The dog didn’t react.
Blake scowled. “She’s not going to change for you, if that’s what you’re waiting for. She’s on duty.”
I ignored his salty tone and nodded to the dog in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you…?” I raised my eyebrows at Blake.
The muscle in his jaw twitched. “Sonar.”
I waited.
“As far as you’re concerned, her name is Sonar,” Blake said.
Liam stepped closer, using his position to intercede in the tension building between me and his jarl.
“Don’t take offense, Ms. Renard. It’s a matter of security. Sonar is what you might consider an undercover operative. There’s no need for you to know her real identity, and the less you know, the less chance there is of revealing something by accident. It could be awkward if you called her by her real name in the presence of any human personnel, and worse if someone Other heard you.” He nodded toward Sonar. “In point of fact, it’s important that you treat her as you would any other dog.”
I glanced at Sonar. She still lay there. Watching me. “Seems awkward.”
“Well, if you hadn’t been nosy with your magic, and let her keep her secret, it wouldn’t be awkward,” Blake pointed out.
I didn’t like Blake.
“What if something happened to you?” I asked him. “What would happen when they reassigned Sonar to someone else?”
“Wouldn’t happen,” Blake said. “That’s not how a K9 partner works. Once the force assigns an officer a puppy, that dog is theirs, permanently.”
I turned that piece of information over in my mind. “So if an officer got a puppy, trained it, then had to retire due to injury or some other accident…?”
“Dog retires too.”
“That’s…” I stopped, a smile pulling at my mouth despite the tension in the room. “I like that.” I looked at Sonar and remembered she wasn’t really a dog. “I mean, I think it’s wonderful that the police force takes the bond between an officer and his canine partner so seriously.”
I thought Blake’s expression softened, but a second later, he was giving me the stink eye again.
“I don’t meant to be nosy,” I started, ignoring Blake’s eye roll. “But I thought it was bad for a shifter to stay in animal form for too long. Wouldn’t being on duty for eight hours straight be…taxing?”
“We go home for our lunch hour and she shifts back,” Blake said, his tone making it clear he didn’t think it was any of my business.
“That seems like it would be more challenging, not less,” I said. “Isn’t it a little tiring to change back and forth like that in such a short amount of time?” I’d known werewolves that could do it, but they’d all been high-ranking members of their pack. It wasn’t something I’d have expected from your average werewolf.
Blake scowled, putting himself between me and Sonar. “Are you here to help or play twenty questions?”
Very defensive of his partner, I noted. I looked at Sonar, who was watching me with a considering gaze. She didn’t move from her position on the floor despite being the topic of conversation. Before I could comment further, Liam spoke up again.
“Now that introductions are finished,” he said, “let’s begin. Blake, why don’t you summarize where we are for Ms. Renard?”
“Shade,” I insisted.
Liam waved a hand. “Summarize for Shade.”
Blake rolled his eyes, but stepped closer to the table, tapping the papers in the folder close to the edge. “Last night, sixteen-year-old Greg Tyler was walking his neighbor’s dog, Gypsy, outside an apartment building down the street. The dog got away from him and chased a squirrel toward the reservation. Greg tried to catch her, but eventually had to turn back. A neighbor in the same apartment building, a Mr. Oliver Dale, witnessed Gypsy’s escape and followed her in his car.”
“So our victim is the helpful neighbor,” I said.
Blake’s expression turned grim. “No. According to Greg, Dale’s apparent eagerness to help was anything but comforting. In his statement, Greg said Dale hated Gypsy. When he pursued her, Greg feared for the dog’s safety and called her owner, Anthony Catello, in a panic. Anthony left work to retrieve his dog and told to Greg return home.”
“And did he?” I asked.
“For about an hour. Then he said he couldn’t stand it anymore and he left to find Gypsy himself.”
Again, Blake’s tone said more than his words. I winced. “He’s the one who found the body.”
“’Fraid so.”
