Last Wolf Standing (#7, The Mystic Wolves)

by Belinda Boring

  “Zane,” I murmured, unsure of what to do next.

  Throwing caution to the wind, Zane grabbed the detective’s face, holding it firmly in his hand. “Once more.” Almost verbatim, the vampire king repeated the compulsion.

  “I warned you.” Stepping back defensively, Manning placed distance between himself and Zane. “You’ve just attacked an officer. You have the right . . .”

  The situation escalated. “Wait. Stop!” I exclaimed, shoving my hand out to stop him from continuing. Casting a sidelong glance at my friend-acting-as-my-lawyer, I gave him a look that signaled my own attempt to remedy the problem.

  “You’re in no position to give orders, Mr. O’Connor.” He inched toward the door, no doubt to call for back-up.

  “I recognize that.” It was always tricky when dealing with humans, especially when it felt like I had to walk on eggshells. No one within our community ever dared talk to me, or Zane, for that matter, like that. All through this interrogation, my wolf had been chomping at the bit to be freed. He didn’t like the lack of respect we were being shown. I didn’t like it, either, but sometimes I needed to play the game.

  “Unless you’re ready to sign a confession, I suggest you sit tight until a new lawyer can be assigned to you.” His hands were at his side, reaching for his handcuffs. “This one has a cell with his name on it.”

  “Yes,” I said, knowing I only had a small window of opportunity. “Give me a moment and I’ll tell you everything.”

  There must have been something in my voice, whether it was simple sincerity that convinced him, or the subtlety of wild magic linked with my being Alpha, but Manning nodded. “You have five minutes.”

  I wanted to laugh. Five minutes wouldn’t even touch the surface of what I was about to tell him. If compulsion wouldn’t work on him, I would use a heavy dose of honesty. While I loathed the certainty of his reaction, I couldn’t waste any more time here, either.

  “Mason,” Zane warned, shaking his head.

  “What other choice do we have? Compulsion didn’t work for whatever reason,” I answered, temporarily ignoring Manning as I stared at Zane. “I sure as hell don’t want to fight my way out of here, do you?”

  “Still in the room, gentleman.” Clearly he didn’t like the fact he’d lost control for the moment. “Either you tell me how your wallet really came to be in that house, and your involvement, or I’ll keep searching until I find it. I can hold you for forty eight hours before making the charges official.”

  I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to bring the detective into our world. I knew the dangers that came with it, but part of me realized that should he accept what I told him, he might be a good ally to have. We would need someone to help keep things hidden from the humans in the area.

  Taking in a fortifying breath, I began slowly. “Yes, I was there. I arrived at the home of Michael Bracken and discovered the bodies. Upon searching through the rooms on the main floor, I found some still alive and offered them assistance.”

  “So you’re telling me, you weren’t the one responsible for that massacre. That you simply stumbled across it? I find that hard to believe.”

  His last admission worried me. If he was already struggling, it didn’t bode well for the revelations that were rapidly approaching. “I went to the home for a reason. A colleague of mine had called me, saying my presence was needed.” Each word was deliberately spoken.

  “The name of this person, please.”

  “Let me finish, first. His name isn’t important right now.” Manning obviously didn’t like being told no, but I didn’t give him a chance to continue. “I went with the sole intent of helping those there, and I did. My wallet was misplaced in the process.”

  “And I’m meant to believe this, why?”

  “Because I am not the one responsible for those deaths. In fact, Zane and I have been working together to hunt down the culprit. There is an extremely dangerous man loose in the area and he was the one who orchestrated this.”

  “And you didn’t think to notify the police—the people whose sole purpose is to serve and protect the citizens of this area?” Scorn riddled his tone. “Save the vigilante behavior for the movies, Mr. O’Connor. You are no super hero.” It was pretty obvious how he was receiving my explanation.

  “True, I’m not a super hero. At least not in the context you’re using.”

  He snorted and Zane eyed me curiously, unsure of where I was taking this. “If you tell me you wear a mask and cape, a crime fighter who patrols the streets in the name of justice, I’ll call for a psych evaluation, instead.”

  It was now or never. “I deeply believe in justice; and whether you believe me or not, it is my responsibility to watch over this community.”

  “As what? You don’t hold a public office position. I checked. You are simply Mason O’Connor, joint owner in a computer business that you run from your home. One, I might add, that only recently burnt to the ground. And, when officers arrived at the scene to extinguish the fire, they found a brawl occurring.”

  “I am also Alpha to the Mystic Wolves,” I declared, studying him carefully, gauging his reaction.

