by Marie Castle
The arms holding me tightened, pulling me roughly to a hard chest. I smelled a familiar musky scent and wasn’t surprised by Becca’s angry look.
“What in the blue blazes were you doing, Lace?” Luke hissed from above my head as Jacq entered the room. Seeing me in Luke’s arms, her expression completely shut down.
“I’m fine now, Lucas. You can let go.” I tried to work my way free, but it was useless. The man had an iron grip. I could stand there, or I could make a scene. I stood there. As tempting as it was to elbow Luke in the ribs or give him a tongue-lashing—not of the variety the furry ones enjoyed—any aggression around Kyle could undo our recent efforts to calm him. I gentled my voice. “With Becca’s permission, I was working some simple magic to ease Kyle. I simply overextended myself a bit.” My words were meant for Luke, but it was Jacq’s face I watched. It was important that she understand, but her expression didn’t change. “My legs were momentarily weak, so thank you for catching me. But I’m fine now…really.” There was more that I wanted to say, but I wouldn’t be saying it in a room full of werewolves.
“We’ll take it from here, Deveroux.” Jacq’s husky voice was all business. She gestured to a chair near Kyle. “Cate, if you’ll sit, we’ll begin the interview.”
I watched, amused, as Jacq proceeded to push the others from the room. It took us several minutes (and a great deal of protesting from Luke) to make him and Becca leave. As Jacq escorted them out, I turned to Kyle.
He might be sitting placidly on the bed now, but he wouldn’t stay like that. My spell had been to calm, but it was more akin to the magic used for my suppression amulets. It couldn’t remove his Wolf’s nature, which was to rage and search for his mate. The spell would only suppress that urge. It could be repeated once, maybe twice more, but it wasn’t healthy to continually repress someone’s spirit. Besides, no matter how strong or often the spell was performed, Kyle’s Beast would eventually break out. His Wolf was part of who he was. That couldn’t be closeted away forever.
Before we began, Jacq walked around the room, weaving intricate silver glyphs in the air before pushing them onto the walls and ceiling. I didn’t understand their purpose until we began to talk. As the sound echoed off the walls, it became clear that she’d warded the room with silence. Although it took some getting used to, it was worth the confusion of hearing our voices bouncing around. Jacq assured us that even the listening devices we knew had to be there wouldn’t work. Somewhere, right about now, Luke and Becca (who’d undoubtedly been hoping to listen in on our conversation) were getting really pissed. I stifled a laugh, knowing exactly the look that would be on Luke’s face. Jacq must’ve mirrored my thoughts, because the cold, hurt look in her eyes was soon replaced by a warm twinkle.
The interview went quickly with Jacq asking most of the questions. Although I wasn’t as weak as before, the trip had drained me more than I’d expected. I was still recovering from the backlash of hitting—and nearly succumbing to—that tainted, magical web. Like Henry Richmond, Kyle was adamant that no one knew about Isabella’s premonitions, and he wanted to keep it that way. There was no guarantee that Isabella’s powers would work once the Lycos virus changed her. Many in the Pack would have used that as an argument against conversion, wanting to exploit her abilities without making her Wolf, resulting in a dangerous future. Even if Grey granted Isabella a protected status, her lifespan would only be a portion of Kyle’s. And human-to-Were parings were usually infertile, a nearly tragic outcome for the family-oriented Weres.
Kyle, too, thought Tulane was a link, but he couldn’t understand why Isabella, who lived three hours away, had been targeted. He gave us a list of everyone he could think of that she had come in contact with while visiting the campus. It was a good start. Before we left, I wrapped a little more calming influence around him, pushing Kyle into a natural sleep that would do him more good than the drug-induced one he’d received the night before.
On our way out, I reexamined Jacq’s silver glyphs, having been discreetly dissecting them throughout the interview. With the last glimpse, I felt certain that if necessary I could duplicate them. I already knew one room I’d be warding. And if I had my way, I’d put one permanently over a certain wolf’s big mouth.
Silence truly was golden.
