But when he opened his office door, Silas was sitting inside, a red folder squared on the desk in front of him.
“What the hell happened to you?” Logan asked. His friend looked like hell. Dark circles inhabited the space under his red-rimmed eyes and his face sagged. He hadn’t shaved, and for a werewolf just days from the full moon, that made for a scruffy, bedraggled appearance.
“Sit down.” Silas motioned toward the chair with his head.
Logan sat, suddenly worried. “Did something happen to my dad?”
“No. This isn’t about you.” Silas opened the file folder in front of him and removed a picture. He pushed it across the table. “Do you recognize this man?”
Logan inspected the image in front of him. It was a fuzzy picture. Physically fit man with short dark hair and light-colored eyes. “No. Why? Should I?”
“His body was found in a dumpster on the other end of your alley last night.”
“What?”
“Do any other businesses share that dumpster with Valentine’s?”
“Just the boutique across the alley—Scrub-a-lub-dub. They sell scrubs, shoes, stethoscopes—that sort of shit for the hospital workers across the street. But they were closed yesterday.”
“You were closed too, for Grateful’s party. Did you open the restaurant after we left?” Silas asked.
“No. Sunday nights are always slow anyway. It didn’t make sense to open for just a couple hours business.”
“I left just before four. When did you close up shop?”
Logan leaned back in his chair and groaned. “I’m not sure. Seven maybe.”
“Seven? What were you doing here until seven?”
He rubbed the back of his neck and lifted one corner of his upper lip. “Uh, I had to clean up.”
“After you cleaned up, did you throw anything away in the dumpster?”
“No… Yes. Yes, I did.”
“Which is it?” Silas narrowed his eyes.
“I did.”
“Did you do it yourself?”
Logan hesitated. “Who else would do it?”
The werewolf let that one slide, although he wrote himself some notes on his yellow legal pad. “What time would you say it was when you threw everything away?”
“A little after five.”
“Did you notice anything in the dumpster?”
“No.”
“What did you do after the dumpster? It didn’t take you until seven to clean up.”
“Work.”
“What kind of work?”
Shit, was this the Inquisition? The last thing Logan wanted to do was tell anyone he’d had a romantic interlude with Polina. Not only had he promised her to pretend it never happened, he’d never hear the end of it from Silas. But this was murder. What if Silas thought he was a suspect? He focused his eyes on his desk calendar and tried to play it cool. “Business. End-of-month accounting.”
The smile Silas gave wasn’t the happy-happy-joy-joy sort. It was the gotcha kind. “You smell like you’re lying.”
Logan’s eyes snapped to Silas’s. “What exactly does a lie smell like?”
“How you smell right now. Like rancid bacon. Never lie to a werewolf just before the full moon.”
“Well, fuck, Silas! Am I a suspect or what? You’re giving me the third degree here.”
“I am not giving you the third degree. A man’s body was found in your dumpster. Normally, that would be enough evidence for me to take you downtown for questioning.”
Running his hands through his hair, Logan swore and stood from his chair.
“Normally, Logan. Not this time. Sit down, okay? What is going on with you? I swear to god, if I didn’t know you were innocent this shifty-ass crap would be a nail in your coffin.”
He sat. “You know I’m innocent?”
Silas nodded.
“Then why are you here?”
“I need to know if you saw or spoke to anyone after Lucas’s christening party. Did you? Yes or no.”
He gritted his teeth. “Yes.”
“Was this individual a supernatural being?”
Logan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes.”
With a deep breath, Silas adjusted in his chair. “Who was it, Logan? And don’t try to lie, because I will know.”
“I don’t want to say.”
A growl preceded Silas’s face coming at him in 3-D. The guy’s fist balled in Logan’s collar. “You don’t have a choice. I don’t want to get rough with you, but so help me, if you don’t cough up the name right now, I’ll go wolf-shit on your ass.”
“Polina,” Logan spit out. “I was with Polina.”
Silas’s bushy eyebrows pinched together, and he slowly relaxed his fist. “Polina? The Smuggler’s Notch witch?”
“The one and only.”
“I thought you said she didn’t like humans.”
“She doesn’t. I was teaching her how to make chocolate cake.”
“Is that a euphemism for—”
“No. No, it is not.” Unfortunately, he thought.
Silas scratched his head. “When did she leave?”
“Around eight. Just before I did. I watched her flush herself up my kitchen faucet. But she wasn’t even in the alley, Silas. Neither of us were, to be honest.”
The detective frowned. “Then how did you throw the garbage from the party away?”
“Polina did a little hocus-pocus and took care of it. She told me she sent it all back there, but she never left the building.”
The detective straightened, then sank heavily into his chair. “Hmm.” He scribbled something in his notes. “You were baking a cake for two hours?”
He shrugged. There was nothing left to do but tell the truth. The guy would know if he was lying, and as angry as he was with Polina for last night, she wasn’t a murderer. “We talked. Baked. Ate. There was some, um, fooling around.”
One bushy eyebrow shot toward the ceiling. “Fooling around, eh? So you two played hide the banana in the kitchen for three hours?”
