Goddammit!
Thick chocolate fur stood on end over the wolf’s solid body. It shifted its weight back onto muscular haunches, preparing to pounce. With his lips peeled back over ferocious fangs, Chase, in wolf form, snarled at his prey. Luke stepped into the alley, blocking the exit. Chase would hear about this. How would they explain the appearance of a giant wolf in the French Quarter?
The demon lunged left, its talons hooking onto a second-story windowsill. Before it could drag itself up, Chase snapped onto its leg and yanked it off the wall. The fiend skidded across the cobblestone and landed at Luke’s feet. Without his own claws or something sharp to behead it, Luke’s chances of killing the demon were nil, so he grabbed it by the neck and hauled it off the ground. “My friend wants to play with you.” He shoved the fiend toward Chase, but it ducked and rolled, avoiding the werewolf’s advance.
“Playtime’s over.” Luke picked up a metal trash can lid and hurled it at the demon, striking it in the back of the head. Chase sprang forward, teeth bared and claws extended. He swiped a massive paw across the demon’s chest as his jaws snapped down on the fiend’s face. Before Chase’s paws hit the pavement, the demon fell into a pile of ash. He’d hit the sweet spot in one swipe.
All a werewolf had to do was puncture the demon’s heart with a claw, and it was vanquished. Unfortunately, demons didn’t really die. They went to their own hellish dimension, where they waited for some other idiotic human to conjure them back.
The sound of laughter and footsteps echoed down the alley. Luke snapped his head to the left to find a group of people sipping hurricanes twenty feet away. In their drunkenness, he could probably explain away their visions of a wolf in the French Quarter, but why take the chance? He turned to his friend. “Go.”
Chase jumped behind a wall and ran toward a park. Luke casually walked down the passageway, stopping to kick his boot through the ash to spread out the evidence, and followed the wolf’s path. Chase’s shift at the bar didn’t end for another three hours. He better not have been skirting his duties to play with the demons.
Once they were safely out of sight, human Chase stepped out from behind a sycamore and smoothed his T-shirt down his stomach. “Third one tonight. Thanks for your help.”
Luke marched toward his friend, ready to give him a reaming, but Chase’s statement caught him off guard. “Third one?”
“Yeah. James found one off Rampart shortly after he left you at the other scene. Tracked him two miles out of the city before he got him.”
He shook his head. “Damn. All right. But you need to be more careful where you shift, man. You were in the Quarter.”
Chase shrugged. “I know. But I saw you, and when it jumped off the roof, I knew we had it.”
He had a point. Hell, Luke probably would’ve done the same thing. They’d vanquished the fiend, and that was the important thing. His cousin would say he was being too lenient. Shifting in the city went against the rules—unless it was absolutely necessary to save a human. But they’d ridded New Orleans of one more demon, hadn’t they? Who gave a shit what his cousin would’ve said?
“Who’s covering the bar tonight?” He motioned with his head for Chase to follow.
“Amber. She had a vision it’d be a busy night, so she let me go early.”
The hair on the back of his neck stood on end at the mention of his sister. Her gift of premonition proved useful in the battle against the demons, but it wasn’t always accurate. “Any details?”
“Nah. Just said she had a feeling.”
“We need to get back.” Luke picked up the pace, stomping through the mud toward the city. Chase followed on his heels.
“Noah and Cade are there. She’s safe.”
She better be. Chase would have to be out of his mind to leave Luke’s little sister alone at the bar. She couldn’t protect herself if anything… He stopped the thought right there. Only the eldest offspring of werewolf couples could shift, and Amber was as defenseless as a human. So was Melissa, his former fiancée. She’d been a second-born were, and he’d let her get killed three years ago.
He couldn’t bear it if he lost another vulnerable female he loved. “I’m not worried about her,” he lied. “I need to get my truck.”
“Where you headed?” Chase asked.
“We’re going to the morgue.”
