by Tegan Maher
She popped her head around the corner leading into the living room, then rushed over to help me before the mountain tumbled. Shaking her head and smiling as she took my coffee and the takeout, she asked, "Ever heard of making more than one trip?"
"Too much work. I'm beat." I plopped the files in the center of the coffee table and pulled my weapons belt off. Kat hung it on the hook by the door as I collapsed onto the couch, stretching my neck back over the edge of it.
Chaos hopped onto my lap and I ran my hand down the black stripe that ran from her ears to the tip of her tail. It stood out in stark contrast to the rest of her gleaming white fur.
"Rough day?" She sank down beside me and straightened my strewn files into an orderly pile.
I huffed out a breath, blowing my bangs out of my face. "You have no idea."
"Aww, I'm sorry, sweetie. Wanna talk about it?" Kat checked her watch. "I've got, like, ten minutes before I have to leave for work."
I waved her off as Chaos stepped off my lap onto the cushion beside me, then curled up in a ball facing us. "Nah. It's a whole boatload of crap, and I don't even know where to start. Maybe tonight over a bottle of wine. Or two."
She patted my leg. "Well, if you wanna talk before then, you know where to find me. Stop by and I'll buy you a glass of wine." She got up and sauntered to the door, pausing before she left. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to ask for some help sometimes. You don't always have to carry the entire load by yourself."
I gave her a half-smile, remembering Sully's words. "I know. It's just that I really don't know where to start. Things are getting ugly and it's gotta stop. Sully suggested I contact the local shifters and bring them into the loop."
Tilting her head, she said, "That's not a terrible idea. Even creating some awareness will make it tougher for the wolf to hide. I could check around if you want, too. I mean, I haven't smelled any more of your kind around here, but that doesn't mean one of my patrons doesn't know something."
Kat had quite a fan club, and many of them were people who could pull some serious strings. She was a networker, and had managed to amass quite the grapevine in both the human world and the supernatural one. Another advantage of being three hundred, I supposed. Plus, she had her own skill set that could help.
Kat possessed the stereotypical power of persuasion—which really was a stereotype. Most vampires had at least one gift, but they varied. She just happened to have that particular skill, and she could also read minds, or at least pick up emotions.
When we'd first met, that had taken a while to get used to, because she said I broadcasted like a radio station, with zero filter. I'd gotten better at it, but if was trying to keep something from her, I'd end up reciting my multiplication tables or the different cuts of steak. As a werewolf, it was hard for me to think of anything else when I had steak on the brain.
Of course, then she knew I was hiding something, but at least she didn't know what. She was also crazy strong, which came in super handy when we need to vacuum under the furniture but sucked when she'd go to the gym with me to keep me company.
Lucky for most, she was a live-and-let-live type who had no interest in world domination. She didn't even want the responsibility of a library card. That's not to say that she didn't get in the occasional rumble, though.
I would have been nuts to turn down the offer. "It would be great if you can keep an ear out." I frowned as I glanced at the files; a corner of one of the pictures was sticking out and I didn't have to see the rest of it to know what it was. "This can't keep happening."
She nodded as she stepped out the door. "I'll see what I can find out."
Chaos rooted in closer to my leg and wrapped her tail around herself, then shut her eyes. I smiled and stroked her again. "Wanna trade places for a day, girl? I'd love to just curl up on the couch and sleep." She peeped an eye open, then let it drift shut, obviously unwilling to give up the comforts of being her.
I picked up my latte and took a sip as the door clicked shut behind Kat. The silky texture of the coffee and the rich and spicy flavors of white chocolate and cinnamon were comforting as I poured through pages that were already dog-eared, hoping to find something I'd missed.
The first victim was Victoria Temple. I looked through her file first, even though I'd just been over it a couple of hours ago. Nothing new stood out. She was forty-five but looked ten years younger, five-five, blonde, and pretty in a Midwestern way.