I shook my head. I hadn’t seen the crime photos yet, but I didn’t need to see them to know that no teenage boy should have to see what was left after a werewolf took a bite out of a body.
“He took it better than some,” Blake said finally. “He had enough sense to call 911.”
“And what about Anthony Catello?” I asked.
Blake’s mouth tightened. “Guy’s got a record as long as my tail. One of our rangers, Emma, was on duty last night, and she had the dubious honor of encountering Mr. Catello when he came looking for Gypsy. According to her statement, Catello appeared severely agitated, ranting about his neighbor out there trying to kill his dog. He was flailing his arms around, and Emma caught a glimpse of a firearm, so she confiscated his weapon.”
“He didn’t have a concealed carry permit?”
“Wouldn’t have mattered if he did. When law enforcement engages you, even if it’s to say hello, if you’re carrying a firearm, you’re required to say so. He didn’t. Emma had the authority to take his weapon, permit or no.”
I winced. “I suppose he didn’t react well to that?”
Blake snorted. “No shit. Emma took the gun and sent him home, told him she’d find Gypsy.”
“Gypsy is the dog you mentioned earlier, isn’t she?” I asked Liam. “The one who nearly died after getting her leash caught and hanging herself?”
“Yes,” Liam confirmed. “Emma found her just in time.”
“Not that Catello appreciated it,” Blake muttered. “Anyway, after Emma got Gypsy down, she contacted Stephen, who was also on patrol. Stephen agreed to cover for her while she took Gypsy to the hospital.” He picked up a few files and dropped them in front of me. “These witness statements give the same information I went over.”
I thumbed through them, skimming quickly. “There’s no statement from Mr. Catello.”
“I’ll be going to see him today,” Liam said. “Stay here and review the forensics with Vincent and Kylie.”
Peasblossom snickered.
“No, I’ll come with you,” I said, replacing the files. “I’m good with people, and I can always read the forensic reports afterward.” I tapped the papers and spoke to Vincent and Kylie, “If you could make me a copy?”
Liam’s hands curled into fists, then he released them with visible effort. “Ms. Ren— Shade. Anthony Catello has a record. And not for nothing, but it’s mostly aggravated assault and criminal menacing.”
“A strong suspect, then—even more reason I should be present for this interview.” I turned to face the half-ghoul, trying to head off the warning from Liam, even though I knew it was pointless. “Kylie, is there anything you can tell me about how Oliver died that might help when I question Mr. Catello?”
Kylie nodded. “In addition to the damage to the victim’s midsection, there was a small injury at the back of his skull, we think from where it struck the ground when he fell. He also had a red welt on his palm that could be a rope burn. Preliminary cause of death is blood loss. Estimated time of death is between eleven p.m. and three a.m. I’ll have a better time of death after Dr. Dannon finishes the autopsy and I can perform my own…tests.”
“She’s going to eat part of the body to determine time of death,” Peasblossom whispered. Her voice held the satisfaction of a kid revealing gross but true information to an adult, relishing the reaction she knew was coming.
I tried very hard not to wrinkle my nose. Ew. I looked to the wizard, hoping for
less visceral information. “Anything from the scene analysis that might help?”
Vincent twisted the athame in his hands. “I’ll have all the videos ready to view soon.”
“And the analysis?” Liam pressed. “The fur and blood collected at the scene? Have you been able to confirm there was a barghest?”
Vincent released the small blade and crossed his arms. “My magic provides the bigger picture, but it is science that gives us results for the official report, and science takes time. I will have iron-clad results by tomorrow evening at the latest.”
“The sooner the better. In the meantime, work with Blake. I want that barghest found.”
I studied Vincent’s face as Liam turned away. He didn’t have the confidence of a wizard who could give his boss the proof he wanted that there’d been a barghest in that forest. He looked like a wizard trying to avoid telling an alpha werewolf that his subordinate was lying. That there’d been no barghest.
