by R. Cooper
“You matchmaker,” she mocked, or teased, he wasn’t really sure, but it didn’t matter because then what he was really saying seemed to sink in. “Oh you are a big softie!” There was a brief moment of silence, and then a starburst of glitter and light that left him a little dazed.
“You think she loves me!” Nasreen’s lips parted in wonder. Ray shook his head and wrinkled his nose, because he didn’t think that, he knew it. “Should I talk to her? What should I say? Everything. I’ll just say everything. She has to believe me, right?”
“Fairies don’t lie,” Ray managed, scratching his nose, and then suddenly Nasreen was on him, fluttering up in the air to kiss his cheeks, her sparkle and scent alarmingly close.
“There you are,” she told him, amazed. “Just like he said. If I didn’t need Audrey,” she promised, pressing one kiss to his mouth, long and sweet.
“I… have to—” was all she managed before slamming out the door in just her short robe and leaving Ray in her house while she ran off to her Audrey.
He doubted Audrey could refuse her much longer anyway, and though Nasreen seemed convinced it would last, even if it didn’t, for a while they would both be blissfully happy.
Ray watched her go and then let out a small, quiet laugh, more envious than amused. Then he closed her door firmly behind him and went home to dream of what Cal saw when he looked at him, not that he could ask.
HE TOLD Penelope Cal’s theory the first moment he saw her the next day. On the chance it was true, she had to know. He ran it by the captain too, when Murphy demanded a status update and got a scowl and a complaint about increasing his heartburn.
The heartburn was actually likely due to the chili dog with onions on his breath, though Ray hadn’t commented on that. Murphy had scowled even harder at him anyway, and then asked him to repeat himself. Yes, there was a possibility that there were more than two killings that were connected, and though Ray wasn’t going to say the words “serial killer,” there was a theory that the killings were somehow connected to him. Ray still preferred to think it was some sort of vigilante. That meant it might be a batshit lunatic, but at least the motive wouldn’t be personal.
Of course, personal was exactly what Cal had said at the first scene, and Ray couldn’t help thinking it again when he and Penn got called to another crime scene.
Could be trolls, they’d debated halfheartedly in the car. Trolls were strong and hated humans. Of course they also hated cities, and it didn’t explain the chalk, but the discussion helped clear their thoughts.
It was a shame there was no obvious link between the victims—victims because yes, they’d expanded their interest to the two dead men that Cal had mentioned—except for the rather vague commonality of them being either criminals or a criminal lawyer. Or perhaps there was a link, but Ray hadn’t had enough coffee to find it.
Goddamn protection spell hadn’t let him drink his coffee until it had been ice cold and he hated cold coffee. He was going to kill those idiots and had said so, repeatedly, to Penelope. At least Benedict wasn’t that skilled, she’d reasoned back at him, smiling. The spell should wear off in a day.
As he walked into the scene, he was actually grateful that he hadn’t had a lot of coffee. The scene was stomach turning, even for a wolf. The smell had hit him by the car. Blood and shit. Acrid fear, leftover adrenaline. Metal and something new, burning.
The body itself was so torn up it looked like it had been ripped apart. Possibly by teeth, definitely by claws. Ray took it all in and then turned a look on the M.E. that made her flinch.
“This is priority.” When he’d turned that look on the cop who’d first responded, he’d flinched too, but Penn had smiled for him to calm the kid down, Tim, their rookie from the other night, and then they’d gotten his statement. Answered the call from the neighbor about the screaming. No sign of forced entry or a disturbance, though the door had been unlocked. Then this.
The neighbor, of course, had waited hours before calling the police. In this neighborhood they were lucky for that.
Because Tim looked ill, Ray had summoned up a smile for him too, and then dismissed him before striding the rest of the way into the room, peering down at the face.
“I know him.”
“Yeah, me too.” Penelope looked, then walked through the dingy kitchenette and small living room. “Perry, right? Perry Paladino. Armed robbery. Paroled.”
“This is sick, Penn.” He shook his head and put his hands in his suit pockets for a moment when they wanted to become paws, when he wanted claws and to find out who had done this. He got waves of surprise so strong that it reached him over all the blood stench, and he glanced up at the others in the room.