Based upon her build, she was a regular runner. Since she was wearing running clothes, it didn't take a genius to figure that's what she'd been doing when she was attacked.
The smiling face on her driver's license made me sad. And mad. She was a tourist from New York, just escaping the grind of her nine-to-five accounting job for a week. She left a city with one of the highest murder rates in the country, then got her throat ripped out in our charming little town that had fewer crimes in a year than her office block had in a day.
The M.E. put her time of death at around an hour before I'd gotten there.
Tabitha Young's file was similar: an attractive blonde, twenty-three, wearing jogging attire, also about five-five. Unlike Victoria, Tabbie was a local and we knew for a fact she'd been out running. Her boyfriend reported her missing when she wasn't home when he got back from work. They'd planned to go to dinner when he got off work at 8 p.m. Her running shoes and earbuds were gone, and she generally ran around at six-thirty in the evenings.
Both victims were in excellent physical condition, but had nothing on a werewolf, or even a regular wolf for that matter. Were the similarities in appearance a coincidence? I wanted to believe that, but it didn't feel right in my gut.
So that brought me full circle. I couldn't find one single place where these women connected, and they were from different places. Victoria was a photographer and Tabbie was a waitress at Dana's Diner in town.
I studied every single report and picture in each file until my eyes crossed, then examined the tuft of fur. I'd kept it out of evidence because, well, the last thing I needed if the FBI came in was to just hand over proof that werewolves existed. That'd fire up their forensic scientists for sure.
I closed the files and leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling while my mind tried to arrange the pieces.
Taking a deep breath, I had to admit there was another angle I had to consider. It was possible somebody was jacking around with me personally in order to light a match within my pack. We'd been on solid ground for a long time, but I'd only recently started running the territory by myself. It could have been a power play.
I stared out the dark window, thinking, and my wolf stirred. The sun had set half an hour ago and I was blonde, just over five-five, and athletic, plus I loved to jog. Yet another reason I was starting to feel this was personal.
I pushed off the couch and went to get dressed, finally feeling like I was taking some action. Time to see what he'd do with a victim who could bite back.
CHAPTER THREE
I JOGGED ALONG THE same path I'd taken that morning, the moon peeking through the trees and dappling the path. Although it wasn't quite full yet, it bathed the ground in a milky light. Even without my enhanced vision, I probably would have been able to see.
I'd slathered myself in orange oil, hoping if the killer showed up, he wouldn't figure out I was be a threat until it was too late. The downside to the oil is that it interfered with my sense of smell, too. I'd have to depend more on my hearing and vision.
I scanned my surroundings using my peripheral vision, careful not look like I was out doing anything other than enjoying a nice evening run.
The forest was unnaturally still; not even the sound of crickets or katydids broke the silence. Nothing but the sounds of my shoes on the pavement and the trickle of the creek that ran several feet to the right of the path.
I didn't like it. My wolf was antsy, growling that something wasn't just off; it was way off. She was howling to get out.
To my left and about ten feet b
ehind me, I thought I heard a bush rustle. The hair on my arms stood on end as my ears strained to hear even the faintest sound. Nothing. Just the water and my pounding heart.
I kept jogging, playing the victim, out for a run without a care in the world.
The snap of a twig followed by a low growl brought me to a complete stop. I turned around slowly just as a giant black wolf with topaz eyes step onto the path twenty yards behind me. His lips curled back, exposing glistening white teeth.
I pulled in a breath when I saw how big he was, thankful for once that my brothers had never cut me any slack when we sparred.
Keeping my eyes locked with his, I sidestepped off the path, away from any prying eyes. If possible, I preferred to lure him into the woods and away from any potential humans that may happen by.
I gathered my magic with the intention of paralyzing him in order to take him to the pack. We needed to learn his identity and find out why he was killing people. It was possible he was rogue—it happened sometimes, especially if somebody wasn't trained to control his or her changes. There was also the chance he had an endgame or was working with somebody.
