by Helen Harper
Marsha considered this for a moment then lifted her chin defiantly. ‘And what if I don’t tell you what I know? What then?’
Devereau shrugged. ‘That’s your prerogative. We’ll leave you here without harming a hair on your head.’ He glanced at Scarlett. ‘How long did it take us to find Ms Kennard once we started looking for her?’
Scarlett answered instantly. ‘Oh, less than two hours, I reckon. Of course, Matelot doesn’t have people as smart us, so it’s taking them a bit longer. But I’m sure they’ll find this place sooner or later.’ She looked at Marsha impassively. ‘We’re not going to wait around for long. Either tell us what we need to know and we’ll take you to Soho for your own safety or we walk.’
The diminutive secretary swallowed and flicked her eyes towards Devereau. If she was hoping for help from him, she was going to be sorely disappointed. He sympathized with Marsha Kennard but he wouldn’t allow that sympathy to get in the way of what had to be done.
Marsha’s shoulders dropped. ‘I have a file with everything you need. It’s got the names and addresses of all the people who bought vampires and werewolves, about twenty of them.’
‘And Dominic Phillips? Where will we find him?’
‘He has a warehouse. It’s—’
Scarlett interrupted. ‘We know about the warehouse. He’s not there.’
Marsha blinked. ‘Oh.’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh.’
Devereau’s eyes narrowed. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Is the warehouse still there?’ Marsha whispered.
‘Most of it was blown up.’
She swallowed. ‘In that case, he’s probably already left the country. He’s not going to hang around to be attacked by vengeful supes. When I first told David that I didn’t like what was going on, he told me that I shouldn’t worry because there were plans in place to keep everyone safe.’
‘What kind of plans?’
‘First, burn all the London operations to the ground. Second, get the hell away.’
‘By plane?’ Scarlett asked, her voice hard.
Devereau was still watching Marsha. ‘No. Matelot is a shipping company,’ he said slowly.
She looked down at her feet. ‘Yes. He always keeps a ship ready to go. It’s usually moored at Baron’s Wharf where it’s registered under a dummy company.’
‘What’s it called?’ Devereau demanded. ‘What’s the damned ship called?’
Marsha dropped her head even further. ‘Monster,’ she said. ‘The ship’s called Monster.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
Scarlett was speaking into her phone. Less than ten feet away, Devereau was doing the same, albeit talking to a different person.
‘What happen?’ Dr Yara asked. ‘You find Marsha Kennard?’
‘Yes, we found her.’
‘And?’
‘She thinks that Dominic Phillips will cut his losses and make a run for it. He has a boat at Baron’s Wharf.’ His lip curled and he felt the familiar twinge between his shoulder blades. ‘It’s called Monster, of all things.’
‘Yes,’ Dr Yara said. ‘Because he is monster.’
Devereau smiled suddenly. ‘Thank you, Yara.’
‘What I do?’
‘Everything,’ he replied simply. ‘You’re amazing.’
‘This is true. But you are also amazing. You help me before. Now you help Martina. You are not big bad wolf. You are good wolf. Good man.’
Devereau doubted that was true but it wasn’t really the time to argue.
‘Martina!’ Dr Yara said. ‘What you do here? Go back to bed!’
Devereau stiffened. ‘Is everything alright?’
‘Is fine. Is no problem. The storm wake her.’
‘Dr Yara—’
‘Is fine,’ she said firmly. ‘You go stop monster.’
He drew in a deep breath. ‘I will. Stay safe.’
‘Of course, Mr Webb.’
‘It’s Devereau.’
‘Goodbye, Mr Webb.’ Dr Yara ended the call.
Mildly vexed, Devereau shook his head and glanced at Scarlett. She slid her phone into her pocket. ‘A car is coming for Marsha. She’ll be looked after.’ She pointed outside. The storm hadn’t lessened; if anything, the wind was getting stronger. It was ripping through the streets outside as rain lashed against the windows in a furious, incessant attack. ‘And the weather means that Monster hasn’t left the wharf yet.’
Devereau’s eyes flew to hers. ‘You’re sure?’
