Never Cry Werewolf

by L. A. Banks

  “Right,” Fisher said, pounding Winters’s fist. “Me and Woods got the backup and security for clients—you know we come locked and loaded . . .’Rissa and Bradley can do the forensics, since they know all that dark arts crap . . . same with Doc. Like, we so do not have to take this shit.”

  “Yeah, and what about the fact that they’ve got our apartments under surveillance,” Woods muttered. “As a private citizen, I’d have my rights.”

  “In your dreams,” Bradley said, slumping with his head in his hands. “The Patriot Act killed that . . . heard NSA even has some journalists on their list—plus guys serving overseas. Remember that big scandal that broke on MSNBC where they were listening in on people’s private conversations with their wives and girlfriends? They’ve got phone sex on tape just for grins, as though that would produce any terrorist leads. So you know the boys in Homeland Security would tail us, given what we do.”

  “I am so screwed, man,” Fisher said, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Like, dude, they really listen in on those conversations?”

  “You should watch the news more often,” Clarissa said with a sigh. “Or maybe read a few serious articles from time to time, Fish.”

  “That’s what I have you guys for in my life—who wants to sit up late nights watching talking heads, ’Rissa? You’re the researcher, not me,” Fisher complained.

  “Yeah, well, speaking of research—as much as this government gig pisses me off with the way they’ve just shunted us aside, this is the resource mother lode.” Clarissa blew out a breath in frustration, making a stray wisp of blond hair from her bangs float off her forehead. “Hello . . . labs, ammo, the best research environment and technology a geek like me could ever dream of. That ain’t gonna happen in a shack in New Orleans, guys. Any of you got investment capital? Do you have any idea what a real microscope costs, not to mention all the sexy stuff we get to work with for free? We are in a recession, last I checked. And I haven’t even begun talking about medical and dental. Face it, we’re lifers.”

  “Stop being so negative, ’Rissa. You’re giving me a case of the hives. We own expertise . . . like how many times do people quit their gig on a Friday and go back to work at the same desk for ten times what they made on a Monday? You have to negotiate a contract, take risks. Hell, if Blackwater can do it, we sure can.”

  “Bad case study, dude,” Bradley said, sprawling in a chair. “They’re getting indicted.”

  “Again, my point being, watch the news,” Clarissa said, shaking her head.

  “Okay, okay,” Winters argued. “Maybe I don’t have all the angles worked out, but I’m not taking this smelly pile lying down!”

  “Guys, knock it off. Heads up,” Sasha said, standing. “Brass, incoming.”

  “Love how you do that, Captain,” Woods said, getting to his feet.

  Hunter looked at his cell phone again and then slipped it back into its holder. The only call he’d had was from Bear Shadow giving him an update on his grandfather’s vision. This was unlike Sasha. Something wasn’t right, and she hadn’t answered his voice mail or texts. But he couldn’t focus on that now. The information his brother and Sir Rodney were sharing was chilling.

  “The poor bastards never got fifty yards from their vehicles,” Sir Rodney said in a low, conspiratorial murmur as he glanced around The Fair Lady tavern. He took a sip of Fae ale and shook his head. “Our archers were on bayou detail, heard the machine-gun report. By the time they got there, only bodies remained. The first thing they saw was an arm still attached to an M16 . . . after that they pretty much knew what they’d see. However, what they never expected to find was one guy left alive, clinging to his weapon and huddled in the mud against a burned-out car. We couldn’t go to him, given his mental state. He would have shot first, asked questions later. Couldn’t blame ’im.”

  “Damn.” Hunter looked off into the distance for a moment, hoping that’s what had delayed Sasha. If human military personnel had been attacked, no doubt they’d have her in war room meetings. Slowly, he relaxed, and then returned his focus to the table.

  “The area is crawling with human military,” Shogun said. “Rodney is right, we can’t get in close enough to be effective without detection. The entire site is hot.”

  Hunter released a hard breath. “The humans have got to get out of that area. They are screwing up the tracking, walking through scent trails . . . damn it!”

