. The doctor's going to stay the night in his room, just to make sure."
He sat down heavily on the couch beside me, his smile still beaming. But as he drew in a long breath of relief, the flickering firelight caught the glint of a tear in his eye.
"Fucking idiot," he murmured.
I allowed him to collect himself and he turned to me.
"Thank you. Really. I cannot possibly thank you enough for what you did tonight. You didn't have any reason to help us. In fact, I suppose you had plenty of reasons not to. So... yeah. Thank you."
I shrugged. "Put it down to curiosity."
"I'm told that kills."
"Only cats. I'm part-wolf. We thrive on curiosity."
Hudson nodded. "I've a feeling I know the direction in which this conversation is going."
"Well?"
He nodded. "I owe you at least that. At least an explanation. I hope I can trust you not to let what I'm about to tell you leave this room."
I held up a hand. "If it's pertinent to the case, then I make no promises."
Hudson shrugged. "It's not. I'm sure you will see that it's not. And I trust you to do the right thing once you know the full story."
"Why?" I asked. I genuinely wanted to know.
"Why what?"
"Why do you trust me?"
He gave me a cocky little smile that I fancied reflected the real Kenai Hudson. "If you can explain why you trust a person then it's not trust. Real trust should be like true faith; instinctive and inexplicable. Now, do you want to hear this or not?"
I settled back onto the comfortable couch and indicated for him to proceed.
"Would you like a drink? It's a longish story."
"Sure."
He went to a large stuffed bear by the wall and opened its belly to reveal a drinks cabinet. "Brandy?"
"Why not?"
As he poured, he began to tell his story. "You know, I suppose, that Gray had a mate? Her name was Yuko - Chaney Yuko. She was Gray's mate but..." Hudson paused as he handed me my drink. "You know that it’s said Inuit people have a hundred different words for snow?”
I nodded.
“Werewolves are like the exact opposite of that with the word 'mate'. It’s one word that covers a lot of bases and means different things in almost every case. Maria is now my father's mate - I doubt there's a lot of affection there, but it is recognized. I've mated with my share of females and, by werewolf lore, they all ought to be recognized as my mate, but none of them would say they were. Yuko was Gray's mate, but it was more like a marriage.”
I could already feel the tightness in my chest as the story unfolded.
“That happens for wolves sometimes, just as it does for humans - you find a person you want to be with. Of course, for wolves it's not a constraint, Yuko and Gray were free to take other mates - that's our way. But they chose not to. And that's our way, too. Love exists for werewolves as keenly as it does for humans, just in a greater variety of forms."
He swirled the brandy in his glass and contemplated the flames before us.
"It might surprise you to hear, but I envied my brother. I know what everyone says about me, and it's all true. But that doesn't mean I don't want more, and to see the look that passed between Gray and Yuko, and to know they had something that I could never even imagine - I was envious. I was getting laid six ways from Sunday, and yet he was happier than me. And believe me - I was very happy. Still am. That's beside the point."
He slugged back the brandy and poured another glass before topping me up.
"Yuko's family lived near the Hokkai border. You know
the area?"
I nodded.
"Bad district," said Hudson. "They say the wolves there hunt the rats that live in their walls for food. Nasty area. Wolves from there don't mate with a son of Kenai King, and certainly not exclusively."
"Your father didn't approve."
"If by 'didn't approve' you mean 'hated even the idea' then yeah, he didn't approve." Hudson drank again. "Gray was his favorite before that. Although, it was more a process of elimination, I imagine. Tanner was the hothead and I was the wastrel, but still. He could see how someone clever and thoughtful like Gray could be Pack Leader someday. But not with Yuko as his only mate. What would happen to the next generation? Can't have someone like that diluting the Kenai bloodline. There were fights - terrible arguments. Days when I thought one would kill the other. In the end, Yuko left here, where she'd been living, and went to visit with her family until things between Gray and my father were sorted out."
Another drink vanished, another poured. I struggled to keep up - brandy was stronger than I was used to.
"You know the deal in that area of town. On the border. You accept that shit will, from time to time, go down. And because not even Kenai King wants to be at war with every pack, all at once, little border incursions are overlooked, as long as they're not claiming territory."
"There was a border raid?" I guessed. I had a grim feeling that I knew where this story was going.
"The wolves on the Hokkai side of that border are as poor as those on the Kenai," said Hudson. "There're raids back and forth all the damn time. People get killed." He didn't have to say any more than that. "She was a good female. I mean... She was kinder and more honest than anyone growing up in that area has a right to be. Hard bitch, too. Could teach anyone a lesson in a fight."
"There was no investigation?" I asked.
Hudson shook his head. "As we’ve mentioned, not a strong point or a priority, most times. Not our style. If the raiders had been going after territory, then there would have been reprisals. Or, if it had been an official raid ordered by Hokkai Jack. Or," he looked into the fire, "or, if someone important had been killed. Gray went to our father and demanded action but... no. And maybe father was right. Starting a war over a few lives? Who does that benefit? Still seems a shabby way to treat the death of a good woman."
Her Werewolf Harem Page 5