“Hi everyone,” I say, a slight tremor in my voice betraying my nerves. DI Zael hears it even if no one else does. He is not even bothering to hide his smirk.
“Thanks for helping us with the search today,” I continue, imagining that I am Storm, who would not quiver. Trying to use the tone of voice that he would use. But then I feel stuck. Because I have no idea what Storm would say next.
And they are waiting for me. Waiting for me to say something important and useful in this grave situation. And I have nothing. Absolutely nothing.
I take a quick glance at Remi. She gives me a small smile and a nod to encourage me to continue. She thinks I have stage fright. She has no idea that it is more than that. The idea of letting her down in front of DI Zael and all of these people makes me want to crawl into a hole.
How I wish the little voice inside my head could speak to me now. Nemesis would know exactly what to do, even without my psychic skills. She would make up some crap and everyone would fall for it. Heck, she had been so smart and sassy. I could sure use some of that about now. I feel like a rabbit, like prey, frozen in headlights. Nemesis is a predator. It would never have even crossed her mind to feel this way.
I straighten my shoulders. If she can do it I can do it. Just thinking of her and standing like her makes an idea pop into my head. A crazy laughable idea that will come to nothing, but she would have pulled it off with such panache no one would have questioned it.
Maybe no one will question me either.
“I want everyone to think,” I say, injecting the confidence into my voice that Nemesis would have. “If you were an animal, what kind of animal would you be? You don’t have to say it out loud. Just think it and hold it in your mind.”
DI Zael’s eyebrows shoot up towards his forehead. He does not look impressed. His officers, all taking their cues from him, do not look impressed either. One of them is shaking his head in disapproval. The civilians look from me and Remi to DI Zael and his officers. Some of them shift from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable.
This is a somber occasion and no doubt they find my question inappropriately incongruous.
“Put your hands up if you have an animal in your head,” I say, determined to go through with this.
Only half of them put their hands up.
“The rest of you aren’t thinking hard enough,” I say firmly, giving them no room for maneuver. “Think of the animal that you would be and when you’ve got it put your hand up.”
One by one more hands go up. This puts pressure on the last few people to participate, and eventually all of the hands are up, including a couple of DI Zael’s officers. DI Zael’s is not. Nor are those of the officers standing nearest to him.
I fix them with a pointed look and wait, tapping my shoe on the ground to show my impatience. Making it clear that he and his people are holding us up. He scowls, and eventually his hand goes up. His people follow suit.
“Now those of you who have a prey animal, something like a rabbit or a sparrow, step over to the left,” I say pointing. “And everyone who has a predator animal step to the right.”
The large group separates itself neatly into two. Not unexpectedly, most of the Agency team and DI Zael and his officers are all in the predator group, as are fewer than half of the civilians.
“Everyone who picked a prey animal can all go home. If Agent Bronwyn is done with you?” I look at her.
Remi nods, and a few of them depart. Most of them stay to watch, their curiosity piqued.
“The rest of you,” I say. “Think of India Lawrenson, and think of what animal she would be.”
I wait. It only takes a few moments until most of them have their hands up and are shuffling impatiently, clearly having picked an animal in their heads.
When all the hands are up I point to the person at the very left side of the group. “Tell me what animal you thought of.”
He shrugs. “Wolf.”
DI Zael sniggers.
I ask the rest of them what animal they thought of. Every single one of them says wolf. Even Remi says wolf, with a slightly chagrined expression on her face. DI Zael mutters something under his breath. Three of his officers laugh.
I try not to glower at him. I make sure to keep the confidence in my voice when I say, “And now think of Rachel Garrett. What animal would she be?”
This time it takes longer for all the hands to go up. DI Zael’s goes up grudgingly, and all the while he watches me with a sneering glare, as if he can’t wait to snarl the words mumbo jumbo at me again.
I make each of the civilian volunteers tell me one by one what animal they thought of. They all say things like rabbit, hamster, puppy, horse. One says goldfish. Only one of them picks a predator animal. He says Fox.
“What’s the point of all this?” says DI Zael, losing his patience.
“Give it a moment,” says Remi in a no nonsense voice, but she is looking at me questioningly.
When everyone has finished telling me what animal they thought of, I go back to the guy who said fox.
He is a fit and handsome young man in his mid-twenties. With his broad shoulders, confident smile, and easy body language, he is charming in his every word and movement. His clothes are expensive and stylish. If he was a werewolf, he’d probably be in the fight for alpha.
He is standing with two of his friends, a guy and girl who are clearly a couple. I had noticed that they had grinned briefly when he’d said fox, as if he had said something witty and insightful.
“Why did you say fox?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “Because she was foxy.” He says it with a slightly apologetic look at the crowd, as if he doesn’t want to be seen to be speaking ill of the dead.
