Blood's Shadow: The Lycanthropy Files, Book 3

by Cecilia Dominic

  “I’m only doing my job, as you cautioned me to when we met at the Institute. As for why you won’t answer my question, could it be that you’re protecting someone?”

  I stopped myself from changing my breathing pattern, shifting in my seat or doing any of the other nonverbal things that would tell him he’d hit home. “Trust me, I’d like whoever bashed me on the head to be punished for their crime, but I honestly didn’t see who did it.” There, that was enough of the truth that it would hopefully not come back to bite me later.

  “They snuck up behind you? Where?”

  “In the alley behind the West Port Inn,” I told him. “I didn’t realize he was there until he bashed me.”

  “And you’re sure it was a man.”

  “There aren’t many women who can hold me immobile like that.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Did he talk to you, say anything?”

  “No, he was silent.”

  “Was anything stolen?”

  “Only my pride.” It occurred to me that it would have been easier to say my wallet had been, but he would’ve then asked about me filing a report of a robbery, and I preferred to lie as little as possible. In my experience, lying was more trouble than it was worth and always came back to bite me in the ass.

  “Now if you’re done with your questioning,” I said, “I’m going to resume my role of Investigator and ask about what you’ve found so far. I read your preliminary report, and you seem to have been adequately thorough with the crime scene.”

  Garou pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s only been two days. I’m still waiting for the evidence the forensics team gathered at the scene to be processed. Both scenes,” he said. “Doctor Fortuna found the closet where the security guards had been butchered last night.”

  “Excellent,” I said, not giving away that I already knew Max had found it and had suffered for it. “I’m sure your people are sorting through it as we speak.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Investigator. You have secrets like anyone else. I know you were at Doctor Fortuna’s house last night and that you had a visitor of a supernatural nature.”

  “And how did you know that?”

  “We have someone following the wizard,” he told me through gritted teeth. “Not by my orders, but by those of someone above me.”

  “Interesting.” Since he supposedly reported directly to me, anyone above him and me would have to be on the Council.

  “Is there some problem with the wizard?” He referred to Max as Reine had talked about Max’s family, as more of a curious object than a person.

  “He should be fine.”

  “You didn’t answer my question, Investigator.”

  “The wizard Maximilian and all that concerns him is classified Institute business.”

  “And if you had allowed me more information about the Institute and the controversial nature of its operations from the start, Otis LeConte might not have been murdered. We would have had someone patrolling in and around the grounds.” He stood and leaned forward, his palms on the table. “Sometimes secrets can kill, Investigator. I thought you and I were on the same side with trying to expose them for the protection of the Council and all of wolfkind.”

  “Have a seat, Detective. It’s too early for your dramatics.”

  He sat and rubbed a hand over his face.

  “When was the last time you slept?” I asked. The man’s behavior at the Institute had seemed odd, especially his inviting Selene to the Solstice ceilidh.

  He waved his hand. “The sun is up late, and so am I. I cannot sleep when the sky is light and birds are singing, particularly when something is on my mind like a potentially key witness withholding information.”

  “They do make blackout curtains and sound-blocking devices.”

  “I am too sensitive to the sun being out regardless of those things,” he said.

  I decided to move on. “Summarize what you’ve got for me so far, and I’ll leave you alone.”

  “As I mentioned, I do not have anything to share about the evidence we collected, but I do have this.” He opened a file. “Two groups have come forward to claim the murder.”

  “Wait, how did they know?”

  He pulled a printed article from the Lycan Crier, the lycanthrope news site, detailing the murders.

  “This was supposed to have been kept from the press.”

  He ran a thumb and forefinger over his eyes. “It was. We have a leak, I suspect in the forensics department. It’s being looked into.”

  I kicked myself for being so preoccupied with other Council business and putting out Institute-related fires that I hadn’t bothered to look at the news, now delivered to us lycanthropes through encrypted emails with a password. “The groups?”

  “Two guesses.”

  “The Purists and the Young Bloods,” I said, thinking of what David Lachlan had told me at the pub. “They were on my list to interview, anyway.”

  He nodded. “I will take the Young Bloods if you tackle the Purists,” Garou said. “You, being a Council member, have easier access to Cora and Bartholomew Campbell.”

  “Theoretically.” I suspected Cora had been one of the votes against me the day before.

  He shook his head. “You have a better chance of getting her to talk than I do.”

  “You could bring her and Bartholomew in for a statement. The Purists taking credit for the attack warrant their interrogation.”

  “I would prefer for them not to be hostile when I speak with them. They are more likely to treat the Council Investigator amicably than a humble detective.”

  The edge of frustration in his voice kept me from arguing, and I understood what he meant. In spite of their supposedly “love yourself no matter who you are” position, Cora and Bartholomew Campbell could out-snob most of the English when it came to social class consciousness, and that was even beyond our lycanthropic tendency to define everyone in terms of where they stood in the hierarchy. It irked me to think I was considered a junior Council member, but I still ranked above Garou when it came to class and old blood.

