by Keri Arthur
“Don’t be long.” His voice was brusque and edged with hunger.
The urge to run all but swamped her. She forced her smile and entered the restroom. It was empty. She checked the stalls anyway, then reached up to close the window.
A warning tingled across the back of her neck, telling her she was no longer alone. She ignored the urge to turn and face him, knowing she had to lock the window just to make sure no one else could join them. Especially the soul-sucker—though a locked window wasn’t going to delay her long if she decided to join the party.
He kicked the door shut, then slammed the bolt home. Her heart began a double-time dance that had nothing to do with desire. She slid her hand into her bag and clenched her fingers around one of the two silver knives she carried.
“Getting a might anxious, aren’t—” Metal slithered across her throat, cutting off her words. She reacted instinctively, thrusting a hand up to her neck as the wire snapped taut. A ribbon of fire began to burn around her throat and cut into her fingers. It wasn’t ordinary wire. It was silver, which meant she couldn’t shift shape to escape the garrote.
“Did you think a wig would fool us?” he whispered, his breath hot and unsteady against her ear.
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. The wire was growing tighter, cutting into her fingers and neck. Moisture pulsed down her palm, and her chest burned as air suddenly became scarce.
Energy blistered through every fiber, but she fought desperately against the urge to release it. She didn’t dare when he held the garrote so tight. She might just end up cutting her own throat.
“Scream for me,” he whispered. “Beg for your life.”
He slammed her face-first against the wall and began rubbing himself against her rump. He was thick and hard, his breathing fast and hot against her ear. Bile rose in her throat, threatening to finish what the garrote had begun. She closed her eyes, battling panic. Remembered the knife still clenched in her hand.
She lifted it free and stabbed backward. The blade sliced through flesh as easily as butter, sinking hilt-deep. He howled, and the noose around her neck cut deeper. She fought for breath, her lungs burning and heart pounding so fast it felt ready to leap from her chest.
The smell of burning flesh tore at the air, then metal clattered against the tiles. “You will pay for that.” His voice was little more than a husky growl. “I shall tear your limbs from your body, then drown you with my seed as your blood pulses around you.”
Magic shimmered around her. He was changing shape … but the garrote didn’t loosen. He must have tied it. Lights danced crazily before her eyes, and the whole world seemed to be roaring at her. Her heart thumped in her ears, and the burning in her lungs had spread throughout her body. Every muscle seemed to scream with the need to breathe.
She thrust a hand into her bag and felt desperately for the second knife. Heard the rumbling growl behind her and spun, stabbing blindly.
If she hit anything, she didn’t feel it.
She cursed, but the words seemed to lodge somewhere in her throat, the effort to speak choking her. She felt the breeze of movement and lashed out kinetically. Wildly. Something hit the far wall and anger rumbled around her. Her fingers twitched against the knife. She glanced down, surprised that she still held it, but couldn’t see anything through the darkness rushing into her mind. She closed her eyes, imagining the knife burying itself so deep into the werewolf’s heart that it pinned him to the wall. Felt energy burn through every fiber, as if in response. Then the darkness took hold, and she knew no more.
ETHAN THRUST OPEN THE RESTAURANT DOOR AND WALKED inside. His gaze swept the room, taking in the crowd gyrating on the dance floor and the overflowing tables and booths. Kat wasn’t anywhere near, yet she was still in the building. Her fresh scent teased his nostrils, drawing him on. As did the sensation of her pain.
He clenched his fists and headed left. Beneath the faint smell of sweat and alcohol, desire roamed. Given the full moon was closer tonight, that smell should have stirred his senses, made him hunger. Yet he felt dead inside. Dead and cold.
He didn’t stop to wonder at that. Didn’t dare.
A woman stepped in front of him. She was a pretty Asian, her face full, her body luscious. “Care for a drink, stranger?”
The invitation in her dark eyes suggested she was offering far more than a drink. At any other time he might have accepted both the drink and the sex, but right now he had something far more important to do. Someone far more important to find.
“Sorry, I haven’t the time to play.” He tried to walk around her, but she stepped in front of him again.
“What will a drink cost you?” she murmured, her voice a smoky promise of heat.
“Plenty.” Especially if Kat died. He picked the woman up and placed her to one side. “Sorry, but I’m in a hurry.”
He continued on. Up ahead, a crowd had gathered around the restroom. A security guard thumped the door, but he didn’t appear to be getting any response. The ice in Ethan’s stomach rose, settling across his chest, making it difficult to breathe.
“Police,” he said, pushing his way through the crowd. He reached the guard and flashed his badge, then said, “What’s the problem?”
“One of the ladies reported hearing fighting, but whoever is in there has locked the door and doesn’t appear to be responding.”
Ethan nodded as he put his ID away. “Clear this area for me, and don’t let anyone come past that last table. I’ll take care of it.”
The guard began pushing people back. Ethan waited until there was no possible chance of anyone seeing inside, then stepped back and kicked the door open.
The werewolf lay at the base of one of the stalls, a glittering silver knife lodged deep in his heart. He’d been caught early in the change, so that he looked like a malformed human who hadn’t shaved in years. At least it meant he didn’t have to explain the existence of werewolves to anyone—though he suspected Mark might know more than what he was saying on that subject.
