Werewolves Only

by Carrie Pulkinen

  He raised his hands in a show of innocence. “Okay. I didn’t hear a thing.”

  Nothing he didn’t already know, anyway. He probably could’ve gotten her to say more, but he didn’t want to take advantage of her. She wasn’t drunk, but she was obviously buzzed. And, damn, she was cute.

  “Good. Because this case is tough enough. I don’t need to lose my job over it.”

  He couldn’t help but grin at the beautiful woman before him as she reached behind her head and loosened the bun at the nape of her neck. Silky blonde hair flowed over her shoulders, accentuating the delicate dip at the base of her throat in the center of her collar bone.

  His mouth watered as he imagined his lips pressed against the indention and the sweet taste of her skin as he trailed kisses across her chest. “Wow.”

  “What?” She shoved the hair band into her purse and pushed her beer away. “I think I’ve had enough.”

  “Your hair is pretty. You should wear it down more.”

  “Oh.” Her gaze shifted to the bar, and she blushed. “Thanks. I would, but…it gets in the way at work. I’ve been thinking about cutting it—”

  “Don’t.”

  She looked into his eyes, and a sly grin curved her lips. “Is that an order? Because I don’t like being told what to do.”

  He slid his gaze down to her tempting mouth and lingered there a moment too long. What would those lips feel like pressed against his? “Just a suggestion.”

  “Suggestions I can handle.”

  What the hell was he doing? He needed to stop flirting with her. No matter how hot an inferno she lit inside his core, she was human for Christ’s sake.

  Or was she?

  When he’d touched her, some kind of magic had shot up his arm. Possibly a witch. For a split second, he’d felt the electricity of a were…but she couldn’t be. There was no way a were could live in the Quarter for as long as she had without the pack knowing. Rogues were required to register.

  If she wasn’t a werewolf, he didn’t need to waste his time. But the longer she sat there in front of him, the less he cared about pack laws. When he became alpha, he could make his own laws.

  Damn it. No! She’d gotten too close already. To the crimes. To the demons. Her job was to figure out what was happening, and his was to keep her from discovering the truth.

  Her jingling cell phone pulled him back to reality. She dug in her purse and held the device to her ear. “Hey, Bryce.” She mouthed the words It’s my partner to Luke.

  Even if she hadn’t told him, she had the volume on her phone up so loud, he could hear every word Bryce said.

  “Listen, Mace. We’ve got an issue with the first victim.”

  Macey rolled her eyes. “Oh, c’mon, Bryce. It’s my night off. Yours too. Can’t someone else handle it?”

  “They are, but…she’s dead. Ripped open…and eaten. Her entire abdomen.”

  “Come again?”

  “That’s all I know. On my way to the scene now. 857 Masters Street. Meet you there?”

  She ran her hand over her face from her forehead down to her chin. “Actually, could you come pick me up? I’m at O’Malley’s on St. Philip.”

  “Are you drunk, Mace? Do you need to sit this one out?”

  “Hell no. You know me better than that. I’ve had a few, and I don’t want to drive, that’s all.”

  “Be there in ten.”

  She shoved her phone into her purse. “Sorry about that. Guess it’s not my night off after all.” Sliding off her stool, she hesitated, tugging on her bottom lip. “I have to go. How much do I owe?”

  “It’s on me tonight. It was nice to meet you, Macey.” He held out his hand.

  “Thank you.” When they shook, the same buzzing electricity shuddered up his arm. Definitely some kind of magic. He held on too long. After the conversation he’d overheard, his instinct told him not to let her go. To protect her above all else. But what could he do? She wasn’t his to protect, no matter what his wolf wanted.

  Her eyes widened as she pulled her hand away. “I’d like to see you again sometime.”

  The energy faded, and a new heat flushed his system at the thought. He’d like to see her again too. Naked. In his bedroom… But he couldn’t. His duty to the pack came first. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.” Even if he couldn’t be with her, he’d be damned if he’d let any harm come to her.