  “What? Alpha, as in wolves?” he croaked, almost choking on his words.

  “Werewolf to be exact.”

  “And what? You’re a werewolf, too?” Manning asked, turning to Zane.

  “No,” he calmly replied, his features schooled. “I am the vampire king.”

  Manning’s eyes widened to the size of saucers and the room seemed to hold its breath.

  One second.

  Two seconds.

  Three.

  Four.

  Then he exploded into laughter. “I have worked this job for over ten years, been detective for five, and not once have I ever heard such an imaginative explanation.” Manning looked between Zane and me, tears forming in his eyes as his body shook with mirth. “Does this mean I should bow or something? Curtsy?”

  A certain amount of allowance was given to Karl Manning because he was human, and we understood the magnitude of what we were expecting him to accept; but he was pushing the limit. Zane’s mouth tightened into a thin line.

  “While this is new to you, it would be wise not to take such a mocking tone with me, Detective.”

  “Sorry, but surely you didn’t think I’d believe any of this?”

  “Would you like a demonstration? Would that help you?” Zane’s fingers drummed across the top of the table, a sign of his growing impatience.

  “Sure, why not?” he answered, shrugging.

  Smiling, Zane’s fangs descended, his sharp canines softly piercing his bottom lip. “Will that suffice, or do you require more proof?”

  Manning’s chair scraped loudly over the bare floor as he abruptly pushed back, his focus never straying from Zane’s mouth. “How did you do that?”

  “I am a vampire.” He brushed his tongue lightly over the pointed tips. “And yes, while I mostly drink from a blood bag or a glass, I do occasionally use them to feed directly from humans.”

  “You’re a killer, then,” Karl stammered, his face sheet-white from shock.

  “No, I am a vampire. I respect life. To suggest I resemble the vampires your world worships, via media, is inaccurate and insulting.”

  “And as an Alpha werewolf, I watch over my Pack.” Partially shifting, my arm gave way to black fur, a claw erupting where my hand and fingers once were. “I can change completely into a wolf when I choose to. Lock the door and I’ll do it, if necessary.”

  For the first time since arriving at the police station, Detective Manning was silent, the only sign that he was frantically trying to process the new information was the slight twitch beneath his eye. Pity for him filled my chest. It was a lot to digest—life changing, to the extreme.

  “Detective? Do you require further convincing?” Zane asked, his tone level and polite.

  “This is real, isn’t it?” he whispered. “That stuff you said earlier . . . what was that?” It was di
sconcerting to see how easy it had been to strip his confidence and bravado away. His voice now shook.

  “When you refused to release Mason, I chose to compel you by layering my suggestions with vampiric power.” When Karl’s hand rose to his throat defensively, Zane quickly continued. “It wouldn’t have harmed you. My sole reason was to keep you from pursuing this investigation. Unfortunately, it didn’t work.”

  No one spoke—the weight of reality threatening to destroy Manning’s peace of mind. “Why?” He struggled with that simple one-worded question.

  “I don’t know. I have a few theories, however. But we can pursue them, later. What’s important, now, is that we convince you to release my friend. While he wasn’t the one involved, we do know who is.”

  “On my oath, I won’t rest until I bring him to justice,” I added, placing my fist over my heart.

  Manning let out a loud exhale, reclining back in his chair. Even though color had returned to his features, he still looked like he was mere seconds away from puking. “I can’t just let you go. There are procedures to follow. Paperwork.”

  Zane and I chucked in unison. “That is something we all have in common,” I said.

  “And we respect that. Do whatever you need, but we cannot stress strongly enough how imperative it is that Mason is released,” Zane finished.

  “You’re assuming I believe either of you,” Manning retorted. While his words might say one thing, the fact he hadn’t stopped looking at my arm in wolf form, told me differently. He was a rational man. He would have a hard time discrediting what he’d witnessed with his own two eyes.

  “Come with us. We can discuss this more openly and you can ask whatever questions you have.”

  Manning’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “And now you’re assuming I’m an idiot. You just revealed you are these creatures I’ve always viewed as made-up and fictional, and I’m supposed to come to your ‘lair’?” He used air quotes for the last word. “What’s to say you won’t kill me once you get me alone?”

  “Because I have invited you; and no guest of mine is ever harmed. You will be completely safe within my home. Because you know of our existence now, you are automatically under my protection.”

  Manning weighed Zane’s words carefully. Everything rested on his response. My wolf stirred, impatiently hoping my partial shift was a precursor to his freedom. Although he’d silently watched everything unfold, there was no mistaking his irritation. He wanted to show this human just how seriously he should be taking all this.

