Mal whistled, long and low. “Shite. Looks like Bryce and I missed all the excitement.” He grinned wickedly. “Although we generated some excitement of our own back home.”
Hugh clapped his hands over his ears. “La la la. Not listening.”
Mal leaned forward and whispered, “Humans. So sensitive.” Then he straightened up. “Go on.”
“Hamish helped get the other juniors—the ones who weren’t vomiting up everything they’d eaten for the last week—into an Uber and back to the house. He gave me a token to take Gage through Faerie.”
“A prepaid trip,” Mal murmured. “Nice one.”
“The others said Tanner had decided to walk home—he was used to hikes at his pack compound. I was kind of tied up getting Gage settled back at the house, but I thought Tanner had come back. I heard the shower running, and there was a pizza box on his bed . . .” Chase’s voice died as he remembered preventing Hector from taking the pizza box to his room. He put it in Tanner’s room. “Damn.” His throat went tight, and he fought a prickle in his eyes. If I’d paid attention, if I’d noticed, I could have searched for him that night, before the trail went cold.
“Chase?” Mal’s concerned voice broke Chase out of his reverie. “You all right, mate?”
Chase offered Mal a thin-lipped smile. “Sorry. I just realized something.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, the Bullpen alarm logged the infraction with the SMA—”
“Supe Monitoring Agency.” Hugh grimaced. “That one I know about. Lousy sphinxes.”
Tell me about it. “So the Assimilation Board—”
“Whoa. That’s a new one. I think.” Hugh rifled through his notebook pages.
“Weres aren’t the only ones who have to learn how to pass in the human world. The Assimilation Board oversees the process for all species.”
“Wow.” Hugh started scribbling again. “This stuff is incredible.”
Yeah, incredibly annoying. “The board called me on the carpet at six thirty the next morning.”
“Six thirty?” Hugh goggled. “Jeez, really?”
Mal poured himself another cup of coffee. “Not everyone’s as delicate as you humans. The board keeps overnight hours so the supes who can’t go out in the light can still be raked over the coals at their earliest convenience.” He cocked his head at Chase over the rim of his cup. “Am I right?”
Chase nodded. “They reprimanded me for the fight pen incident as well as the drinking spell, then slapped me with a three-month suspension, effective immediately. They assigned a substitute RA.”
“So that’s why Bryce and I didn’t get called to resume lessons after the winter break. You weren’t there to do the job right.”
Privately, Chase agreed. Andrew clearly hadn’t done the job right. In fact, he’d barely done the job at all. If he had, Tanner might . . . Chase took a deep breath. “This morning was my first day back at the house. I found out that not only had Tanner not returned that night in November, but nobody had seen him since he left the Bullpen.” Hugh opened his mouth as if to ask a question, but Chase forestalled him. “He’s not at his home pack. I checked.” Although not exactly the way I should have. “Apparently Tanner never went home for breaks.” And covered it so well that I never suspected.
“Are you kidding me? Didn’t his parents even try to call him on Christmas or the solstice or whatever holiday you were breaking for?”
Chase shrugged. “As long as the juniors are at a Howling residence, their packs and families aren’t allowed direct contact. Besides, Tanner’s parents are both deceased. His uncle has been his guardian since he was four.”
“Any animosity there?” Mal asked, finger tapping on the rim of his mug.
“No. Tanner seems sincerely fond of his uncle, who’s always treated him well, if a bit patronizingly. But that’s pretty standard in werewolf society. Alphas.” He shrugged. “What can you do?”
“Hmmm.” Mal peered at him through narrowed eyes. “Did anything else happen at the Bullpen? Any other interaction that might have upset Tanner? Caused him to do something rash? Because I’ve got to say, having worked with him for more than two years, this is completely out of character for him.”
Heat rushed up Chase’s throat until he probably looked parboiled. “He . . . ah . . . well . . . He kissed me.”
Hugh grunted and jotted something in his notes, but Mal’s gaze softened. “I take it that didn’t go as either one of you had planned.”
“I hadn’t planned anything!” Chase cried. “That was the problem. He kissed me without asking, so since I’d never had the consent talk with him, I pulled away. But I didn’t have a chance to tell him that I wouldn’t have minded at all—that I’d have welcomed it—if he’d only asked.”
