by Keri Arthur
“Amen to that, sister.” I clinked my glass against hers. “So, have you progressed beyond the city pad yet?”
Werewolves, we'd discovered, either had their own place or a place they co-owned with others in order to get around the severe restrictions placed on non-werewolf lovers entering pack compounds.
“No, and I'm unlikely ever to be invited into the inner sanctum, given we’re only casual.”
“And you’re human besides.”
“That too.” She shrugged. “Their loss, not mine. You want me to bring down some books, or are you going upstairs to wait for Aiden?”
“Given he could be hours, I think I’ll head up. Might as well read in comfort.”
She nodded and pushed up from the table. “Zak will be here in a sec—can you keep him entertained while I go grab some shoes?”
“Sure.”
She’d barely padded up the stairs when the chime above the door rang and Zak stepped inside. He was maybe an inch or so shorter than Belle—who was a towering six foot one—and he had the brown skin, red-tinged brown hair, and deep amber eyes that were common amongst the Marin pack.
“Lizzie,” he greeted warmly, stooping to drop a kiss on my cheek. “How come you’re sitting here drinking? Weren’t you going out with Aiden tonight?”
“I was, but ranger business intervened.”
He grabbed a chair, swung it around, and sat astride. “Well, there goes my five quid.”
“And what is a comment like that supposed to mean?” I knew what it sounded like, but I was hoping I was wrong.
He grinned. “Didn’t you know? There’s a betting pool running amongst some locals as to whether you two will actually ever go out on an official date.”
“Seriously? Have people got nothing better to do with their time?”
“It is a small town, remember. Nothing much ever really happens around here.”
Nothing much except a vampire going on a bloody rampage, a teenager being forced from his grave as a zombie, and now a soul eater on the loose.
But I guess it was a good thing the general population didn’t know about any of that.
“Tonight’s events also lost me a fiver,” Belle said, as she clattered down the stairs. “Which will teach me not to use insider knowledge to gain an advantage.”
“And how come you failed to inform me about this?”
“Because it would have placed undue pressure on you, and what sort of friend would I be if I did that?”
I snorted and took a drink. “It’s nice to know my love life—or lack thereof—is the subject of speculation.”
“It’s more Aiden’s love life than yours,” Zak said. “He’s been something of a loner since his sister’s death.”
Something I was both pleased and saddened to hear. I pushed up from the chair. “If you do make another bet, I expect a cut of the winnings.”
“Only if you give us an inside tip.” Zak caught Belle’s hand. “Shall we go?”
“As long as we can get a pizza on the way there. I’m starved.”
“And not just for pizza, I hope.” Zak winked at me. “Catch you later.”
“Much later,” Belle said, as they headed out.
I locked the door behind them, but their mention of pizza had my stomach rumbling, so I headed into the kitchen and cooked myself a meat pie and some chips for dinner before heading upstairs. Once I’d finished, I grabbed one of the old books sitting on the coffee table—one marked Dark Spirits, volume 2—and started to read. It was rather scary just how many different types of evil were sitting beyond the folds of the wider world, waiting to be called into action. Scarier still was the fact that—at least with some of them—the call to action didn’t actually require magic, but something as simple as a heartfelt wish for revenge.
Was that what we were dealing with here?
Had Larissa done nothing more than desire revenge against Aron’s parents?
I hoped not, if only because I hated the thought that such anger and bitterness could bring something like a soul eater to life.
I continued reading, but didn’t really find anything concrete about which type of soul eater we were dealing with, or what might kill it.
I gave up at ten thirty and headed over to the kitchenette to make myself a coffee. As the machine began to splutter, my phone pinged. I pulled it out of my pocket and saw it was a message from Aiden.
Waiting outside the door if the offer for coffee still stands, it said.
I grinned, and all but bounced down the stairs. “Hey,” I said, as I opened the door. “How’d things go?”
“As well as you can expect given we’ve two bodies in as many days.” He looked and sounded tired, but that wasn’t really so surprising given he wouldn’t have had much—if any—sleep last night. “Ciara’s doing the autopsy as we speak, but it could take a day or so to get the toxicology results back.”
I locked the door and led the way toward the rear stairs. “And Aron’s results?”
“His autopsy didn’t reveal a cause of death. She’s expecting bloods and toxicology back tomorrow.”
“Hopefully they’ll uncover why he died looking so peaceful, because I really don’t want to discover we’ve got a dark spirit capable of magic or hypnotism on the reservation.”
“Personally, I’d rather it not be a soul eater at all. Are we heading up to the inner sanctum?”
“Yes.” I flashed him a grin over my shoulder. “It’s a rare event, so I hope you feel honored.”
“Oh, I do.” His voice held a note of amusement. “Although I rather suspect the real reason is the brewing coffee I can smell.”
“You could be right.” I clattered up the stairs. “Would you like plain black or something more exotic?”
“Plain is fine, the stronger the better, as I’ve a council meeting to get to.”
I glanced over my shoulder again as disappointment slithered into my heart. “Do they often hold late night meetings?”