“No! Nothing like that. We talked, and we ate. All kissing was fully clothed. I thought we had something. I asked her on a real date and she went batshit. Couldn’t get away from me fast enough.” Logan scowled just thinking about it.
“I feel ya, buddy. It’s Soleil and me all over again. Interspecies dating is taboo among supernaturals. Some folks won’t go there.”
“It’s prejudiced. Fuck, if anyone should be wary of anyone, it should be me of her after what happened with Tabetha. Can you believe Polina had the nerve to threaten to wipe my memories?”
Silas stilled, his eyes narrowing. “Polina threatened to use magic to make you forget her? Why would she do that?”
Logan shrugged. “Guess she thought it would be easier if I couldn’t remember the tonsil hockey we played on the counter.”
“Or, she didn’t want you to remember she was here at all,” Silas said, taking notes.
“Hey now”—Logan shook his head—“Polina’s a lot of things: complicated, mysterious, cold, wickedly beautiful. But she’s not a murderer.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Silas scratched a few more notes on the pad.
“You said you knew I was innocent. How do you know? Can you smell guilt?”
Blinking, Silas tilted his head, assessing Logan. “We’re friends, right?”
“Of course.”
He nodded. “What I’m about to tell you is best kept secret. It’s not exactly classified. People in the supernatural community know, but it won’t do for a human to be mouthing off about it, understand?”
Logan mimed locking his lips with a key and throwing it over his shoulder.
“The man in the dumpster wasn’t just a man.”
“Duh. You wouldn’t be on the case if he was,” Logan said.
“He was a werewolf. One from the Fireborn Pack.” Silas pushed the short sleeve of his dress shirt up over the top of his shoulder, revealing a tribal-style tatto
o in the image of a phoenix. “He was from my pack.”
Straightening, Logan leaned forward. “Fuck, Silas. You knew him well then.”
“Yeah. I knew him and his family.” Silas pulled his sleeve back down to cover the tat. “Anyway, I know it couldn’t be you because the guy was ripped apart. A werewolf, days from the full moon, was ripped apart. Not cut up. Not sawed to pieces. Ripped. Apart. By hand. Only another supernatural could do that to a wolf. No way could a human.”
“Who do you think did it?”
“The murdered wolf was a political decoy. We call the role a Zafka, a doppelgänger for our alpha.”
Logan jerked, leaning forward across the desk. “You think it was another werewolf? The fugitive you told me about?”
Silas nodded. “I want to talk to Polina. Maybe she saw or heard something.”
Logan nodded. “She’s not going to like it. If it was up to her, no one would ever know what happened.”
“No choice. This isn’t just a crime to me, Logan. This is personal.”
“I get it. He was a member of your pack. You gotta take care of your own.”
“It’s more than that. He was my family’s responsibility.”
Logan shook his head, not sure what his friend meant.
“My father is alpha of Fireborn pack. My siblings and I are pack royalty. The man killed was my father’s Zafka. Something like this in our territory? It isn’t just a crime. It’s an act of war.”
Chapter Fourteen
Smuggler's Notch
Wand drawn, Polina approached Renegade Caverns. She’d expected the red wolf would stay after she saw him here with the old man and the boy. The magic that concealed this part of the park from humans added to the natural protection the mountain offered. A werewolf could run safely for miles in these woods. The caves provided shelter.
But as she approached the camp, she saw what Hildegard had seen. Whiskey bottles abandoned on the path. A fast-food bag flapping like a flag from a nearby bush. Napkins, wrappers, plastic silverware strewn about her woods. This couldn’t continue. If the local wildlife ate any of it, the problems it could cause ranged from heartburn to death depending on the creature.
“Hello?” she called into the first cave. It was almost noon, but the distinct nasal rattle of snoring echoed out the opening. “Excuse me, is anyone here?”
“You don’t want to do that,” a man’s voice said from the trees behind her. “Sam may be a werewolf, but he acts like a bear if you wake him up.”
Polina turned to face the lithe young man she’d seen before, the one she assumed was the red wolf. Shirtless and golden brown from the sun, his wavy dark blond curls stuck out from under a Chicago Blackhawks cap. His khaki cargo shorts hung low on his hips, low enough that Polina decided to keep her gaze locked on his face. She flashed her friendliest smile. “I have no desire to wake a sleeping bear. Perhaps you can help me?”
“I’ll try. Anything for a beautiful lady.”
It sounded like a line, patronizing and insincere. She cleared her throat. “Are you the alpha of this pack?”
“I am.” The man placed his hands on his hips.
“You are the one I allowed into this territory last fall?”
“That’s me.”
He was young to be an alpha. Then again, as she glanced around camp, the entire pack seemed to be either extremely young or old. The man in front of her was the only one who looked strong and experienced enough to lead. “I am Polina, Hecate of Smuggler’s Notch.”
“Hecate?”
“Sorceress of the dead, demigoddess, enforcer of the natural law in this realm.”
“Sounds important,” he said, adjusting the bill of his cap.
“Yes, well, you must be very young indeed to have not heard of my role.”
He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Can I help you with something?”
“Yes. As I mentioned, this is my realm and as such there are rules. If you abide by the rules, we can live peacefully together. If you break the rules, it is my right and duty to sentence you to my hellmouth.”
