Liam pressed harder with the paw on Stephen’s chest—and tore down.
Emma screamed, and I looked away, grabbing her shoulder to force her to turn as well. I was too slow to keep the image from burning itself into my brain, an image of blood spreading over the pale brown fur of Stephen’s belly. A pained yelp stabbed at my ears. Emma struggled against me, trying to turn and see what was happening. I tightened my hold, but then remembered what Liam had said.
“She needs to stay. She needs to understand what Stephen has done. The reality of the consequences of her decision.”
I gritted my teeth and let go. Emma tried to run forward, a cop’s instinct driving her to put herself in the path of danger to save someone else. Sonar gave a sharp bark and rose, using her paws to push Emma back. Emma stumbled, staring at Sonar as if she’d never seen the dog before. Something heavy hit the wall, and the sound of broken drywall scratched at my ears. The fight continued.
Trembling seized Emma’s shoulders, and she turned back to Sonar with renewed determination. “Sitzen!” she said, pointing at the floor.
I blinked at the German command, shocked for a moment before I remembered Emma didn’t know what Sonar was.
Growls and snarling erupted to my side, but I didn’t look. Emma needed to learn this lesson. I didn’t. I knew what was happening.
Desperation pulled Emma’s features into a mask of near-panic. She tried to push past Sonar again, driven by another sound of pain from Stephen, a growl, and then a snap of toothy jaws. This time, Sonar snapped at her, giving her a gentle but firm bite on her hand as Emma tried to edge around her.
Emma jerked her hand back with a high-pitched sound of pain, her jaw hanging open.
“Sitzen!” she said again, pointing at the floor.
“She’s not going to sit,” I told her gently. “She’s pack. And her alpha told her you’re not to leave, and you’re not to interfere.”
“She’s…” Emma stared at Sonar. “You’re a werewolf?”
Sonar didn’t say anything, didn’t make a sound. Her silence made the heavy panting that much louder. I paused, trying to listen over the sound of my own heartbeat. No growling. No flesh hitting flesh. Just panting.
Emma clapped a hand over her mouth, smothering a cry of dismay. My stomach clenched, and I turned to see the fight’s result.
Liam stood over Stephen, once again in human form. Blood dripped into his eye from a deep cut across his forehead. He ignored it as he looked down at Stephen, still in wolf form. The brown wolf was injured—badly. The rip down his stomach looked deeper than before, and I saw the shine of his intestines bulging out of the deepest point. One of Stephen’s eyes was ruined, a mess of blood and that thin liquid that filled the ocular organ. It would heal when he shifted, but it would take a while to regain full sight. His breathing sounded irregular, and it took all my self-control not to offer my healing services then and there.
“Why are you just standing there?” Emma screamed. Her shoulders tensed, and this time when she tried to go to Stephen, it was with a clear intention to use physical force against Sonar if necessary. Her brown eyes lightened, and I caught a flash of gold.
“Stay. There.” Liam’s voice remained even, but there was an authority in his tone that cracked over Emma as if he’d shouted. She stumbled back and bowed her head. Her eyes widened as if her reaction surprised her.
She opened her mouth, but before she could get a word out, she bent in half with a choking sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper.
“I’m going to get cleaned up and then we’ll take her to Laura’s,” Liam told Sonar. “Watch her.”
“She’s going to change soon,” Peasblossom whispered in my ear.
I nodded, but didn’t interfere. Emma was learning the hard way how different her life would be now. She’d have to obey her alpha as a shifter even more than she’d obeyed her sergeant as a human. And she’d have to rely on her pack for comfort, guidance, and protection.
I had no place here now.
I hadn’t noticed that Vincent had left the room, but it must have been before the fight. Probably right after Liam’s speech, when the wizard would have guessed what was coming. I found him standing on the stoop, smoking a pipe that looked comically large. Blake stood on the other side of the porch. Silent.
“I’ve called a taxi,” Vincent said. He took another puff on the pipe. “I’m happy to share.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He offered me the pipe, but I waved it off.
“I know what happened here!” Emma shouted.
