But then…Eric had wanted her to go. In fact, he had insisted. She still couldn’t work out why he hadn’t just turned and fled with them but had chosen to stay and face the music. What had been his motivation?
Suddenly, she knew. It was exactly as Shay had said. He was trying to buy them time, distracting the police, so that they could escape well and truly. He knew that Shay wanted to go to law school, and he knew that she had ambitions, too, though she hadn’t made up her mind yet what career path she wanted to go down. She was a passionate painter, though, and art school was a possibility…
But Eric didn’t have any of that shackling him. He was a free spirit. A rebel who had no ambitions to become a great person in the world. And he had already been in trouble; obviously, this was nothing new for him. He was willing to take the entire rap to save them both.
Shay had said that she wanted to be a sacrificial lamb. But that was what Eric was doing. He was sacrificing himself so that they could walk away, scot free.
Tess trembled violently. This felt awful. Every fibre of her being told her to walk back into that house and take responsibility with Eric, side by side. She remembered how they had kissed in that old, musty bedroom, her blood feeling like it had been set on fire. She had never been kissed like that in her life.
Well, if she was being honest, she had never actually been kissed before. It had been her first time, and she would never forget it, as long as she lived.
She loved him. She had always loved him, and now she loved him even more, with what he was doing for her. He was a hero. But still, the question remained: should she march back into that house, even though he didn’t want her to?
She was almost about to turn to Shay, and tell him to go to hell—that she was going back in there, come what may—when she saw the flames.
Her heart stopped for an instant. The house was on fire. She suddenly realised. They had not thought to put a guard on the fire they had made in the living room. Had the wood tumbled out, spreading through the house? Were they responsible for this?
Just as she was about to turn to Shay and ask him, she heard the gunshot. A single gunshot thundering through the night air. They both jumped violently, turning to each other with wide eyes.
Oh, dear God, what was happening?
The house was on fire. And now, someone had fired a gun. Was it the police, or Eric? She didn’t know if he even owned one. She had never asked him.
“Freeze!”
Tess could see two police running through the back yard, their guns drawn. Tess felt a sickening rush of blood drain from her head. She turned to Shay…but he wasn’t there.
She gasped. She could see a large, furry dog running away, sprinting like it was possessed. Where had it come from? What on earth was going on?
She didn’t think anymore. She turned and sprinted through the vacant land at the back of the property, running for her life.
It was after midnight when she climbed up the trellis on the outside of her house to her bedroom window, opening it with shaking hands. She stumbled in, falling onto the floor. She stood up, slowly, gazing out at the flames licking the night sky in the distance.
The old Grady house would soon be ashes.
She fell to the floor, then, clutching herself. She could feel tears heavy behind her eyelids, but they refused to fall.
What had happened to Eric? And how could Shay have just abandoned her, running off into the night like that?
And how on earth had a stray dog just stumbled onto the scene?
Chapter Two
Covenester, twelve years later
Shay leaned across the table, picking up an old motorcycle magazine, and flicked through it absently. His mind just couldn’t focus on anything at the moment, not even some light reading. Trying to distract himself just wasn’t going to work.
He tossed the magazine aside, standing up quickly. Maybe he should go for a walk to clear his head. He was in-between cases and at a loose end. And this time of year, with the anniversary approaching, always made him edgy. He should have recognised it for what it was by now.
Just as he was going to pick up his jacket and head out, the alpha leader of the pack walked in, signalling that he should stay.
Shay stared at him. Thad, their illustrious leader, who always managed to get them through all and any scrapes. Thad had been running their shifter wolf pack, the Wild Keepers, for over five years now, and he did the job well. Shay respected him and looked up to him like the older brother he had never had. They had become even closer a year ago, when Shay had stepped up into the position of beta after Evan had retired to marry the ballerina of his dreams.
Shay grinned. It was good being second in command. He had earned it, after all. He had been with the Wild Keepers, battling the Vilgath, a race of demons, for a little over seven years now. It was like a second skin to him. But he had worked so many cases that they had all started to blur together recently. He stirred restlessly. Perhaps he should go on a little holiday. Or perhaps he just needed to get back to work.
“How’s it going?” Thad asked now, sitting down at the table. “You seem a little lost, Shay.”
Shay nodded. What could he say to that? That he always felt this way at this time of year and why hadn’t Thad noticed before? They had lived together in this derelict warehouse in the city of Covenester for a long time now and knew each other’s habits and foibles. But it seemed that good old Thad had never noticed that Shay always got a little edgy when fall rolled around.
Shay forced a smile onto his face. “It’s nothing,” he said quickly. “Just a bit bored, I guess.”
Thad stared at him. “I thought you’d appreciate the rest,” he said. “You’ve worked back-to-back on cases for over a year, since Evan left. And done an excellent job, I might add.”
Shay sighed, sitting back so far on his chair that it balanced precariously, threatening to tilt and fall. “What can I say, Thad? I’m just a restless guy. It’s not in my nature to sit around.”