Hugh pointed his pencil at Chase. “Doesn’t that kinda violate the RA rules? I mean, the RA at my college dorm wasn’t allowed to screw the residents.” He wrinkled his nose. “Not that any of us would have wanted to. The guy stank like a fucking ashtray. Smokers.” He waggled his eyebrows at Chase. “What can you do?”
“Technically, Tanner wasn’t under my protection anymore, not in my capacity as a Howling RA, anyway. He’d passed his exams and had turned twenty-one, and since he’s got alpha potential too, our relative status within were society is equal. There’s no question of power imbalance anymore. It was just . . .” Chase ran his hands through his hair and huffed an exasperated breath. “Such bad timing.”
“Right.” Mal set his cup down and slapped both knees. “If you were a distraught newly adult werewolf who thought he’d lost his one chance with the love of his life—”
Chase whimpered. He couldn’t help it. Gods, when it comes to Tanner, I have no more control than Jordan.
“—what would you do?”
“I know what I did,” Hugh said. “I hightailed it into the woods and ran like hell.”
“Hmmm. Yes. But Tanner was in Old Town.” Mal poked Chase’s knee with a finger. “I know you weres. Even you cosmopolitan types can’t stand to walk too long on the pavement. And if you’re upset, you’re even more on edge and head for the nearest trees, and not always to piss on them. Plus, Tanner had only passed his level two cert recently, so something as emotional as this could knock him off-balance. He’d want to get somewhere safe, in case he started to spontaneously shift.” His eyes lit up. “If we were talking about Gage, I’d have said we should start with the river—he’d have headed for water, even if the Willamette isn’t the ocean. But Tanner’s an inland wolf. I’ll wager anything you like he hid in Forest Park.”
“But it was three months ago now. The trail will have gone cold.”
“Maybe. But we’ve got a couple of aces up our sleeve.” He shifted to one side and pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket, then tapped the screen twice and held it to his ear. When the call connected, a huge smile split his face, even though he was staring at his empty cup. “Hey, babe. Have your dryad maintenance hordes picked up anything unusual in Forest Park? Yes, I know the exact date.” He winked at Chase. “The night we got engaged.” He pulled the phone away from his ear. “Even becoming a journeyman druid didn’t kill Bryce’s obsession with environmental work parties. So, since he can’t beat the dryads off him with a stick, he put ’em to work.” He lifted the phone again. “Yeah, still here. Well, now, that is very interesting. Can you bring it here? Thanks, babe. See you soon.” Mal disconnected and tossed the phone onto the table. “Guess what the dryads discovered above the Wildwood Trail in the wee hours of November twenty-fourth?” When neither Hugh nor Chase ventured a guess, Mal grinned. “A pair of sneakers tucked beneath a tree root.” His grin widened. “And a signet with the Wallowa pack crest.”
“Any—” Chase’s voice broke on the word. “Any sign of a struggle? Any b-blood?”
“No. But quite a few footprints. All of them—” Mal paused until Chase was ready to howl “—from the same wolf.”
“So he’s in Forest Park? Let’s go!” Chase leaped up. “I know I can follow
his scent once we’re there.”
“Settle down.” Mal gestured for Chase to sit, but Chase couldn’t. The most he could manage was gripping the back of the chair to keep himself from running out the door and straight to the park. “He was in the park at that spot, but that’s three months gone. We need to know where he is now. For that, we’ll need to do a bit of legwork. Bryce is bringing Tanner’s things over. Any idea why he’d abandon his signet?”
Chase shook his head, his fingernails biting into the brocade of the chair back. “He’d only gotten it from his uncle that morning. I don’t think he’d even put it on yet. He didn’t seem that excited about it.”
“Hmmm.” Mal stared out the window. “I don’t think we can assume he discarded it on purpose. According to the dryads, it was a hundred feet or so away from the shoes, which seemed to be deliberately hidden. Perhaps he dropped it accidentally.” He shifted his gaze back to Chase. “Whichever, we can use it to trace him.”
“By a witch’s locating spell, you mean? Or does Bryce have a druid tracking method?”