‘I was just speaking to one of my Port of London contacts. Dominic Phillips must have taken too long to get his affairs in order and get to the boat. Now it’s too late. The docks have been shut down for several hours. Nobody has been allowed to leave since early afternoon, no matter how much they yell and scream.’
The corners of his mouth curled into a smile. ‘Let me guess,’ he said. ‘Our Dom is throwing a tantrum and demanding to be allowed to sail.’
‘He’s told the port officials that it’s an emergency. Fortunately for us, human health and safety regulations don’t care about his emergency. He’s stuck on board his ship at Baron’s Wharf as we speak.’
‘We can do this.’ A warm of glow of satisfaction spread through Devereau’s chest. ‘We can get him.’
Scarlett moved closer, stopping inches from his body. She tilted her head up. ‘Yes. We can.’ She reached up and entwined her fingers in his hair. Devereau groaned and lowered his mouth to hers in a long, deep kiss, his fingers moving to her waist to draw her closer. When she broke away, Scarlett’s lips were parted and her cheeks were flushed. ‘And,’ she said softly, ‘we will.’
Devereau savoured the heady taste that lingered on his tongue. ‘Soon,’ he promised. They knew he wasn’t talking about Dominic Phillips.
From the doorway, Marsha coughed nervously. ‘Is everything ready? Is it going to be okay?’
‘We’re good to go.’
She nodded at the file on the counter which contained the names and addresses of Dominic Phillips’ clients. ‘If any of those people get wind of what’s going on before you get to them, they’ll take measures to protect themselves. That sort of people always do. I should know – I’ve met plenty of them.’
‘She has a point,’ Scarlett said. ‘They’ll dispose of any evidence that shows they’ve been involved. And that means—’
‘Killing the vamps and werewolves they bought from Phillips and getting rid of the bodies,’ Devereau finished grimly.
‘Twenty names,’ Scarlett said. ‘Twenty separate addresses. You might be desperate to keep Martina out of this, and you’re probably right that we’ll have more success against Phillips if only the two of us sneak up on him. We don’t want a bloodbath on that damned boat. But we can’t deal with everyone in that file on our own. All the vampires know about Matelot – there were enough of them at the warehouse to witness what was going on. They’ll jump at the chance to bring those bastards down. I can send them to those addresses so nobody has chance to harm another enslaved supe while we go to Monster and take on Phillips.’
‘I’m sensing a but,’ Devereau said.
Scarlett didn’t miss a beat. ‘But it’s not only vampires who have been enslaved, Devereau – there are werewolves, too. That means you have to involve the clans whether you want to or not.’
His mouth tightened. ‘I suggested to DS Grace that the clans wouldn’t find out about any of this so that we could prevent future problems.’
Scarlett snorted. ‘You don’t give a shit about that detective, and the clans were always going to find out what’s been happening. Even Grace knows that.’
Devereau was quiet. ‘Involving the clans means risking Martina.’
She touched his shoulder. ‘Which we both know is what really worries you. But right now we’re the only supes who know she exists. Nobody else knows where she is. She’s safe. The werewolves and vampires in captivity are not.’
Devereau folded his arms and looked away. ‘Fine,’ he said.
/> ‘It’s the right thing to do.’
He knew that but it didn’t make it any easier.
‘It’ll be better for you if you’re the one to contact them. You might not be part of a clan but you are a werewolf. Show them that you know how to belong.’ Scarlett raised her eyebrows meaningfully. ‘In the long run, that could help Martina as well as you.’
He sighed. The clans weren’t his enemies and, if he played this right, they could end up being his friends. Maybe.
He knew that Scarlett was right. The clans didn’t know about Martina and there was no reason for them to find out about her; he could still protect her. He nodded. ‘I’ll make the calls.’
***
Devereau’s ears were smarting from the tirades all three separate clan alphas had given him. He supposed he should be grateful that the Fairfax clan remained officially alpha-less until the next full moon because it was one less tongue lashing.
He understood that the rage Lady Sullivan, Lord McGuigan and Lady Carr were feeling wasn’t directed at him; it was focussed entirely on the bastards who were behind all of this. That hadn’t made the phone calls any easier, though. Devereau wasn’t used to being shouted at; in fact, the last time anyone had tried he’d still been a teenager. Even then it had taken all his willpower to play nice.