Thad eyed him carefully. “True,” he replied. He stood up. “So, you’re ready to get back to work, then?”
Shay sat up quickly, causing the chair legs to hit the ground abruptly. “You’ve got a new case for me?” This was excellent news. It would mean that he wouldn’t have to sit around the warehouse brooding.
Thad studied him then nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I wasn’t going to give it to you because you seemed a bit burnt out, but I can see you aren’t about to head off on a road trip or catch a plane to Bermuda.” He sighed. “You do work too hard, Shay.”
Shay’s eyes widened a fraction. “What are you talking about, Thad? I play as hard as I work. Zach and I were out practically all night on Friday.”
“Hmmm.” Thad frowned. “Yes, I remember. The sun was just starting to come up when I heard you both stumbling through the skylight. But that’s not what I’m talking about, Shay. I mean actually recharging your batteries, not going out and partying so hard you can’t remember anything the next day. That’s not rest.”
Shay shrugged. “It’s what I like to do. It’s who I am.”
Thad sighed but didn’t push it any further. “I know you well, Shay,” he said slowly. “And I think that you need a rest. But if you refuse to take it, then I will set you to work. Do you want to hear about this case?”
“Hit me,” said Shay, leaning forward eagerly.
Thad sighed again. “I can’t fault your attitude,” he said. He pushed a newspaper towards him across the table. “Page one, I’m afraid.”
Shay picked it up. “The oil crisis in Iran?”
Thad rolled his eyes. “No, but that could be caused by the Vilgath, they have tentacles everywhere.” He pointed to the article. “This is the third time I have heard of this in the past two years.”
Shay frowned, scanning the article quickly. “A forged work of art?”
Thad nodded. “Discovered as it was being shipped out of Covenester on loan to a European gallery,” he said. “The who
le city is up in arms, and the art community is horrified. It is a Van Gogh, after all. Worth millions of dollars.”
Shay compared the photos of the forged painting with the real one carefully. “I can’t spot the difference at all. It is that good.”
Thad’s lips thinned. “Yes, unfortunately. But the experts picked it up, although even they admitted it is a first-rate job. It almost got on that ship without being detected.”
Shay nodded. “And you suspect a demon at work?”
“I do.” Thad picked up the paper and studied the article. “There is actually no reason to…I just have a feeling, that’s all. It might be a straightforward case of art forgery, and that’s it. But…it could be sabotage, although what they would be trying to achieve is beyond me.”
“Siphoning millions into a Swiss bank account after selling the real deal?” suggested Shay.
Thad shook his head. “That’s just the thing. It can’t be done, not targeting works of this calibre and fame. Van Gogh, for instance, is one of the most famous artists of all time. There is absolutely no way that anyone could buy one of his works on the black market and expect that they could hang it in their living room undetected. Someone would notice and report them.” Thad took a deep breath. “Even the most ardent and wealthy art lover wouldn’t risk that.”
Shay stared at him. “What, then?”
“I don’t know,” replied Thad, frowning. “That’s why I want you to investigate. The other two forged paintings haven’t shown up anywhere in the past few years. Not on the black market, not in some obscure gallery in the back of beyond…nowhere. Just as this Van Gogh has disappeared without a trace. These major works of art have seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth.”
Shay sat back again, his eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for an art lover,” he said. “Do you really care what has happened to these paintings? Is anyone really getting hurt by their disappearance?”
Thad stared at him. “Shay, I’m not the biggest art lover in the world by a long shot. I think that I’ve visited two art galleries in my life, and both of those were school visits. That’s not the point, and neither is it that no one has seemingly lost their life because of this.” He took a deep breath. “It’s the bigger picture. A couple of forged paintings with the real one’s disappearing is neither here nor there. It happens, from time to time. What I am interested in is if there is a pattern here, or a conspiracy to sabotage.”
Shay blinked. “You think it is the same forger at work, and they are taking the real paintings for a bigger reason than selling them or putting them in a basement somewhere to admire?” He frowned. “But what could that be, and why would it necessarily be a demon or demons behind it?”
Thad shook his head. “Too many questions and too few answers for now. The point is, I want you to find out. I might be way off the mark and there is no bigger plan behind this, and it mightn’t be spearheaded by the Vilgath. But that is what you will discover.”
“Okay.” Shay stared at the newspaper again. “You want me to go undercover posing as an art curator or something? That will be a long shot for me. I don’t know the first thing about art, and I don’t think a quick Google search is going to get me up to speed.”
Thad shook his head again. “No. I don’t think targeting the Covenester Art Gallery is the way to go. I want you to actually get in with the forger, or forgers. Find out how they are doing it, and where the real paintings are going. That way, you will know if it is just an isolated individual at work or there is something bigger at play. Who the forgers are working for, and why.”
Shay’s eyes widened. “Now that’s interesting. How on earth are you going to get me in there? Do you have a lead on who the forger is?”
Thad grinned. “I might. And I want you to infiltrate it. You will be a crim with a record of moving counterfeit goods, fast. A record that is so good that the forger, or forgers, won’t be able to resist using you.”
