Hunter's Trail (A Scarlett Bernard Novel)

by Melissa F. Olson

  I nodded. “Who is she?”

  “Leah Rhodes, twenty-nine, a marketing associate at a plastic bottling company in Torrance,” he recited. “Reported missing yesterday morning by her roommate. She didn’t come home Tuesday night.”

  “Huh. Was she . . . outdoorsy?” Werewolves rarely attack humans, but when it happens it’s almost always because a wolf is threatened by a human presence in the wild. I had also heard of humans being infected by werewolf magic on purpose, but it was always a last resort, so I added, “Or terminally ill?”

  Jesse shook his head. “Not really, and no. Plus, she called the roommate as she was leaving work, said she would be home in twenty minutes.”

  “So why her?” I mused. “And why like this?”

  “That’s what we have to figure out,” Jesse said sensibly. “Tell me about the scene.”

  I paused for a second to order my thoughts. “Well, she was killed by a werewolf, and Will said it wasn’t one of his. She died close to Will’s house, or maybe in a vehicle. The wolf—I’m sort of thinking it was a he, though I guess it could be a lady wolf too—ate her insides.” I wrinkled my nose. “And she had a number one carved into her back. Wait . . . have you found a body with a number two on it?”

  Jesse shook his head. “I called my friend in the forensic pathology department; she’s going to put out some feelers and get back to me. But the ME’s office gossips like a middle school cafeteria, so Glory would probably have heard by now. Anything else?”

  I remembered the woman’s untouched face and shredded clothes and body. “It was some kind of message,” I added.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, there was that number on the body, like he wants us to know this wasn’t the last time. Plus, a werewolf dumps a body on the alpha’s doorstep? That sounds like a challenge, doesn’t it?”

  “Could be,” Jesse noted. “But it could be practical too. If you were a werewolf, and you killed someone—either accidentally or on purpose—and you knew that Will Carling had someone on retainer to get rid of evidence . . .” He shrugged. “Maybe it just seemed like the easiest way to dispose of a corpse.”

  “Maybe,” I said dubiously. Jesse’s theory was probably as likely as mine, but there was just something about that girl, and the brutal way she’d been killed and dumped that was almost . . . gleeful. Like “look what I’m getting away with!” It was . . . taunty.

  “What else do you know about werewolves?” Jesse asked. “I mean, could this be about . . . I don’t know, territory or something?”

  “I don’t know that much. I don’t think it’d be territory-related, because a wolf that wants to be the alpha has to fight the alpha for dominance. They wouldn’t gain anything from dumping a body at his house.” I fiddled with my knee brace, scratching around the edges while I thought. “Other than that . . . I know that they can’t change very often, unless they’re alpha or beta. The rest of them don’t really have the strength.”

  Jesse’s eyebrows lifted. “How often is often?”

  “Mmm . . . well, if he doesn’t care about staying sane or disobeying an alpha . . . maybe once a week?”

  “That’s good,” Jesse said, nodding. “That means we’ve at least got a little time to find him. In another day or two, if we haven’t stopped him, we should start staking out Will’s house, in case he goes there again. What else?”

  “Aside from the fact that they get into fights pretty often, I don’t know a ton about how they interact with each other,” I admitted. “You have to remember, most of my knowledge comes from Olivia, and I don’t even really know if anything she said is true.” My psychotic ex-mentor had been the one to bring me into the Old World, and she’d gotten off on only doling out snippets of information as she felt I needed them. They were the bread crumbs, and I was the eager, hungry pigeon.

  When Olivia had died of cancer, I suppose I could have started asking questions, but for a long time after her death I was just kind of going through the motions of my life. I went running, watched television, hung out with Molly, and waited for a phone call to go clean up blood splatter or animal carcasses. My three co-bosses mostly ignored me, and I mostly ignored anything that didn’t come with opening credits and a catchy theme song. I had no interest in trying to be better at what I did.

  Or trying to be better, period.

  “We need more information,” Jesse declared.