  Her expression dropped, the light in her eyes fading, as she turned for the exit. “Um…yeah. See you.”

  As soon as the door closed behind her, Luke hopped over the bar and called for one of the guys in the back to cover for him. There was no way he’d make it to the scene before Macey. Even if he did, the place would be crawling with cops. Two hundred pack members, and they still didn’t have a man on the inside. He shook his head and bounded for his truck.

  From the sound of it, whatever ate that woman had come from inside her.

  Chapter Eight

  Jimmy’s body felt like lead. His muscles ached, and he trudged along like he was moving in slow motion. He’d carried his brother’s body across the swamp and all the way to their house. It took him all day. He didn’t mean to sleep so long, but that bed he’d made in the leaves was so comfy.

  Ross would be mad. But maybe, since Jimmy had the body, his brother would forgive him.

  A thick layer of mud covered his sopping wet boots. Dead leaves crunched under his steps as he hoofed it through the last few yards to the front door. It wasn’t dark out yet, but heavy clouds covered the sun, casting an eerie haze over the already spooky house. Jimmy shivered. He didn’t like living in the swamp. A small apartment in the city, with people all around, would have been nice. He liked people. But Ross insisted on the swamp because it gave them privacy. Being half demon, he needed his space.

  But Jimmy didn’t. The only reason he didn’t leave was because when Ross was born, he’d eaten Momma. He said if Jimmy ever tried to run away, he’d eat him too. Jimmy swallowed hard. He didn’t want to get eaten.

  Still, he didn’t like being alone. He had a dog once, but a gator ate it. He didn’t get any more pets. As long as he stayed by himself, nobody got eaten.

  He dragged the sack up the front steps and flung open the screen door. “Ross? You here?”

  He took a tentative step inside and dropped the body bag at his feet. “Ross?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Oh, good. For a minute I thought somebody—” Before he could finish his sentence, something crashed into him, knocking him to the floor. Jimmy stared up into the bright-red eyes of what looked like a ten-year-old boy. But Jimmy knew better. This wasn’t a boy. He smiled and tried to get up as the boy backed away.

  “Hey there! I didn’t know we had a visitor. What’s your name?”

  The boy snarled, baring sharp teeth, and leapt toward Jimmy. Jimmy was about to scream when the boy stopped in mid-air and catapulted to the floor like he’d been hit. Jimmy screamed anyway.

  The boy got up, dusted off his too-big trousers and crossed his arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were Master’s brother.”

  Jimmy’s mouth fell open, so he snapped it shut. His brother hated it when he gaped. “Master?”

  “He means me, you idiot. I should’ve let him tear you up. What the hell took you so long?”

  Jimmy didn’t know what to say. So many questions ran through his mind, but he knew he’d get in trouble for asking something stupid. “You were heavy.” That was the truth. He couldn’t get in trouble for telling the truth.

  The impact of a hand across his face made his head jerk to the side. Pressure built in his eye like it would explode, and his cheek stung. Was it wrong to say Ross was heavy?

  “It doesn’t matter now. I don’t want it anymore.”

  Confusion made Jimmy’s thoughts tumble. “You don’t want your body? But how will you—” He received another blow, this time to his gut. He doubled over as the air whooshed out of his lungs.

  “Does it feel l
ike I need a body?”

  He coughed. “No, sir. It doesn’t.”

  “Good. I don’t have enough energy to knock any more sense into you. Besides, I can use your body when I need it.”

  “How can you—” A piercing pain shot through Jimmy’s body, like he’d been stabbed with a million straight pins all at once. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He stood frozen in the sensation of his skin being turned inside out. Then the pain stopped just as suddenly as it had started. His arms moved up and down, and he jumped. His body crouched and leapt into the air, but he wasn’t controlling it. He tried to speak, but his mouth wouldn’t move. All he could do was think. What’s happening? Why am I doing this?

  “Because I’m controlling you.” He felt his mouth form the words, but they didn’t come from his brain. It was almost his own voice, but Ross was speaking. “It’s a little trick I figured out while I was waiting for you to get back. Fun, huh?”