Blake nodded. “We’ll find him.”
I swore Sonar nodded too.
“All right.” Liam took a deep breath, as if bracing himself for something unpleasant. “Shade?”
He gestured toward the door, and I waved goodbye to the room and followed him out. This time as we passed through the station, I paid close attention to how the other employees reacted to Liam. Most halted casual conversation; all said hello and smiled. Three of them straightened, not like soldiers coming to attention, but more like someone instinctively reacting to a superior. By the time we left the building, I was comfortable betting I could pick out at least three more werewolves, one officer, and two office personnel.
It seemed as if there was more overlap between the Cleveland Metropark Police and the Rocky River pack than I’d thought. Was that why Mother Hazel put me on this case? Was Liam right—did she think there would be a cover-up?
“Before we question this witness, there is one thing I need to make clear.”
Liam’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts, and it took me a moment to focus on what he was saying. “Yes?”
“You are a civilian. Catello has a temper, and he’s dangerous. I’m letting you come along, but I expect you to stay behind me. Do not put yourself into danger.” He opened his car door and paused, facing me, before climbing into the car. “Are we clear?”
Irritation rose, sharp and fast, prickling my intentions to play nice with the alpha werewolf. Every time I thought we’d come to an understanding, he said something to make me realize he was only barely tolerating my presence.
“Get him, Shade,” Peasblossom whispered.
A frown tugged down the corners of Liam’s mouth, and I knew he’d heard her. I opened my car door and climbed inside the SUV, trying to grab the ends of my own temper before I said what was really on my mind. I counted to ten as I fastened my seatbelt, waiting until Liam slid into his seat before speaking. “You keep doing that.”
He paused with his key in the ignition. “Doing what?”
I turned to face him, letting my face slide into the expression Mother Hazel termed the “witchy look.” Similar to the look a parent gives a teenager when they start to think they don’t need to obey the rules anymore. “You keep forgetting I’m a witch. I thought we could do without titles, but perhaps you do need the reminder. Mother Renard will be fine for now.”
Liam’s expression shut down, all emotion draining from his face as he started the car and pulled out of his parking space. “You feel I’ve disrespected you?”
“You have most certainly disrespected me.” I dug around in my pouch for a mint. If I wasn’t driving, I was prone to car sickness, and throwing up in Liam’s vehicle wouldn’t do anything for my credibility with the werewolf.
“Since when is looking out for someone’s physical safety disrespectful? You do realize that’s my job?”
I squinted into the pouch. Was that a horse bridle? “I know what your job is. It’s you who seem to misunderstand mine.”
“You’re a village witch.”
“And a private investigator.” I beamed as I finally closed my fingers around the tin of mints. Success.
“Are you a licensed private investigator, or when you say private investigator, is that a self-designation based on your own assessment of your skills?”
My mouth fell open, and I almost lost my mint.
“Now you’ve done it,” Peasblossom told him from under the protective curtain of my hair.
“Tell me, Detective Liam Osbourne, what is it you think village witches do?”
If he registered the warning in my tone, he didn’t show it. “My understanding is that you fill several roles. Mostly that of a doctor and a midwife, but also a farmer and an herbalist.”
“And I do fill those roles. I also protect the people of my village from threats, both mundane and those of the Otherworld. I’ve dealt with goblins, troglodytes, and ghouls on a regular basis. I’ve retrieved children from the astral plane. I’ve seen things that would curl your fur, and gone to sleep with nightmares I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I do not sit in my house all day brewing potions, nor do I spend all my time babysitting. I am more than capable of taking care of myself, and to suggest that I need your protection against a human brute is not only disrespectful, it’s insulting.”
“I meant no insult. I’m sorry you took it that way.”
I bristled at the backhanded apology. My magic rose with my temper, and I had to remind myself that setting his car on fire to prove my point would be childish. “Tell me, detective, if it were your female ranger, Emma, sitting here instead of me, would you have said the same thing to her? Told her to stay behind you? Not to put herself in danger?”