  “We need a werewolf expert,” I said aloud, then immediately wished I’d kept the words to myself.

  “Will?” Jesse offered.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’s trying to hold the pack together, and after last night’s insurrection it’s worse than ever. Besides, he’s shorthanded at the bar too.” Thanks to me. I sighed. “We need someone who knows werewolves but isn’t part of the pack.”

  Jesse met my eyes, understanding blooming on his face. “You want to go see Eli,” he said softly.

  I took a deep breath. “I don’t want to drag him back into all this, but I don’t know who else to ask. Even if the actual killer isn’t part of Will’s pack, one of the pack members could be involved. Will and Eli are the only pack members that I trust.” Now that Caroline is dead, I thought. I had missed Caroline’s memorial service while I was unconscious, and sometimes I still had the impulse to give my friend a call, just to talk to someone. But Olivia had killed her. She had parents and a couple of sisters in Albuquerque, I knew, but Will would have disposed of her body. They might not even know she was dead. I felt a rush of sorrow at that thought.

  “Scarlett?” Jesse said, and I realized he’d been talking to me.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “I said, it’s ten o’clock. Should we go see Eli now, or wait until the morning?”

  I bit my lip. “Jesse, listen . . . I know you’re the cop, and you have questions. But I need to talk to Eli alone. At least at first.” Something unreadable flashed across Jesse’s handsome face. I thought it was maybe disappointment, but he didn’t say anything. “I haven’t talked to him since I changed him back,” I explained.

  Jesse held my eyes for an interminably long moment, and I swear I could feel a connection vibrate between us like the thrum of a guitar string. “Your thing with Eli,” he said quietly. “Where does it leave us?”

  And there it was. Before I had changed Eli and gotten hurt, Jesse and I had shared a moment. We had kissed. We had connected. It was a little too late to tell myself that I didn’t feel anything for him, or that I wasn’t good enough for him. So I opened my mouth to unleash a smart-ass remark—but I had nothing. I blinked a few times, opening and closing my mouth like a fish.

  Sometimes I am so smooth it hurts.

  Jesse just let me flounder. Finally I said, honestly, “Confused.”

  He nodded to himself as though that was exactly what he’d been expecting. “Eli seems like a good guy,” he stated neutrally. “And he’s a human now too.”

  I could not think of a thing to say. Not one thing. “It’d be easier if he was a giant douchebag,” Jesse added, a little ruefully.

  “That was how I felt about Runa,” I reminded him gently. Jesse had dated a police photographer named Runa Vore for a month or so before he learned that she was a witch who’d been sent to spy on him. Sometimes I wondered if he missed her. Runa was aesthetically perfect, and I had been just the teeniest bit gleeful when she had turned out to be duplicitous—but she’d also helped Jesse save my life. Even with the ulterior motive, I couldn’t help but like her a little.

  One thing I’ll say for Eli: he was a lot less complicated.

  There wasn’t a whole lot more for Jesse and me to discuss after that. We both knew I had to make a choice. He asked me to call him the next day after I’d spoken to Eli, promised to start researching the victim, and said good-bye. I lay back on my bed, not the least bit tired thanks to my six-hour nap, and thought.

  Five short months ago, before I’d even met Jesse, I’d been right in the middle of not allowing mys
elf to fall in love with Eli, despite the fact that we kept falling into bed together. I’d had good reasons, though: for one thing, I’d been convinced that he only wanted to be around me so he could be human again. I’d also been convinced that I wasn’t fit to be with anybody after what had happened to me with Olivia and my parents. Okay, fine. I’d thought I didn’t deserve to be with anybody after what had happened with Olivia and my parents.

  But now Olivia was dead, for good, because I had motherfucking beaten her. And Eli had proved more than once that he truly cared about me. Moreover, he wasn’t even a werewolf anymore. There was nothing standing between us now, except for the fact that I didn’t want to pull him back into the Old World when he had the chance to be free. That . . . and Jesse. Who had kissed me. I shivered. It had been a really good kiss.