“What’s your name?” I ask him.
“Jacob Jabari.”
“You knew Rachel Garrett, didn’t you? And India Lawrenson?”
“Yes,” he says looking a little defensive now. He looks at his two friends. “We all did. We wanted to help look for her.”
I nod. “You three were all with her the evening that she died.” It’s a question, but I say it like a statement of fact, as if I already know.
“Sure. Is there a problem?”
My heartbeat quickens as I look at him, but I know better than to put him on the defensive by asking for his alibi. We don’t have any proof with which to force him to speak to us. We need him to volunteer to do so of his own volition.
“No problem at all,” I say to him. “It’s just that agent Remi’s team will probably want to speak with you all as witnesses.”
Remi still has a questioning look in her eyes, but she dismisses everyone else and goes over to speak to Jacob and his friends. She fixes a time for them to come in and be interviewed.
After they have left, DI Zael and his sergeant come over to me and Remi. “Fat lot of use that was,” he says. “That lot are probably going to go home and tell people we are all a bunch of fools. Is that what you were after?”
Remi scowls at him and Sergeant Lowry. “Jacob Jabari didn’t tell us he knew the victims when he joined the search. Pretty important piece of information to hold back. You’re not curious why that might be?”
DI Zael shrugs it off. “So your psychic found someone who knew the girl. I’ll believe it’s a result when I see a result.” His tone is grudging, as if it was hard for him to admit this. I feel a tiny mote of victory.
Remi turns to me and says, “Did you get a sense anything was off from Jacob Jabari?”
I tell her the only thing I can tell her. “He said she was a fox, because she was foxy. That’s not what he really meant. Foxes are sly. It’s something people kill. I think you need to interview him. He’s involved or he knows something about Rachel.”
Remi’s phone rings. She pulls it out of her pocket, and frowns at the caller ID. She walks away as she answers it. She listens to what the caller says. The call is brief. She hangs up and come back to where I am standing with DI Zael and Sergeant Lowry.
“That
was Agent Storm,” she says. “India Lawrenson has been found.”
Chapter 10
INDIA
India is eating meat and it tastes good. So good. The blood seeps out of the tender juicy flesh and trickles down the sides of her mouth. It gathers under her jaw and dribbles down her chin.
Meat.
For too long she has denied herself meat. Raw and bloody like it is meant to be. Meat that feels so good between her tongue and the roof of her mouth. Her canines tear it, her molars masticate it, the iron scent of it rises into her nasal cavity and makes her mouth slaver.
A feast. This meat is a feast.
She swallows it down to meet the ravening hunger in the pit of her belly. She rips off another chunk.
Only when the hunger is gone, quenched by the meat, does the world start coming back. The over-bright lighting that hurts her eyes. The blurred faces standing away, apart, staring at her. Those eyes. Staring. She doesn’t want it. Not the whoomp whoomp of the air conditioning above that is so loud. Not the disjointed voices. Not the smell of their panic. Not the thud of their heartbeats in their chests.
Not the man with a loop on a a long stick that is inching closer to her.
She is crouched low on the ground. She feels the heaving of her own breath. The sticky blood on her hands. It is cold. Now that the meat is eaten it sickens her. It sits heavy in her belly. It was cold and clammy. The chunks still in her hands are cold and clammy. She can smell their age. Fresh would have been better.
Fresh meat.
The man with the loop on the stick is still coming towards her. She watches him, no thought in her mind of moving because he is a gnat. No danger to her. She is tired now. Her stomach is heavy with meat. She wants to sleep. The man is irritating her. His loop is too close now. It is by her head. She swats it but the man keeps coming.
Stupid creature. He’s just meat.
She debates leaping for him. Her mouth suddenly yearns for his soft throat. Not to eat. Just to be rid of him. But then another man is there, a golden man, ordering the one with his stick away. And he is crouching within leaping distance of her teeth. He is speaking to her.
He is not meat. He is master.
And she must listen to master’s words because master is speaking to her. She hears him.
“Come here, India,” he says. It is not a request. It is a command.
She comes.
Chapter 11
DIANA
I go to the hospital in the morning, anxious to see how India is doing. When I arrive Storm and Leo and DI Zael are already there, waiting outside of India’s room. Yesterday the doctor had not let us speak to India. DI Zael is pacing back and forth outside of the door. The doctor is inside, checking on India. I can see her through the blinds. The doctor comes out and shuts the door behind her quietly.
“How is she?” I ask.
The doctor looks to Storm before replying. Storm nods.
“India has a concussion,” she says. “Some scratching and bruising, and one deep laceration on her abdomen. She is dehydrated. She was in a psychotic state when she came in, and not thinking rationally. We medicated her overnight, but it is wearing off now and she is conscious. However she is in deep shock and is fragile. She has no memory of recent events.”