I rubbed my hands together, but my magic sparked, then fizzled. I swore under my breath. Of all the times for it to fail. One glance told me I had about ten seconds to defend myself. I crouched in the brush, maintaining eye contact as he stalked toward me.
The first ripples of my change were cascading up my spine. It was so natural to me that if I had to, I could change mid-leap and attack in wolf form before my paws hit the ground.
He leapt forward, but before I could complete my shift, a shot rang out and the black wolf yelped, then tucked its tail and slunk back into the underbrush. The cracks and snaps of underbrush gave away the fact that he was injured; no wolf made that much noise under normal circumstances.
I stopped my shift, jumped to my feet, and spun to face the shooter, huffing out an irritated breath when I saw who it was.
"Zach?" I asked, trying to decide what tack to take. "What are you doing here?"
Zach lowered his weapon and frowned as he gave me the once over. "Saving your ass, it would seem."
I snorted, trying to tamp down my impatience. "I didn't need saving." He'd just blown my ace in the hole. That trick wouldn't work again. I'd been so close to ending this once and for all. How many more people were going to die because he got in my way?
He closed the distance between us in three long strides. "That's not what it looked like from my end." He fanned his hand in front of his nose and wrinkled his nose. "Jeez, what's up with the orange?"
I spouted the neatest excuse I could muster on the fly, waving it away because it was the least of my worries right now. "Natural insect repellant. Anyway, I'll ask again, why are you out in these woods with a rifle? I had that," I waved my arm in the general direction the wolf had gone, "all under control. And I seem to remember specifically asking you not to be in these woods hunting."
He rolled his eyes and chose to ignore the last part. "Yeah. I can see that you had it under control. No gun, no backup, no radio, not even any pepper spray. Unless you planned to kill him with your bare hands, it doesn't look to me like you had anything under control. Are you even carrying your cell?"
I opened my mouth to say something, but what was there to say without blurting out something along the lines of, "Guns? Pepper Spray? Bahaha! Silly man, if you'd only waited two more minutes I would have been a one-woman killing machine?"
Instead, I snapped my jaws shut and glared at him while keeping one ear turned toward the woods.
He pulled his rifle strap over his shoulder and smirked at me. "Now this is one for the record books."
"What?" I asked, trying to keep from popping him one.
"The great and mighty Cori with no snappy comeback."
I just shook my head and tried to trace the wolf's path. I followed the tracks to the bush where I had last seen it and noticed blood on several of the leaves. I ran my fingers across the droplets and brought them up to my nose.
Definitely my werewolf.
My mind was racing, trying to think of a way to ditch Zach. I sighed and gave it up as a lost cause.
I shook my head. "Looks like you must have hit it. There's fresh blood here." I showed him my fingers.
He arched a brow. "Well, yeah. This isn't exactly a bug-zapper. And I'm a decent shot."
My mind floated back to the time that we used to spend shooting cans for kicks. There was no denying his skill; in fact, I was a little surprised that he missed.
"How about I take you home just to make sure you don't get into any more trouble tonight. Then I'll come back with my partner and we'll track our injured friend."
I drew myself up to my full height; I didn't remember him being so condescending. "I'm perfectly capable of seeing myself home, though that's not what I'm going to do. We need to find that wolf. Now that he's injured, he's probably more dangerous than he was before."
Zach nodded. "You're probably right, but you're not exactly dressed and prepared for hunting."
Ha! If only he knew. "Sheriff here, remember? I think I can hold my own." I motioned toward his rifle. "I presume you're carrying more than just that?" I'd noticed a slight bulge in his right boot, and would have laid money on an ankle holster.
Zach considered me for a minute. "You presume correctly. Why?"
"As you said, I'm not exactly outfitted to go hunting."
Zach frowned. "Are you sure there's no way that I can talk you out of this?"
