Beast of All

by J. C. McKenzie

“Some customers report seeing cutlery float in the air, and there’s one account of an older gentlemen freaking out a painter, but the most consistent sighting is of a young man. He’s been encountered several times.”

  “How old was Rogers when he died?” Stan looked up from his notepad. Old cop couldn’t break the habit if he tried.

  “Fifty-two.”

  “Probably not him then. Is the ghost hostile?” I asked.

  “By all accounts, no. Just curious, and a little sad.” He drummed his fingers along the top of the boardroom table. “Has the spineless SRD asshat given you anything?”

  I liked Olly for a reason. My smile broadened. “Not really. He did confirm the Witches went into Gabriola House and never left as far as he knew. He doesn’t have a code, but he’s expected to visit with his dad and guards tomorrow night.”

  “You believe him? Not intentionally leaving anything out?”

  The Werewolves laughed.

  “Swore we wouldn’t get anything from him. He’d rather die. Two strikes to the gut later, and he pissed himself.” Steve tapped his truth-scenting nose. “Five minutes in, he spilled everything and didn’t lie once.”

  “The way I see it,” Wick interjected. “We have two options.”

  His smoldering gaze met mine and held me captive with his intensity. As an Alpha, he wouldn’t break the eye contact, it showed weakness, but as my weakness, I couldn’t look away. My skin warmed under his attention, and my mind reeled to remember what he’d been saying.

  Someone cleared their throat.

  “The two options?” Olly asked.

  “Force our way in, or use magical cloaking and Tucker,” Wick said, his voice breaking the spell he’d cast over me.

  I mulled over Wick’s words. “Either way, we’ll be under attack as soon as we step into the home. If the Pharaoh is anywhere near as paranoid as Lucien was, he will have some sort of magic-stripping spell put in place. But with the first option, we alert them to our presence right away and risk more casualties. My vote is for the Tucker method.”

  “He’s a sniveling brat.” Clint’s lips curled, as he spoke for the first time. “He’ll give away our presence in seconds.”

  Allan shook his head. “If Lucus and Veronika can cloak us to look and smell like Tucker’s guards, then I’m sure they can cloak two of us to resemble the Tucker twats.”

  I beamed at Allan. The Witches nodded. Lucus’s laugh sounded suspiciously like a cackle.

  “Who’s going to play those two?” Stan asked.

  “Oooh!” I raised my hand like an eager six-year-old. “I’ll do it! I can be Agent Tucker Fucker.” When they stared at me blankly, I explained. “Richard Tucker, the dick.”

  Stan shook his head. Whatever comment he wanted to make, he bit it back.

  “I’ll be your daddy,” Wick winked.

  Everyone laughed, except Stan and me. My wolf loved his words, of course.

  My cop partner narrowed his eyes.

  “Um…” I glanced away from Wick’s teasing smile. My cheeks heated. What the hell? He said he wasn’t interested. I’d avoided him because I tried to give him what he wanted. What if I’d been wrong? What happened to moving on with Amanda?

  I paused. A plume of hope bubbled up inside, and no amount of negative thinking could squash it. Regardless of how much I needed to focus on the mission, one thought kept clanking around my head. If Amanda and Wick were still together, why hadn’t she been around this last week?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Mixed messages

  “Most psychologists agree that hostility is really just sublimated sexual attraction.”

  ~Clary, City of Bones, by Cassandra Clare

  We’d taken more than one vehicle over to Kayne Security Solutions, and for whatever reason, I found myself sitting shotgun in Wick’s work truck with no chaperone. His rosemary and sugar scent filled the cab and soaked into my skin. I shifted in my seat, very aware of his proximity. He might sit less than two feet away, but the distance felt insurmountable. Too much lay between us.

  Yet my fingers itched to reach out and touch him. My lips quivered to press against his and re-enact the kiss we’d shared over a week ago.

  We drove in silence. Wick staring straight ahead, while I attempted to follow suit, but continuously snuck sideway glances at the vibrating Werewolf Alpha.

  When we pulled up Wick’s driveway, he shoved the gear in park and turned off the truck. He pocketed the keys, but instead of moving to exit the vehicle, he gripped the wheel while I stared at him.