  “I know. That’s why we laid low,” Shogun said, “hoping the lone survivor would just be freaked out enough to get in his vehicle and drive off to give us a few minutes to case the area, to do some tracking. But he called in reinforcements and held his position. Gotta give him that, the man had balls. Next thing we know, a bunch of guys from the local naval air station came over and began sealing off the area, picking up bodies . . . jeeps and Humvees where everywhere—boots on the ground. The site is practically worthless now. We tried.”

  “Hey, there’s nothing you or any of us could have done about that without putting a bull’s-eye on your foreheads.” Hunter pushed what was left of his burger away from him and polished off his beer. “Brother, I know you’re not going to like what I’ve got to say but, I think you and your men should stay in the sidhe at night until this is all over.” Hunter held up a hand to stop the objection he could already see forming in Shogun’s eyes. “Last night you gave me a piece of advice,” he added, locking gazes with his brother. “I didn’t like hearing it, but it was sound.”

  Hunter waited until Shogun leaned back in his seat and looked away, unable for the moment to address Sir Rodney’s glance of confusion. This was between wolves, this was between brothers.

  “I listened to you,” Hunter pressed on, keeping his voice low and modulated. “You were right. And you told me things because you were concerned for my welfare. Now I’m only doing the same.” He waited until Shogun’s gaze returned to his. “At night, under the full moon in wolf form, you and your men will be sitting ducks. You do not have the shadows as an added defense mechanism. The humans are frightened. They will fire on you if they even get a glimpse.”

  “What Hunter says is true,” Sir Rodney chimed in, glancing at Shogun and then Hunter. “My men report that they have the forest lit up like Christmas in July. They’ve even got dogs out there barking their bloody heads off. Forensics crews are combing the area. Military helicopters above have the area sectioned off as a no-fly zone. My Fae archers could only get close enough using the glamour, but even that was risky because they’ve got so many hounds out there that can still smell what they can’t see. You mix a Werewolf on a full-moon shape-shift, who cannot hide in the shadows, with skittish humans who’ve got weapons we’ve never seen before, and I call that a not-very-bright idea, my friend. Take my two pence for what it’s worth.”

  Hunter simply opened his arms and shrugged. “There you have it—an impartial source who also loves you like a brother, man.”

  “Then, what of you?” Shogun sat forward and grabbed his brother’s forearm. “Am I to abandon you? Don’t ask me to do that.”

  “By day, we hunt as one. By night, you lay low,” Hunter said. “I’m leaving my own men back in the North Country for this very reason. This area is too hot right now, and I want to be sure that my local pack has strong lieutenants guarding it while I’m gone. In the sidhe, Sir Rodney could use reinforcement against potential Vampire incursion or whatever else they’ve got cooked up. By day, we can go lean on the sorcerers; maybe Rodney’s men can help with a little glamour, until we smoke out the source or get some witnesses.”

  Seeming unconvinced, Shogun looked at Hunter hard. “I will send my men to help guard your local pack in the North Country, as you advise. It is possible that an attack could be launched against the closest wolf Federation, and I am already well fortified in Asia. But you are not invincible, brother. If their dogs pick up your scent, if—”

  “Don’t worry, man. Dogs can’t go through the shadow lands, last I checked.”

  CHA
PTER 11

  His worst fears had been realized as he held his cell phone to his ear and listened to Crow Shadow’s breathless account. Sasha’s apartment had been trashed?

  “Was there blood?” Hunter waited, his gaze locked with Shogun’s and Sir Rodney’s.

  “No,” Crow Shadow replied. “But when I went to find her team, they were all gone, too. Then I began asking their neighbors stuff, playing like I was family . . . well, technically I am, by way of Sasha. People said that military police had rounded them all up. I thought she was with you . . . I’m so sorry, man. I backed off my detail when I heard you howl for her last night. I knew you were headed to the cabin and I waited till noon to just check in, I—”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Hunter said, closing his eyes. “You did what was right, what I had asked. Stay there in North Country with Bear to protect Silver Hawk and the rest of the pack. But do not, I repeat, do not engage the humans. There has been a situation down here that could have possibly changed everything. I will fill you in later. If I do not hear from Sasha soon, I’ll go in and get her myself.”

