Wolf Hunter

by Jane Godman

  Before Sebastian could answer, Cindy, who had been searching through the drawers in one of the kitchen counters, gave a little cry of triumph. “Found it!” She held up a white business card. “Although I’ve no idea why I put it there.”

  “What are the names of the officers who returned Hendrik’s car?” Madden asked. “I’ll probably know them from my time with the Fairbanks Police Department.”

  Cindy glanced at the card. “Chadwick and Fenk.”

  “What?” The growl that left Sebastian’s lips echoed around the room. His companions stared at him, clearly startled. They could sense his outrage, but the names meant nothing to the others.

  “Chadwick and Fenk,” Cindy repeated nervously. “Although, now I look closely at it, this isn’t a police logo, and the contact details are just the words ‘byte me’ repeated over and over.” Her lip wobbled. “They weren’t police officers, were they?”

  A stunned silence followed her words. It was broken by the sound of the door opening.

  Everyone turned in time to see Hendrik Rickard walk through the door.

  * * *

  Six months ago, Cindy had longed for this moment. She had made bargains in her head. Let him be okay and I’ll enroll in that secretarial course he keeps telling me I should do. If he would just walk back through that door, I’ll never complain again about the way he spills coffee on the table and doesn’t clean it up.

  Now? Now, her heart felt like a red-hot coal embedded in her chest and her throat was closing so rapidly she was in danger of choking. She could see her own shock reflected on the faces of the brotherhood members. Probably it was worse for them. Because they were the ones who had found him. After Ivan Joseph had finished with Hendrik, there hadn’t been much left of the man they had known. His friends had been the ones to dispose of his body.

  The police had never found the body of Hendrik Rickard, esteemed Alaskan politician, but, because of the overwhelming forensic evidence left by Ivan Joseph, they knew he had been murdered by the brutal predator known as the Cage Killer. Another key feature in the werewolf world was to ensure that DNA evidence did not fall into the hands of the human authorities. No one wanted that scrutiny. The brotherhood had ensured that there were enough clues for the police without leaving any traces of Hendrik’s werewolf DNA.

  “Guys. I wish you could see your own faces.” Hendrik shook his head with mock severity. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. There’s no need for all this guilt just because you snuck in here and drank my coffee while I was out at the gym. Unless . . .” He glanced at each of them in turn, raising a brow at their stunned expressions. “Tell me that’s not the last of the coffee?”

  One of the best things about Hendrik had always been his laugh. It was a bright, blissful sound, the laugh of a man who loved life and wanted to share the feeling with those around him. Cindy hadn’t realized until now how much she’d missed that laugh. She listened as it echoed around the kitchen, resonating with each of the people gathered there. She didn’t have the benefit of the telepathy that the brotherhood shared. She didn’t need it. She could read their minds.

  What the fuck is going on here?

  Hendrik draped a casual arm around Cindy’s shoulders, dropping a kiss onto the top of her head. His touch broke her trance and she glanced at Sebastian. His face was expressionless, as if someone had pulled down a shutter on his thoughts.

  “Okay, I’m officially freaked out now.” Hendrik’s smile started to fade. “What’s going on here? Why is everyone looking at me like I’ve got two heads?”

  As he spoke, Valetta entered the kitchen from the hall. Her head was down as she frowned over a letter. Looking up, she started to speak. The words died on her lips when she saw Hendrik.

  “Dad?”

  “Hey, there.” Hendrik’s eyes lit up as they always had when he saw his daughter. “I didn’t know you were here. I thought the brotherhood had gathered for a meeting.”

  He had barely finished speaking before Valetta crumpled to the floor in a faint. Luckily, Samson’s reflexes were fast enough to enable him to catch his wife before she hit her head on the marble tiles.

  “Don’t touch her.” Samson’s lips drew back in a snarl as Hendrik rushed forward to help.

  “Don’t touch my own daughter?” Even though she understood Samson’s fears—even though her pulse was jackhammering with a mix of shock and disbelief—Cindy’s heart was touched at the bewildered expression on Hendrik’s face. “What are you talking about?”