  “Goddammit,” I said out loud. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be thinking about boys, for cripes’ sake. I just wanted to be left alone.

  But with that thought, I suddenly felt very alone. And I missed my mom. A wave of grief for my parents crashed into me, more powerfully than it had in years. I considered calling my brother, just to hear his voice, but I knew it was a bad idea. If Jack sensed something was wrong and asked me about it, I wouldn’t be able to tell him. And if he didn’t sense something was wrong, I’d feel more alone than ever.

  I sighed and got up to change.

  Chapter 11

  Twenty minutes later, I was driving the White Whale east on the 10. I wasn’t going to sleep anyway, so I figured I might as well get the conversation with Eli over with.

  I was wearing what passed for work clothes in my life: the same jeans (soy sauce stains be damned!), a clean T-shirt, a thick sherpa-lined hoodie, and my beloved canvas jacket, also known as the “coat o’ nine pockets.” I had stashed my wallet, phone, and keys into its various pockets, along with my fully charged handheld Taser, which I was delighted to have. I had missed my Taser.

  My long dark hair was fixed into a tight bun, and I’d put on my black Chuck Taylors. This was as close to battle dress as I was going to get, since I still needed to replace the leather boots that had been destroyed during the fight with Olivia. I’d briefly considered asking Molly to pick something out for me while I was recovering, but I’d come to my senses. If Molly had her way, I’d end up with five-inch spiked heels and retractable knives coming out of the toe.

  Traffic was light by this time of night, and I sailed quickly across the 10 freeway to one of the USC campus parking garages, where I paid a ludicrous amount of money to store the Whale. USC is one of Los Angeles’ two biggest schools, but until recently the area around campus was always seedy at best and bleakly dangerous at worst. A few years ago, probably prompted by trust fund parents who worried about the homeless people and drug dealers lurking a block away from their babies’ BMWs, the school had made a big push to expand its safe zone of student-oriented businesses, museums, and parking garages. But a few places had resisted the tidal wave of forced urban planning, including a seedy little motel called “The 32nd Street Sleepaway,” known locally as the “Dirty 32.” I don’t know how the Dirty 32’s owners survived in the face of all that gentrification—nor do I want to—but I had to kind of respect them for standing their ground.

  You can respect a place without ever wanting to visit.

  Anyway, seedy or not, the Dirty 32 was where, in the hours and days that I’d been unconscious, Will had stashed Eli. When I heard about the plan, I had to admit it made sense. Very few people hung around this part of town unless they were tied to the university, and none of Will’s pack was involved with USC in any way. The students were on winter break, so the motel was deserted, and it was still cheap and dirty enough that the employees wouldn’t look twice at a guy who stayed more than a few days with no obvious reason to be there. It was also far inland, which was useful because anyone who knew Eli and was looking for him would probably figure on him staying near the ocean to surf, and close enough that Will could keep an eye on Eli just in case the werewolf magic returned.

  It had been just over a week now, however, and it was looking more and more like that wasn’t going to happen. Whatever I’d done to Eli had been for good. Or for bad.

  You know, one of the two.

  I had printed out directions on account of not having a smartphone. Lucky for me, there was a parking garage just around the corner from the motel, so I didn’t have far to limp. Gentrification or not, this was not a great neighborhood in which to be injured, alone, or female after dark, much less all three.

  The motel was a simple two-story concrete box. Each floor was basically just a long wall of rooms, bookended by twin sets of outdoor stairs with little pebbles embedded into the concrete on each step. To make it classy, I guess. When I’d called Will earlier to get Eli’s location, he hadn’t known the room number, so I stumped toward the manager’s office on the first floor with a $20 bill in my hand. Whoever was working here had to be at least a little hard up for cash. But halfway there, movement caught my eye—Eli himself, walking toward me from the soda machine at the opposite end of the floor. His room must have been one of the ones between us. “Well, that was easy,” I said out loud.