‘You know they’re afraid of you,’ Scarlett said.
He jerked. ‘Pardon?’
‘The clan alphas are terrified of what you’re capable of. You’ve been a werewolf for less than a month and you’re already almost as strong as they are. Plus you were bitten four times before you transformed. I’ve only ever heard of one werewolf that’s happened to before. His name was Bradford Carr and, even though he died seventy years ago, the wolves still think of him as a hero.’
Devereau snorted. ‘The clan alphas aren’t prepared yet to admit what I might be capable of. And I’m reasonably certain there isn’t a single werewolf on this planet who thinks that I’m heroic.’
‘You’re wrong,’ she said softly. ‘As far as Martina is concerned you’re not just a hero, you’re her saviour.’
Devereau looked out of the car window at the Port of London terminal at Baron’s Wharf. The edge of Monster’s hull was visible to his right. The ship might be firmly anchored in a sheltered spot but it was swaying alarmingly in the wind. At least it had stopped raining. ‘I’ve not saved anyone yet,’ he said. ‘Not properly.’
Scarlett grinned. ‘Let’s see if that’s still true by the time the sun rises. Are we ready to go?’
He flashed her a mocking smile.
‘Oh no.’ Scarlett shook her head in alarm. ‘Don’t say it. Please don’t say it.’
‘I have to.’
‘No, you don’t. You really don’t.’ She clamped her hand over ears.
‘Scarlett Cook,’ Devereau said in a voice loud enough for her to hear him, ‘I was born ready.’
Scarlett groaned. ‘You said it.’
He smirked. ‘I did.’ He opened the car door and prepared to prove it.
His hair was still damp but it didn’t stop the wind flicking it in all directions. Scarlett didn’t fare much better; she’d tied her dark hair into a tight ponytail that was immediately picked up by a gust of wind. It smacked her wetly across the cheek. She rolled her eyes.
‘At least we’ll be safe from the elements once we’re on the ship,’ Devereau called.
‘Assuming it doesn’t sink,’ she muttered. ‘Come on.’
They stayed low to avoid anyone on board noticing their approach. It was wise to be cautious, although Devereau wasn’t really worried. Anyone with half a brain would be inside where it was warm and dry. The steel containers dotted around the terminal made it easy for Devereau and Scarlett to stay concealed from all but the higher decks.
The size of the ship gave him momentary pause; it was larger than he’d expected and there would be a lot of ground to cover once they got inside. He felt a flicker of doubt; maybe limiting the boarding party to the two of them wasn’t such a good idea. Then he quashed it. The fewer people who stormed Monster, the less chance there was for events to spin out of control and for the imprisoned vampires or werewolves to get hurt. An intelligent attack was going to win the day, not numbers.
They sneaked down a shadowed gap between two long blue containers, pressing against the rusted corners to peer out. Despite the howling wind, which didn’t appear to have abated at all in the last hour, the ship was making its presence felt with loud creaks and groans as it shifted in the water. Lights flickered from above deck on the starboard side and more were visible from a few grimy potholes. Monster was certainly a far cry from the millionaire’s yacht that Dominic Phillips could doubtless afford – but illegal goods, nasty drugs and live slaves with supernatural abilities wouldn’t fit on a damned yacht.
A door opened on the top deck. Devereau stiffened and gestured to Scarlett. She nodded as a figure appeared. It looked like a man, although it was difficult to be sure from this distance. He was tightly wrapped in a long coat to shield him against the weather. The ship lurched and he staggered to one side and fell against the wall. He picked himself up, slipping and sliding as he regained his balance, before deciding that being out in the open was a bad plan. Seconds later, he disappeared back through the door. It was much more exposed on top of the ship than it was down here on solid ground.
‘I hope you’ve got your sea legs,’ Devereau said.
Scarlett grimaced. She was already looking rather green. ‘Don’t even joke about it.’