  “What am I talking about? How about we start with how you died six months ago? Then we’ll move on to how the fuck you just walked back in here like nothing happened.” Samson almost ran out of the room, cradling Valetta in his arms.

  “This is a joke, right?” Hendrik ran a hand through his hair. “It’s sick, but it has to be a joke.”

  No one answered.

  Chapter Eight

  “Cindy, you can’t be part of this madness.”

  The pleading note in Hendrik’s voice as he caught hold of Cindy by her upper arms was harrowing. Sebastian tried to tell himself he wanted to make that heartrending sound stop. That was the reason he wanted to storm across the room and drag Cindy away from Hendrik. That and the fact that, six months ago, he had sobbed as he cradled this man’s torn body in his arms. Together with his friends, he had made the hardest decision of his life. There had been no way back from those injuries for Hendrik. He would have lived because he was an Arctic werewolf and he couldn’t die without the light of the midnight sun. But he would have forever been broken. They couldn’t have let their strong, proud friend suffer in that way. With a heart that felt like it was filled with broken glass, Sebastian had been the one who wielded the ax.

  My friend. My mentor. My responsibility.

  All of the brotherhood members who had served with Hendrik had loved him. Jenny and Vigo had not been part of the team back then. Together with Sebastian, Wilder, Samson, Lowell, and Madden had been Hendrik’s teammates. Any one of them would have performed that final kindness. But they had stepped aside for Sebastian, understanding the deeper bond between the two men.

  Now this? This travesty?

  And, on top of everything, he had to witness Hendrik putting his hands on Cindy as if he owned her. In the midst of everything, that shouldn’t be the worst part. But it was. The shell-shocked look on her face tore through him like razor wire slicing into his chest.

  “My God.” Hendrik’s voice rose on a note of disbelief as he gazed at Cindy’s face. “Why are you doing this?”

  She turned to Sebastian, an appeal in her eyes. “We have to take him to the memorial. Just you and me.”

  He didn’t have to think about his response. She was right. Valetta was clearly in shock after walking in and seeing her dead father apparently come to life. That left him and Cindy as the two people who, after his daughter, had been closest to Hendrik. Whatever was going on here, they had to be the ones to step up and resolve it.

  He picked up his car keys, turning to Madden. “Tell Valetta where we’ve gone in case she wants to join us.”

  “Care to let me in on this little secret?” Sebastian had never heard that hard note in Hendrik’s voice. Persuading him to accompany them to his own memorial wasn’t going to be easy. “Where are we going?”

  “Cindy and I want you to come with us to City Hall. Hopefully, it will help us convince you of what Samson was saying and help us make sense of this for you.” Why was he being tactful? This isn’t Hendrik. Even as his brain screamed the words, his eyes and ears couldn’t find any fault in the image before him. It was a flawless replica.

  And what the fuck was this about? How many shocks could this day deal him? He had just been getting used to the idea that Fenrir and Chastel could be united in evil when Cindy had read the names on the card given to her by the two men who had claimed to be cops returning Hendrik’s car. And, yes, I get it. The clue is in the initials. Fenrir and Fenk? Chastel and Chadwick? Could it really
be so glaringly obvious? Yet it was typical of Chastel’s approach. Trickery was his signature. He wanted to be cunning, but not so cunning that he wasn’t going to let the brotherhood know he was involved. The blow about the names had barely registered when Hendrik had strolled through the door as though he really had been out at the gym for a few hours. Yes, it was shaping up to be quite a day. And it wasn’t yet noon.

  “I leave my house for a workout, get back to find you guys here—and you know that has never been a problem, my door has always been open to the brotherhood—and you are all acting weird. My daughter takes one look at me and passes out. Her husband won’t let me go to her. Now you’re expecting me to swallow a story that I died, so I shouldn’t be here? And you want me to come on a ride with you and Cindy so you can prove it? I’ll pass.” The look of disbelief had been replaced by one of sorrow as Hendrik looked at his friends. “But I think it’s time you left.”

