by Marc Daniel
The young woman remained silent, intently staring into his eyes. Michael was frozen in place, unable to make a decision. He knew what needed to be done. He simply couldn’t bring himself to do it.
He’d known Wawetseka her whole life. He had watched over her more times than he could remember. He thought of her as an adopted daughter, the closest thing he had to family since his own wife and son had perished all those centuries ago. He couldn’t end her life, not after what had happened to Ölfun.
Irini would pay for this. He’d first encountered the vampire in Iceland centuries earlier. She’d escaped then, and she’d managed to escape again today. But this was the last time. She wouldn’t get away the third time they’d meet. Not after what she’d done to Wawetseka.
Behind him, the clamor of battle was getting fainter. One side would soon triumph over the other.
Wawetseka looked confused now, as if she didn’t understand where she was or what had happened to her. But Michael understood it all too well. The two puncture marks at the base of the young woman’s neck left no room for doubt.
Those soulless eyes staring at him no longer belonged to a human. They were those of a vampire. An undead creature who would soon feel the need to feed and wouldn’t be choosy about where her first meal came from.
The creature seemed to read his mind as her lips silently worded Please.
No more sounds could be heard coming from the struggles in the tunnel. Nor from the forest that seemed to be holding its breath in expectation.
An owl’s screech broke the silence and Michael’s jaws closed down on Wawetseka’s neck.
Chapter 91
It was 10 A.M. when Michael’s patrol car rolled in front of the small housing complex at Mammoth, a stone’s throw away from the interns’ dormitory.
Although he was officially back at work, there was still some unfinished business he needed to tend to. This was the reason he was now standing in front of this house ready to knock on the door.
Michael was confident that Katia Olveda, the person responsible for all their trouble, wouldn’t be a threat much longer, but some unanswered questions remained. That, and two weretigers still on the loose.
The Fida’I would soon find out what had happened in Huntsville, and Michael doubted they’d wait long before coming after him to carry out their vengeance.
He knocked on the front door but received no answer. Just as he’d expected. He’d checked the schedules and knew this particular employee was supposed to be working near the park’s South Entrance at the moment, a two-hour drive away.
Michael checked his surroundings and, satisfied he was alone, let himself in using a master key that opened nearly every door in the park. He relocked the door behind him before stripping naked in the middle of the small living room. He needed his bear’s nose for this particular task.
Careful not to knock anything to the floor, Michael’s bear started searching the house for any unusual odor. He started with the kitchen, sniffing every cabinet, every drawer, every jar on the countertops. Finding nothing of interest, he moved on to the bathroom and resumed his search. The room was tiny, and he quickly realized there was nothing there.
He’d been searching the living room for five minutes when he struck gold. He wasn’t surprised to find both the witch’s brew and some pure wolfsbane extract hidden under a loose floorboard. His assumption had been correct. Now it all made sense.
Chapter 92
Sheila was busy tiding up the cabin when Michael walked in carrying an empty plastic pouch. It had been a long day and he was glad to be home.
“What’s this?” asked Sheila, pointing at the pouch.
“A saline IV bag.”
She gave him an inquisitive look but asked no more questions. She didn’t appear to be in a particularly good mood.
“Helen stopped by,” she said.
“When was that?”
“About an hour ago. The woman’s never heard of calling before showing up, has she?”
Sheila hadn’t brought up Helen once the whole time they’d been traveling, but now that they were back, her jealousy towards the woman was resurfacing. Michael didn’t think there was anything worth getting upset over, but clearly Sheila disagreed.
“What did she want?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’m not your secretary, I didn’t take a message.”
She continued tidying up in silence a minute or two before turning towards Michael with a jar in her hand. “What should I do with this?”
Michael recognized the ointment Helen had brought over for his legs. “I’ll take it, thank you.”
“You’re going to keep it?” Something in her voice suggested the correct answer to that question should be: NO!
“I’ll go dump it,” he said, exiting the cabin jar in hand.
He remained outside a few minutes before calling Sheila out to join him. She found him sitting on the porch. The jar sat at his side on a small wooden table made of two by fours.
Sheila pointedly stared at the jar and then at Michael.
“Sit down, Sheila. We need to talk.”
She sat next to him and he told her about his morning find.
“You found both pure wolfsbane extract and the witch’s brew?” she said, once he concluded his retelling. She required no explanation; Sheila knew all about wolfsbane. She’d seen its effect first-hand when Michael had been shot with bullets loaded with the lethal poison.
“Why does it surprise you? If I were going to find one type, it was logical I’d find the other. One is made from the other and I’d been suspecting the witch’s brew was part of this mystery for a while. How else would the tiger be able to hide in the park without me finding them? As long as my sense of smell was messed up, I could blame my nose, but now that it’s back to normal there’s only one logical explanation. They’re using the witch’s brew to hide their praeternatural nature from me, just like the Shadow Pack used to do.”
“So the Shadow Pack is involved?”
