True Mate

by Patricia Logan

  I shook my head to clear it. “This is all hard to swallow, Sally, so forgive me for being surprised. What else? Specifically, what do you know about werewolves? I mean, they seem to be involved in not only Buck’s murder but this one too.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve known about werewolves living near—and doing business in—Prosper Woods ever since my husband moved us here years back. Werewolf packs don’t get along with people too well. They are an unpredictable violent breed of shifters for the most part. In fact, Greg Brown is the only one I’ve ever known who isn’t a total bastard. They don’t consider themselves shifters anyway. They think they’re better than the rest of us…a better breed.”

  “I suppose that makes some sense. Floyd is a particular bastard.” Something dawned on me. “You knew who killed Buck Walters out in the woods, didn’t you?”

  She nodded. “I could smell the werewolves. I knew Floyd’s enforcers were the ones responsible for Buck Walters’ demise because their scent was all over the crime scene. And, as soon as I knew that there was a vamp in town, I predicted things were going to get dicey with Floyd. He’s had a grudge against vampires and made them out to be the worst of all the supes. I think it’s one of the ways he keeps his pack so loyal. He makes them think they have a dangerous enemy and that may be, but so far, his own pack has been responsible for the mayhem. Not a lone vampire who doesn’t seem the least bit aggressive.”

  “Vincent just wants to be left alone.” I sighed. “Sally, you let me believe you knew nothing about Buck’s murder or the warning it was for Vincent to get out of town,” I said. I was disappointed that she hadn’t trusted me with this. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  She sighed, and then resumed her careful steps toward Sheriff Willis’ final resting place. I walked beside her as the Geiger counter continued to click slowly in that steady low beat.

  She shrugged. “When we discovered Buck’s dismemberment, I knew you didn’t know you were a shifter yet. You didn’t walk around trying to pick up any scents, observing the crime scene like an animal would. I watched you closely, Sheriff. Why would I say anything? It wasn’t until that night at Vincent’s cabin that you figured out who you were and what you were capable of. There was no reason for me to point it out to you before that time. You wouldn’t have believed it until you actually experienced it anyway.”

  “You knew that I was involved with the new vampire before that confrontation?”

  Sally nodded. “I smelled him on you when you met me out at Buck Walters’ murder scene, Sheriff. And to be honest, I’d heard rumors about a vampire moving in, but I hadn’t been sure he was actually here until I caught his scent on you. The Prosper Woods gossip chain sometimes gets it wrong, so I wasn’t at all certain until then.”

  “Christ,” I growled. “I wish you would have at least said something after I shifted that first time. You knew I was aware of paranormal creatures, so it’s strange that you didn’t tell me about the werewolves who killed Walters. It’s been two weeks. Why haven’t you said anything until now?”

  Sally sighed. “Look, I know this is all new to you and I know you’re still working on focusing your powers, but I didn’t know whether you were really a good guy or one of the bad ones. I mean, I figured you were one of the good ones when you dispatched Floyd and his pack without killing any of them.”

  I almost choked.

  She stared at me with a little smile on her face. “I told you I was in the trees that night, watching.”

  This was almost too much to take. “I guess all shifters in town know about me and what I am—I assume there are a lot more shifters in Prosper Woods, right?”

  Sally chuckled, sounding relieved at the change of subject. “There’s a lot of us. You just met one of them.”

  I stopped and turned to look at her. “Who, Dave?”

  She shook her head and gave me a little smile. “No, Dave’s human. I’m talking about Tico Mendez, the kid. He’s Ricky Mendez’s brother. And Brady comes from a shifter family too.”

  I pursed my lips, trying to remember the name. Nothing came to mind. “Ricky is who now?”

  “The pimply mechanic who’s a whiz with cars. He runs the gas station and is a damned good mechanic when you need one.”

  “Huh, and…they’re what kind of shifters?”

  “Rabbit,” Sally said with a smile. “The Mendez family is the largest in town. Ricky’s mom has ten kids.”