Ross was pushing past the rookie, relieving him to stand at the door, and had his eyebrows up. Ray turned back to Penn.
“Humans didn’t do this.” Ray sighed. A Were could have, if driven to it, but wolves were precise, clean killers, not savage, despite what people thought. And he would have smelled a wolf. But the others couldn’t, and their eyes were on him. Some of them wouldn’t even have blamed him if he had done it.
Disgusted, he tossed his head again and nearly shook off Penelope when she touched him arm. Then he looked down at her, seeing the same rage in her eyes and strangely calmed by it.
“We’ll catch them.” She smiled, revealing rows of sharp teeth, and then stepped away. She pretended not to see how the M.E.’s assistant moved around them. There was more movement in the hall outside, and though the blood was nearly overpowering, Ray inhaled the telltale traces of milky caramel and honeymoons just in time to shout.
“No!” He growled at the two cops by the door. “They stay out!”
Ross was only too happy to move to block them, even if he jumped at Ray’s tone.
“Um, excuse me, the Captain sent us.” Benedict was trying to reason with Ross. Ross decided not to be reasonable. Ray would have patted him on the back if he’d been a little less on edge.
“Detective Branigan says you stay out here, so you’re staying out here.”
“Hey, Branigan!” Cal instantly called out. “What gives?” His voice was thick with real hurt. Probably his pride. Ray didn’t care. His heart was just slowing down now that it was safe.
“No, Parker,” he repeated. Penelope was giving him an odd look, but he ignored it and looked at the body. “Absolutely not. I don’t want you seeing this.” Oh yeah, he sounded nuts. But since no one was going to stand up to the werewolf today, he was fine with that. Cal was not coming in here to see this.
“Why not? Fairy stomach too weak?” Ross asked Cal, and that was actually one of the reasons fairies weren’t ever cops—the constant pursuit of happiness and the solving of crimes didn’t go well together, which made Cal and his ability to handle most crime scenes all the more special. But he shouldn’t have to handle this one.
“That’s enough, Ross,” Ray snarled without looking at him. Penn was nodding, as though getting him now, and crossed over to the door. Whatever she whispered made Parker and Benedict lower their voices to answer. It sounded like a yes, no, yes, no sort of argument, and then Benedict stuck his head in to take a peek.
He gagged and disappeared. A few moments later, Ray could just hear him vomiting but thankfully not smell it.
“He’ll be okay. He ate from a taco truck this morning.” Cal excused his friend without making the same mistake of looking in the room. He stayed on the other side of the door. “I keep telling him no potable water…. And hello to you, too, Officer Ross, sweetie. I’m fine. How are you?”
It was impossible for anyone to be that precious at a crime scene like this one, but Cal came close. Ray felt his mouth twitch. He straightened and relaxed his shoulders.
Ross grumbled. “Impeding an investigation, not real cops, wasting the detective’s time….” Which Cal seemed to take for his answer. He moved on to Penelope.
“Is it really that bad, Penn? He’s not just being a fussy puppy?”
“Y
eah, Cal. It’s that bad.”
“Oh. I suppose he wants me to go home? Don’t answer that.”
Ray cleared his throat. “You know, you aren’t quiet enough. I can hear you.” There was a slight pause, as though Cal had forgotten that.
“Of course you can, Ray Ray—er, Detective Branigan.” That must have been for Ross, who was glowering. “I’m here to help, you know, whatever others might think. Tell me.”
“Tell you what, Sunflower?” He had no idea why that made his mouth go dry, but he had enough sense not to look at Penn. He turned, looking over the pathetic little apartment again instead.
“You know. Everything. What you see, smell, hear. The layout. Everything. I can tell you there was magic here. A lot of it.”
“You’re tingly again?” Ray asked, but paused to consider. Penn was at the door. She’d make sure Cal didn’t try anything, and describing it wouldn’t be as bad as seeing it. He finally nodded. “Okay, it’s a crappy ass apartment. Bars on the windows. Beer cans, a few illegal guns, none of which smell like they were fired, which means he didn’t get a chance or didn’t think he’d need them. The TV was off. The door was unlocked, but untouched, like he let them in, no questions asked.” He paused again.