“Actually, I suspect Katia is the only one implicated this time, and she found a way to get some witch’s brew to the Fida’I.”
“But wouldn’t the witch’s brew slow down their healing? That’s how David Stark fooled you into thinking he’d been attacked, wasn’t it? His wounds didn’t heal.”
Michael stared at her, smiling. “You’re a genius Sheila.”
“It took you long enough to realize it, but before you tell me why I’m a genius, answer this question. If Katia was the only member of the Shadow Pack involved, what about the bear that was killed by a werewolf?”
“Olivia did that.”
“What?”
“I have it on good authority that Olivia killed that bear. I’m sure it was self-defense. She never meant to do it. But a werewolf as young as she is would hardly be able to restrain herself in such a situation.”
“Who told you? Olivia?”
“No. I believe she meant to, but there was a bit of a misunderstanding. She came one evening to tell me about it, but I misunderstood what she wanted to discuss. I told her we’d talk about it another time and she left. She must have thought I knew she’d killed the bear, even though I was talking about something unrelated.”
“So, who told you? Daka?”
“No. It was Leka actually.”
Chapter 93
The warden entered the overcrowded cell that had served as Katia Olveda’s living quarters for the past two years to find the coroner bent over the lifeless body of the ex-assistant DA.
“Your opinion?” he asked.
“Looks like a good old-fashioned heart attack,” replied the coroner.
The warden breathed a sigh of relief. There was nothing unnatural about a heart attack. He’d been wondering whether Katia’s sudden passing had been somehow caused by her last visitors. He doubted Detective Samantha Lewis would have anything to do with something as sordid as murdering an inmate in prison, but he knew very little about the man who’d accompanied her,
that Michael something or other.
Poisoning had been his biggest concern. In recent years, the media had covered a number of high-profile assassinations that had relied on exotic poisons such as polonium. And given the timing of Katia’s death, the idea of such a poison had gnawed at his guts ever since he’d reviewed the video recording of the interview. The tape clearly showed Biörn touching Katia Olveda at the end of the visit: a touch that would have sufficed to kill her had he used a particularly potent toxin. But both Biörn and Lewis had been searched prior to entering the interview room and nothing unusual had been found on them. In addition, Katia had displayed no signs of illness before dropping dead in her cell in the middle of the afternoon. Poison that took days to kill you always showed warning signs. The poor men poisoned by Russian operatives had suffered for days prior to dying. Poisons like arsenic were also notorious for causing massive distress up to the time of death of their victims.
“You’re positive there is no possibility of foul play?”
The coroner cleared his throat. “One should never say never, but given the absence of any sign of struggle, of any wound on the victim, and the evidence consistent with a heart attack… I have no reason to conclude that foul play was involved.”
The warden’s eyes were drawn one last time by Katia Olveda’s luscious body and gorgeous features. Even in death the woman was stunning.
Chapter 94
Sheila placed the tuna casserole in the center of the kitchen table and took her seat in front of Michael who was already serving himself a generous portion. She’d been cooking dinner for him every day during her prolonged stay in his cabin, and he’d been enjoying every single meal. The portions weren’t always as large as he’d have liked, but he tried to keep these types of comments to himself. Anything able to be taken as a possible criticism was off the table at the moment. Michael didn’t want to take chances; he felt as if he were already out on a limb with the current state of things.
“It’s lacking salt,” said Sheila.
“Maybe a tad,” said Michael carefully.
He was shaking the plastic dispenser above his plate when his cell phone rang in the pocket of the jacket he’d discarded on the couch.
It took him five full rings to finally find the phone. “Hello?”
“Michael? This is Lewis.”
“Good evening, Detective.”
“Have you heard the news?” Samantha’s voice had a curious edge to it.
Michael hadn’t heard the news, but he’d expected her call nonetheless. “No, I haven’t. What’s going on?”
He could feel Sheila’s eyes burning a hole on the back of his head.
“Katia Olveda was found dead in her cell this afternoon.”
“Really?” said Michael. He felt bad about deceiving Samantha Lewis who’d always gone out of her way to help him, but now wasn’t the time to come clean.
“The coroner concluded a heart attack, but I find it hard to believe.”
“I would tend to agree with you, but you and I aren’t coroners.”
“Can you swear you had nothing to do with this?” asked Lewis.
“Detective, I promise you I had nothing to do with Katia Olveda’s death.”
“I can’t help but think that the timing is suspicious.”
“I understand, Detective, but you’ll have to believe me on this one.”
Samantha hung up and Michael returned to his plate.
“Did you kill Katia?” asked Sheila.
The question surprised Michael. He searched her eyes an instant before answering, “Of course I did.”
“How?”
“Poison.”
“What if they do an autopsy?”
“They won’t. And even if they did, they wouldn’t find anything. I’ve taken my precautions.”
“I just can’t believe you killed her.”