  “Fine, I’ll talk to them, and you can tackle the Young Bloods. Do you know who their leaders are?”

  He snorted. “Of course. I have the name of their Facebook page administrator. I will start there and report back to you.”

  “Of course there’s a Facebook page. Idiots.”

  “We are monitoring it. Don’t be concerned—it looks like a typical LARPing organization, except instead of live-action role playing, they engage in live-action complaining about being werewolves. It’s rather amusing, actually—they drive the humans crazy.”

  “Good. I’ll let you know if Cora and Bartholomew have anything interesting to say. Oh, and I’m going to talk to Lonna and Max about the applications they’d received for the program today.”

  “I trust you will share what they tell you if it impacts the investigation,” he said, but his tone and the expression on his face conveyed doubt that he could trust me.

  “I take my role as Council Investigator seriously, Garou. I would not willingly stand in the way of your job as detective.” At least only to the extent that I’m delaying you going after Selene.

  “It is the unintentional obstruction that concerns me more, Investigator.” He stood and held out a hand.

  I stood and gave it a hearty shake. “Then you’ll just have to trust my judgment.”

  “Right. Innocent until proven guilty, as the Americans say.”

  With those words, he walked out of his office and left me to show myself out. I respected his level of motivation to be thorough, and as I walked out of the small office building that served as the Lycanthrope Police Station—labeled as the Council Offices to throw off the humans—I reminded myself not to be angry with him for just doing his job. I also appreciated how he was letting me tackle the Ins
titute contacts in spite of there being a reason for me not to be objective around them, namely the Institute being my pet project, as David had hinted.

  That reminded me—he had a story to finish. I called and left him a voicemail that I’d like to meet for lunch, if possible, and headed to the Institute to talk to Lonna. I also called Laura and had her set up something with Cora and Bartholomew Campbell for the afternoon, if she could manage it.

  The yellow and blue-marked police car stood as an obvious reminder in front of the Institute that all was not well. When I’d come on Tuesday, it had been with optimism. On Tuesday night, trepidation. Now on Thursday, it was with resignation that I pulled my car into one of the Visitor parking spots.

  The patrolman on duty let me into the empty reception area. I didn’t wait long before Lonna appeared behind the window.

  “The officer told me you were here,” she said. “I’ll buzz you through.”

  She led me through the hallways and up the stairs to Max’s office. She unlocked the door. “Garou’s men are still processing mine, and since Max is still at home recovering, here I am. Coffee?”

  “No, thanks.” My interview with Garou had left me sufficiently wound up. We sat, her behind her desk and me in front of it. “How is Max?”

  “He’s doing well. His friend gave him some interesting instructions as to how he should get well, and I’m…” She blushed, an unusual expression for her.

  “You must be exhausted,” I said with as straight a face as I could muster. “If only medical doctors prescribed that sort of thing.”

  She laughed. “I’m definitely worn out.” She looked around. “Not that I should be discussing this with a proper Scottish gentleman in my husband’s office.”

  I waved away her concern. “I was there when Reine told him, so don’t worry about it. Since when do you become nervous about what we talk about? You know you can tell me anything.”

  “Can I?” Her perfectly arched brows drew together. “Things have changed, Gabriel. What started out as an interesting project and the professional challenge I’ve been craving has turned into a nightmare, and my husband, the only man I’ve ever truly loved, is at risk. I try not to be irrational, but you’re the one behind us being here and the Institute in general.”

  “I’m trying to fix it for you, Lonna.” I had the image of sitting in front of her with hat in hand—there was that damn imaginary hat again—asking for forgiveness.

  “I’m afraid there is no fixing it.” She toyed with a pen on the desk, and a tear splashed on the back of her hand. “Three men are dead, another—Max—is injured, and I don’t know what poor Selene is going through. I thought she and Otis had some sort of relationship, but now I’m not sure.”

  I shifted in my seat. Her resigned expression reminded me of the one my mother wore in the weeks after we’d been informed of my father’s death. “Then let’s start there. If I can’t fix this for you, at the very least I have to solve it. Not just for you, but for everyone involved.”

  She wiped the tears from her eyes. “What do you want to know?”

  “Before I continue, I need to warn you that some of this may be shared with Detective Garou, but I promise to be discreet.”

  “I understand. Do what you have to do. I trust you to balance the secrets necessary for the function of the Institute with the information needed to solve Otis’s murder.”

  “Very well. Tell me about the relationship between him and Selene. Actually, tell me about them in general, and then their relationship.”

  “They were both recruits from Joanie and Iain. Otis was from New York and had impeccable recommendations. He’d worked with Joanie as a graduate student and then did a summer internship with Iain, helping him with the evidence for the Cabal-Hippocrates case, so Iain felt he would be a good fit on the team, particularly since he had an understanding of Chronic Lycanthropy Syndrome from both the inherited perspective and from that of those who were infected.”