“That’s convenient,” says DI Zael. “Doesn’t want to incriminate herself, more like. Is she safe to talk to?”
“What do you mean?” says the doctor.
“Did you give her some wolfsbane to keep her calm? I don’t want her going for me and my officers when we question her.”
The doctor stiffens, and the look she gives DI Zael is one of distaste. “We did administer wolfsbane, but it was for medical reasons, not because she is unsafe.”
“She was found devouring raw meat at that supermarket,” says DI Zael. “She doesn’t sound right in the head to me. What is to stop her from going for one of us if she gets hungry?”
“She was eating because she had been starved for several days,” says the doctor, looking displeased. “Her body knew what she needed and in her psychotic state she ate the first food she found.”
“Are you seriously saying she is not a dangerous werewolf?” demands DI Zael. “She needs to be locked up. This hospital room isn’t secure enough. I want you to increase her dosage of wolfsbane.”
“That is for me to decide,” snaps the doctor. “And I have administered what I think is appropriate.”
“Do you know what caused her psychosis, doctor?” Storm asks calmly.
The doctor looks to him gratefully. “Part of the reason was that she had been self-medicating with wolfsbane, taking small amounts on a frequent basis. There was none in her blood when she was brought in yesterday.”
“That means she’s dangerous!” snaps Zael.
The doctor determinedly ignores him and keeps directing her comments to Storm. “The sudden withdrawal from wolfsbane caused a rapid and overwhelming return of her werewolf senses, leading her to exhibit abnormal and antisocial behavior like stealing and eating raw meat. I doubt she would have done it otherwise. I will be weaning her off the wolfsbane in the next few days.”
“She won’t be here for days,” says DI Zael. “We’re arresting her.”
“Hang on a minute,” says the doctor angrily.
But Zael ignores her. He turns to Storm and says, “Rachel’s blood was all over her clothes when she was found. She had the murder weapon in her hands, and your own forensics teams said that the knife was covered in Rachel’s blood. It’s time to take her in and get this case over and done with.”
The doctor looks scandalized. “I will not be discharging my patient until I am satisfied she no longer needs medical care.”
“And what’s the press going to say about that?” DI Zael snarls. “They’ll say that this hospital is pandering to a werewolf who might well be the Wolf-Claw Killer is what! How will your other patients like that?”
The doctor goes pale with anger. She looks to Storm for help.
“We don’t have the full facts yet,” says Storm. “And until we do, India Lawrenson is going to stay here getting the medical care that she needs.”
“Then this one is on you,” says DI Zael. “If she hurts anyone, any hospital staff or patients, I’ll be holding you to account. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Chapter 12
DIANA
“Can we speak to India?” Storm asks the doctor.
“For ten minutes maximum,” the doctor says. “And don’t say anything to distress her. She does not know that her friend Rachel is dead.”
Before going into the room to speak to India, Storm instructs an unhappy DI Zael that Leo will be conducting the interview and that DI Zael is not to interfere. DI Zael looks mutinous, but he gives a grudging nod. He follows Storm and Leo sulkily into the room while I remain outside.
At least he got to go inside. I’m just glad he’s not sulking outside with me. It bugs me that Storm never let me go in. I worry he might have caught on to the fact that my psychic powers are on the blink. I tell myself to stop being so paranoid. How could he possibly know that?
As the men go in, I wave at India. It goes unnoticed as she does not look up. She keeps staring down at her bedclothes. DI Zael shuts the door firmly behind him, the smarmy git. At least he doesn’t think to shut the blinds in the door, allowing me to see in. Unfortunately the glass is thick enough to muffle their voices. I can’t hear a thing.
Storm and DI Zael stand some distance back from the bed while Leo approaches India. She fidgets uncomfortably, clearly sensing a more dominant werewolf in the room, but she refuses to look towards him. He says something to her. She does not reply. He tries again but she closes her eyes, as if determined to shut him out.
DI Zael makes a move towards the bed, looking like he is going to shout at her, but Storm puts his arm out to stop him. I see him say something quietly that makes DI Zael’s mouth turn down at the corners.
Leo sits down on the chair beside Indi
a’s bed, all the better to be at her eye level. He continues speaking to her. He looks charming and earnest, first staying back to give her space, but then leaning in towards her slightly as if to encourage a sense of camaraderie. His voice is probably soft. Leo is good with people like that when he chooses to be. India keeps staring at her bed sheet, picking at it, looking like she wishes she could crawl under it and melt away.
After a few minutes of this I open the door and slip into the room. Zael glowers at me but I ignore him. I go to the bed and sit down on its edge, next to India.
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