Kat lay on the floor under the window, blood pooling around her face. A face that was mottled, and lips that were blue. For an instant everything seemed to freeze—his heart, his mind, his body—but then he was beside her, quickly feeling for a pulse.
It was there—rapid, weak, but there. Relief surged through him but just as swiftly fled when he saw the silver garrote still around her neck. He swore and released the wire’s tension, easing it away from her burned and bloodied flesh.
She coughed, then sucked in air, her whole body shaking with the urgency to breathe. He pinched her cheeks, trying to gain her attention. The danger was far from over yet.
“Kat, did he bite you?”
She rolled onto her back and continued to suck in air. Blood poured from the vicious wounds on her right hand, and her neck was burned and swollen around the paper-thin cut. He couldn’t see any bite marks, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any, especially seeing as the werewolf was partway through the change. Even a bite from a berserker in human form could be deadly.
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently. “Katherine, did he bite you?”
She shook her head and opened her eyes. They were brown rather than green.
“Don’t think—” The rest of her words were lost to a bout of coughing that left her shaking.
He swore under his breath and did a quick but careful check. He couldn’t see anything resembling a bite and relaxed a little. But she was still cut and bleeding, and he had to treat both wounds as soon as possible. He stripped off his jacket and wrapped it around her. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“Soul-sucker,” she gasped. “Outside.”
“Kat, you can’t go after it like this—”
“No. But it may—” She stopped and coughed so hard her face went red.
“Attack?” he finished, and she nodded.
Given the commotion they’d raised in the last ten minutes, he very much doubted it. This thing, whether it was human or
something else entirely, was smart, and hanging around in a place about to be invaded by cops wasn’t smart. With any luck, by now it was halfway back to the hell that had spawned it. He just had to hope it wasn’t taking Janie with it.
He took a business card from his wallet, scrawled the cabin’s address on the back, then slipped his arms under her and carefully picked her up.
“Tell me if you sense it,” he said.
She nodded and closed her eyes, leaning her head against his shoulder. Coarse blond hair scratched at his nose. The wig didn’t suit her. It made her look brassy and cheap, and she was neither of those. But at least it might prevent her from being recognized by anyone later. He wasn’t going to be so lucky.
And Benton was going to be furious.
He carried her out of the restroom and stopped near the security guard. “Call the sheriff, then call this number.” He handed the man the card and pointed to the department’s phone number. “Get hold of Detective Fairfield and tell him Detective Morgan has found another suspect.” The sheriff and Benton weren’t going to be happy about his interference, but right now, Ethan didn’t care.
“Is the lady all right?”
“Yeah. If they want to talk to me, I’m staying at the address on the back.”
The guard flicked the card over and nodded. “And the lady?”
“Will be with me.”
He headed for the door. The night outside was cool, unfettered by the odors of sweat and lust and curiosity. He took a deep breath, clearing his head as he walked toward the car. Kat’s sweet scent surrounded him, stirring his blood once more. Even bloody and bruised, she still smelled good. Still felt good.
He unlocked the car and placed her upright on the backseat. She stirred, blinking rapidly. Her breathing had evened out, but her mouth was still pinched with pain.
He squatted down next to her and opened up the small first-aid kit. Inside there was antiseptic, swabs, bandages, and a small pouch of dried herbs. Obviously, Kat and her grandmother considered the herbs to be a cure-all for all manner of wounds. And while it went against every instinct to use such unconventional healing methods, they’d worked almost miraculously on the wound in her arm. He wasn’t about to gainsay their benefits when she was bleeding all over the seat and he had nothing else.
He touched a hand to her cheek, and she opened her eyes. He hated the contact lenses. On her, green was far prettier. “I’m going to have to take off your shirt to clean the wound properly.” The collar was brushing the thin line around her neck, irritating the wound and making it bleed again.
“Don’t need excuses.” Her voice was little more than a husky whisper. “Just ask.”
A mischievous smile played about her mouth, and heat shot to his groin. “I’m afraid even the thought of asking is out of the question tonight.” It was just as well he’d sated the worst of his desires last night, otherwise restraint would not be so easily offered.
“Tomorrow,” she said, closing her eyes again.
“Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
He eased the jacket off, then undid the buttons of her shirt and peeled it away. Her creamy breasts were smeared with blood and showed signs of heavy-handed bruising. Anger rose inside him, swift and sharp. He swallowed it. The berserker was dead, and as much as he wanted to go back and kick the bastard’s body, it wouldn’t achieve anything.
After soaking a swab in antiseptic, he carefully cleaned her wounds, then applied the herbs and bandaged them. She bore it all without comment, even though he saw her wince. She was undoubtedly braver than he was—straight antiseptic would have had him screaming. He put his jacket back on her and zipped it up as far as he could to keep her warm.
“Home, James,” she murmured as he did up her seat belt.
He smiled and brushed a kiss across her lips, then rose before he gave in to the desire to taste her more fully. Once they were on the road, he called Gwen to let her know everything was okay. Even so, she was waiting outside when they got back to the cabins.