“Your hellmouth?”
“The opening to hell in the graveyard behind my home. It’s a special place where supernaturals who don’t follow the rules go to simmer down, and when I say simmer, I mean burn in everlasting flames.” She was being snippy now, but she’d had about enough of his flippant attitude.
“M’kay.” He shrugged.
Not a hint of worry flitted across his face. No inquiry crossed his lips as to what the rules were. Everything from his stance to the attitude seeping off him portrayed a man unimpressed by her credentials. “What is your name and pack?” she demanded.
He sighed. “Name’s Alex. Bloodright pack.” He pushed up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo of a harvest moon with three claw marks ripping through it. “Listen, lady, we’re out here minding our own business. What’s your beef?”
“The cardinal rule of the realm is no malevolent interaction with humans. As you know, there’s a repellent and concealer charm on Silver Sparrow Mountain. It’s meant to be a sanctuary for supernaturals in the area. Still, with humans camping less than four miles away, we must be careful not to garner their attention. It is possible for them to enter the sanctuary if they follow one of us here. I have been made aware of a few of your wolves stealing from humans, consorting with humans, and otherwise making a mess of the human camp. Not only is this unacceptable but familiarity with the human campsite could lead to an instinctual return by the younger wolves to the location when in their wolf form. The full moon is coming. I want your assurance that you have a plan to mitigate the risk.”
Alex smiled a mouthful of straight white teeth. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”
“Excuse me?” Polina crossed her arms over her chest. Who did he think he was talking to?
Both of them were distracted by a human girl who emerged from the cave. She couldn’t have been more than twenty with short-shorts that said Pink across the butt, a white T-shirt that left nothing to the imagination, and brown hair that curled to the middle of her back.
She sauntered toward Alex, tossed her arms around his neck, and kissed him. “Thanks for last night. You were an animal.”
“You have no idea,” he said.
Polina rolled her eyes.
“Do you mind waiting right over there while I finish my conversation?” Alex pointed at a boulder down the path from the caverns. “I’ll walk you home.”
“Sure.” The girl practically skipped away.
Polina closed her gaping mouth. “A human? Here?”
He spread his hands. “You just told me about the rule today, Polina, and frankly, if it’s malevolent contact you’re worried about, last night was not it.” He chuckled.
“Fine. What is your plan to protect that woman when your pack shifts in two nights? You’ll have her scent. Your wolf will head straight for her door.”
Alex adjusted his hat again. “Contrary to popular belief, we do have higher thought processes in our wolf forms. I’m their alpha. If I tell them to leave the humans alone, they must obey. You have my word that no werewolves from my pack will enter the human camp in wolf form.”
“But—”
“I’ll handle it. Thanks for the heads-up on the rules.” He flashed her a patronizing thumbs up and turned on his heel to join the girl.
“How will you handle it?” Polina demanded.
The werewolf stopped and looked at her over his shoulder, his eyes settling on her breasts. “Pack business. Maybe you should get back to protecting your realm and let me worry about it.”
“And if a human ends up dead?”
“Then I’m sure you will send the responsible party to your, uh, hellmouth.” His eyes flicked down the length of her body and settled on her crotch.
She gasped. “And clean up your campsite!” she yelled toward his back. Polina tapped her wand against her palm in irritation. She had half a mind to hit the man in the back of the head with
an itching pox. Rude. Hildegard swooped in and landed on her shoulder.
“He seemed less than receptive to your warning or your help,” the owl said.
Polina marched toward Aurorean House, fuming. “Not receptive at all. A pack with a leader like that is in trouble. He didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass about the potential his pack might kill humans. What was it he said? ‘If you can catch them.’ As if it would be okay with him if his pack got away with murder.”
“What are you going to do?” Hildie’s white feathers bumped her ear.
“I can’t sentence him or any of his pack if they haven’t committed a crime against the goddess.” She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I’ll have to use magic to create a barrier to keep the wolves inside. Something temporary that only works on their wolf forms.”
“It will take strong magic and lots of it. Is it possible to make it in time? The enchantment to keep the humans out took weeks.”
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to do more research. If all else fails, I’ll use the lucubratus to conjure a vision of the future and focus my efforts on the specific areas it shows me.”
“Are you sure you’re up to the task? I could ask Poe to see if Grateful could help.”
“Of course I am up to the task! I don’t need another witch or her familiar to help protect my realm.”
“Don’t sound so offended. The state I found you in this morning was anything but confidence producing. And last I checked there was chocolate cake left in the pan.”
Polina brushed the bird from her shoulder and scowled. “I’m fine,” she said. “Perfectly fine on my own.”
Chapter Fifteen
The Positivity Potion
Polina was not fine. In fact she felt like she might crawl out of her skin. “Reveal!” she commanded, swiping her hand over the top of the table-sized stretch of silver. Her intention was to see the future, to tell what area of her realm might be prone to werewolf mischief. But something was wrong. The silver pooled like liquid mercury and then peaked into a mountainside covered in trees, but when she tried to focus in on Smuggler’s Notch and the Bloodright pack, everything melted away. All the mirror reflected back at her was Logan.
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