  “What the hell was that?” I blurted.

  “What?”

  “Back there?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I’ll be your daddy.” I tried to imitate his deep, husky voice and failed miserably.

  Wick smiled. Either at my attempt to mock him, or the memory, but I couldn’t tell which.

  “Why are you flirting with me?” I held my breath and waited for his answer.

  “Do you like it?”

  “No…” My lie stunk up the truck.

  He raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Yes…” My pulse hammered through my body.

  He leaned in. “Then why does it upset you?”

  I gulped. “It confuses me.”

  Wickedness flashed across his gaze, but the twinkling quickly faded, replaced with something colder and darker. He sat back. “Now you know how I feel.”

  What the hell? “You’re intentionally trying to hurt me by teasing? The Wick I knew would never be so cruel.”

  Wick’s lips flattened. “I’m not trying to be cruel. I’m just—” He clenched his jaw and looked out the side window. His grip tightened on the steering wheel.

  “Just what?”

  “Conflicted!” He turned back to glare at me. “Okay?”

  My heart lodged in my throat. I swallowed before answering. “Okay, that’s fair.”

  We sat in silence as I mulled over his words. Maybe he had changed his mind, but if he had, what about Amanda?

  Wick shook his head. “She doesn’t fit in with any of this.”

  Crap! I asked that last part out loud. I mentally face-palmed.

  “We said our goodbyes a week or so ago when we went for that walk. Even without you in the picture, she’s not the right fit for me or the pack, and I think I always knew that. I don’t know what I was thinking. Trying to get over you, I guess.”

  Well, phew. I bit back my cheer at the grimace on Wick’s face. Obviously, he felt bad about hurting Amanda, but at least she was out of the picture now. It didn’t mean Wick had forgotten or forgiven me for, well, everything, but at least a norm woman no longer stood between us. Maybe I could mend this bridge, preferably without groveling. Not that I didn’t deserve to grovel, it just wasn’t the way to Wick’s heart.

  Wick ran his hand through his hair. “I’m struggling to stick to my game plan when you’re near.”

  My skin grew clammy. His uncertainty stabbed at my chest. “Maybe change the game?”

  His gaze softened and he reached out to stroke my cheek. Before his fingers touched me, though, he dropped his hand and looked away. “The very thought of my actions teasing you, gives me hope.” He breathed in deep. “When I know I should have none.”

  “Wick—”

  I reached out. He shrugged my hand away and popped the door open. “It will be easier once this is all over. Then you will go home, and I will move on.”

  He hopped out of the truck and shut the door on my protest. Dang it! I needed to corner that slippery Alpha and hash this out. After the revenge mission was over, I’d do exactly that. Now that I knew Wick still wanted me and he no longer dated Amanda, neither his “conflicted” heart, nor a wild pack of rabid Weremonkeys could keep me away.

  Mine! The beast rumbled, deep in my core. Ours.

  Twenty-Nine

  Beware of asparagus

  “I just want to go in there and get my asparagus or whatever.”

/>   ~Prince William

  With a boring as paper norm scent clinging artificially to my skin, I tugged at my suit and flashed Daddy-Dearest a large smile. “Randall” grinned back. Wick’s toothy smile didn’t fit Randall’s face or personality. It looked all kinds of wrong, but I liked how I could see Wick, even through a thick cloaking spell.

  A glance around confirmed everyone else’s preoccupation with their own fake personalities and new wardrobes.

  I sidled up to Wick-Randall, putting an overly-feminine sway to my hips. “Looking good, Daddy.”

  Wick looked up from fixing his tie, and his gaze widened.

  I walked my fingers up his chest. His fake norm scent tickled my nose and infuriated the beast, but I knew the Alpha lurked under the magical surface. “I think I’ve been a little naughty.”

  Wick barked out a laugh. He glanced at the others, before leaning down. “I’ll just have to put you over my knee and give you a spanking, then.”

  “Now I’ve seen it all.” Steve’s voice, directly to my left made me jump.

  Wick straightened and stepped away from me. He adjusted his suit and pretended to whistle innocently.

  “I think I puked a little in my mouth,” Stan grunted. “You’re supposed to be father and son. Please don’t do that again.”