* * *
My Nana always said that I’m not afraid to make a fool of myself. She was right, and they had the video to prove it. It was this quirky part of my nature that now had me standing in my faded jeans and a borrowed dress shirt on the second floor of Tulane’s Liberal Arts College in NOLA, hugging a man who looked at me with abject horror. My joyfully shouted “Wellsy!” was still echoing around the open-air lobby. Worse, at the noise at least thirty heads had turned to bear witness to my mortification. Thankfully, Becca had stepped away to find a vending machine.
I should’ve known when I spotted Dr. Wellsy, our neighbor and one of my aunt’s oldest friends, and felt a spidey-tingle, that something was wrong. Stepping back, I dropped my arms. Wellsy cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry, Miss?” He looked at me blankly.
My face grew redder still. He didn’t know me. How could this be? I had the right man. Even the strong smell of Old Spice was the same. I’d known Wellsy since I was young. A widower, he’d always been like a funny uncle bringing trinkets back from his travels for me and my aunt. His daughter, Loren, had been a good friend before she’d died several years ago. Even though he was nearly my Nana’s age, his witch blood had kept him looking young. He’d been very supportive when my grandpa had died and had helped in the search for my mother.
“Cate. Cate Delacy.” He shook his head. “Helena’s niece?” It took a nerve-racking moment—where I contemplated the possibility of amnesia, brain injuries, evil twins and alien abductions—before recognition lit his brown eyes. While I was waiting, I noticed that in his year away guest teaching at a Virginia university, Dr. Wellsy had aged drastically. I’d seen him before he’d left to be nearer his grandchildren. His salt-and-pepper hair was now pure white. His tanned face looked lined and haggard, and his tall rangy frame was gaunt and stooped. I rubbed at the bumps rising on my arms from a sudden chill.
“Yes, Miss Delacy.” His voice was slightly deeper than I recalled, but the charismatic smile was the same. I shivered as another cold draft hit. “My apologies. You may have heard about my recent accident. I have been experiencing some memory lapses.” He turned toward the curving staircase that led to the first floor then turned back. “Please make my apologies to your aunt.” He smiled again. This time, I smiled back. That warm and eager expression was the Wellsy I knew. “It has been too long since I’ve had a chat with a Delacy. Tell Helena I’ll visit soon.”
Maybe the accident was responsible for his overly formal speech, as well as the lack of recognition. I just nodded. There were several things I should’ve said, questions I wanted to ask, but I couldn’t force anything past my lips. Something felt wrong. Maybe it was Wellsy or maybe the tuna salad I’d eaten. Either way, my stomach was churning. I was standing at the banister, watching him leisurely walk out the building’s front doors, when Becca finally returned.
“Sorry, had to run up four flights of stairs to find a vending machine that wasn’t empty. It’s finals, and these collegians have gone sugar crazy!” With a laugh, she passed me one of the coveted sodas. Becca wasn’t even panting. Anyone but a Were would’ve been out of breath after that trip. I absentmindedly took the offered drink but didn’t open it. Something was bothering me and I couldn’t quite grasp what it was.
“Someone you know?” Becca inquired. In a T-shirt and jeans with her hair pulled back, she looked all of eighteen. Contentedly crunching on a candy bar didn’t help.
I frowned. “One of our neighbors. He was teaching in Virginia for the year. Richmond or something like that. He mentioned an accident and didn’t seem to recognize me. What was he doing here?” I murmured, walking back to the office we’d just left. Becca followed. She wore a sour expres
sion but was blissfully quiet. I needed some information and a minute to myself to think. The first was manageable, but the second wouldn’t be happening any time soon.
I pushed the door open, moving from cold marble floors to plush carpet before stopping at the high counter. I asked the same blond grad student I’d spoken with before meeting the dean, “Do you know what Dr. Arno Wellsy is doing here?”
“Oh, sure.” The perky young man was all smiles.
I thought I’d finally get a quick answer, then Becca stepped in behind me. Bam, he was smitten. I stifled the urge to roll my eyes. This had been happening all day. Even in frayed jeans and a Greek KAT shirt, Becca was still a bombshell. A bombshell with a sense of irony that I appreciated. I wasn’t sure which was more interesting—the fact that she’d been a member of a sorority or that she’d picked one whose mascot usually got eaten by the big bad wolf.