Chapter Four
Jimmy Hancock sat alone on the porch of the two-room cabin in the swamp, watching the neon-blue glow of the bug zapper. Mosquitoes the size of horseflies encircled the glimmering death trap. One by one, the brave insects would venture into the light they were so enamored of. And one by one, they’d die in a sharp pulse and a zap. Occasionally, the light of death would draw in a gray moth. It took more than a quick singe to kill those. The rapid flicker and buzz, buzz, buzz…zap, made Jimmy’s skin crawl.
What did it feel like for the moth? It must’ve been worse than for the mosquito.
He wrung his hands and stared at the puddle of sweat on the floor beneath them. It was nothing compared to the amount his once-white T-shirt had absorbed from his pits and back. The thick mass of trees around the cabin blocked any chance of a breeze, but even that wouldn’t have helped. Jimmy’s nerves were making him sweat.
His younger brother should have been home hours ago, and Jimmy didn’t know what to do. He could go looking for him, but what if someone found the cabin? All the work they’d done would be exposed. Or worse…destroyed. What would Ross do to him then?
Another moth met its fate with a crackling zap. Jimmy cringed. He’d prefer the bug zapper any day to what his brother could do to him. What Ross would do to him.
He looked at the scar on his left palm. A thick black scab covered the thin line he’d opened the night before. He was supposed to open it again tonight, but not without Ross.
Jimmy couldn’t control the demons. His brother did that part, so what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t very well conjure one on his own. But if he didn’t, he’d be in deep shit. His heart raced at the thought of the shit he’d be in. He must’ve screwed up already. Why else wouldn’t Ross be home? Jimmy had done something wrong. It was his fault; it always was. He was only human.
Ross was the blessed one. Being half demon made him special. Jimmy wasn’t special. He was a stupid idiot. He was lucky to have Ross as a brother. Damn lucky. And that’s all Jimmy was. He wasn’t smart. Wasn’t handsome. He didn’t have any friends because nobody liked a stupid idiot. Jimmy was lucky. That was all. And he was okay with that.
He opened the screen door and stepped inside the main room of the cabin. An old, rusty stove, sink, and ice box lined one wall, creating the small kitchen. A dilapidated futon leaned against another. That was where Jimmy slept. He was lucky to have such a soft place to sleep. He’d been real good that week when Ross brought it home for him. How long had it been? Fifteen years? Jimmy hadn’t been good since.
He ran his hand along the wooden altar in the middle of the room, and his scar tingled. He didn’t know why it did that. He picked up the ceremonial knife in his right hand. It was really a kitchen knife Ross had scratched some symbols into. Jimmy knew that, but Ross said the symbols made it special, so it wasn’t just a kitchen knife anymore.
He held it up to the light. “Hmpf. Still looks like a kitchen knife.”
“Put it down, you stupid idiot.”
“Huh? What?” The knife clanked on the linoleum floor. “Ross? That you?” With a trembling hand, he picked up the blade and put it back on the altar. He searched the room, but he couldn’t see his brother.
“Where are you? On the porch?” He threw open the screen door, and it slammed against the wall with a loud crack. Jimmy jumped. No Ross.
“Ross?” Oh, no. His brother had seen him with the knife. He probably thought Jimmy was about to do something stupid again. “I…I wasn’t gonna do it yet. I was waiting for you. I…I…I didn’t know when you were coming back.”
He tried to swallow, but it felt like his heart was
lodged in his throat. It couldn’t have been in his throat, though. It was beating in his chest like a race horse’s hooves pounding the ground. He tentatively took a step back, bracing himself for the blow his brother was sure to give him. Would it be the head or the gut this time?
When nothing happened, he took another step back…Then another. With a maniacal squeal, he leapt to the futon and curled into a ball. He squeezed his eyes shut and mumbled into the dust-filled cushion. “I’m sorry, Ross. I’m so sorry. I screwed up again. I’m sorry.”
“Shut up, moron.”
Cold shivers ran down his spine. Where was his brother?
“Get up and get a hold of yourself. You have to do something for me.”