  “But—”

  “Do not disobey me on this, Crow. It is critical that you listen!” Hunter lowered his voice as his canines crested, ignoring the concerned stares from Shogun and Sir Rodney. “You can only shadow-jump in quick evasive moves without an alpha or an amulet. You cannot shadow-travel long distances or stay within a shadow too long, you know this. The demon doors will claim you and you have no idea if they’ve stripped her of her amulet yet. I don’t need to have to go searching for you and her. If she’s in mortal danger from the humans, I will go in. Are we clear?”

  She looked around the teahouse with delight. Chaya was beautiful . . . The manicured gardens offered lush balm to her senses as she stared out the window admiring the mirror-like carp pool. Lady Jung Suk lifted a tiny, porcelain cup to her lips with a delicate hand and sipped the fragrant white tea. It had been so long since she’d enjoyed a body . . . so long since she’d felt youthful and exquisite. And now she’d been immortalized.

  Stroking her own cheek, she relished the softness of her new skin. It was supple yet fragile, just like the pretty rice paper screen that hid her within her private room. She ran her graceful fingers through her spill of onyx hair, allowing the silky strands to fall through them, and then sighed. Every feature of her heart-shaped face was lovely; her feet were tiny and possessed perfect little toes painted in a sheer cherry-blossom pink. Her figure was daintily alluring . . . oh, how she would enjoy seducing men again with it. Elder Vlad had chosen well. Elder Vlad had done well.

  “Heal, Sir Rodney. Heal, Clarissa McGill.” Queen Cerridwen reached out her hand and drew the poisonous black possession into her icy grip, seething. With a quick bolt of ice lightning from the end of her frozen wand, she watched it die a screaming death on the floor of her private chambers.

  “So, you did not trust me and sought to go between husband and ex-wife, and then attacked the frail human female to also set the wolves against me . . . all so that I would have no choice but to side with you? And this is your offer of a trusting alliance—to go behind my back and make sure that I am blamed for that which you claim I should be exempted from? Duplicitous bastards, the lot of you.”

  She strode away from the smoldering green ash on the floor and clucked her tongue. “Silly Vampire. Don’t you know that even according to human laws, possession is always nine-tenths of the law!”

  “Captain Trudeau, your personal possessions have been cleared for return, and we will need you to sign for them,” an MP said. “We will also need each of your team members to follow us and to claim their possessions so that we can process you out, and then the colonel will see you, along with General Westgate and Doctor Xavier Holland.”

  She gathered her disgruntled team, and they all followed the MP down a series of long corridors to an empty interrogation room, where plastic bags containing wallets and cell phones were distributed on a metal desk and thick stacks of in-triplicate paperwork were handed out. Sasha signed her name at the bottoms of the proffered forms without even looking at what the legalese said. It didn’t matter anyway—it was sign or stay cooped up without her stuff, and she was so out of here.

  The moment he left the group and locked them in the interrogation room, Sasha went to Clarissa.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked, checking her friend’s eyes and her brow for signs of fever.

  “Really way better, which doesn’t make sense, given where we all are right now,” Clarissa said, glancing around.

  “Why?” Bradley said, stepping to Clarissa’s side to stare at Sasha. “What happened to her? What aren’t you telling us?”

  Sasha let out a hard breath. “Somebody picked up the tail end of that possession spell that hit us from the Unseelie court last month, and tried to boomerang it back on Sir Rodney and Clarissa. He was a target because he’s still the Fae monarch, and obviously his ex-wife is in cahoots with the Vamps, and she’s not happy about his reign. They hit Clarissa to give us a wake-up call that, if my Shadow Clan sides with the Seelie Fae, then our team is vulnerable. But Garth, Sir Rodney’s man, caught it in time.” Sasha ruffled her hair up off her neck and let out a long breath. “But that’s why we’re in here. I had to head down to New Orleans after I got the Fae missive, but that’s all I know. I didn’t really have a lot of time to learn more before things sorta got insane.”