I held out my hand. "No. And if you don't fork over that weapon, I'm going to arrest you for obstruction and firing on an endangered species. Hurry up; the longer we stand here, the farther away it's getting."
Regardless of all the silver-bullet baloney, a plain old bullet would kill him just as well. No need to melt down great-great grandma's tea set.
He growled but squatted and pulled a nine mil from his boot. "Those charges would never stick."
"Nope," I said, popping the p, "but they'd get you out of my way long enough to do what I need to do." I breathed easier when the comforting weight of the handgun was in my palm.
CHAPTER FOUR
WE'D NO SOONER STEPPED off the path than thunder rumbled in the distance. The sulphuric smell of a looming storm filled my nostrils. Darkness replaced what little watery light had been filtering through the leaves as clouds obscured the moon. I looked up, and lightning flashed behind the clouds to the northeast.
Zach pulled a flashlight off his belt and flicked it on. "If we're going to try to find it, we'd better do it fast. I'd say we have half an hour, tops, before that storm moves in."
The trail was relatively easy to follow for the first twenty yards or so, but then started to fade. The heavy cover of trees masked most of the moonlight and even with my uber-vision, I could barely see three or four feet in front of me.
I clenched my teeth in frustration; if I were in wolf form, it wouldn't be an issue. My vision was twice as good as a human's in this form, but still much weaker than when I was wolfed out. For that matter, if he weren't with me, I could possibly do a little hocus pocus to help me along even in human form. My magic was sketchy sometimes, but I could do a simple tracking spell. I was fairly sure he'd notice a neon-blue trail, though.
Zack swung his flashlight back and forth on the trail, then backtracked to the last drop of blood. There were a few crushed leaves that led to where we were standing, but after that, it's as if it just disappeared.
The smell of the essential oils still hampered my sense of smell, so I couldn't pick up its scent. That left us where we started.
"You must have just grazed it," I said, sighing, after we'd traipsed ten yards around the last track.
He hummed in agreement. "I can't believe I missed that shot, though. By the way, what were you doing standing off the path, crouching like that? You know better—the object is to make yourself bigger, not smaller."
He paused, and his forehead crinkled. "For that matter, wh
y were you running to begin with? You ran this morning."
Crap. He had me there. My mind whirled as I struggled to come up with a logical explanation. "I'd bent down to tie my shoe when it just appeared out of nowhere. I was deciding whether it would be best to move or stay still when you took your shot." That sounded reasonable, right? "And you may have noticed the dead body that interrupted my run this morning."
He studied me for a few seconds—he always did have a good BS meter—but I either passed muster or he decided not to call me on it.
We worked our way out ten or fifteen feet from the last drop of blood again, but there wasn't so much as a bent leaf to be found. I was already irritated because I'd lost my chance earlier, so when my ponytail snagged on a branch, I growled in frustration.
"It's no use," I snapped, yanking my hair free. "If there was anything to find, we'd have found it. Let's call it a loss and get out of here before we get soaked."
I figured that I might come back the next day to see if I could pick up the trail sans Zach and the overpowering smell of essential oil, but I wasn't holding out a lot of hope, especially when a fat drop of rain plopped on the back my hand.
We made a mad dash back to the parking area as the drops picked up tempo and managed to make it to a little gazebo several yards shy of the lot just as the drops morphed into a deluge. My wet sneaker landed on a discarded grocery bag and I slid forward, scraping my shin on a picnic table bench before I could catch myself.
I cursed and collapsed on the bench, holding my leg. I'd scraped it so hard I could feel the warm trickle of blood. Clenching my teeth together, I waited for lightning to strike the structure. That would be pretty much the perfect ending this day.
When Zack tried to check my shin, I jerked my leg away from him. "It's fine," I snapped.
He reached for it again. "It's not fine. You're bleeding. Don't be a baby. We need to make sure there aren't any splinters in it before your natural anesthetic wears off and the blood dries. This stuff is made of treated lumber and it'll get infected, so cut the drama and give me your leg."