  I chuckled. “So, it’s no joke to say rabbit shifters breed like bunnies, huh?”

  She laughed. “Yes, and they’re a really nice family. They stay to themselves and under the radar. With all the predators around here, all the shifters who are prey animals stay out of trouble and off the radar for the most part.”

  “I’m going to have to sit down with you and have you give me a list of the shifters you’re aware of,” I said.

  “I can do that.” She suddenly lifted her flashlight and pointed it ten feet in front of us. “There he is.”

  We both stopped in front of the partially skeletonized remains of a man still dressed in his uniform. He appeared to have been dead at least four to five months which would track with the timeline of Sheriff Willis’ disappearance. The coroner would have to confirm it, but I’d seen enough bodies in my time with the LAPD to ballpark his demise.

  There was almost no scent of decomposition remaining on or around the remains, at least none that I could detect. He looked mummified with dry patches of skin stretched over his skull like leather which had dried out in the sun. At least he was no longer oozing like a fresh corpse would have been. I’d always hated those kind of crime scenes.

  I had to wonder at Sally’s ability to pick up on the scent of a shifter or vampire. Even though I was a unicorn, my sense of smell was no match for either hers or Vincent’s. And after her crack about all the observing eyes from the trees the night I’d first transformed, I wondered how many other supernatural creatures in town knew what I was. It was weird to even think about.

  I squatted in front of the sheriff, snapping on a pair of gloves before reaching into the holster he still wore and removing his gun. I stood up and placed the gun in a plastic evidence bag Sally held open for me as one of the radios in the pack crackled to life. She sealed the evidence bag as I grabbed the radio.

  “Sheriff Harmon…come back.”

  “Sheriff, Dr. Willoughby is here,” Dave said. “I’ll send her back.”

  “Sure, Dave. Thanks,” I replied, clicking off, stuffing the radio back into the pack, and pulling out a roll of yellow crime scene tape, and a stack of plastic evidence markers.

  I handed the items to Sally without any instruction, interested to see how she’d process the crime scene. I’d only seen her do one before at the Buck Walters’ murder, but each scene was handled differently based on the location, the environment, possible onlookers, and other things. I was impressed when she taped off the area and then pulled out a camera, photographing the scene from all angles before she started placing evidence markers. Afterward, she photographed each piece of evidence and its’ marker individually. I turned my attention back to the former sheriff as I remained squatting.

  I noticed no telltale evidence of what had killed him. No obvious knife wounds or blood on his clothes, no obvious bullet holes, no claw marks. Even though Sally said she smelled werewolf, I thought it very weird that Floyd or his pack would have killed the sheriff without leaving any visible trace of claw or bite marks. If they had murdered the sheriff without leaving marks it seemed stranger still that they would have hidden him deep in a mine, especially wearing his uniform. There were no drag marks either.

  The sheriff’s killer made no attempt to hide his victim’s identity, though, it was plausible the murderer figured Willis wouldn’t ever be found. All of this assumed he was murdered, though, I couldn’t imagine what other reason he’d have for going into an old played out uranium mine just to die. Questions filled my mind. Why hadn’t the murderer taken his victim’s gun or
badge? That seemed beyond odd to me.

  I stood up and turned as I heard the sound of shuffling feet. When I saw the beams from two flashlights, I knew the medical examiner had arrived with an assistant, and a carry basket to transport the body over the lumpy and uneven ground.

  “We’re back here, Doc,” Sally called out.

  “We see you,” Doctor Tammy Willoughby said, walking into the beams from our flashlights, holding her own. She was followed by Stuart, her lab assistant whom I’d met at the scene of Buck Walters’ murder. They stopped in front of us, and I reached out my hand, shaking hers.

  “Howdy, Sheriff…Sally,” she said.

  “Hey, Doc,” Sally said, shaking the doctor’s hand.

  I watched her snap on gloves as she frowned at Sheriff Willis’ body. She clucked her tongue. “That’s a damned shame,” she said. “I always had a feeling he didn’t just up and run away voluntarily.” She walked over and stood over the skeleton, looking down at him.

