“I’ll go see if I can set up an audience,” Tom asked, nodding his head toward Wolfgang, who was standing on a platform on the far side of the bonfire. He was dressed in pressed blue jeans, a chambray shirt, and a leather jacket with fringy things on it, and was deep in what appeared to be a somewhat strident conversation with a tall, black-haired werewolf I didn’t recognize.
“That’s Jean-Louis, one of the New Orleans alphas,” Tom said, following my gaze. “They are considering an alliance, but there seems to be some friction.”
Fascinating though they might be, Louisiana-Texas pack relations were not at the top of my priority list at the moment. “How can I find a way to meet with Wolfgang?”
“He’ll probably return to his quarters shortly. I’ll see if we can meet with him there. We’ll have to hurry, though,” Tom said. “The first hunt starts in a half hour.”
“What’s the hunt?”
His canines glinted as he gave me a toothy smile. “Exactly what it sounds like. Stay here; I’ll be right back.”
As Tom wove through the werewolves toward Wolfgang, Mark put an arm around me. “It’s never a dull moment with you, is it?” he asked.
“Unfortunately not,” I said, grimacing. “I could use a little boredom right about now.”
“You had no idea about your family history?” he asked.
I shook my head. “My mother didn’t know any of it, and we left Paris when I was just a baby, so it’s all news to me.” I sighed and leaned into Mark. “Maybe I should just let my father deal with this himself.”
“He did ask you to talk with his assistant. Georges, was it?”
“Right. And start another werewolf war?”
“He is your father,” Mark reminded me.
“I know,” I said gloomily. “I know.” We lapsed into silence, watching the werewolves. A few were heading toward farmhouses—doubtless to lose their clothes before donning their natural fur coats and chasing armadillos—and I could hear snatches of several languages. Most of the group appeared to be European in origin; I saw only a few with the shining black hair and caramel-colored skin of Mexican werewolves. When a few of the males gave us speculative looks, Mark put a proprietary arm around me, which kind of precluded them from trotting out werewolf pickup lines.
Tom came back a few minutes later, shouldering through the crowd. “Wolfgang will meet with you in ten minutes, at the main house. But you’ll have to be brief. He and Elena have only a few minutes before the hunt starts.”
“No way to get rid of Elena?” I asked.
He gave me a crooked smile that showed a few of his gleaming canines. “Unfortunately not.”
“Oh, well. Thanks for setting it up,” I said.
“Follow me,” he said, leading us toward the largest of the farmhouses.
“You know, I never asked: Is there a point to the Howl?” I asked as we followed Tom. “Or is it just some kind of werewolf glee club?” None of whose participants would ever make it past the first round of American Idol, I thought, remembering the awful bonfire chorus.
“It’s hosted by different packs at different times,” Tom said. “It’s one of the most important social events; it’s where alliances and matings are approved and ratified.”
“You’re joking. Matings have to be approved?” I asked.
He nodded. I was tempted to find out if Tom would have to ask permission to, well, you know, with Lindsey, but decided it would be tacky to ask. Since he didn’t belong to a particular pack, the rules probably wouldn’t apply to him the same way anyway. “It’s also a way to meet suitable mates,” he said. “Usually it’s hard to meet werewolves from other packs, since territory rules are so stringent.”
“So it’s kind of like a werewolf singles night,” Mark said.
“Usually, yes,” Tom said. “But at this particular Howl, there will also be meetings of several of the border packs, to discuss recent events with the Norteños. At least six of the southern alphas are in attendance.”
“The Norteño thing is probably why Wolfgang asked me to come,” I said, glancing at my watch. “Eight minutes to go. What should I say to him?”
“Ask him if he can order an inquiry. I doubt Luc Garou is the only one who had cause to kill Charles.”
“Really?”
“Charles was very connected, politically, and was excellent at… how do you put it? Excavating information?”
“You mean digging up dirt on people?”
