by E. A. Copen
Chanter chuckled. “Hunter is not your real name, is it boy? Did you choose it or did someone pick this one for you?”
Hunter raised his chin with pride. “I picked it.”
Chanter squatted down but made an effort to keep his head above Hunter's in height. “It's a good name. Very strong. Tell me, who was your father, Hunter?”
Hunter looked up at me, unsure. “Go on. Answer him,” I urged, though it almost hurt me to do it. We didn't talk about Alex, Hunter and I. He'd asked once and only once and I sat him down to tell him everything I thought he needed to know. Everything except that Alex had been a werewolf.
“Alex Gale. He died before I was born.”
A new wrinkle spread through Chanter's forehead as he repeated the name. His next statement made me start to sweat. “Your father was a werewolf, Hunter. Do you know what that means?” Hunter swallowed and started to nod but then decided to shake his head. “It means you've the potential to become one as well.” Chanter paused as if measuring Hunter's response but Hunter stood still as stone. “How do you feel right now? Come on, now. No wrong answers. I'll know if you're lying to me, boy.”
I felt Hunter's shoulders tense under my hands. “Mad.”
“And who is that anger directed at?”
Hunter squirmed a little before answering. “I don't know. Everyone, I guess.”
Chanter stood back up and grunted something that sounded like approval to me. “Honest to a fault.”
“There's no shame in honesty,” I told him.
“No, I suppose not.” The silence hung between us, heavy as a wet blanket. “Tonight,” started Chanter at last. “You will both be guests in my house. You will see first-hand some of what it means to be what we are and then you may decide how you feel about it. I will warn you both once. Step lightly. Assume nothing. Speak with care. There is a lot of tension here tonight and Saloso has seen fit to deliver me more.” He rubbed his chin and frowned. “Valentino will not be pleased to see you. Either of you. Do not push him, whatever you do. This is not the time and place for your investigation.” Then, he turned slowly and opened the screen door, gesturing for us to come in. “Go in, then. There are cartoons on the television.”
Some modern revival of Scooby-Doo was on the TV. Mismatched but comfortable furniture lined the walls of the room, giving the space more seating room than standing room. The only other person in the room was a stick of a young man who was passed out on the sofa with a comic book over his face. Chanter rolled his eyes and went over to nudge him with his foot. “Wake up, Ed.”
Ed pulled the magazine down off his face and groaned as if he were dying of being awake. “Ungh...Is it five o'clock already?”
“It's going on six.”
Chanter crossed his arms and waited while Ed unfolded himself from an impossible sleeping position, stretched and sat up, smacking his lips. He started to stretch and yawn again but paused mid yawn when he saw Hunter and I standing there. “Damn,” he said, giving me an awkward look up and down. “I didn't know BSI agents came in that model.” Hunter sat down next to him on the couch and stared intently at the TV. “Uh, hey, kid.”
“Hunter.”
“Right. Hunter.” He was quiet for a while. “So, uh, you like Scooby-Doo?”
“Shhh. This is the best part.”
“Oh,” said Ed, shrinking down. “Right.” Then he gave Chanter an unhappy glare, realizing Chanter had gotten him up to babysit.
“They'll do fine,” Chanter promised and I heard him go into the kitchen and start moving around some dishes. “Ed is practically a child himself.”
“I'll be twenty in a few months,” Ed grumbled and turned the cartoon up.
“Agent Black, if we can speak alone?”
I gave one last, long look at my son before stepping into the kitchen with Chanter. “Just Judah. I'm not working right now, remember?”
“Very well then, just Judah.” He pushed open another screen door, this one leading to the backyard, and went through it. I thought maybe he meant for me to follow him, so I did.
There wasn't really a backyard. It was just open desert without fences, walls or roads as far as I could see. Twenty yards or so away, Sal was helping two women finish stacking dry wood. Valentino sat off to the side on the ground with a few plastic grocery bags next to him. No one even glanced in my direction.