  “How long do you think he’s been here?” Sally asked.

  “He disappeared around Halloween, right?” Doc Willoughby asked.

  Sally nodded. “Yes, October twenty-ninth.”

  “That looks about right based on the mummification I see here,” she said. She glanced around the mine, shining her flashlight on the walls before looking at me. “It’s cold and dry in here and it would have been even colder from October until now. I’m certain that’s what accounts for the mummification we’re observing in the sheriff’s corpse.”

  I nodded. “Is there any way to tell how he was killed just by looking at him, Doc?” I asked.

  “Let me take a look.” She squatted and looked closely at him, reaching out a gloved hand to tenderly lift his chin and examine both sides of his neck, then taking each of his hands, gently turning them over and looking closely, before glancing up at me. “I don’t think I’ll be able to tell you what killed him until I get him on my table back in town. If you’re finished here, shall we move him?”

  “Sure. Let me give you a hand, Doc.”

  “We’ll do it, Sheriff,” Stuart said, unfolding a black zippered body bag that he’d just drawn out of the medical bag sitting in the basket.

  “Go ahead.” I stepped aside and joined Sally who held several bags of evidence, rocks that she thought might have blood on them. Of note, she hadn’t found any shell casings. That didn’t mean the sheriff hadn’t been shot somewhere I couldn’t see. If the killer used a revolver there wouldn’t be shell casings. He might have policed his own brass if he’d used a different gun, removing telltale evidence himself, if he was well-trained. There hadn’t been any noticeable footprints on the hard-packed ground of the cavern so there were no plaster molds to take. I touched her sleeve and drew her several feet away from the body to let the doctor and her assistant work. “There isn’t much here,” I said quietly.

  Sally shook her head. “Nothing. If this murder was committed by werewolves, there would be evidence of it on the body. They don’t kill without marks, even though I haven’t seen the body naked.”

  “But you’re sure you smell them?” I asked, studying her.

  “I’m sure. The scent is faint, but they were here even though there are no visible signs.”

  “Maybe they were in here before or afterward,” I offered as an explanation.

  Sally shrugged. “Who knows. Scent can tell you if they’ve been here but not when. Especially if it’s something that happened a while ago.”

  I shone my flashlight at the ground before looking back at Sally. “Is it weird that I see no footprints? Definitely no paw prints.”

  Sally nodded. “Very weird. I looked for them too. If humans left him in here, you’d think there’d be boot prints. If it were werewolves, there’d be paw prints.” She shone her flashlight around the crime scene. “There’s no drag marks and absolutely nothing else here…not even Sheriff Willis’ footprints.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “What the hell is that about?” Something occurred to me and I narrowed my eyes at Sally. “What if something…I don’t know…floated him in?” I snorted but sobered when she didn’t laugh. In fact, Sally frowned.

  “Let’s talk about this in the truck,” she said, quietly.

  I watched her lean over to look past my shoulder and turned to find Stuart, the assistant ME staring at us. When our eyes met, he turned away quickly, pretending to ignore the fact that he’d just been caught eavesdropping.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  We waited several minutes for Stuart and Doc Willoughby to finish up what they were doing and helped them carry the body bag out as we exited the mine with Sheriff Willis’ remains.

  Nameless

  I watched as the living carried Sheriff Willis’ body out of the mine in a black body bag. I hated the way the living treated us, closing us up in a bag, then a coffin. Us—the dead. At least someone—maybe a dad or a mom—would mourn the sheriff. For those like me who remained unclaimed—unfound—well, we floated through worlds endlessly. No one seemed to notice when we were no more. I bit my lip, sighing as I realized these things still bothered me. I should have left all the old feelings behind when I died but when no one knew I’d even left the world or that I’d ever existed at all, how could I? I remained trapped between worlds.