“Exactly,” he said. “Which is why I think someone may have used your father’s presence as an excuse to get rid of him.”
“Like who?”
“That’s what we need to find out,” he said.
Wolfgang might have faults, but his choice of interior decorators wasn’t one of them, I thought as we were escorted into the living room of the main farmhouse a few minutes later. The Houston pack enclave might look like a Mexican villa, but this house looked like it had been lifted from the pages of Country Living.
Wolfgang and Elena were enthroned in big leather chairs flanking a limestone fireplace; when we entered, Wolfgang rose to his feet, but Elena just crossed her designer-jean-clad legs and swung a boot in irritation.
“Thanks for taking a few minutes to see me.” I addressed Wolfgang, ignoring Elena. “I know you’re very busy right now.”
“I’m glad you decided to attend the Howl,” Wolfgang said formally, then turned to Mark. “And it is a pleasure to see you again, Mr….”
“Sydney,” Mark supplied.
Wolfgang nodded. “Sydney,” he repeated. Elena narrowed her eyes at Mark, but Wolfgang seemed unperturbed by his presence and turned back to me. “Sophie, I am delighted to see you participating in the Howl. It is a wonderful time to make connections with others of our kind. And I do hope you will consider taking part in the border talks tomorrow. Your firsthand experience would be of real benefit.”
His golden eyes bored into me, and I felt my body stir in response. I chalked it up to my animal nature; after all, Wolfgang, like Tom, was tall, blond, and exceedingly fit, with a smell that—also like Tom—exuded werewolf sexiness. Being in a room with two very masculine werewolves, smoky-scented Mark, and a pissed-off Elena at the same time, not to mention the mixed bouquet of a couple hundred other werewolves in the background, was distracting, to say the least. But I forced myself to ignore my nose and focus on the business at hand: saving my father’s skin. Or trying to, anyway.
“I’d love to attend the talks,” I lied, “but I’m here because there’s another problem.”
“She’s talking about her father,” Elena interjected in a flat voice.
“You’re here on Luc Garou’s behalf?” Wolfgang asked politely, as if he were surprised to hear it. “I understood you were estranged from your sire.”
“I am. I mean, I was.”
His blond eyebrows rose. “Has something changed?”
“I just met him the other night for the first time,” I said. “And now I hear he’s been charged with a capital crime.”
Wolfgang shrugged, his muscular shoulders rippling under the chambray shirt. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m afraid I will have to allow justice to take its course.”
“But how can you be sure it’s justice?” I protested. “I mean, have there been any inquiries?”
“It is a busy time for us,” Wolfgang said, shrugging again.
“So the answer is no,” I replied shortly.
He opened his hands wide. “Your father was seen arguing with Charles less than an hour before the body was found. Now, unless you can account for that time …”
“I can,” I said quickly.
“Can you?”
“We had dinner together.”
“At what time?”
“Six fifteen,” I blurted. “At Ruth’s Chris.” Of course, my father hadn’t shown up until six fifty, but how would Wolfgang know that?
“How odd,” Wolfgang said, a furrow appearing between his bushy blond eyebrows.
> “What?”
Elena answered for him. “That your father should be in two places at once.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, with a sinking feeling in my stomach.
“Six fifteen was when he was spotted arguing with Charles Grenier. Several blocks away from Ruth’s Chris,” Wolfgang clarified.
“Surely there’s a mistake,” I said.
“Like maybe you need to learn to read a clock?” Elena said snarkily. I resisted the urge to shove one—or both—of her expensive cowboy boots down her throat.
“Sophie,” Wolfgang said gently, although something in his eyes was disturbingly cold. Old grudges died hard, I supposed. “I understand your desire to protect your sire. But all the evidence points to his involvement.”
“You should consider yourself lucky that the old rules don’t apply,” Elena said, still jiggling a boot-clad foot.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“According to previous versions of the code,” Wolfgang explained, “a murderer’s descendants were also held accountable for actions taken during an official Howl.”