“Both of those take time and preparation, and in the witches’ case, sacrificing something you’d probably prefer to hold on to. Besides, all that nonsense about natural consequences? The witches would be as likely to refuse because it’s your own fault for not keeping track of him.”
Chase’s belly knotted until he wanted to curl up and den somewhere. “I wanted to give him space. I didn’t want—”
Mal surged off the loveseat to plant his hand on Chase’s shoulder. “Here, boyo. Don’t get mired in useless guilt.” He snorted, his grip tightening. “Gods know I never do. Bryce wishes I would sometime.”
“Shouldn’t we ask the witches, though? I’ll give anything—”
“Here now. Never say that around witches. Or demons.” He screwed up his face. “Druids, either, for that matter. In fact, never say that at all.”
“I’m willing to—”
Mal grunted, holding up one hand. “What did I just say?”
“If it means we’ll find Tanner”—and that he’s okay—“I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”
Mal sighed heavily, shaking his head. He looked down at Hugh. “The impetuous idealism of youth can be so tiring. Makes me glad I’m old and jaded.”
Hugh snorted. “Right. I bet the only reason you’re not making tracks for the nearest coven is because you’ve got an easier way out.”
Chase gazed up at Mal. “You do?”
“I might.” Mal winked. “But I can’t give away all my secrets.” He slapped Chase on the back. “Drink up, boyo. You too, Hugh. Because as soon as Bryce delivers the goods, we’re taking a bit of a jaunt. To Faerie.”
Other than his brief trip with an upchucking Gage, Chase had never been to Faerie before. He tried not to gape like a pup before his first shift, but it was hard. For one thing, the sky was green. Not just green-ish, or the threatening gray-green of a storm, but bright kelly green, the green of maple leaves in spring.
Hugh chuckled behind him. “It’s something, isn’t it?”
“Is the sky always this color?”
“Nope. It’s a color spectrum. Starts out red at dawn, ends up violet at night.”
“Wow,” Chase breathed.
“I know, right? I’d like to say you get used to it, but I’d be lying.” Hugh gazed around them, the look of wonder on his face probably rivaling Chase’s. The two of them waited at the edge of a little dell while Mal scouted ahead. “This is like a dream to me. Every day, ever since I was a boy and thought I saw a dragon in the sky, I’ve been searching for this. For more. For magic. And now, I work with a fae prince, for Pete’s sake. And a demon—who’s probably the sweetest guy I’ve ever met—does our filing at super speed. I’d say I’m the luckiest guy on the planet . . .” Hugh looked away, a muscle bunching in his cheek.
“Except?”
He glanced sidelong at Chase. “It feels ungrateful to complain about any of it. I mean, I’ve gotten so much more than what I’d ever hoped. The answer to my childhood prayers.”
Chase smiled at him gently. “But you’re still on the outside looking in.”
Hugh’s chuckle might have been a sob. “Yeah. Pathetic, right?”
“No.” Chase tucked his hands into his pockets as Mal strode back toward them. “I think all of us yearn for the impossible at some point in our lives.” He sighed. “Eventually, we have to accept that whatever we have will be all there is, and hope that it will be enough.”
Mal stopped in front of them. “Listen up, mates. I’ve located one of my informants. She’ll not be too happy to see me.”
“What did you do to her?” Hugh asked.
“Oi! She’s never happy to see anybody. And usually people aren’t happy to see her either—or catch her with a bit of their laundry since she’s got a dodgy rep when it comes to that.”
“She steals clothes?” Hugh pulled a notebook out of his pocket, no doubt ready to take more notes.
“Not exactly. But if it’s your underdrawers she’s washing, your days are numbered.”
Hugh gulped and tucked his notebook away. “Got it.”
“However, if we approach it right, she’ll answer three questions for us.”
Chase set his jaw. “Tell us what to do.”
“The two of you circle through the birch trees there.” Mal pointed to a copse where the land fell away in a steepish slope. “And try not to stomp through the brush like a marauding bull this time, Hugh.”
“That was one time. One time! And it was a single twig.”