“Tell me of the boy's father.” Chanter's voice drew my attention to the edge of the stoop where he stood, rolling up a cigarette using tobacco Sal had brought.
“There isn't much to tell. Alex was a man who lived in a world that didn't believe he existed so he never told me about who he was. He was closed up. Sometimes, I didn't see him for weeks at a time. When I did, he was lost in some other thought, buried in some secret I'll never know. I loved him but I suppose I never really knew him.”
Chanter grunted. “That tells me more about you than him.”
“What do you want me to say?” I said, throwing my hands up. “That he was a good man? A bad one? What kind of pack he ran with? I don't know those answers, Chanter. Alex was a man. Good or bad doesn't matter when you're dead.”
He turned to look at me. I couldn't tell if he was surprised or amused. Maybe he was a little of both. “Your boy is close to his first change. It's worrisome but not an impossible feat to deal with. I would be able to tell you more if you knew more. It isn't wise to leave another dominant to roam free. Ironic that you should be saddled with the same fears as we are every time we bring children into the world, that you should lose him to the very agency that claims to protect us.”
I took a step toward him and uncrossed my arms. “The system isn't perfect and I don't agree with everything BSI does, but-”
He stopped me by raising a hand. I would have kept speaking, ignoring his gesture, but I physically could not bring myself to speak. “I don't hold any grudges against you. The finger can't blame the arm for burns. Honestly, I only said that to see what you would say. I'm pleased to see that you're not just another blind and deaf soldier here to enforce the law.”
“This isn't about me. This is about Hunter. Can you help him or not?”
Chanter took a long drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke out his nose before answering. “It's not my decision,” he said. “Not entirely. The others may be resistant to bringing someone else in so soon after Elias' failed incorporation. A young, dominant male is going to be even more difficult to bring in, especially if his mother doesn't understand the true nature of what it is she's asking us to do.”
I went and sat down on the top stair behind him. “Then tell me. My other option is to continue on as we have, to hide him. Now that he knows, Hunter won't accept that. If BSI finds out, I could lose him. I can't lose my son.”
“If Hunter is to learn anything, he'll have to scrape a few knees, get bruises and cuts and maybe a few broken bones. How difficult the learning is depends entirely on him. He will have to find his place here or he will be put in his place and likely not gently. You will have to accept some things that are uncomfortable to most humans as staples of our ways.”
“For example?”
He cracked a little smile. “You'll see some things tonight that will probably ruffle your feathers. Do yourself and your son a favor, Judah, and give the boy the space and ability to make some decisions for himself.” Chanter finished up his cigarette and crushed it with his boot before picking up the butt and dropping it in an old paint can sitting in the corner of his stoop. “You are staying for the funeral? You should. It will give you and Hunter a chance to meet everyone and see some things that might help you reach some kind of decision.”
“Decision?”
“About us,” Chanter said with a grin. “And whether or not we're all just killers and monsters waiting to happen.”
He went back inside and left me out there, pondering what he'd said. I didn't believe that all werewolves were killers. Sure, they had a natural tendency toward violence and risk taking b
ehavior. There were plenty of psychology studies that proved that much. Alex had been in his share of fights and troubles while we were married but I didn't think he'd actually killed anyone. Maybe he just hadn't lived long enough to become the monster I believed he was capable of becoming. I didn't want to admit that I wasn't just looking to protect Hunter and keep him from drawing BSI's attention. I wanted him to stay the way he was. I didn't want him to be a werewolf. Mostly, I didn't want to feel so damn helpless about it.
“Alex,” I whispered, “if you're paying attention, damn you for dying before telling me everything.”
The only thing that answered was a small, dry wind, kicking red dust into my face.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
By the time I got back into the kitchen, there was no sign of Chanter. A tall, beautiful Latina woman leaned on the stove, staring into a compact mirror and reapplying some of her lipstick. Not that she needed any more paint on her face. The Mona Lisa probably wore less paint. The woman closed her compact with a loud click, tossed a long, black strand of hair behind her shoulder and offered me a stiff hand. “Nina Silvermoon-Garcia,” she said with all the tenderness of a prosecuting attorney meeting the accused. I grabbed her hand and shook it, wincing when her manicured fingernails dug into my palm. Before I could answer, she added, “How much do you know already?”