  With ATF’s entourage, we planned to enter the Pharaoh’s house with nine people in total. With Wick and I acting as the Tuckers, that left seven Werehyenas—Allan, Clint, Ryan, Steve, John, Stan, and Lucus. The aforementioned Witch had refused to allow Veronika to come. Instead, he left her at home to babysit ATF. When I voiced concern, he’d waved me off. “He’s not going anywhere, and she’ll get revenge her own way.”

  When I’d peeked over Lucus’s shoulder at a caged ATF, the agent met my gaze and whispered, “Please kill me.” I’d snarled in unison with Veronika. He deserved whatever she dished him.

  Shaking my head at the memory, I focused on the here and now. Once in, we’d leave the door open for the others. The rest of Wick’s pack and Allan’s horde waited a safe distance away for our signal to enter Gabriola House.

  Steve wrinkled his Werehyena nose. “I smell like piss.”

  “How’s that any different than usual?” Ryan bumped his shoulder.

  “Fuck off,” Steve said without heat. He brushed down his clothes again. A few months ago, in a Bola inspired rage, the two had been at each other’s throats, literally. Steve wanted to kill Ryan because he’d made a comment about the size of his junk, unwarranted, and Ryan tried to squeeze the life out of Steve because he made a comment about how I’d used his attraction for me as a means of escape.

  Still felt bad about that.

  Ryan viewed me as a lesser being than the mud on his boots.

  “Let’s do this.” I shoved both of them forward. “Look guardly.”

  The Werewolves snarled and growled at me, some in play like Steve, some not-so-jokingly, like Ryan. They had to know they far-exceeded the Werehyenas we’d taken out, but they acted like I’d mortally offended them, or something. Or were they playing with me? Hard to tell with Werewolves sometimes. The “guards” turned stiff and moved to surround me and Wick-Randall as we climbed into the vehicles. We were kilometers away from Gabriola House, but I guess the wolves were getting into character.

  “Tsk, tsk.” Wick shook his head. “Riling up the help is so beneath you.”

  “Not at all. If I’m Richard Tucker, it’s in character.” I straightened my tie. “Expect excessive douche-baggery from this point forward.”

  Ryan turned around from the driver’s seat and sneered at me. “How’s that any different than usual?”

  I barked out a laugh. My chest warmed. He’d used the same line on me as he had with Steve. Aww, how sweet.

  “Fuck off!” And just like Steve, I said it without heat.

  Ryan grunted. Steve turned to me from the front passenger seat and winked.

  Guess Ryan was on the path to forgiveness. That would be nice. I had apologized. Repeatedly.

  ****

  The drive went smoothly considering Vancouver traffic generally sucked no matter the time of day. I refrained from playing with Wick. Flirting in the middle of a mission never boded well. Not only did it feel wrong with him in a Randall façade, but I didn’t want to make Ryan and Steve sick. Plus, I got the sense Wick didn’t trust me. I needed to fix that first.

  We pulled up the street to Gabriola House, parked, and climbed out of the car. The other vehicle, full of our fake guards pulled up beside us. As a group, we headed toward the entrance. The Gabriola sandstone slabs loomed down as we closed in on the house, passing the sprinklers.

  “You’re late,” a Werehyena guard with a big nose and greasy hair spat at our approach. His well-tailored suit did little to hide his soiled personality. The stench of hyena flooded my nose. Riding in the car with Ryan and Steve cloaked in the thick odour had been bad enough, but now, with the real deal looming down at us while four other guards joined him, my nose hairs shrieked in horror and curled up to hide.

  Wick-Randall tugged his sleeves down and twisted his lips in a sneer. “I don’t take orders from you, mutt.”

  Hah! Wick totally nailed Randall’s condescending tone.

  I smiled smugly at the guard.

  He grumbled and swiveled on his foot. The other guards nodded and followed. Yes! They bought it. Then again, acting like an asshole wasn’t too hard for any supe. Call it a defense mechanism against anti-supe vigilantes, years of persecution and general hatred.