She hobbled across to the car and flung open the door. “Nice job of bandaging,” she said after a few seconds. “And you used the herbs.”
“Why wouldn’t I? I’ve seen them work, remember.”
“That you did.” She patted his arm. “Put her in my bed for the time being, Detective, because your boss isn’t that far behind you.”
He raised an eyebrow as he lifted Kat. “How?”
“I called him after you left. I thought you might have needed some backup.”
Then they must have just missed each other, and for that he was grateful. Benton would have insisted on sending Kat to a hospital. She was far better here, under her grandmother’s care, though only a day ago he wouldn’t have admitted that.
He carried her into the cabin and placed her into bed, stripping off her shoes but leaving on his jacket. She was asleep, and he didn’t want to disturb her any more than necessary. He ran his fingers down her cheek to her lips, then bent and kissed them. Lightly, gently.
She stirred, murmuring something he couldn’t quite catch. “Sleep,” he murmured against her lips. “I’ll be here if you want me.”
She didn’t respond, and he spun, leaving the room before he could give in to the urge to do anything more.
“I’ll wait for Benton in the other cabin,” he said to Gwen. And hide any evidence that Kat and he had shared a bed. Mark might know the truth, but there was no need for Benton or anyone else to know what was going on between them.
Gwen nodded. “I’ll be in after he arrives. Then you can fill us all in on what happened.”
He snorted softly. “Benton is not going to believe anything you or I say.”
“Wouldn’t he have seen the werewolf?”
“Yeah, but Kat caught him early in the change. He looked more like a deformed and hairy man rather than a wolf.” And that was a good thing—he had no real wish for Benton to start believing in werewolves.
“A man whose tooth measurements will probably fit the marks left on the last victim’s bones.”
“Which will make him think the wolf killed the kid, and Kat says that’s not true.”
“And it isn’t, as you know.” Gwen patted his hand again. “Go clean up and rest while you can. It’s going to be a long night once your boss gets here.”
A long and noisy night, Ethan thought sourly, and headed into the other cabin.
“GODDAMN IT, MORGAN, I DISTINCTLY REMEMBER TELLING you to keep away from this case!”
“Keep your voice down.” Ethan crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Katherine’s asleep in the other cabin.”
Benton threw a hand out as he continued to pace. “I don’t care who’s asleep. I want to know what’s going on.”
“You won’t believe what’s going on.” Nor did he want the captain to believe. But he had a suspicion Gwen planned otherwise.
“What was that thing we found in the restaurant’s restroom?” Unlike Benton, Mark kept his voice low. He was sitting on the sofa and looked as tired as Ethan felt. “It sure as hell didn’t look entirely human.”
Ethan shrugged. “I think he was some kind of mutant.”
“So how is a mutant connected to the case?” Benton stopped his pacing and glared at Ethan for a moment. “And why did it attack Miss Tanner?”
“He was apparently working with the woman behind all the kidnappings and murders.” He paused, then added, “I think if you check the bite marks on the last victim, you’ll find they match the mutant’s.”
They both stared at him for several seconds, then Benton swore and resumed his pacing. “So Tanner was tracking it?”
He nodded. “It must have spotted her, because it attacked her in the restroom.”
“And she killed it.” The captain shook his head. “I should have her head on the block. We needed that man for questioning.”
Ethan realized he was clenching his fists only when he saw Mark studying him. He flexed his fingers and tried t
o relax. “You almost did have her neck on a block,” he reminded Benton shortly. “And it’s hard to be precise with a knife when someone is strangling you from behind.”
The captain sniffed. “You know we found a second body at the restaurant.”
Ethan glanced at Mark. “Where?”
“In one of the booths,” his partner supplied. “We discovered it after everyone had been questioned and released. Looks like he died the same way as that old man in the barn.”
In the middle of a crowded restaurant? This woman was obviously bold when she took them—sexually and spiritually—or had some sort of magic happening that prevented other patrons from seeing what she was doing. “Did you run that other check for me?”
Mark nodded. “And your straw-clutching guess was right. In each case, there were reports of disappearances over a three-night span before the kids were taken.”
“All men?”
“Yep. And the body of one was recently discovered. The report says cause of death unknown.”
“But I’m guessing he was found in a somewhat compromising position?”
“Naked and obviously in the middle of sex when he died.” Mark shook his head. “By all accounts, it looks like we have some sort of black widow at work.”
It was something a whole lot worse than a black widow, Ethan thought grimly, though he doubted Benton would actually believe it. Hell, there was a part of him that still wasn’t believing, despite everything he’d seen. “The question is, how are those murders connected to the kidnappings?”
Because they were; Ethan was sure of it. He glanced at the door separating the two cabins. Though he’d heard no sound, the hint of summer touching the air told him Kat was awake.
“No one knows how any of these men died,” Benton exploded, “and to add to the confusion, there have also been reports of a number of men going missing around the same time frame. Whether they’re connected or not, we’re not sure, but I have a damn bad feeling about it all.”
So did Ethan. The door opened, but it was Gwen who stepped through. “They’re connected,” she said, voice sharp. “But the trouble is, you seek answers that lie in the ordinary, and this case has nothing to do with the ordinary.”