“She deserved it. She’s the one behind all the assassinations attempts. She’s the one behind the death of your sister, behind that of Lucy.” Lucy wasn’t nearly as dead as Stephanie was, but Michael had yet to tell Sheila. He wasn’t really sure why, but he was reluctant to break the news to the journalist. Maybe simply because Lucy’s future was an unknown at the moment. Just like her current location.
“She may be behind it all, but that doesn’t solve our problem. The tigers are still at large and so are the vampires. They could attack at any time.”
Michael doubted the Western Covenant would be of concern much longer. Before disappearing, Lucy had told Olivia where and when to find Silvia’s men, and Daka would take care of the problem. Michael was more concerned with Lucy at the moment. Where had she gone? Olivia vaguely remembered Lucy talking to someone immediately after her sister had brought her back to life by pulling the knife out of Olivia’s heart, but she had no idea who it had been or if it had even been real.
“We’ll deal with the tigers in good time, Sheila. But at least the instigator is out of the equation. You should be happy.”
“I believe—”
The sound of the phone ringing on the kitchen’s wall interrupted Sheila in mid-sentence.
Michael thought about his meal getting cold but got up to answer.
“Michael, this is Helen.”
“Good evening, Helen.” Michael heard Sheila sighing heavily behind him. He turned around to look at her, phone still stuck to his ear. She didn’t look pleased.
“I wanted to tell you that I wasn’t planning on sharing the DNA reports with anyone, Michael.”
“OK…” he replied, unsure as to where the conversation was going.
“You don’t have to admit to anything, but I know your secret. I still have no idea how it’s even possible, but DNA doesn’t lie. I know you’re the one who saved my life and I wanted to say thank you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Helen,” he answered tiredly.
“I know, I know… It doesn’t matter. I also wanted to tell you that I was sorry about your daughter. If you ever feel the need to talk, my door will always be open for you.”
Michael was still thinking about a reply when Helen said goodnight and hung up the phone.
“What did the pretty Helen want this time,” asked Sheila before he had a chance to put the phone back on the receiver. Her voice dripped with contempt.
“She just wanted to tell me that my secret was safe with her.”
“Of course, it is… anything to please the big bad bear.”
Michael had no reply to that.
“The woman is literally throwing herself at you right under my nose.”
“She’s not throwing herself at me, Sheila. Her interest in me is purely professional.”
“That’s why she keeps showing up at your door at 10 P.M. and calls you at home in the middle of dinner, knowing full well that I’m here with you.”
“She just wanted to present her condolences.”
“For what? Who died?”
Michael remained silent. He was thinking about what to say next. Arguing had never been his strong suit. He didn’t have it in him, for one thing. But more importantly, arguing tended to bring his furry alter ego forward. And that wasn’t something Sheila would enjoy very much. Bears only dealt with conflict one way.
“I asked you a question, Michael. Who died that she feels the need to offer her condolences?” Sheila had gotten up and was standing, arms crossed, three feet in front of Michael.
He sighed deeply. “There’s something I need to tell you, Sheila.”
“I’m listening.”
Michael walked to the kitchen table’s bench and let himself drop on it, the piece of furniture cracking under the weight. “The bear I killed a few nights ago behind the cabin. The one that had attacked Olivia and attacked me—”
“What about it?” she snapped.
“It would seem that it was my daughter.”
“What?!” Sheila’s voice had gone up two octaves. “You have a daughter?”
“Apparently I did; the
DNA evidence is pretty clear.”
“And you killed her?”
Michael thought about the son he had murdered so long ago. He thought about Kewanee and her mother, who’d more than likely been murdered. He felt rage swelling in the pit of his stomach. “I killed her.”
“Is it a habit of yours to kill your kids?” Sheila regretted her words the second they escaped her mouth.
Michael saw the change in her behavior, he read shame and regret on her face, but it was too late. He was on the verge of exploding.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” she said, sounding sincere.
He looked at her a long moment, imperceptibly shaking his head. “You need to leave now, Sheila.”
“So you can go to Helen for comfort?”
The image of Helen massaging his legs came to his mind. Filled with anger, he said, “I think I’ll do just that.”
Chapter 95
It only took five minutes for Sheila to pack her bags and walk out of the cabin. She slammed the door so hard on her way out that the kitchen windows vibrated dangerously. Michael went to the front door and opened it just in time to see Sheila’s tail lights turning onto the road.
The evening hadn’t gone quite as he’d expected. He still couldn’t believe that Sheila had thrown the death of his first-born in his face. How could she when she knew full well the tragedy had haunted him for the past ten centuries?
He sat at the kitchen table, replaying the argument in his mind, analyzing it, second-guessing his answers. What was done was done. Sheila was gone, but there were still matters demanding his attention. Dealing with the tigers was one of them.
Maybe Helen’s DNA reports could reveal something about the tigers’ identity. The thought brought a fugitive smile to his lips. The excuse was as good as any. He checked the clock on the wall: five past nine. A bit late for an impromptu visit, but Helen didn’t seem to mind this kind of thing. Still, he’d better call first to be safe.