  “I knew something was wrong,” Bradley said, holding Clarissa by both arms. “Next time I ask you to, humor me!”

  “Okay, okay, just everybody fall back,” Sasha said, too weary for any additional emotional turmoil. “She’s fine now, we’re ninety percent sure. So keep an eye on her, but I suggest you keep your voice down unless you want her to be kept here for testing.”

  Bradley simply hugged Clarissa, crushing her against him as the others went to find chairs.

  Every second that ticked by on the huge wall clock in the barren room made her feel like she was about to scream. Sasha began pacing; it was a nervous habit that couldn’t be helped. The waiting was torture enough. Right now she felt trapped, and the last thing wolves could stand was being trapped. It also still didn’t matter that she finally had her cell phone on her. Down in the bowels of NORAD’s underground city, it did her no good—reception didn’t exist.

  Rather than make herself crazier than she’d already become, Sasha turned her mind to solving the puzzle of how to get evidence to clear the wolf Federations’ record.

  They’d already lost a precious twenty-four hours—partly due to military politics, but the rest of it was personal. That was the part that was kicking her ass; it was probably kicking Hunter’s, too.

  Had they not gotten into a dispute and then had to work all that out, they both could have been in New Orleans going over the old hunting grounds where they’d encountered rogue wolf activity before. There was also some sort of possession thing going on that had tried to get its icy claws into Sir Rodney and her team member Clarissa. She was pretty sure who’d sent it, but the hard issue was always gathering evidence among a community that had magic spells, potions, body doubles, and whatever. Regular identity thieves were bad enough in the human world. It was ridiculous in the supernatural underground.

  Then again, going to New Orleans last night was a direct violation of her commanding officer’s order. That had probably not been a good idea, though at least she’d been able to keep one man alive. The one who was causing her the most grief. But a part of her wished she’d just followed his orders and stayed in Colorado. It also would have made things cleaner. She immediately jettisoned the thought. As much as she hated Madison, he was still one of her own, a man in uniform, and bringing him back alive was part of her job—even if the guy was a jerk. Some things were ingrained.

  Last night she wasn’t ready to just up and tender her resignation; this afternoon was a wholly different matter.

  But she was still trying to rein in the rebellious wolf clawing to get ou
t of her. Worse yet, she’d have to explain to Hunter that she’d left his bed to go on a fool’s errand, gotten Sir Rodney to body-double her image in front of the surveillance cameras . . . and still wasn’t able to get a direct bead on what had attacked him or possibly her teammate Clarissa. If she had been able to save Madison’s squad, it would have been worth it. She wondered if Hunter would consider her not mentioning what happened as a lie of omission, already knowing the answer.

  Sasha released a hard sigh and sought a chair at the far side of the room, needing space. Turning it around backward, she flopped down and stared at the blank wall. She was glad that her team had stopped bickering about Clarissa’s need to stay out of all future psychic surveillance and the unfairness of Madison’s reaction to being spared. And after the forensic photos she’d seen, they were staying in Denver. That much she was clear on. She’d never forgive herself if she had to look at Winters or ’Rissa or any of the guys in the kinds of pictures that turned her stomach. She couldn’t blame Madison for flipping out; if she’d been there with her team and thought she knew who’d slaughtered them, she would have probably behaved the same way . . . maybe worse.

  Instinct told her that this case was different than those she’d investigated before. Although the killer was bold and feeding heavily on human flesh, this didn’t have the feel of one or two innocent humans who just happened to get caught in the midst of a supernatural dispute or killings contained to the paranormal community. This was a Were on the loose feeding at will. And based upon what she’d learned from Madison’s report, there was also something taunting them. It had left a survivor to bring back word to the human world. As a rule, demon-infected flesh-eaters didn’t have that level of strategic restraint. They killed and ate until everything in their wake was savaged. It should have circled back for Madison, or eaten another human nearby. But it didn’t. It stopped feeding and went away.