  “Hendrik.” Cindy’s soft voice drew his attention back to her. “Do you trust me?”

  “I always have.” His lips twisted into a parody of his former smile. “Although I have to admit it . . . right at this minute, I’m not so sure.”

  “Come with me.”

  Hendrik gazed down at her face in silence for a few seconds, then he nodded. “Okay . . . but this punch line had better be pretty damn good.”

  * * *

  Cindy didn’t know what the explanation was. Part of her hoped it would turn out to be the simplest one. That this was a nightmare and she would soon wake up. The breeze on her face, the sweet trill of birdsong, and the scent of freshly cut grass as they approached the memorial told her that there was little chance of that. This was real.

  The next thing that occurred to her was that this was Hendrik’s ghost. If that was the case, they had a problem. A corner of her mouth lifted in a parody of a smile. However you looked at it, they had a problem. If this was a ghost, it was an unusual haunting. This guy didn’t know he was a phantom. Cindy was no expert. She supposed it was possible this had happened before. For all she knew, it might be a regular occurrence. There could be hundreds—even thousands—of spirits all over the world who didn’t know they weren’t dead. Somehow, she doubted that was the case. She’d have expected the stories to hit the headlines now and then.

  As they trod across the damp grass and stood before the marble column, she kept her gaze on Hendrik’s face. All she could see was genuine confusion. It was as if the last six months hadn’t happened. As if he really had walked out two hours ago and come back to find his whole world titled off course.

  What about us? The ones who lived through those six months? What about the way this is affecting our world? Sebastian was right. Whoever was responsible for this insanity had to be stopped. This might be Chastel’s—assuming the perpetrator was Chastel—idea of a joke, but it was taking Hendrik’s friends and family to a point beyond pain.

  They stood together, a silent, formal threesome. Cindy remained in between the two men, close enough to touch either of them, but not making contact, while Hendrik read the inscription on the stone. “Hendrik Rickard, a true son of Alaska.”

  “You must see we couldn’t involve the whole town in the sort of practical joke of which you’re accusing us,” Sebastian said.

  “I need to sit down.” Hendrik stalked away to the bench.

  After exchanging a look with Sebastian, Cindy followed him. Was it really only two days since she had sat here after tidying this area? If she’d had a crystal ball back then in which she could see her future, what would she have done? Common sense would have told her to start running and not look back. But that would have meant she wouldn’t have gotten close to Sebastian. She’d have missed those spellbinding moments of heat and magic. No matter what other madness was thrown her way, she wouldn’t swap that, wouldn’t take safety over how he made her feel. She had no idea what the future held for them—after the events of the last few hours was there even going to be a future?—but their one night together had been worth a lifetime of lesser memories.

  Hendrik sat with his head bowed. Cindy joined him on the bench while Sebastian leaned against the tree that grew next to it. Whatever was going on, Cindy found it hard to believe that this was a spirit inside Hendrik’s body who was putting on an act. She didn’t know how this impersonation had come about, but she could tell he was genuinely devastated. His breath left his lips in quick, agonized gasps as though he was fighting to get it out of his lungs, or battling to draw more oxygen in. The hands that hung loosely between his knees were shaking like leaves in a windstorm.

  The chances of Chastel—because she was going to go along with Sebastian’s theory and assume the bounty hunter was at work here—finding someone who looked and sounded exactly like Hendrik were remote enough. Chastel would have then had to painstakingly coach his puppet in the role. Would it have been worth it to the bounty hunter to spend six months training this man, just for the pleasure of knowing how much pain and shock he had caused Hendrik’s friends when this guy walked through the door? Possibly. Chastel was a sadistic bastard, with an eye for detail. But to have found someone who also had the acting ability to pull this off? Cindy couldn’t believe Chastel had been so lucky.

  Ruling out the unthinkable—This cannot be Hendrik—that left only one option. Chastel was using his powerful magic. There was a strong probability that this man was someone he had picked at random on a street somewhere. A man who started the day looking nothing like Hendrik Rickard. The poor guy had probably never even heard of Hendrik or the Brotherhood of the Midnight Sun. Chastel’s sorcery was so strong, he could create an illusion and fool everyone into believing this man was Hendrik returned from the dead.