I hadn’t even heard Liam speak. Vincent and I both tensed, then very deliberately tried to relax.
“You tried to kill him,” Emma continued, hysteria projecting her voice through the screen door. “I’m the one who shot Oliver, I’m the one who deserved to be punished, but you almost killed him because he disobeyed you!”
Vincent winced. “She doesn’t say that with the right tone,” he said, sounding pained.
“No,” I said.
“She doesn’t understand what it means yet,” Peasblossom said, her voice sounding tiny even for her. “She doesn’t understand it’s different now.”
I tried not to listen, but now that I knew they were talking, I couldn’t help hearing the low tone of Liam’s voice as he talked to Emma, probably explaining what was going to happen now. Telling her she had no choice.
“I’m not going anywhere!” Emma snapped. “He’s hurt. He could die.”
More low murmurs from Liam. I took a few quick steps toward the street, looking down the block. “Come on, taxi,” I mumbled.
“You know he won’t hurt her,” Vincent said calmly.
“Emma is a strong woman, and right now she’s feeling guilty, angry, frustrated, and helpless,” I replied. “She’s also very close to her first shift, thanks to her heightened emotions and the very unfortunate circumstances under which she was turned.” I rose on tiptoes, knowing full well that it wouldn’t help me see the cab coming. “If you think she’s going to go quietly, then you need to meet more women.”
A scream of outrage chased me closer to the street, and I sagged with relief as the taxi’s headlights came down the road. Vincent followed, tapping out the contents of his pipe before joining me at the bottom of the driveway.
I closed the door behind me, cuddling Peasblossom as she hugged my neck.
“We are not running away,” Vincent said after a long, quiet minute. “Even if we stayed, our presence, and certainly any aid we might offer, would only make things worse.”
He was right. I knew he was right.
But I was going to dream about Stephen’s bloody, half-eviscerated body tonight. I was going to hear Emma’s cries in my sleep. I leaned my head back against the seat and scoffed.
What sleep?
Chapter 20
“So, did you solve the crime?”
I wasn’t surprised to find Mother Hazel in my house, sitting in the dark waiting for me like a serial killer from a horror movie. Now that it was over and I could see the big picture, I was certain she’d known how it would end from the beginning. And of course she’d have known it was over. It was only logical that she’d show up here, present herself for the conclusion of our deal.
It didn’t make it any easier to handle.
I closed my hands around my keys, letting the pain of the metal digging into my palm center me, keep me from giving the old crone a piece of my mind. With seething calm, I closed the door behind me.
“Yes. Yes, I solved the crime.”
I walked through the dining room and into the kitchen without looking at the living room couch where my mentor sat, neat as you please. I couldn’t look at her. Not when Emma’s teary face and gold-flecked eyes still filled my mind. Not when the sound of flesh meeting flesh and grunts of pain still reverberated in my ears. I snatched a cold can of Coke from the fridge, gripping it as if I could punish it for all the turmoil churning inside me. The crack and hiss of freshly ope
ned soda soothed my nerves, and I tilted it back in one long, defiant swig.
“Did the werewolf do it?”
She’d moved into the kitchen. A predator stalking prey. I glared at her over the rim of my can, taking another long, slow sip before answering.
“No. It was a ranger, a human woman. A good woman. She shot him to save a dog’s life.”
Aluminum groaned, and I forced myself to relax my grip before I doused myself in soda. Don’t give her what she wants. No emotion.
“So you got justice for Oliver Dale.”
I gulped down more soda, ignoring the burn in my nostrils as carbonation flooded my system. “Yes, I got justice for Oliver Dale. Justice for a bastard. A man who hated everyone.” I shrugged, a rough, jerky motion. “Hated kids, hated people. Hated dogs.” I pointed at her with the hand holding the can of Coke. “I got justice for a man who only loved himself—no, no, not loved. Worshiped.”
“And I can only assume you are filled with satisfaction? Content with that bone-deep pleasure that comes from fulfilling one’s true purpose?”