“He was a big guy. Tough. Prison workout body. Covered in tats. Spider webs, gang symbols. He’s dead on the floor.”
“That’s it?”
That was all he was telling Cal. Except, “It looks… it looks like something with claws and possibly teeth did it. Something large.”
Out loud like that, the M.E. and her assistant stopped to glance at him, though she at least tried to offer him an apologetic shrug. There wasn’t a sound from the cops in the hall and doorway. Cal breathed out.
“Well,” his voice carried clearly. “It’s a good thing that even if a werewolf were to lose control, it wouldn’t be until the full moon, and it’s only a half. And of course they don’t kill unless provoked.”
Penelope’s grin was blinding as Ray turned around. “I knew I liked you, Cal Parker.”
“Don’t be silly. Who could possibly believe that Ray Ray would ever do anything like that?” Ray could see Cal’s hand move in a sweeping, dismissive gesture, just in front of Ross’s face. Ross flinched back and looked about half a second away from whipping out his gun. “Okay, that’s what you see. What do you smell, Branigan?”
He didn’t have to think. Ray shut his eyes and inhaled. He was quiet, forming the words to explain what he smelled, everything and everyone presenting themselves in wolf terms first.
Like this, he could even hear their heartbeats.
“Metal and burning. Sulfur? Like a match being consumed. Like… something… being consumed.” Eaten up. “It’s almost tangy. Dark. Like….” Hatred, but he didn’t say it out loud. He inhaled again, sweeping the room. Penny was salt water and fierce oceanic breezes. Ross, simmering resentment, probably at Cal in his face. The medical examiner and her assistant, harried and slightly nervous. Somber around the dead man. Cal. Cal was all want. Need and perfection floating to Ray from that doorway even now, and for a second Ray flashed back to Nasreen’s words and gasped.
Swallowing the air meant he could taste it too. Taste Cal, what he was, and Ray cut himself off and opened his eyes. He rolled his shoulders. “It was something big, but it wasn’t human. There’s a hint of chalk on the kitchen floor as well.” His voice was rough.
“Chalk again?” Cal seemed almost disappointed. “Too bad there’s no chalk monster.”
Penn snorted with amusement. Chalk monster. That was like saying it was a vampire. Everyone knew vampires didn’t exist. Zombies who drank blood to stay alive. Ridiculous.
Ray scratched his nose, tried to clear his senses, but then moved when he couldn’t. He headed out, pushing past Ross without an apology and ignoring his offers of help.
He just needed out. Now. Fresh air. It had been too long since a hunt or a trip beyond the city. And this case. Cal. Ray just needed clean air.
A dirty parking lot would have to do. He gulped in oxygen until his nostrils weren’t stinging and his blood wasn’t hot with the need to hunt, and then he turned, unsurprised to hear Cal approaching. He was dressed today, in a tight T-shirt and jeans. How considerate of him. He looked good, but it was nothing compared to how he smelled, and he was studying Ray so carefully that Ray wanted to ask what he looked like to Cal, if he shined.
“So Penn looked it up in the car, and she says there’s a werewolf who lives in the woods outside of town that this guy tried to beat up in a biker bar a few months ago.”
He didn’t seem to be reacting any differently than he always did to Ray’s presence, so Ray nodded slowly, returning to the present. “The case was pending.” He paid attention to werewolf cases, rare as they were. This one had been a simple assault charge, or not so simple, as the charge had been against a human.
“So….” Cal shifted, came closer, bright and immediately calming with his echoes of cottoncandy/bubblegum. Child-hood pleasure in what was in front of him. Need. No fear. Why him? Ray almost asked himself again, but couldn’t when the funhouse, carnival-midway scent of Cal was so near and dear to him. He was probably staring, mooning, but for once Cal didn’t seem to notice.
“Maybe it’s not related, but she says you have to check it out.” Cal shifted position again, staring out at the cars and the road and not at Ray. They weren’t touching, but when Ray glanced down he could see his shoes getting covered in glitter. Cal abruptly, finally, looked at him again, reading something in Ray’s face that made him sigh.