  Eli heard me and looked up from his drink. He stopped dead for a second, and I saw that he was tired and sweaty-looking. The can made a tinny crackle of protest as Eli clenched it. “Scarlett?” he said incredulously.

  I found myself blushing. “Uh . . . hey.”

  He dropped the can and sprinted along the line of doors toward me. I hadn’t realized I was braced for his werewolf magic to hit my radius until it didn’t happen, but by then he was with me, scooping me up in a breathless hug. I whimpered with pain, and he tried to put me down in a panic. By then I was off balance, though, and started to stumble back the other way. Eli reached out and steadied me, apologizing over and over. The pain flared until I was dizzy with it. My radius seemed to be spinning too.

  “Scarlett? Are you okay?” Eli asked from far away. I found his ice-blue eyes and tried to focus as they peered down at me with concern. Eli is tall, a few inches over six feet, with blonde hair and a lean, muscled, surfer build.

  “Yep, yep, I’m good,” I said through my clenched teeth. “Just give me a second here.”

  “You’re awake,” he said wondrously, examining my face like it might have been remade while he’d been away. “When I saw you having the seizure, I was so afraid you . . . but you’re okay?”

  “More or less,” I said, pointing at the ground, where my cane had fallen. Eli bent to retrieve it for me. I thanked him and said, “Wait, Will didn’t tell you I was awake?”

  Eli’s face shifted to something like bitterness. “Will hasn’t told me anything. At first he called twice a day to see if anything had changed, but then it’s like he gave up and forgot about me. I thought maybe he was punishing me.”

  “Yeah,” I said uneasily. “There’s a lot going on there. Can we talk in your room?” I’d kept an eye out and was fairly confident that no one had followed me there, but the open-air motel was beginning to make me deeply nervous anyway.

  “Oh, yeah, of course.” Eli put an arm around my waist, which almost made it more difficult for me to walk, clumsy as I am, but I let him help me down the hall to one of the plain motel doors, because sometimes guys need you to do that. He had rigged the bolt on the door to keep it open while he’d made his soda run, so he just pushed the door open and we walked inside.

  The motel room wasn’t the worst one I’ve seen, but it wasn’t far off, either. Everything was shabby and threadbare, from the patchy, faded orange carpeting to the polyester bedspread that looked like it might have been saved from an estate sale in the ’80s. Or from a Dumpster. The bubble-front television had actual knobs instead of buttons, which I hadn’t seen since I was a kid.

  Eli had made his own changes to the room: he’d pushed the bed to one wall, next to a round Formica table, creating a big open space where he’d laid down a clean sheet. He helped
me to one of the four chairs next to the little table and took the next one for himself. I nodded at the sheet on the floor. “What’s going on there?”

  “Oh,” he said, embarrassed. “I was trying to exercise.”

  I nodded. “You must miss getting to surf.”

  He shrugged. “I go over to the campus every night and run on the track, or do laps around the top of the parking garage. This is more for push-ups and stuff. A little yoga.” He ducked his head, embarrassed. “You know . . . man-yoga. For men.”

  I blinked, finally understanding. I’m used to Eli being human, because he’s always been human when he’s around me. But werewolves are damn near indestructible, and he’d suddenly lost the ability to survive almost anything. It must feel vulnerable. No wonder he was trying to beef up.

  Great job, Scarlett. Had anything good come out of what I’d done? “How do you feel?” I said quietly.

  He smiled wanly. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

  “You go first.”

  Eli exhaled. “I feel . . .” He thought for a moment, and a slow, building smile spread across his face. It sent a thrill up my skin. “I feel amazing,” he confessed. “I know I don’t deserve it, after what happened at the bar. But it’s like I’ve been walking around for years with thumbtacks stuck in the top layer of my skin, and suddenly they’re all gone. And it’s scary in a way, because I’m more . . . easily damaged. But it’s incredible,” he finished. He reached across the table to take my hand, and for once I didn’t pull away. “I was so worried about you,” he added. “But now you’re awake.”