Jimmy turned his head slightly and opened one eye a slit. No one was there. He opened the other eye and raised his head. “Where? I can’t see you.”
“Of course you can’t, dimwit. I’m dead.”
Chapter Five
“What do you mean you can’t find it?” Macey balled her hands into fists as the lab tech blinked at her. She wanted to slap the annoyed expression off the kid’s face. Of course, she wouldn’t actually slap him, but the thought entered her mind, and she considered it. He couldn’t have been more than twenty—with his acne-covered face and scrawny arms—and was obviously new to the job. “You lost the body?”
The tech sighed and rolled his eyes. “I didn’t lose it.” He tapped on the clipboard. “Says right here it should be in locker fifty-seven.”
“But it isn’t.”
“Nope.” The tech pulled up his social media account on the computer.
Macey snapped her fingers. “Hello?”
He slowly turned his head toward her, keeping his gaze on the monitor until the last second. “Yeah?” He flicked his eyes toward her before focusing on the computer again.
“If the body isn’t in locker fifty-seven, then where is it?”
The guy shrugged. “How should I know? My shift just started twenty minutes ago.” He clicked the play button on a video post, and a kitten wearing a top hat danced across the screen.
Macey’s nails cut into her palms as she tried to maintain her composure. He was a kid. She shouldn’t take his lack of respect personally. “I need you to…”
Click. Click. Click. He ignored her. With every muscle in her body tensed, she reached across the counter and switched off the monitor. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.
The tech crossed his arms over his chest and glared back. “Look, lady. I dunno want you want me to do. It’s not my problem.”
Lady? She took a deep breath and let it out ever so slowly. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. She had to keep her cool. Six. Five. Four…Keep your voice low, Mace…Three. Two…One. She put on her biggest fake smile and took one more breath before she spoke.
“I realize you’re new here, but let’s get a few things straight. First, my name’s not Lady. I introduced myself as Carpenter. Detective Carpenter. You saw my credentials, so I expect to be addressed accordingly. Second, you are the tech on duty, so, yes, it is your problem.” Her blood boiled at the blasé expression on the kid’s face. Who did he think he was? “Third, when an officer requests to see a body, you have to produce it. If it isn’t where the log states, you need to find it.”
The sound of the door opening behind her stopped Macey’s rant. Bryce sauntered to her side. “I figured you’d have been in and out of here already. How goes it?”
Macey let out a cynical chuckle. “I would have been if this young man would do his job and find the body.”
“Find it?” Bryce cut his gaze toward the tech. “Where is it?”
He shrugged. “I dunno. Not where it’s supposed to be.”
Bryce furrowed his brow. “Then go look for it.”
The tech let out a long sigh and nodded. “Yes, sir.” He rose from his seat and shuffled out the back door.
“Sir? You’ve been here for thirty seconds, he calls you sir and does what you ask. I’ve been here for fifteen minutes arguing with the little bastard, and what do I get? ‘Look, lady. I dunno what you want me to do.’ Jeez!”
Bryce shook his head. “You’re a girl. And a little thing at that.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It shouldn’t matter. But it does. No one said it would be easy, Mace. You know that.”
She closed her eyes and rolled her head from side to side, stretching her sore neck. The pain in her temple that had been threatening her earlier had turned into a full blown headache. “I’ve worked hard to earn the respect of the boys at the station. Even the Chief respects me. Why’s it so hard for people like this kid to?”
“Why do you let it bother you?”
That was a good question, with a long list of answers. After being abandoned by her family at such an early age, she rarely felt like she belonged anywhere. Her life was a never-ending balancing act, trying to prove her worth while keeping everyone at a safe distance to avoid getting hurt. But standing under the fluorescent lights of the stark white morgue, waiting for a disrespectful kid to find a missing body, wasn’t the time or place for a pity party. She’d thrown enough of those in her lifetime.
“No reason, I guess.”