“So you’re saying …”
“You’re fortunate that you won’t be joining your dad on the stake,” Elena said with a wicked smile.
I swallowed hard. “I still think there needs to be an inquiry. I understand Charles Grenier wasn’t the most popular werewolf in Houston. Maybe somebody got rid of him, and framed Luc Garou.”
Wolfgang glanced at his Rolex. “I know this issue is near to your heart, but I’m afraid I have another engagement. You will consider attending the border talks tomorrow?”
“I’m sorry,” I said stiffly, “but I’m afraid I have another appointment.” I stared at Wolfgang, giving him my most imploring look. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider the inquiry?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said in a less-than-encouraging tone of voice, “but I can’t make any promises.”
Elena smiled slightly, and my stomach sank. I’d done what I could, but it wasn’t enough to keep my father alive. It was obvious that no inquiry would be forthcoming. “Thank you for your time,” I said to Wolfgang. “I’m sure we’ll be talking again—very soon.”
“Good,” said Wolfgang impassively. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must prepare for the hunt. You wouldn’t care to join us?” He lifted an inquiring eyebrow.
“No, I’m afraid I’m not up to fun and games tonight.”
“Good night, then,” Wolfgang said. “I’m sure our paths will cross again soon.”
I gave him a strained smile. “I’m sure they will.”
“God, what a night,” I groaned as the limousine rolled back toward Austin. So much for our perfect date. The evening had certainly been a surprise, but it wasn’t quite the stuff dreams were made of. Okay, well, nightmares, maybe. Despite the rather dire circumstances, I still regretted missing dessert at Hudson’s; I could have killed for a double helping of chocolate raspberry intemperance right about now. And a bottle or two of muscat to wash it down.
Instead, I took deep breaths of clean, werewolf-free air. Mark and I had parted ways with Tom right after my audience with Wolfgang and Elena, and I was still trying to come to terms with everything that had happened since our cozy pig-and-deer dinner was so rudely interrupted.
“It’s not totally hopeless. I might be able to set your father free for you,” Mark offered, rubbing my shoulders.
I glanced back at him. “What are you going to do, grow another napalm bodysuit and burn the garden cottage down?”
He laughed. “That would be one way. But I was thinking of a slightly less invasive approach. After all, I’m a man of many talents.”
“Other than seducing innocent werewolves?”
His hot lips brushed my ear, and I shivered. “I’m glad you consider that a talent,” he murmured. “But that wasn’t what I had in mind in this case, no matter how good-looking your father might be. The problem is, if I did set him loose, you’d probably have the entire Houston pack nipping at your heels again. And I’m not sure that’s what you want.”
“God, no.” I shuddered. “What I’d really like to do is find a way to prove Luc Garou is innocent.”
“You think he’s innocent?”
“I’m going to operate under that assumption.” Luc had been thirty-five minutes late to dinner, and I still hadn’t gotten a good explanation for the scratch on his cheekbone. But I decided to stick with the innocent-until-proven-guilty thing for as long as possible. “I wish I could talk to Heath.”
Mark halted the massage for a moment. “Why Heath?”
“He’s a trial attorney. Defending people is what he does for a living.” I closed my eyes as Mark started rubbing again. “Unfortunately, it would be a little tough explaining the circumstances.”
“What, that your werewolf father is scheduled for execution by a werewolf tribunal?”
“Exactly.”
“You could always get in touch with James, or whatever his name is, and have him contact your uncle.”
“Georges,” I said. “I could do that, I guess. If I wanted to start the War of the Werewolves.”
“At least you wouldn’t be involved,” he said.
“Maybe. But I’m still a Garou, and I live in central Texas, so maybe not.”
“You could always let me whisk you away to Tahiti,” Mark said, his lips brushing my ear. Despite the bleak circumstances, I felt a quiver run through me at his touch. “They’d never find you there,” he whispered. “And the mai tais are terrific.”