“What?” Ray demanded. It was as close as he could get to asking the rest, what Cal saw when he looked at him. There was too much hope in his voice as it was. Cal sighed again, then shook his head.
“So I was thinking….” Cal paused, rolling one hand and trying to look more beautiful, or persuasive. Ray wasn’t sure how, but he managed to do both. “Road trip?” he asked finally, then hopped when Ray lifted one brow. It wasn’t a no, and they both knew it. “Sweet! I call shotgun!”
Damn, Ray wanted to smile. He had to fight to sound stern, to wonder where his dark mood had gone.
“No way. You take the back again.” Then he stopped, looking past the yellow tape and over at poor Benedict, who still looked queasy, then to Penn, who was watching them from the car. He looked back into green and gold and chocolate eyes. Shiny. Yes, Cal was shiny to him. “You sure you want to ride in a car with a savage, murderous werewolf, Petunia?”
Cal wrinkled his nose. It was irritatingly cute.
“You want to ride in a car with a hyper, weak, no good half-fairy, Fifi?” he inquired smoothly, then danced toward the car with a crazy pirouette.
Ray grinned after him, faintly.
“You forgot slutty,” he shouted.
“Please!” Cal didn’t even bother to turn back to him. “Pixies are way sluttier. Besides, half-fairy, remember?”
BENEDICT stayed behind. Ray doubted they’d make an arrest, but if they had to, they’d need the space in the car. Anyway, the man was obviously still sick, and after a brief consultation with Cal, had announced that he had some more research to do.
It was less than an hour out of town to the woods, and half an hour more to drive up the back roads. Time spent swatting Cal’s hand away from the radio and discussing some episode of some show that Ray had to see, and how Penn should go dancing with Cal some time. Of course Ray was welcome to come too, Cal had assured him, and would have tried to demonstrate a dance move in the backseat that he was going to do with him if Ray hadn’t changed the subject back to the case.
What he had to ask was why anyone would be interested in making it seem as though a Were had committed that murder. There were two answers, both involving general ignorance of his kind, or even other Beings. As Cal put it, when Ray had broken down enough to ask, “A Were wouldn’t have left a crime scene buzzing with magic.”
“But this person didn’t know that?” Any basic information needed was easy e
nough to look up. I’m Going To Get Fur Where?: A young Were’s guide to their changing body was in every library for Pete’s sake.
“Or couldn’t help it,” Penn had to point out, and shared a quick, stunned look with Ray. He felt slow and was glad she was feeling like an idiot too. “Say he’s using the magic to be larger or stronger and isn’t naturally that intimidating….”
“All he needs is to look harmless, or however he’s getting in the door, and then a moment alone for his spell and pow! You’ve got your big, bad monster!” Cal hummed. “I see, I see.”
“But fake a Were attack?” Ray had to come back to that.
“To frame you.” Penn spat it out.
“Or impress you!” Cal piped in. Ray looked at him in the rearview mirror. “We just said that they might not know Weres. And let’s face it, Ray. You did have a grudge against a few of those guys.”
Ray opened his mouth to argue that, then closed it and faced the window, trying to let the truly fresh air, pinesap/dirt/snakes/birds/free, distract him from the thought of anyone laying dead bodies at his feet to woo him. At least it wasn’t Cal. Cal might fellate a lollipop in front of him to get his attention, but he wasn’t a murderer.
But he was stuck on the idea that it was about Ray, and Penelope was willing to listen. Ray kept trying to assure them that they had nothing to worry about, without taking his eyes from the passing trees. He had his enemies—any good cop did—but no one who’d attempt anything like this. Arch-villains were for comic books. And finally asking who would be obsessed with him enough to bother drew a groan from the backseat.
“Oh shut up, Magnolia.” He turned to actually look at Cal then and froze. He turned back toward his open window, and then held out a hand. “Stop here.”
Male wolf. Urine. Ownership.
The address listed for T. Kirkpatrick had simply said “the woods,” but they’d found it. The moment Penn yanked up the brake, Ray was out with a hand on his gun. He held his other hand up to tell the others to stay back, Cal to stay back, but when Penn got out, Cal got out too, slamming doors, pushing forward.