Of course, the grad student’s drooling could’ve been caused by the phers. I couldn’t be sure as I was still wearing last night’s suppression amulets. I had absorbed enough pheromones for a week, and hanging out all day with a Were who was in lust with my ex wasn’t helping. At my pointed stare, the young man wrenched his gaze away from my wolfy, sorority girl bloodhound. “Um, he’s guest teaching a class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, International Politics and the Genesis Saga. Fascinating stuff. The class is booked solid with at least three dozen students auditing off-book.”
I thanked the young man then dragged Becca away. All I got for my trouble was a dirty look (from him not her). Wellsy had been back in town since January at the least. He would’ve had to leave his guest post in Virginia early. Could that have been for health reasons? If so, then why was he teaching here and not at home resting? Nana was one of the best healers around. He could’ve come to us for help, but I knew he hadn’t been at the homestead in months. I checked on his house weekly, like he’d requested. This was all very unusual.
Next, we went to the registrar’s office where we finally hit pay dirt. Their system had been hacked months before. Originally, they’d suspected an enterprising student of padding his or her transcript, but the only data touched were family medical histories. The major privacy violation had drawn federal investigators, but they’d yet to catch the hacker. I’d asked for anything they could release regarding what the search had been targeting but had been stonewalled.
This at least explained how the boys were targeted, if not the girls. We’d already hit the campus with a vengeance, using Becca’s nose and my magic to check everyone who might have ties to our missing people. We knew that Isabella was alive, so Becca was checking scents, looking to see if anyone had come in recent contact with the missing Druid. I’d been looking for the taint of dark magic. We’d just finished when I’d ran into Dr. Wellsy, which was good. I was magicked-out for the day.
I was also trying hard not to be disheartened. After all of that, Becca and I had found bupkis. Hopefully Luke, who was conducting similar interviews in NOLA before transporting Kyle (per my request) to Hattiesburg, and Jacq, headed to that same city for her own interviews, would come up with something when they spoke with the missing girls’ families.
According to the registrar, no one had any classes together, but the mention of auditing had struck a chord. We were heading back to the car when I said, “Call Luke and see if any of the girls from NOLA were auditing, maybe unofficially, any classes either here or in The Burg? I’ll call Jacq and have her check the girls from Mississippi. There probably won’t be any paper trails, so they’ll have to ask parents and friends.” I snapped my fingers, adding one last thought. “Oh, and have Luke ask Kyle if Isabella knew Dr. Wellsy, Arno Wellsy. He taught at USM.” The Liberal Arts wasn’t huge. There was a very good chance that she’d taken one of his classes.
Becca gave me a strange look. “Why don’t you call him yourself, Lace?” Her tone had turned cold. So the gloves had come off. Well, if she wanted to play it that way…
We were at the car. I rounded the hood and approached the passenger door, my tone scathing as I said, “One: Because I don’t want to talk to him.” I ticked the numbers off on my fingers. (Visual aids help when dealing with the simple minded.) “Two: Because you do.” The third was the clincher. Hopefully, Becca would get the point without me having to shove it up her ass…because I was more than happy to oblige if she didn’t.
I yanked open the car door. Sliding into the seat, I waited until Becca was behind the wheel and had turned to face me. Even with the windows rolled down, her red Mustang should’ve been steamy in the May sun, but her icy glare could’ve had icicles dripping off the black roll top. I watched her face, making sure she understood. “Three: Things have been pretty awkward between us since he saw Jacq and I making out last night.” Well, that might be an exaggeration, but the idea was there. And that idea did it.
Her mouth formed a silent O. The car’s temp seemed to rise by at least ten degrees. I couldn’t have been blunter if I’d said, “Sic ’em girl.” Now if the reluctant suitor would just cooperate, this Cupid could walk away without having to bloody her arrows.
Life was good.
Chapter Ten
“The term undead reflects your bias. We may be centuries old, but your perception of us should not be. We are simply the living-impaired…”
—Councilman Marton Sevres in his speech to Congress regarding equal rights for Vampires
“Oh, that is the last time I try to help you!” I slammed the door none too gently, following Becca into my house. The yelling and arm waving were probably over the top, but I’d been subjected to over an hour of musical soundtracks. It was either voice my distress or strangle her on the spot. I was leaning toward the latter.