They slipped from their hiding place and crept through the remaining containers until they reached a crane standing near the centre of the ship. On a fine day it would be easy to climb up it, shimmy across and drop down onto the deck, but in these ridiculous winds such a feat would be far less simple. The crane heaved, rattled and jerked sharply. Monster wasn’t an old building with handy footholds and crumbling stonework, though; if they wanted to get on board, they’d have to risk it.
Scarlett took the lead, climbing upwards with slow, steady steps. Devereau followed closely behind her. The cold metal was slick with icy rain, making it difficult to grip with either his hands or his feet, and he had to brace himself against both the swaying structure and the fierce wind. Wolves, he decided, were meant to roll around sunshine-filled fields. They were definitely not designed for this. And neither were humans. Every step was a battle and, when he had to clamber over onto the boom, the horizontal section of the crane, it became even harder.
Scarlett’s kept her body low and slowly edged along. Devereau had little choice but to copy her. They made painstaking process; the further along the boom they moved, the more ferocious the wind became. His fingers were curled so tightly round the steel that they started cramping, and the combination of damp clothes and chilled gusts made his teeth chatter. This was not fun, not even slightly.
The crane had been pulled back from the ship, probably because of the storm, so when they reached the end of the boom they’d have to leap a fair distance to land on the deck. If the jump went badly, they’d end up in the water trapped between the steel hull and the harbour wall. If another strong gust of wind moved the ship, they’d be crushed. Devereau had a sudden grim image of his skull bursting like a watermelon.
Ahead of him, Scarlett muttered something but he couldn’t hear her words. ‘What was that?’
‘I said,’ she repeated, ‘I can’t believe I volunteered for this shit.’ She shook her head and pushed herself up to a crouching position. Everything seemed to pause and even the wind appeared to take a breath. Then, timing her leap with the next strong gust, Scarlett threw herself off the tip of the boom.
Devereau’s stomach lurched. Lightning flashed and for a moment she looked as if she were suspended in mid-air, her arms flung forward in a graceful, ballerina-like pose. Then she soared past the lethal sea break at the side of the ship and landed with an audible thud onto the deck below.
Alarmed, Devereau shuffled forward and p
eered over the edge of the crane down towards Scarlett’s small body. He shouldn’t have worried. She picked herself up, shook out her hair and gave him a wave as if to show that the entire manoeuvre had been a piece of cake.
Devereau swallowed. He wasn’t particularly afraid of heights, or of the dark, or of crashing storms, but he didn’t relish the prospect of leaping to his death. But Scarlett had done it and she was fine. All he had to do was match her prowess.
He brought his knees closer to his chest and managed – just – to move into a crouch. His hands gripped the steel edges of the boom on either side of his body so that he wasn’t blown off before he could jump. He eyed the deck. It wasn’t that far away. He could do this. He had to do this. On a count of three.
One.
Two.
Three.
He didn’t move. The wind was getting stronger and seemed to be subtly shifting direction. He had to get a move on. If the wind changed much more, he wouldn’t have the benefit of it behind him, propelling him forward. He gritted his teeth and steeled his stomach.
‘Born ready,’ he repeated to himself. ‘Fucking born ready.’ He heaved in a breath. And then he tried again.
One.
Two.
Three.
He released his hold on the crane and sailed into the air, his legs pumping to give him greater momentum. He was going to do it, it was going to be fine. Then he made the mistake of looking down. One glimpse of the dark oily water of the Thames and the heaving ship’s hull next to it was enough to distract him. Shit.
He saw Scarlett’s eyes widen in fear just as he started to plummet straight down.
There was no time to think. As the air rushed past him, he transformed from man into wolf. The burst of energy and whatever lycanthropic craziness occurred during the change was enough to propel him forward; instead of plunging into the dangerous icy water, his gigantic front paws slammed onto the edge of the ship’s deck and immediately scrabbled for purchase. His hind paws couldn’t get any traction against the ship’s side but he held on with all his lupine might.
Within a single breath Scarlett was there, her eyes glowing red. She reached down and he felt her fingers pinch the scruff of his neck. She grunted and heaved, tugging at him with all her might. It was enough. He fell forward, landing on top of her. His heart was hammering against his chest and adrenalin was coursing through his veins, but he’d made it. His yellow wolf eyes met Scarlett’s vampire ones.