Luke and Chase sat in the cab of the pick-up and stared at the back door of the morgue. A single security camera hung loose from its mount, the frayed wiring sticking out of the device rendering it inoperable. They’d have no problem picking the lock and getting in, but finding the body without being caught might prove difficult.
“What’s the plan, man? Just run in and grab it?” Chase circled his shoulders as if loosening up for a fight.
“Right. And not get caught. You ready?” Luke didn’t wait for an answer. He stepped out of the truck and closed the door, searching the area for witnesses. They were alone. With long strides, he made his way to the door, Chase close behind. He pulled his lock-picking tools out of his back pocket, and within seconds, the door opened. As he peered inside, a scrawny kid with messy orange hair slammed a drawer shut and sulked out of the room.
“Now,” he whispered, and they slinked inside. Bright fluorescent lights illuminated the cold, dreary room. Rows of metal doors lined three of the walls, their two-inch thickness the only thing separating the living from the dead. A lone steel table stood in the center of the room—probably where they did the autopsies. The stale smell of death lingered in the air.
Luke shivered. He’d done more than his share of killing animals, but that was for food. Dead humans were another story. How anyone could work in such a dismal place, he’d never understand. Why would someone want to be surrounded by death all night? The sour look on Chase’s face said he probably thought the same thing.
Luke pointed to his nose, an indication for them to use their senses to find the body, rather than opening every drawer. Chase nodded, and they stepped farther into the room.
“You’re sure you checked every locker?” A female voice floated in from down the hallway, and Luke held his breath. He’d recognize Macey Carpenter’s melodic cadence anywhere, and though his mind told him he needed to move, his body betrayed him, freezing him to the spot. What was it about this woman that had him aching to know her?
Chase knocked him on the shoulder, bringing him back to the present. They needed to get the hell out of there. Now. Macey’s voice drifted closer; they’d never make it to the back door. There was no time to escape. Nowhere to hide, except…
Chase yanked open an empty drawer and crawled inside. Luke’s heart threatened to beat a hole through his chest. He couldn’t stand being inside an elevator, much less a body locker. But what other choice did he have? He spun around and found number fifty-nine ajar. He peeked inside. No body.
He could do it. But the space was so small…Would he be able to breathe?
“I opened them all twice.” The door knob twisted.
Now or never. He slid inside and the door closed behind him, the click of the latch sounding so final, his breath caught. Total da
rkness engulfed him. Utterly still. Cold. One twitch would give away his location, not that he could’ve moved a muscle if he’d wanted to. The confined space had him paralyzed with dread.
He closed his eyes and took several long, deep breaths, trying to slow his pulse. Now was not the time to panic.
“Well, it didn’t get up and walk away. Where’s fifty-seven?” Macey’s boot heels thudded across the tile, the sound echoing in Luke’s constricted chamber like a hammer driving nails into a coffin.
“It’s over here,” a male said. “But, I told you. I opened it twice already. It’s not there.”
The clack of the latch and the sound of metal sliding on metal sent his heart racing again. They were so close to finding him.
The bang of the drawer slamming shut shook the wall of lockers. Luke held his breath.
“Let me see the report.” He heard Detective Carpenter flipping through the pages, sighing heavily as the clipboard clanked on metal. “Joseph filed it. He’s been here longer than I’ve been on the force. He doesn’t make mistakes like this.”
“Don’t look at me.” The male again. “I just got here. He handed me the folder, asked me to enter it, and left.”
“No one’s blaming you,” an older male with a deeper voice responded. “But we do need to get this figured out. Fast.”
“You’re sure it wasn’t transferred?” Annoyance edged Macey’s words.
“There are two ways in and out of the building, and no one has taken a body out the front door since I got here.” The younger male sounded indignant as he stomped across the room. “The back door locks automatically, and Joseph and I are the only ones with the key.” He banged on something metal. “It’s closed tight.”
Luke allowed himself a small sigh of relief. At least they’d closed the door behind themselves when they broke in.
Werewolves Only: Crescent City Wolf Pack Book One Page 3