Becca had wanted to stop at the Blue Moon so I could shower and change clothes. Again. It wasn’t a hygiene issue. I’d showered that morning before we’d left the club. No, apparently I reeked of Old Spice and old man decay. I believe the female wolf’s exact words were “death warmed over.” I’d refused. I didn’t smell it. Besides, I was wearing last night’s jeans and a borrowed shirt already. I wasn’t going to borrow someone’s undies and another set of clothes. Her nose had suffered the trip, so apparently my ears and sanity had to as well.
I was already angry enough that Luke had decided to ride with Jacq to her house and borrow my Jeep for his drive to The Burg. The only reason I wasn’t yelling at him was because he’d followed the other Weres transporting Kyle and not piled them all into my precious one. I’d checked before entering the house. The Jeep didn’t reek of wild dog, which meant my ex got to live to see another day.
Jacq and Luke stepped out of the den. Jacq once again had her sword. She must’ve been concerned over the yelling. Hmm, there was a simple solution to my problem. No, it would be bad manners to have her behead Becca—not to mention messy. Damn. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t be a tiny bit vindictive. A sly smile curved my lips.
“Wha—umph,” Luke’s question was cut off as I shoved the no-longer-smirking Becca into his chest. Well, she deserved something. I mean, who really wants to listen to the entire soundtrack of Oklahoma? Twice? Really. Why would someone even have that in their car? Luke put his arms around Becca—who I was happy to note had a very unladylike squeal—to steady her. I wasn’t sure which one looked more surprised.
“You want her? Take her. I wash my hands of this sadistic woman and her horrific musical tastes. Arggg!” I stomped around them and into the dining room, grabbing my detective’s arm along the way, almost used to the zing that occurred whenever we touched. Becca was still cuddled up to a confused Luke’s chest.
Jacq gave my half-grin a puzzled look. I wasn’t faking the frustration, but who said I couldn’t vent and do other things too? We were at the dining room’s threshold when she said, “You smell strange.” Eyebrows pinched together, her nose twitched.
“Arrhhhh!” Half-screaming, half-moaning, I dropped Jacq’s arm, did an about-face, and stomped upstairs to shower.
“What�
��d I say?” Her words echoed in the den before she followed, reaching me just as I arrived at my partially open bedroom door. I bit back a curse as I entered. I could swear I’d shut that door before leaving yesterday. As expected, Hex’s black kitty body was nesting right in the middle of my white satin comforter. And there were definite scratch marks running down my black cherry headboard and dresser. She’d had nearly twenty-four hours to wreak havoc. If you look up malicious in the dictionary, there’d be a picture of that whiskered sourpuss face.
“Out!” I pointed to the door then had to grab Jacq as she started to leave. I pulled her into the room, gentling my tone. “Sorry, not you.” I smiled to remove the hurt from her eyes. “The cat.” I gestured at the hell-spawn currently slinking out the door. “Hex might be trapped in an animal’s body, but she always understands what people do and say.” Expression serious, Jacq nodded. Fortunately, I’d already shared the story of Mynx and Hex’s body-switch, so that statement didn’t sound quite so crazy.
I half-pushed, half-pulled Jacq to the small love seat in the room’s corner. The sides bore claw marks, but the actual seat looked okay. I rubbed my hands up and down her arms. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry at you.” Releasing a frustrated growl, I stepped back, searching the room for something to do with my hands. She felt too good.
“Stay there while I find some clean clothes in this mess.” The laundry hamper sitting beside my small writing desk had been tipped over, everything scattered. Hex knew what she was doing. My favorite silk pajamas and lace undies were the most mutilated. My oldest pair of sweats and the pants that I never wore because they were a size too big were undamaged.
I began to discard garments too ripped to keep, explaining, “For some reason, Hex doesn’t bother anyone else. I’m the lucky one. She’s been doing this to me since I was a kid.” I stepped over and closed the door. “Only it was worse when I was younger because I was allergic to cats. She loved to sneak in here and roll in my bed, my clothes, anything she could get her furry paws on. I’d itch and sneeze and break out in hives. We’d wash and wash, but there was always something we missed.”