Shay stood up, stretching. “How long until I can get to it?”
“I’m working on it as we speak.” Thad stood up, too. “I should have word by the end of the week, and then the rest will be up to you. You’ll have to win their trust by playing it very slowly and carefully at first. No sudden moves. Remember, the object is to find out who or what is behind it all, not put away the forger or forgers if they are just hired hands.” He stared at Shay. “Do you think you’re up to it? It might be a slow burner, or it might fizzle out to nothing. Patience is the name of the game.”
Thad nodded, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Hell, yeah, I’m up to it. It beats sitting around the warehouse doing crosswords. As soon as you get the go on that lead, I will be there.”
***
Shay walked down the dirty city street, studying the bars and dives littered along it. It was only early afternoon, but they were already busy. He could see men sitting on bar stools as he passed by, hunched over, nursing beers or whiskey sours. Staring into their drinks as if the meaning of life might suddenly materialise at the bottom of the glass. He suddenly thought it looked like a great way to kill the rest of the day.
He chose a bar at random, blinking in the dim light. He walked slowly to the bar and ordered a shot of rum, tossing it back as if it were lemonade. He held out his glass to the bartender. “Another.”
The bartender, a big burly guy with a long beard, silently poured the liquid into the shot glass. He didn’t ask any questions. Shay thought he had probably been here long enough not to even bat an eyelid at anything that happened in here. It wasn’t exactly a high-class establishment.
Shay crouched over the bar on the stool, picking up his beer chaser. He took a long swig, staring around. The obligatory pool table stood in one corner with lights hanging low over it; a jukebox in the opposite corner wheezed out a country song about lost love, the warbled notes jarring in the air. Just another day where lost souls could huddle together, wasting time.
He stared out the window. There were a few spindly trees on the pavement, shedding the first of their autumn leaves, which a slight wind tossed down the street. He took another swig of his beer. It was this damn time of the year that always did it to him. Fall. If he closed his eyes long enough, he would be back in that outer suburb. A seventeen year old again, with his whole life in front of him.
Until that night. When everything had changed.
He watched a yellow leaf swirling in the gutter. That old sorrow was swirling up again, just like the leaf. It didn’t seem to matter how much he drank, or how fast he tried to run from it. It was always there, waiting to be stirred up.
He took the last swig of the beer then ordered another. Eric. His best friend since he was a child. They had spent all their time together. But Eric had started changing in that last year. He had grown sullen and rebellious. He kept getting into trouble. He had bought a motorbike, and made a great show of how fast he could ride it, pushing it to its limit. Shay had tried to understand and stay friends with him, but it had been hard. So hard.
And then, that night. When Eric had taken him and Tess to the old abandoned Grady house. A bit of a lark. Shay could still remember the shock that he had felt, when he and Eric had rounded the corner and Tess had been waiting for them. What was she doing there? How had Eric persuaded her to steal out of her home in the dark, to roam the quiet suburban streets and break into the house?
Tess. Even saying her name in his head caused a fresh upsurge of pain, knifing him in the chest.
He had loved her forever, although she never knew it. He had never had the courage to tell her. And what would she have said, even if he had? He knew that she had no interest in him. To her, he was just an annoying boy that hung on the fringes of her group. It was Eric who made her eyes light up. Eric, with his leather jacket and floppy hair, his devilish green eyes and charisma. The rebel who she wanted to tame.
But she never had, of course. She had never had the chance. Because Eric had died that awful night. They had both never had the
chance to speak to him again. Ask him why he had chosen to inexplicably stay back. Almost as if he had known something; that he had a date with destiny that couldn’t be avoided.
Shay took another swig of his beer. The guilt. The awful guilt that gnawed away at him and never left. He had run away from his best friend. Left him to face the music, like the coward he was. And Eric had lost his life because of it.
Word had filtered back the next day, when he was hiding out in his bedroom, almost out of his mind with fear. Eric’s body had been found in the wreckage of the fire. But how had he died? Shay remembered clearly the single gunshot that had sounded in the air before the flames had consumed the house. Had Eric already been dead?
The inquiry had never mentioned a gun wound. It had said that Eric had perished in the fire. And yet, Shay had always wondered. Just another thing that ate away at him, causing him to toss and turn at night.
He and Tess had never spoken again. Almost by mutual agreement, they had avoided each other like the plague. As if even speaking to each other would bring back that awful night, and the questions that could never be answered. And Shay knew that Tess blamed him for it, and he didn’t think that she was wrong. Not at all.
He had deserted her, too, although he hadn’t meant to. The fear and the confusion had made him turn suddenly into his wolf, and he had sprinted away into the night. At that age, he had only just started transforming, and he still had limited control over it. If he was overcome with strong emotion, it could suddenly happen. It was different now, of course. He was in command of his wolf, except on full moons. But at seventeen, he was still learning how to live with this strange creature that was a part of him.
His mind was starting to spin, a little. The house. The gunshot. The fire. And Tess’s agonised face, staring up at him. Wanting him to fix it all.
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