  The living loaded the sheriff’s body into their fancy coroner’s van. I watched a young man reach up and lay his hand on the door after he’d closed and locked it. He bowed his head for just a second, and I could hear the prayer he said for the dead man everyone had respected. None of the living had ever done that for me. Then again, I’d been no one. The new sheriff spoke to the hedgehog for a minute before they climbed into their truck and drove away with the coroner’s van following.

  Alone again.

  I was alone again.

  Chapter Four

  Prosper Woods Chronicle. Letters to the editor:

  “The new bed-and-breakfast is hosting a wax and peel retreat this weekend and I’m writing to complain. If you’re thinking of making a reservation, forget it. Those people have no class. I even offered to supply my own 50-gallon drum of solvent and industrial duct tape.” Signed, “Endlessly Exfoliating.”

  Vincent

  I waited for Romeo to darken my door and his delay felt endless. After the evening I’d had, I paced the floor of my home, drinking ketchup like a man possessed. I hadn’t expected three unwelcome vampires to show up in Prosper Woods, but when Scott had unpacked my personal belongings at the store, all bets were off. Show up they did…in force. If they hadn’t already known where I’d relocated, they wouldn’t have been able to pick up on the vibrations of Robert’s books when Scott broke the box’s seal. Nothing explained their sudden arrival other than that they must have followed me from South Carolina. Didn’t they have anything better to do? Humans to kill? Havoc to wreak elsewhere…?

  Goddamn it!

  I’d been foolishly lax in security in the handling of belongings that had been so precious to my maker. I just wanted to kick myself. At least I’d been of sound mind to put up wards to guard against the vamps locating Robert’s old bones. If they’d found my maker, all would have been lost. I still didn’t know why the books were so important to Sergio. All I knew was that they were trouble, and that I was now trapped in Prosper Woods and its surroundings. If I left…even if I wanted to drive to Stockton…I would not only put my life in danger but anyone else I cared about.

  The situation I was in now meant I couldn’t leave Romeo’s side, even for a little while. I had to resolve this issue and at the same time, figure out how to keep the books and my mate safe. I knew I had to get the Conclave of Eight involved and every time I thought about that, I covered my face with both hands. They were an unpredictable bunch of power-hungry, conceited assholes with absolutely no regard for human life. They made Sergio, Justine, and Harvey look like children to be toyed with. All I ever wanted was to settle down somewhere, start a new life with someone I loved. Bringing the Conclave in could dest
roy everything but what could I do?

  Fuck… I am screwed.

  Romeo’s key finally slid into the lock on my front door around eight that evening. I’d prepared a large tray of lasagna for him in my frenzy and the house stunk of the human food. I knew Romeo would eat it with relish. I’d watched him devour all the food I prepared, though, it had only been a few dishes.

  Thank you, Food Channel.

  The door swung open, and my mate stepped inside wearing a black leather jacket that fit perfectly across his wide chest and shoulders. His blue jeans hugged his body like a second skin, and the black boots he wore made him look so sexy I found myself growing hard just from staring at him.

  He was taller than me, though, not by much, possibly an inch or two. In human form, he had thick black hair and the darkest brown eyes I’d ever seen. As a unicorn, he was much more colorful—pure white with a rainbow mane and tail. His spiral unicorn horn of the same colors sparkled under the moonlight. In either form, Romeo Harmon was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I was absolutely smitten with my mate. The moment he shut the front door and lifted his face to take a whiff of the food I’d cooked for him, his gorgeous face split with a massive grin.

  “You cooked for me?”

  I walked toward him and held out my arms, sliding them around his back, and clasping him tightly as he met me halfway across the living room.

  “I made lasagna. I hope you’re hungry,” I whispered, my mouth hovering a half inch from his lips. I could smell a combination of mint gum and coffee, but it was the stench of werewolf and death that made me lean back in his arms and study his face. I frowned. “Where were you?”

  Romeo sighed and dropped his hands from my ass. It was the place his hands went naturally whenever we hugged like this. He began shrugging out of his jacket and when he dropped it over the back of my couch and squatted to begin untying his boots, he glanced up at me.