Her eyes bored into mine, watching me with that damned stare that looked right past your skin to your soul. I lifted my chin and took another drink, holding her eyes the whole time. Read my soul, damn your eyes.
“The werewolf ate the body to save the woman from jail,” I told her. “He loves her. And she loves him. In fact, they love each another so much that when their plan failed, she let him turn her.”
Mother Hazel arched an eyebrow. “She allowed this?”
“Yes, yes she did. It turns out her grandmother knew of the Otherworld, so it wasn’t as foreign to her as most. Dating a werewolf didn’t seem strange. She wasn’t familiar enough with the Otherworld to understand the extent of what she’d agreed to.”
I paced, giving in to the energy building inside me. The anger.
“They did it so they could stay together. Pack mates, all that.” I paused my pacing to point at her. “I know what you’re thinking. Stupid, right? Bloody insane. Because that’s not how it worked out. No happy ending for the murderers. She’s being sent to live with one of the females and he’s to remain home—collared—until he rebuilds the trust with his alpha. You know how long that will take. Oh, Liam would like you to contact him about adjusting the spell in the collar. You know, for the long term.”
“I’ll tend to it tomorrow.” Mother Hazel’s expression still hadn’t changed. She didn’t care about the details of the case. “You seem upset.”
I laughed, a short, humorless sound. “Do I? Well, dearie me, why could that be?”
She didn’t rise to that bait. “Tell me, at what point did you know the sort of man Oliver was?”
I started to take another drink, then realized the can was empty. I stalked to the trash, slamming the pedal down so hard that the lid flew open to smash the wall behind it. Plastic made a popping sound that promised a repair would be necessary if I wanted that pedal to function again. Sod it.
“Oh, it was clear from the beginning. Everyone hated him, and he hated everyone.” I tore open the fridge and grabbed another soda. “And if you’re thinking he had some sad story about how he came to be that way, forget it. He was a spoiled high school athlete who got angry when the ass-kissing stopped after graduation.”
Mother Hazel snorted, dismissing the idea she ever would have asked for a sad story to explain the man Oliver had been. “Was there a time when you could have blamed a less than shining example of humanity instead?”
I started to say no, but reconsidered. “One suspect seemed like a bad man, but he turned out all right.”
“But you kept investigating. You did not believe the worst of this bad person?”
Irritation scalded my veins as if my blood had turned to molten lead. She was trying to teach me something. I hated it when she tried to teach me something. It always involved twisting my emotions into the most painful knots imaginable and leaving me to sort through the mess.
“No, I didn’t believe the worst of him. Yes, he turned out to be a decent human being—unlike the victim. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to drink my soda and try to forget the werewolf who’s probably lying bloody and unconscious on his bed. I’d like to forget the alpha who’s likely sitting next to him with his head in his hands thinking of the mess he's made of his life, all that wasted potential. I’d like to avoid thinking about the human ranger whose entire life changed in wild and scary ways because she stood up to a bully. I want to forget this entire mess and go to bed.”
Mother Hazel smiled. “You might be a good investigator after all.” She moved to the door, opened it, and paused before exiting. "If you still want to be one.”
I hurled the can of Coke at the door as soon as it closed behind her, my entire body shaking with rage. Soda sprayed everywhere, coating the door, the walls, and the floor. I stared at the trickling, sticky liquid, my vision tinged red.
“I knew it,” I whispered. “I knew she did this on purpose. Chose a despicable victim. I’ll bet she knew who did it all along and wanted to see if I’d go through with it, or let them get away.”
“It’s okay, Shade,” Peasblossom said.
I twitched, having forgotten about the pixie, she’d been so silent. Tears blurred my vision. “No, it’s not all right. None of this is all right.” I went to the kitchen to fetch a wet rag to clean up the mess I’d made. “This isn’t how I’m supposed to feel after solving a case. I won, dammit.” I sank to my knees on the floor, landing hard enough to send pain shooting into my bones. “I’m supposed to be happy.”
Peasblossom fluttered over to the counter, putting all her weight into tearing a paper towel from the roll. She wet it in the sink and returned to help me clean up my mess, dabbing at the droplets that had reached the ceiling. She pretended she didn’t hear me crying.