“No,” Liam said. “Emma is a trained police officer. She knows how to handle herself.”
“And how do you think she’d react if you did give her such a warning?”
He grinned. “She’d punch me in the face.”
A conversational victory was within my grasp, but the humor in Liam’s voice made me close my mouth on my next sentence. I turned in my seat so I could study Liam more closely. The smile had softened the hard lines of his square jaw, and a twinkle in his eyes made the blue less like winter ice and more like a spring sky. “You like her.”
He arched an eyebrow without looking at me. “I’m sorry?”
“Emma. You like her.”
“I do. She’s a strong woman, and a valuable officer.”
“And pretty?”
Now he did look at me. “Yes. But you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“Ha, he said barking.” Peasblossom snickered.
I brushed at Peasblossom, urging her to be quiet. “Am I? You seem awfully happy when you talk about her.”
He opened his mouth then shut it. “All right. Yes, Emma and I had a date—one date, years ago. It was right before she transferred here to my unit.”
“So you called it off because you didn’t want to date someone under your command.”
“Exactly.” He met my eyes briefly. “And there has been nothing since. Nor will there be. Which is fine.”
“Fine.”
The word reflected my doubt more than I’d meant it to. Liam sighed.
“Emma is beautiful, smart, and strong. I asked her out, and she accepted. We had one date. I did not have time to form a deeper attachment, and neither did she. We made the mutual decision not to pursue it when she came under my command, and that was that. Please don’t imagine that either of us pined for the other. As a private investigator, I hope you’re capable of focusing on facts and not some imagined drama.”
“Is it common for werewolves to date non-werewolves?”
Liam shrugged. “I don’t know about common. Werewolves tend to seek strong mates, so there’s a tendency to skew toward other werewolves, but a strong woman is a strong woman, no matter the species.”
Werewolf mating habits hadn’t been an area covered very extensively in my studies. I considered what he’d said. “So, do you only date humans
for fun, or do you date them with the intention of keeping them as a permanent mate?”
“I think you’ll find werewolves don’t often date for fun. Casual sex, maybe, but dating someone, getting to know them, usually only happens if it could be serious. If we don’t see a future in it, we don’t bother. You’ll find exceptions, I’m sure, but in my experience, that’s the way it is.” He shrugged. “That doesn’t mean I intended to take Emma as my mate. We date to get to know people like anyone else; we don’t get serious with everyone we go out to dinner with.”
I started to say something, but he kept going.
“Lycanthropy isn’t a disease. It’s not passed through blood or semen.”
“I know. It’s a curse, with a very specific trigger. You have to bite someone with the intention of turning them. Or, sometimes, if the werewolf is agitated enough, the madness is enough to replace intention.”
“We don’t consider it a curse,” Liam said tightly.
I flushed. “Sorry. I meant no offense.”
He shrugged it off. “You need to understand, werewolves aren’t a huge population. Packs are small in most areas. If we limited ourselves to only mating with other werewolves, we’d end up in the same inbreeding boat with the old royal families—and probably with their marriage customs, too.”
“Good point.” I drummed my fingers on my waist pouch. “So if you do mate with a human, do you…” I searched my brain for a nice word to use. Something besides “infect” or “curse.”
“Our instincts guide us to find a strong mate,” Liam said patiently. “When the time is right, we share our true nature. If our mate wants to be part of that, then we share that gift with them. If not, then that’s fine too.” Defensiveness tightened his shoulders. “We aren’t brutes who can’t be trusted not to hurt someone we love just because they’re physically weaker.”
I considered that for a while. I’d never really stopped to consider werewolf mating idiosyncrasies. It was very interesting. “So, are you dating anyone now?” I asked.
“No.”
“Are you looking for someone?”
He shrugged. “It’s doesn’t top my list of priorities, but yes. I’m not required to have a mate as alpha, but two strong leaders are better than one.”
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