“Judah Black.” I pulled my hand away before it started bleeding. “You must be Valentino's wife.”
“Don't jerk me around. I know you're working Elias' case. Chanter's practically ordered us to cooperate with you. If I'm going to open up my home to you, I need to know exactly how the situation stands.”
I eyed her carefully and then glanced around to make sure Chanter wasn't in earshot. “I know your son is missing.” She made a hissing sound through her teeth but said nothing else so I continued. “I know that Valentino and Elias weren't on the best of terms at the time of Elias' death. In fact, to hear some tell it, they had a pretty heated argument. Detectives Tindall and Quincy like him for the murder of your child. He probably thinks he killed Elias to cover it up, too.” That last part was a stretch, though the argument could be made. If I had really been interested in pursuing that lead, I could have twisted the evidence in my favor. Lucky for the Garcias, I was more interested than catching a kidnapper and a killer than closing cases fast.
Nina narrowed her eyes. “And what do you think?”
A shadow shifted in the hallway. I crossed my arms and leaned to one side. “I promised Chanter I wouldn't be working while I was here. If I were, though, I'd tell you that neither you nor Valentino strike me as the filicidal or fratricidal at first glance. Of course, only guilty people have something to hide.”
She raised her nose slightly before turning away and putting her manicured hands on the knobs of the cupboards above the stove. “I was so sure it would go through. We're respectable members of the community here, both of us gainfully employed with no real criminal records to speak of. What right does BSI have to decide whether or not we're fit parents?”
“The permits aren't about whether or not you're fit,” I explained.
“I know what they're for!” Nina spat. She jerked open the cupboard and pulled down a shot glass before fishing around in the back of the cupboard for some whiskey. “Population control. Can't have the strong outnumber the weak, can you?” She poured herself a shot and swallowed it in one gulp, barely restraining an angry sob.
“I don't agree with all of BSI's policies,” I said in a gentle tone. “If I did, would I be here?”
Nina turned and cast a longing glance into the living room where Ed and Hunter sat, watching their cartoons. “I'll be the first to tell you, Agent Black, that I'm not upset about Elias' death.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That sounds awfully cold.”
Nina shrugged. “It is what it is. Elias caused a lot of trouble for me and my family. When Leo went missing, that was the last straw. He'd been hanging out with so many shady characters. How was I supposed to know he hadn't just sold my baby for drugs or to get out of some new mess he'd created for himself?” She poured herself another shot but stared down into the liquor instead of swallowing it.
“What kind of people was he hanging out with?”
Chanter came around the corner just as Nina downed the second shot. She gave her father a guilty glance and then closed the bottle back up. “Agent Black,” she said in a strained tone. “If you think it would be helpful, why don't you come by tomorrow and go through Elias' things? Perhaps you'll find something that will help you.”
“I'll see you first thing tomorrow, then.”
“Good. Just bring my Leo back to me,” Nina said bluntly. “Then you can go back to wherever you came from. I think that would be best, don't you?” She forced a cruel smile.
I pushed through the back door again and stormed down the stairs. I tried to calm myself on my march across the desert to where Valentino was sitting but succeeded only in slowing my pace. That was enough, I guess. Valentino could probably smell my irritation all the way from the kitchen. When I came close, he glanced my way and his mouth twitched up into a silent snarl. “Not now,” he said and turned away. “Go the hell away.”
I stopped just over an arm's length away and crossed my arms. “When were you going to tell me your son had been kidnapped?”
“Fuck you, puta. That shit's none of your goddamn business. Leave me alone.”
“Nina seems to think differently.” He didn't answer me. “Dammit, Valentino, I can help you find him but you've got to be honest with me. You've got to trust me. For your son's sake.”