  Not really.

  “Sure it is. And get used to it, because I like it. You and I are gonna have some fun. Maybe we’ll go into town tonight and find a woman.”

  Oh, no. He can hear everything I think.

  “Damn right, I can. Good thing you don’t think much.”

  The sharp, tearing sensation returned, but this time it felt like the pins were pushing from the inside out. As Ross ripped himself from his body, Jimmy collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. He ran his hands over his arms, patting his body to make sure his skin was still there.

  “I…I didn’t like that, Ross.”

  “Neither did the boy here. He’s only a day old, but he’s a lot stronger than you. You’re easier to control.” Ross laughed. “That’s no surprise.”

  “What are you going to do with him?” Jimmy gestured to the boy who stood silently against the wall. Though, calling him a boy was a stretch. He’d be full grown in a couple of days, just like Ross had been.

  “He’s gonna be my eyes in the city. I’m gonna turn him loose and let him wreak his havoc or do whatever the hell he wants to, as long as he keeps an eye on those damn werewolves.”

  At that, the boy bolted through the house and out the door. Jimmy wanted to ask a question. He knew he shouldn’t, but he really wanted to know. “Why are we doing this? Calling demons and stuff?”

  “You’re doing it because I told you to. I’m doing it because…I’m bored. I’m tired of living in the swamp. I’m going to run this city one day, and all its magic will be mine.”

  He was able to ask that question without getting punished. He started to smile, but stopped himself. Maybe he could ask some more.

  “What do the demons do after we call them?”

  “They rape and murder. What else, moron? Then we get more half breeds like the boy.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they obey me. And the more evil there is in the world, the better. Once I get enough of them, I’ll build an army. Then I’ll get rid of those damn werewolves, and every magical being in the city will answer to me.”

  Chapter Nine

  Macey munched on a bear claw during the fifteen-minute drive from the French Quarter, down the dusty country road, to the victim’s home. She hadn’t been drunk when Bryce called her, but a little food in her belly would sober her up if any tipsiness remained in her system.

  The comfort food also helped ease the sting of rejection. She must’ve read Luke wrong. His glittering smile and flirtatious conversation couldn’t have been what she’d thought. He probably flirted with all the customers. A guy that good-looking…Women probably went to that bar for the view of Luke alone. It was just as well. Getting involved with a man like that was the last thing she needed. No matter how much she’d wanted it at the time.

  She swallowed the last of the pastry and reached for the cup of joe Bryce had so thoughtfully picked up for her on the way. She took a sip and wistfully stared out the window.

  Her partner broke the silence. “You know, I expected you to be stumbling over your feet when I picked you up. But you only had three? I’ve seen you drink way more than that and be fine.”

  Macey took another sip of her coffee and put it in the cup holder. “I’m sure my BAL is over the legal limit. It was high enough to screw up my judgment of the bartender, anyway.”

  Bryce flicked his gaze over to Macey for a second. “Do I want to know?”

  She sighed and ran her hands through her hair, pulling it into a low ponytail. Holding a rubber band in her mouth, she twisted her mane into a tight bun. “It’s just…” She spoke with the band between her teeth. “I really thought he liked me.” Yanking the elastic out of her mouth, she twisted it in her hair. “He smiled and flirted. I thought he was flirting.”

  Bryce glanced at her with raised eyebrows.

  “He was definitely flirting, Bryce. Ugh! Why do I care? I shouldn’t care. I don’t need a man.” Honestly, she didn’t even want one. As long as she didn’t open herself up to anyone, no one could get close enough to hurt her.

  “How do you know he’s not interested?”

  “Because I told him I wanted to see him again, and he said, ‘I’m sure I’ll see you around,’ or something like that. He blew me off.”

  Bryce drew in a long breath. “Well, then he’s an idiot, Mace. Forget about him.”

  “You’re right. It’s not like I ever have to see him again. I just won’t go to that bar anymore.” She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, pushing the thoughts of Luke and his amazing biceps out of her head.