Mal ignored him. “I’ll be heading over the crest here and going straight down. There’s a stream at the foot of the hill. You lot need to get between her and the water. Whatever you do, don’t let her get her feet into the stream.”
“Does something, er, unfortunate happen?” Chase asked. “Like with the laundry?”
“Yeah. She won’t have to answer our questions, and we’ll need to wait another day before we try again. It’ll be harder next time too, because she’ll be expecting us. Now go.”
Chase darted for the trees, then remembered Mal’s warning about stealth. He forced himself to slow down. There was a narrow path, barely wider than his foot, that wound down the hill, so he crept along with Hugh at his back. The burbling of the stream masked the brush of leaves against their bodies—and hopefully Hugh's stertorous breathing as well.
When they reached the edge of the copse, Chase held up a hand to signal for Hugh to halt. Peering through the leaves, he spotted a short, round woman pulling a brown homespun skirt out of a basket and draping it over the low-hanging branch of an oak halfway up the hill. She was wearing an ankle-length green skirt, much patched, and a shawl that might once have been green before it had faded to nearly colorless. Her iron-gray hair was drawn into a knot on the top of her head, held in place by what looked like a polished bone.
Her skin was blue.
Moon and stars, it’s a bean-nighe. The washerwoman of death. Chase had heard of them, but never seen one before—and thank the gods for that, because to see one, especially if she was washing your clothes, meant you’d die. Soon. I hope Mal knows what he’s doing.
Chase strained to see if Mal was in place—except of course he didn’t know exactly where that place was. I should have asked for more details.
Hugh edged closer. “Should we go now?”
“Shhh,” Chase said.
But when the bean-nighe’s head snapped around, her black eyes focused directly on their hiding place, Chase knew they were out of time. She spun and bolted for the water.
“Shit.” Chase broke cover and sprinted for the edge of the stream, toward the point where he’d intersect the bean-nighe’s trajectory, with Hugh pounding behind him. Mal shouted from the tree line, and in his peripheral vision, Chase caught sight of him barreling down the hillside.
The bean-nighe was freaking fast. We’re not going to make it. She’ll reach the stream before we do, and then Tanner will be in dang
er for another day. That was enough to spur Chase into a burst of speed. He leaped the last three feet to land in a crouch between her and the water, his teeth bared in a snarl, his canines aching to descend.
“Ah, shite,” she muttered in a voice like cart wheels on gravel.
Mal strolled the last few yards to stand in front of her. “A gracious good day to you, Grizel.”
She turned her head and spat, nearly hitting Hugh’s Converse. “Ach, I should have known. Always bulling tha way in, Maldwyn Kendrick. Tha ought to be asking sometime.”
“Ah, but then you might say no, and our business is vital.”
“They all say that.” She harrumphed. “In future, happen I’ll send my washing out. I hear the brownies have started a new service.” She glared at him, then at Chase. When she got to Hugh, she eyed him from head to foot, a distinctly avaricious gleam in her eyes. “Brought me a bonny human laddie as tribute, then?”
Hugh’s face reddened. “I, er . . .”
“We don’t owe you a thing, Grizel. If you want back in your brook, you know the cost.”
“Bah.” She spat again. “Ask then, tha great gowk.”
Mal drew Tanner’s signet, wrapped in a linen cloth, out of the pocket of his leather jacket. “A young were is missing.” He held out his palm and unfolded the cloth to display the ring. Its sheen reflected the sky, tinting the gold with green. “This belongs to him.”
Grizel poked at the ring with one gnarled finger. “Does it, now?”
Chase couldn’t stand it anymore. “Is he alive? Is he all right?”
Mal rolled his eyes. “Shite, Chase, really?”
Grizel cackled. “Yes. And that’s as may be.”
“What—” Hugh clapped his hand over Chase’s mouth before he could ask what Grizel meant by that very cryptic response.
“Now that Mr. Denney has wasted two of our questions,” Mal said, his tone heavy with annoyance, “we seek Tanner Araya, of the Wallowa pack. Where can we find him?”
She peered up at him. “Where the line of water nears the line of sky, where the wildwood skirts the brook, at the feet of the fir, at the head of the stream. Now, may I get on with my washing?”
Howling on Hold Page 10