  It was a scary thought. Hendrik’s murder had rocked the world. He was an esteemed politician who had been murdered by a serial killer. It had made news headlines around the globe. There were only eleven people who knew the true story. The seven members of the brotherhood plus Cindy, Valetta, Odessa, and Maria. She supposed the goddess Angrboda and her partner Gunnar, the former brotherhood leader should be added to that list.

  If Chastel was attempting to fool the world by appearing to bring Hendrik back to life in this way, he hadn’t bargained on there being a hidden story. A devastating secret that meant Hendrik couldn’t return. The friends who had scattered his ashes on the hillside near Bear Paw Butte would never be fooled, no matter how convincing the impersonation.

  But that still left the problem of this man and the part he was playing. Chastel didn’t care what happened to his mind-control victims. On the contrary, he had a nasty habit of using them as weapons, getting them to kill other people, or to commit suicide once he had no further use for them. Cindy didn’t like the Hendrik lookalike’s chances of surviving this masquerade, but she knew Chastel would get maximum impact out of him before he was done.

  “I guess my first question is a simple one.” Hendrik lifted his head. “How am I supposed to have died?”

  And there it was. The question supported her theory that this was about mind control and magic. Whoever this was, he believed he was Hendrik. Convincing him otherwise was going to be like trying to stop the midnight sun from holding its position on the horizon.

  “You were murdered.” Although the words were stark, there was a gentle note to Sebastian’s voice. Cindy guessed his thought process had been the same as hers. “By the Cage Killer. Does that name mean anything to you?”

  A frown pulled Hendrik’s brows together. “Maybe. I don’t know.” He gave a shaky laugh. “I don’t know anything much anymore.” He turned to Cindy, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “Only one thing seems real. And that’s you. I’m so glad to be back with the woman I love.”

  * * *

  “I’m not letting you do this.” Sebastian’s jaw was stiff with rage.

  “Don’t you see?” Cindy placed a hand on his arm as she spoke, keeping her voice low and soothing. “As soon as he said he loved me, he betrayed himself. Hendrik didn’
t love me. But only he and I knew that. Everyone else believed we were a couple. Chastel is controlling this guy, sending him here to impersonate Hendrik and making the assumption that we were together.”

  “Right now, I don’t give a fuck what Chastel is doing. What you are suggesting is crazy. If you pretend to go along with this guy, you are placing yourself at risk and I won’t tolerate that. No way.”

  “Cindy has a point. I think we should give this some thought.”

  As soon as Madden spoke, Sebastian’s anger found a focus and he swung around to face his friend. “If she survives this, I suppose you’d like her to go to Svalbard next so she can stick her head inside the jaw of a polar bear?”

  Although he kept his voice low, he wanted to shout out his rage so the whole world could hear him. What he really wanted to do was seek out the Hendrik impostor and beat the guy to a pulp. But what use would that be? It wasn’t his fault he was the poor stooge Chastel had chosen for what was possibly his most daring prank. It was certainly Chastel’s most high-profile stunt.

  While the brotherhood was huddled in Valetta’s room, Hendrik was downstairs in his study making calls. Cindy, who had used the excuse of taking him coffee to find out what was going on, confirmed that he had already spoken to the governor and the chief of police. A press conference was being organized at City Hall for the following day. Fake Hendrik wasn’t doing things quietly. In twenty-four hours’ time, his return to the land of the living was going to rock Alaska and the wider world the same way his death had six months ago.

  “Think about it,” Madden urged. “With Cindy on the inside, we get to know what’s going on twenty-four-seven.”

  With Cindy on the inside? Sebastian was thinking about it. He was thinking so hard his head was in danger of exploding. This phony thought he was in a relationship with Cindy. That meant he thought he could put his hands on her any time he wanted. Thought he could stick his tongue down her throat, paw her soft flesh, even go as far as . . .