  The sedan chugged down the dirt road, jolting over bumps and through potholes. The seatbelt pressed into her lap, each bouncing bump making the need to pee overwhelm her.

  “Are we there yet?”

  Bryce chuckled. “Don’t make me turn this car around, young lady. We’ll be there when we get there.”

  Macey groaned. “Seriously. I need to pee. If you see a store, you have to stop.”

  Her partner grinned silently as he made a sharp left turn into a driveway. “We’re here. If the bathroom’s been cleared, you can go. Otherwise…you’ll have hold it.”

  Her mouth fell open. “You want me to pee in the victim’s house? At the crime scene?” She got out of the car and slammed the door. “You’re nuts. I can’t do that.”

  “Suit yourself.” He shrugged and shuffled toward the house.

  Macey glared at his back, but she followed. It was only three beers. She could hold it.

  Monstrous pine trees towered over the small yard, creating a canopy across the walkway. The usually-green needles appeared as black silhouettes against the darkening sky. Gravel crunched beneath her flip-flops—not the shoes she’d have chosen for police work, but she didn’t have time to change. Her denim capris clung to her skin, and she fought the urge to pop the button to relieve some of the pressure on her bladder.

  Four stone steps led up to the entrance of the white Creole-style cottage, and green shutters framed the windows. Two men in blue greeted Macey and Bryce at the front door. “Victim’s in the back yard,” one of them said. “There’s blood in the kitchen. Trails out the back door.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled at the man and brushed past him into the small living room. Beige Berber carpet lined the floor from white wall to white wall. A canary yellow sofa sat across from a small television. Various trinkets lined the built-in bookshelves, all evenly and meticulously spaced. Nothing appeared to be out of place. No sign of a struggle so far.

  Bryce cleared his throat and pointed his thumb toward an open door. “Bathroom’s clear.”

  “Bryce!”

  “Just saying. I’d use it.” He grinned and took the lead as they headed into the kitchen. The chrome sink and faucet shined in the brightness cast from the recessed lighting. The cabinets gleamed a pristine white, and a large bouquet of sunflowers overflowed a blue vase on the center of the island. Except for the bloody hand print lying bright red against the pale gray granite, it was the most cheerful kitchen Macey had ever seen.

  Bryce laughed.
>
  “What?” She shifted her weight and fought the urge to bolt to the bathroom.

  “You’re doing the pee pee dance, Mace. Go use the toilet.”

  She glanced down at the awkward position she was standing in. “Oh, fine. But you better not tell anyone.”

  He drew a cross over his heart and pretended to zip his lips.

  Macey ducked in and out of the restroom as fast as she could, and no one noticed her using the crime scene facilities. Men were lucky. Any tree would do when they had the urge. She trekked through the house and onto the back porch where Bryce stood, talking with a uniform.

  “Feel better?” the man asked. Her partner tried to muffle his laughter.

  “Not funny, Bryce.” Her face burned with embarrassment, and she punched him on the shoulder. She had to be as red as a beet. She’d get him back, though. One way or another.

  Down the steps and to the right lay the body of the first victim in the string of crimes. Her limbs were contorted, like she’d fallen and writhed in pain as whatever attacked her turned her into a meal. Macey peered over the railing at the bloody sight. The woman’s abdomen was nearly nonexistent. She’d almost been chewed in half, but her still intact spine glistened white in the harsh, artificial light that had been set up to illuminate the scene.

  The blood-soaked ground looked black beneath the mauled body, and bits of flesh lay scattered around the yard. Macey covered her mouth and fought the urge to vomit. She had to get a closer look, but this image would surely invade her nightmares. She followed Bryce down the stairs and stopped a few feet away from the victim.

  The coroner was crouched by the body, and he rose to his feet when the detectives approached. He peeled the soiled latex gloves from his fingers and tossed them into a bag before he spoke. “Stomach and uterus are completely gone. What’s left of the other organs is shredded to bits.”

  Macey’s gaze darted from the victim to the examiner. “Any idea what could have done this?”