“No, but they wanted an update on the investigation.” His gaze went past me. “This place really is small, isn’t it?”
“Small but perfectly formed, as the saying goes. Grab a seat, and I’ll bring your coffee over.”
He touched my arm, holding me still as he brushed past, and sending a rush that was all desire through my veins. His nostrils flared and a smile tugged at his lips—both indications he’d scented that rush—but he said nothing as he walked over to the sofa. I made our coffees, sliced up some of the Jaffa cake we had sitting in an airtight container for emergency cravings, then picked up the tray and walked over.
“You know,” he said, his voice wry as he picked up a piece of cake, “it’s just as well a werewolf’s metabolic rate runs higher than that of humans, because otherwise, I would have gained several kilos over the last couple of weeks.”
“The wolf doesn’t have to eat the cake, you know.”
“Refusing cake is something no sane man who loves his food would ever do.”
“Which confirms the rumor that the best way into a werewolf’s good books is via his stomach.”
He laughed. “It isn’t the only way into our good books, but it’s a damn fine start.” His gaze fell on the pile of books. “Research?”
I nodded and sat down beside him. It was only a two-person sofa, so we were close enough that our thighs touched. It felt intimate even if it really wasn’t, and it had me hankering for a whole lot more. “We were curious as to what sort of soul eater we might be dealing with.”
“A statement that suggests there’s more than one type.”
“According to Belle’s guides, there is, but so far we’ve only found vague mentions.” I hesitated. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
He raised an eyebrow. “This sounds serious. Have you done the finances and decided you can’t afford to keep giving me free cake?”
“Idiot.” I nudged him with my shoulder. “It is serious, though—remember how I said that the source of the wild mag
ic was within the O’Connor compound?”
The amusement faded from his expression. “Yes.”
“I need you to take me there. Whether or not you believe a soul eater is behind these recent murders, they’ve only reinforced our need to protect the wellspring.”
He hesitated. “I’d normally have to seek formal permission from the pack elders, but I can circumvent that by saying it relates to our current investigation.”
I half smiled. “And here I was expecting an argument.”
“I may find it hard to believe that something like wild magic can spring up in the middle of nowhere—”
“It’s not always nowhere,” I cut in. “It does sometimes happen in city centers, but such events are much rarer. Something to do with all that metal and concrete providing a barrier.”
Or so one of my long-ago teachers had once said. Of course, no one was really sure why the wild magic—which was said to develop close to the heart of the earth’s outer core—became a collective force in the first place, let alone how or why it then found its way to the surface. But there was no argument about the danger such wellsprings represented if they were not appropriately protected and monitored.
“Fascinating,” he said, voice dry. “When do you want to go?”
“Tomorrow morning?”
He hesitated, and then nodded. “I’m on afternoon shift this week, so that works.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate you humoring me like this.”
“It’s not humoring, not really. I did as you suggested, and requisitioned the reports on the High Ridge Massacre. I’d rather not chance that happening here.”
The High Ridge Massacre was what happened when a wellspring was too new or left too long without protection. Dark forces had invaded the town and basically wiped out the population in one brutal night. But there’d been warning signs—a gradual increase in crime and murder rates over the previous few months. The cops there had just failed to put two and two together until it was far too late.
“Have you actually mentioned the wellspring to your pack’s alpha?”
“Elders, as there’s more than one alpha. And yes, I did. Last I heard, they were still arguing about whether or not they needed to call the RWA in to properly protect it.”
“I’m surprised the RWA hasn’t ridden roughshod over pack sensibilities and just done it anyway.”
“A regional association hasn’t the power to overturn pack rulings. The order would have to come direct from the state or maybe even federal government.”
Which was the perfect opening for the other thing I’d been putting off. And yet, part of me still resisted. Sitting here with him so obviously relaxed, and with a good percentage of his aura gleaming orange—a color that not only spoke of high intelligence, vitality, and excitement, but also warm emotions—was nice. Did I really want to risk sending him spinning back into grief by mentioning his sister?
“I can see from your expression something else is troubling you,” he said. “Whatever it is, just say it, Liz.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I just... I think we also need to drive to that spot where your sister was killed.”
His expression closed over, and black once again pulsed through his aura. But it didn’t take over, and that suggested he might be finally coming to grips with his grief.
I hoped so, for his sake as much as any relationship he might want in the future. With the weight and depth of his grief, there was little hope of other emotions surviving—which could well explain his lack of emotional attachment over the last year.
Although it didn’t really explain the apparent lack of sex. Men generally didn’t need emotions to be involved to engage with someone sexually.
“So you really still think Gabe is there?” he asked eventually.
“I honestly don’t know what to think.” While I did agree that it was highly unlikely that Gabe—if he was alive, as Anna had suggested—could have avoided any wolf sensing his presence for so long, there was something strange going on here. Something that, at the very least, had resulted in his magic remaining active within the reservation even if he wasn’t. “I just know that I have to go there.”
“Is this an intuition thing, or something more?”