Valentino was up and on his feet before I finished my next breath, his face just inches from mine. “My brother's dead,” he hissed. “And my son probably, too. At least I have my brother's fucking body to burn. That's more than Leo will ever get. Fucking BSI! Why the hell are you even here? If it wasn't for pencil pushing lowlifes like you, my brother and my son would still be here. All we ever wanted was to live our lives. Just because we're different it doesn't mean you can herd us like sheep and slaughter us like cattle!”
“Valentino,” Sal scolded from the porch.
“Fuck you,” Valentino said and waved his hands dismissively at me before wandering off into the desert.
Sal moved to follow him but Chanter came out the back door and stopped him. “We'll catch up with him later,” the old Indian said. Then he glared at me, the look saying something like, “Are you pleased with the chaos you have wrought?” ...or whatever phrase old werewolf Indians use to say I told you so. “Finish the preparations,” Chanter barked and then stormed back inside.
“Questioning him on the day of his brother's funeral about his family might not have been the best move on your part, Judah,” Sal said, coming up beside me.
“I get the feeling that it doesn't matter the when and where of my questions. Valentino is just generally going to be uncooperative.”
“He's not a bad guy. Headstrong but decent. You just caught him at a bad time.” I glanced over at Sal. He was watching Valentino trek off over the horizon, though his thoughts were very clearly somewhere else. “Do you think he's right? Is there any hope of finding Leo alive?”
I thought about Detective Tindall trudging through the remains of the Summers family across town. “That chance gets lower every day.” There was a short silence. “Hey, I know this might be a bad time but I wanted to ask you something about your ex-wife.”
Sal rolled his eyes. “There's never a good time to talk about Zoe. What do you want to know?”
“I saw her get into a white Jaguar yesterday afternoon. Is that car registered in her name?”
Sal frowned and raised his eyebrows. “No, it's her boyfriend's car. Why?”
“You happen to know the boyfriend's name?” He glared at me. “Please, Sal. That info is either going to expand or shrink my suspect pool. I just wish I knew which.”
“LeDuc.” He gave the name a little extra
French flare. “Andre LeDuc. He's some French-Canadian doctor living in Toronto of all places.”
“That’s odd. How did they even meet?”
Sal gave me a sour look and fished out his cigarettes, lighting one. “Work. Zoe used to sing. She had the most beautiful voice. When we met, she was on the verge of stardom, agents coming to her shows every other week and small venues booked for the next six months.”
“Used to?” I said. “She quit?”
He took a long drag, staring off into the distance for a while before answering. “Zoe hasn’t been Zoe, not for almost two years now. About a year before we split up. She took a gig in Toronto in early October last year. I usually go with her but that time I didn’t. I kick myself every day for that decision.”
“Why didn’t you go with her?”
Sal cleared his throat and immediately changed the subject. “How about I introduce you to the rest of the pack?” Sal put an arm behind my back and pulled me toward the two women that had been stacking wood with him earlier. I decided not to push the topic further. I’d already angered Valentino. I didn’t need Sal mad at me, too.
Shauna, the first one he introduced me to, was five foot eight inches of solid muscle. She was dark skinned but it would have probably been more accurate to call her mixed race. She wore her dark, feathery hair close cropped and streaked with green, pink and orange. There were silver bars in each of her ears. Shauna didn't say anything to me or offer to shake my hand. She just acknowledged me with a slight nod of the head.
“Shauna here helps manage a gym if you ever want to work out,” Sal bragged.
“You say that like it's something exciting,” Shauna mumbled. “Ninety percent of what I do is mop up blood, sweat and piss when you idiots miss the toilet.”
“She tells the greatest stories about it, though,” offered the other woman, a short and slightly heavy girl with dimpled cheeks and pleasant sea-green eyes.
Sal motioned to the woman that had just spoken. “And this is Daphne. You met Ed, right? Daphne has the displeasure of being his older sister. She's a volunteer counselor out at Concho County General.”