My phone rang. The sudden noise in the silence stabbed through my thoughts like a hot spear, and I almost flung it across the room just to take the edge off the surge of adrenaline. I threw the soda-soaked rag to the floor and swiped the screen to answer, not bothering to check the caller ID.
“Hello?” I snapped.
“Hello, Mother Renard. I hope I didn’t wake you?”
Kylie. I sat back on my heels, wet rag forgotten in my lap. “Kylie. No, you didn’t wake me. I was…tidying up. How can I help you?”
“I heard what happened. With Emma.”
I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Why? You did your job, even though it was difficult. Even though you like Emma.”
I narrowed my eyes. Instinct was screaming at me, telling me there was something coming. “I appreciate your understanding. Is that what you called for? To talk about Emma?”
“No. No, I called for another reason. It’s just…” She paused, as if choosing her words. “Mother Hazel has taught you the importance of performing your duties, no matter the pleasantness or unpleasantness of the task, yes? That’s what you did today.”
“Yes,” I said. “Why?”
“I work hard to find the truth. I do what I can to balance my karmic scales. I believe I am a good person. However, I love no one, and am loved by no one.”
I fought the urge to stare at the phone, as if this were some dream. “What are you saying?”
“Someday, I will be a ghoul. I do not want that change to take away all the good I’ve worked for, all the effort I’ve put in to redeeming my soul. Whatever’s left of it.”
My lips parted and it took me two tries to speak. “Are you asking me to—”
“I’m asking you to do your duty when the time comes,” she whispered. “However unpleasant it might be. Can you do that for me, Mother Renard?”
I slumped over, narrowly avoiding dropping the phone. She was asking me to kill her before she turned. I did not need this. Not tonight, not now.
“Mother Renard?”
“Yes.” My voice held no emotion. Yay me. “Yes, I’ll help you. When the time comes.”
�
�Thank you.”
She hung up. No goodbye, no transition. Just confirmed that I would kill her and hung up.
“Shade?” Peasblossom said. “Are you okay?”
My phone rang again. My nerves, raw as they were, tightened so that I swiped to answer the phone, pressed it to my ear, and snarled into the phone. “What?”
“Ms. Renard?”
Andy. I froze, my fingers tightening into a cage around the phone. “And—Agent Bradford?”
His voice was as I remembered it, clear and professional. He had a voice that would have betrayed him as a cop even if I hadn’t known he was FBI.
“Yes. I’m calling because I need your help, your input, on a case. A few cases. I need your insight. How soon can you get here?”
I pulled my phone away from my ear, checking the number. Yes, it was Agent Bradford. I looked at Peasblossom where she sat on the top edge of the door. Her pink eyes were wide, and she shrugged.
She’d heard it too. Not a dream.
“Now?” I asked. I checked the time. Eleven o’clock. What could he need help with at this hour?
“Oh, good. I’ll text you the address.”
“I didn’t mean—” I stopped and shook my head. Andy had called me. Weeks of no response, and now he was calling me for help. The FBI calling me for help. It was everything I wanted. Only, suddenly, I wasn’t sure I wanted it at all.
“Ms. Renard? Are you still there?”
“Text me the address.”
It hadn’t been the answer I’d intended to give. And as I hung up and sat there staring at the green new text alert on my phone, it occurred to me that I’d agreed to a two-hour drive, a commitment that would last past midnight. “I am an idiot.”
“Yes you are,” Peasblossom said. She fluttered down from the doorframe to perch on my knee. “I want you to bring my travel bed.”
I sighed. “Why not? One of us should get some sleep.”
“And it might as well be me.”
I grabbed another Coke from the fridge, reconsidered, and grabbed two. Majesty was nowhere to be found, so I ignored Peasblossom’s snickers long enough to heat a dish of cat food, and left it in the center of the floor for him. A stop in the bedroom to grab the bed from Peasblossom’s dollhouse, and I was ready to go.
Monster (Blood Trails Book 2) Page 29