“Intuition, mainly. I’ve had no dreams, and Belle’s guides haven’t mentioned Gabe’s presence.”
“Would they?”
“If asked a direct question, maybe.” I shrugged. “They can be spectacularly unhelpful when they want to be, though.”
“Here’s to spirits being as ornery as the rest of us.” He lightly touched his coffee cup against mine. “It’s oddly comforting to know the afterlife actually has life.”
“It’s generally only those who have chosen not to move on and be reborn, or those who are chosen to be familiars, who remain.”
“So ghosts are the former?”
I nodded. “Generally, yes.”
“Have you sensed many around here?”
“I don’t actually go looking for them. And for the most part, they’re harmless.” I studied him for a moment. “Do you need to ask permission from the Marin pack to go into St. Erth forests tomorrow?”
He sighed. “No, because if Gabe is there, it’s once again ranger business. They can’t stop me.”
“Good.”
I drank some more coffee, and the silence stretched on for several minutes. And while there was a definite undercurrent that spoke of desire, the silence was nevertheless a comfortable one. Wolf or no, this man was happy to simply sit here, and that was something of a rarity in a world that seemed intent on instant satisfaction.
Although if I was being at all honest, a little instant satisfaction would not have gone astray.
But maybe he was still waiting for me to make that first move.
My gaze fell to his lips. What would he do if I simply leaned forward and kissed him? It wasn’t really an appropriate time, but was there ever going to be? Especially if fate continued to crap all over our plans?
I sipped some coffee, torn between desire and my natural tendency for caution—at least when it comes to the opposite sex. Eventually, I said, “Can I ask how a pack works with more than one alpha?”
Heat stirred in his eyes, and a smile tugged at his lips. He might not be a telepath but he obviously knew what my thoughts were.
“Proper wolf packs are usually one family unit. Ours consists of many family units, so naturally, we’re going to have a number of both alphas, betas, and omegas within each pack.”
Betas being second-in-command, and the omegas the lower-ranked members of the community. It was a system that ran against what generally happened with real wolves who, in the wild, tended to live in packs that centered around a breeding pair and one or more generations of their offspring rather than multiple families. “And the alphas rule the pack jointly?”
“Yes. And there’s a vote every five years for the pack’s three positions on the reservation council.” He paused. “My father and his two brothers have won that vote the last five times.”
If his father and uncles had been on the council for twenty-five years, they were either very popular or had very powerful personalities. “What happens when an alpha dies? Does one of his direct family group step up into that position, or does it go to a vote?”
“It’s usually taken by the oldest alpha sibling, be they male or female.”
I raised my eyebrows. “There’re women representatives amongst both the elders and the council?”
“Of course. Werewolves might have a macho reputation, but every family group is run equally by an alpha male and female.”
“Here’s to social equality,” I said, and repeated the coffee cup tap. “Are you the oldest in your family?”
He shifted slightly to look at me directly. Which only made it easier to lean forward and kiss him.
And I did want to.
Badly.
Especially when his very next question was the one question I’d been hoping to
avoid until we knew each other far, far better.
“I’ll answer your questions about my family if you answer mine about yours.”
“I haven’t seen my family for years, so I really can’t tell you all that much about them.”
I didn’t want to lie to him, but by the same token, I really couldn’t afford to be totally honest. Not when there was still a niggle in the back of my mind that my parents would—sooner or later—come hunting for us.
“Why? Did you have some kind of falling out?”
“You could say that.” I paused. “My hair coloring, and the little magic I possess, both came from my grandmother, who was the result of a brief dalliance with a blueblood. Neither of my parents shared her attraction to witches or magic, and they spent my growth years trying to smother the skill.”
Though I’d told that story often enough, this time the lies tasted very bitter. It wasn’t a great way to start a relationship, no matter how inconsequential it might be.
“When was the last time you saw them?”
“Answer my question,” I said primly, “And I’ll answer yours.”
He laughed—a warm, rich sound that caressed my senses as sweetly as honey on the tongue. I put my coffee cup back on the table and tucked one leg under my body so that I was fully facing him. Not only because I wanted direct eye contact, but also because it would make it even easier to kiss him.
“I am indeed the oldest. I’ve five sisters and a younger brother.”
I blinked. “There are seven children in your immediate pack?”
“That is another question.” He paused, and a devilish light appeared in his eyes. “If you want me to answer it, there has to be a penalty. Rules are rules.”
“More than happy to oblige,” I murmured. “What shall it be? Another piece of cake, a coffee refill, or perhaps...?”
I didn’t finish the sentence. I simply leaned forward and kissed him.
And oh, what a kiss it was.
It was everything our very first one had been and far more besides, because this time, it wasn’t fleeting and he didn’t pull away. Instead, he slipped his hand around the back of my neck, holding me gently as the kiss deepened into a slow and passionate exploration, one that was restrained and yet hinted at a far deeper desire—one that was only a touch away from exploding. It left me breathless, giddy, and had me wanting him with a fierceness that I hadn’t felt in a very long time.