“Sounds lovely,” I said, “but it probably belongs to another pack already. Besides, I’m guessing the career path for auditors is kind of limited in Tahiti.”
“I could always move the Southeast Airlines account to your new firm,” Mark offered. “You could be president. Garou and Partners. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“Thanks,” I said, “but I think I’d prefer to stay in Austin.” I sat up straight in the plush leather seat. “There’s got to be a way to get Luc off. We need to find out more about Charles—and who wanted him dead.”
“Sounds like a great plan. But the trial is in a couple of days,” Mark reminded me. “And you’re not particularly connected with the Houston pack.”
“Thanks for the pep talk,” I said. “Got any more wine in that fridge?”
They always say things look brighter in the morning, but the sun did very little to lighten my feeling of impending doom. And Lindsey’s arrival in my office sporting what looked like a bite mark on the right side of her neck didn’t help much, either. Had Tom spent the night at her place?
“What, did somebody mistake you for a feral pig last night?” I asked.
“Not exactly,” she said, pulling up her collar.
I held up a hand. “Say no more.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” she said, plopping down in my visitor’s chair and crossing her long legs. I tried not to look at her neck as she continued. “How was the Howl?”
“I didn’t see much of it.” I gave her the rundown of what had happened.
She let out a low whistle when I finished. “So what are you going to do about your dad?”
“He’s not my dad.”
“Okay, fine. Your gene donor. Whatever you want to call him.”
“Gene donor sounds great,” I said. “Anyway, I’ve decided that what I need to do is prove that he wasn’t the one who did it.”
Lindsey nodded. “Sounds reasonable.”
I sagged back into my chair. “The only problem is, I have no idea how to go about doing that.”
“Maybe you should talk to Heath,” Lindsey suggested.
I’d had exactly the same thought last night, but there was still a big problem with that approach. “And tell him what?”
Lindsey shrugged. “I don’t know. The truth, maybe?”
“No way,” I said, crossing my arms. “He’d never believe me.”
“I believe you,” she reminded me.
>
“I know. But the thing is, in order for you to believe me, I had to sprout a fur coat and a tail,” I said. “And there is no way I’m doing that in front of Heath.”
“Why not?”
Did I need to spell it out for her? “Because it’s gross, that’s why.”
“I don’t think it’s gross,” she said. “In fact, I think it’s kind of cool.”
“I haven’t slept with you,” I pointed out. Then I remembered she was dating a werewolf, so obviously it wasn’t a big issue for her. In fact, she for some reason was coveting the ability to sprout fur herself. No accounting for taste, I suppose …
“I still think you should talk to Heath,” she said.
“What about Hubert?” I asked, sounding only a little bit desperate. Hubert was a rather scholarly member of the Houston pack. I was confident he’d be a font of information. Besides, he owed me a favor, since I’d helped rescue him from an operation involving the rather forceful removal of his still-beating heart not too long ago. “After all, he said he was in my debt. Maybe he could help me out, do a little sleuthing.”
“He’s a bright guy,” Lindsey said, “but I don’t think he’s too big into gossip. He’s a bit on the bookish side.”
She had a point. If I wanted to know more about the ancient mating practices of Sumerian werewolves, Hubert was probably my go-to guy. Unfortunately, however, I doubted he was a font of juicy tidbits regarding the dating practices of his more contemporary counterparts.
“Do you think Tom could ask around for me?” I asked.
“Maybe, but the pack knows you two are friends, so I’m not sure how much he’d be able to find out. Why can’t you go by yourself?”
“Because I’m Luc Garou’s daughter. Who’s going to want to talk to me? I mean, Luc isn’t the most popular guy in town. I’m surprised they haven’t strung him up already.”
“I thought you generally had to use a stake or a silver bullet to kill a werewolf,” Lindsey said.
I shuddered. “Thanks for reminding me. The thing is, if it weren’t for him, Wolfgang would still be back in the motherland.”
Leader Of The Pack Page 6