  I took out my notebook and jotted down some information. “So he could have made enemies while he worked with Iain on the case. As I recall, those Cabal-Hippocrates blokes were not to be messed with lightly.”

  She met my eyes, and I saw the shared memory of being captured and forced through chemical means to change. The echo of those screams lurked at the edges of my dreams, and sometimes I woke from a nightmare of being back there, captive and helpless as I was experimented on. It had happened just after Lonna had changed for the first time, so for her, the memories had been locked away until an incident forced her to remember. I’d never lost them but wished I had.

  She shook her head as though to dislodge the recollections and continued, “If Otis did have enemies, Iain didn’t mention them. Maybe he didn’t know about them.”

  “He has some family, though. Was he close to them?”

  “It’s hard to tell. He didn’t talk about them much, but a lot of guys don’t. I had the impression he’d lived with them while still in the States.”

  “I’ll ask if he’d ever received threats that they knew of. They’ve been informed, correct?”

  “Yes.” Lonna looked at her hands. “I can’t imagine the horror of finding out your child has been murdered. Iain told them since he’d met them.”

  “He has his good moments,” I said.

  “Yes, he has a few.”

  “And Selene?” I asked before she pursued the Iain line of discussion.

  “She’s from Georgia. You probably picked up on the Southern accent, although it’s faint. She was a CLS recessive until she got the viral vector in a tainted flu vaccine. She was already a psychologist and wanted to use her experience to help others adjust to the major life change that comes with CLS.”

  It had been a part of my life since early adolescence, so I always had to remind myself what an effect becoming a lycanthrope would have on an established adult existence. “And then help them adjust to not having it anymore?”

  “In her interview, she likened it to gastric bypass surgery. People may recognize that letting go of this aspect of themselves would work better for them, but it comes with consequences that may be difficult to adjust to. You and I both know it’s a blessing and a curse.”

  I nodded. “And she has a brother?”

  “Yes, and a mother and stepfather. She never said anything about her biological father, but I got the impression he’s been out of the picture since she and her brother were children.”

  “What of the relationship between her and LeConte?”

  Lonna bit her lip. “They spent a lot of time together, but I don’t know if that’s because the four of us were the core team here, and Max and I naturally paired off due to our relationship. They were both Americans in a foreign country, so it made sense. They seemed to enjoy each other’s company.”

  “Did you observe any kind of behavior to indicate that they were more than friendly colleagues?”

  “Maybe that they were friends, but that’s it. I had a talk with Selene about it just in case, and she denied anything inappropriate.”

  Lonna’s words were consistent with what Selene had told me, but I still felt like I missed something.

  “Does Selene have any other friends or acquaintances here that you know of?”

  “No, but I try not to be too involved in my employees’ personal lives. They aren’t allowed to have visitors here at the Institute for confidentiality and security reasons, so I wouldn’t know of her social circle. She’s an attractive young woman, so it wouldn’t surprise me if she’s made friends since being here.”

  With friends like hers… “And how long have she and Otis been here?”

  “For a few months.” Lonna shook her head. “If I’d known what would happen…”

  I covered her hand with mine. “You couldn’t have. None of us could.”

  I sat back just before someone knocked on the do
or.

  “Lonna?” Selene asked. Her eyes widened when she saw me. “Oh, so that’s your car out front. I thought I recognized it from the other day. Did you bring her?”

  “Who?” asked Lonna.

  “Someone who calls herself Reyna but won’t give a last name. She says it’s about something Max asked her to do.” Her next words made my heart drop. “And Lady Morena is here to see you, Lonna.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Don’t talk to her without insisting I be present,” I said to Lonna. “Damn, her timing couldn’t be worse.”

  “Whose timing, Gabriel?” Morena barged into the office, which suddenly felt like it was half as large. “Thank you, girl,” she said to Selene, who stepped back.

  “That is Doctor Rial,” I said through clenched teeth. “She’s a valuable member of the team here.”

  “Oh.” Morena looked her up and down. “Oh! You’re Selene Rial. I can see why Gabriel is so taken with you. I could never understand why he was attracted to scientist types. What he needs is a little wife to cook and clean for him, not look through microscopes and work later than he does.”

  Selene’s startled gaze met mine at the same time the heat slammed into my cheeks. “You’re speaking without having all the information, Morena, which you always caution those of us on the Council not to do.”

  “Your schoolboy blush says you doth protest too much.” She turned to Selene. “He’s right, though. Our Gabriel is a smart one, isn’t he? Don’t let him get away if you’re interested—most women don’t hold his attention long. Okay, you may go. Shoo, shoo.”

  With one more bemused glance at me, Selene shoo’ed and closed the door after her. Lonna bit her lip, her topaz eyes bright with suppressed laughter, but I didn’t find the situation funny. I glowered at my Council head, rank and hierarchy be damned.

  “All right, Morena. I’ve known you a long time. What’s with the friendly ‘our Gabriel’ act?”

  Her features snapped back into their typical severe expression, and Lonna narrowed her eyes.

  “Yes, Lady Morena, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”