  We followed the real Werehyenas up the front steps and into the house. As soon as we stepped over the threshold, my skin tickled then stung, as if I’d decided to lightly bathe in acid. Wick’s appearance wavered beside me. His Randall persona fell away as if washed off by an invisible shower. He met my gaze and nodded. We’d have to act quickly, now. The stripping of our disguises probably triggered a silent alarm somewhere.

  “What the—” The greasy guard had no chance to finish his sentence. My fist in his face stopped his words.

  I stepped to the side, wrapped my arm around his neck, and with my new position behind his back, snapped his neck.

  Geez, been doing a lot of that lately. One trick pony.

  My beast chuffed and preened. Her satisfaction with our actions grew like a warm bubble in my core.

  Wick, Ryan, Steve, and John moved out and took down the other guards, swiftly, smoothly, and more importantly, quietly.

  “Well…” I looked down at five very-dead guards. “That was easy.”

  “Let’s move.” Wick nodded toward the interior and broke into a slow jog as we moved to follow.

  After we passed an ornate terra cotta fireplace, a grand staircase greeted us. The elaborately decorated walls stared back as we climbed the steps, no doubt holding their own memories from the passing years.

  A door clicked in the distance. Deep voices called out, the language unfamiliar. The house shook. The sound of something large, like stone or concrete, rumbled. Wick threw open the study door, and we stumbled in to find a team of Werehyenas standing guard. Along with the lingering smell of dirt and dampness, the old as fuck scent of dried leaves wavered, growing fainter. I peered around the guards as we lunged forward to attack. No Pharaoh. He’d slipped out somehow. And no other Vampires. The few he kept with him at all times as guards must’ve gone with him.

  A fist glanced off my jaw. I stepped to the side a split second too late. Another hit my gut, hard. I fought the instinct to double over and cry for my mamma. Instead, I called for the beast. She rose fast and hard, relishing in the grunts of pain and spurts of blood from the surrounding fight. My bones ached and snapped as they stretched. I grew from my normal five-foot-ten frame to over eight feet.

  The Werehyena who’d hit me stepped back to stand with the others who surrounded me, eyes wide. I stretched my arms and wings, and roared.

  Gabriola House shook as fire raced through my veins.

  No one else had shifted. Weres took too l
ong to complete the transformation process, and it left them vulnerable. Instead, they stayed in human form to fight. At least they had been fighting. Now the real Werehyenas stood frozen as they watched my transition, gazes wary. Team Andy moved swiftly to take them out. I grinned and let a growl vibrate deep from my chest. The sound triggered the Werehyenas, and they moved. I jumped into the fray and took out as many of the enemy as I could.

  Minutes later, I stood, sweat-free, in the middle of the study surrounded by dead, dying, or knocked out Werehyenas. Team Andy suffered no casualties.

  “That was fun,” I rumbled, my beast voice much deeper than my human one.

  Stan frowned at me. As the only norm in the group, he’d been the most vulnerable, but a quick glance and sniff, he appeared unscathed. He held his gun loosely at his side, finger off the trigger. Gunpowder lifted from his skin and surrounded him like an invisible cloud.

  That’s right. I’d heard a shot or two. He must’ve squeezed off a couple of rounds.

  Stan’s gaze traveled up and down to take in my beast form. He looked away quickly and shuddered. “Still not used to seeing you like that.”

  “Like what? Awesome?”

  He barked a laughed and turned back to me. “Intimidating.”

  “Please, like I didn’t scare you before.”

  Stan grunted. “Not like this. Besides, hard to be scared of a scrawny nitwit who’s been shot in the butt…twice.”

  Wick growled. He didn’t know about the last time I’d been shot. Gauging from his flashing gaze and stiff posture, he wasn’t too pleased to learn of it now.

  “Not by me,” Stan snarled at him.

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The sound bellowed out of my throat before I could gulp it down. The sight of my middle-aged, balding, beer-bellied norm friend staring down a virile, giant Werewolf Alpha while looking indignant at the same time cracked my funny bone.

  “Hate to break this hi-lar-ious moment,” Steve interjected. “But the Pharaoh?”

  “Gone.” I straightened and cleared my throat. “Must’ve been a silent alarm triggered by the entrance’s magic-stripping spell. He left this room before we entered.”

  “How the fuck is that possible?” Ryan kicked an unconscious Werehyena.