  “I must have rocks in my head,” Manning finally answered, handing me my wallet. “It’ll take about thirty minutes before you can go and I’ll start destroying everything like you suggested.”

  Zane’s head bowed. “Thank you. That would be greatly appreciated. While we’ve shared these things with you, our existence must still remain a secret to others.”

  “Just so you know, I’ll be telling my supervisor where I’m going—in case you renege on your promise.”

  I couldn’t help respecting his sense of self-preservation. Those who showed wisdom and didn’t just rush blindly into unknown situations generally made smarter choices. My gut told me he’d be okay.

  Shifting my arm back to normal, my skin slightly red from it, I rubbed away the tenderness. “We’ll be here waiting.” I joked.

  “Well, that went well,” Zane commented, once Manning left the room, leaving us alone. “Although his inability to be compelled was interesting and somewhat alarming.”

  “Something tells me there’s a story there,” I admitted, curious to see what Zane’s theories were.

  Answering distractedly, Zane studied the closed door as though he could still see the detective. “I have no doubt.”

  I groaned, rubbing my tired eyes. “So much time wasted.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure. I have a feeling having Mr. Manning in our confidence will be useful.”

  The thought had crossed my mind, as well. “Right now, we could use all the help we can get.” I didn’t need to mention Daniel and the Master. It was a constant, unspoken thought between us.

  Nodding, we waited quietly.

  Our most recent crisis had been averted.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Darcy

  The heat of the sun warmed my face as I turned toward the sky. For the first time today, I felt like I could breathe a little easier—the tight constrictive band around my heart had loosened.

  Mason was home, all charges dropped against him.

  There was only the briefest of moments to see him, touch him, make sure for myself that he truly was there and free, before he was off conducting business. Dealing with Supernaturals was dangerous, at best; but at least there was a kind of predictability to it.

  Challenge your Alpha? You face him in a fight that either results in you bending in submission to him, or one of you dies.

  Confront a vampire? Either you have the gumption to back up your allegations, the strength to go toe-to-toe against one of nature’s fiercest of creatures, or you resign yourself to the strong possibility that you’ve signed your own personal death warrant.

  Humans, however? They are much trickier. Not because they are frailer than us, their bodies ill-equipped to match our kinds superiority in physical prowess, but because even with weapons, they paled in comparison.

  Their strength came out of our ingrained need to keep ourselves hidden and protected—turning our advantages against us, because they governed themselves differently.

  Mason being escorted away in handcuffs and taken into the custody of humans had been surprisingly terrifying. There’d been so many different variables to consider. Most believed werewolves were the epitome of unpredictability and, for the most part, I agreed.

  Any interaction that involved humans had to be handled with extreme finesse, usually ending with a complete mind wipe via compulsion. So, when Mason and Zane returned to the mansion, my relief was practically palpable—until I spotted the detective following close behind, his entire focus centered on projecting a tough façade. I knew that’s what he was doing the second I caught his steely stare and watching eyes dart about, absorbing every detail. He might’ve looked composed and like he did this kind of thing every day, but he didn’t fool me.

  He was shaking in his proverbial boots. He was skirting a very thin line of shock and disbelief. One wrong move and that I-can-handle-anything pretense would crumble. It wouldn’t be his fault, though. It took incredible confidence in your own place in the world not to be shaken by something that resided in the murky outskirts of your reality.

  The fact he entered Zane’s office, allowing the door to close behind him, spoke volumes to his character. I hoped he survived whatever truths he discovered in that room.

  I liked him.

  Even though he’d accused my mate of murder, I couldn’t fault him for doing his job with limited knowledge.

  They’d been in the office for hours when I felt the magic of Mason shifting along our pathway. Part of me wished I was a fly on the wall for that. Manning’s reaction would’ve been priceless.

  At first, I waited on the steps near Zane’s office, but ended up outside in the gardens that were immaculately maintained, even in winter.

  Fresh air always made it easier to relax. I didn’t know any wolf that could tolerate long bouts indoors. My mind wandered back to Mason.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you think too loud?” Mason asked, taking a seat beside me on the lawn bench.

  “I believe someone mentioned it a few times. I can’t remember his name, however. Sorry.” Smiling, I lifted my face to accept his kiss. The heat that flowed like lava through my veins had nothing to do with the weather I’d been enjoying. “Your meeting over already?” While I hadn’t bet anyone, I’d expected to wait longer.

  “It’s still going, but I had a hard time concentrating with you constantly dwelling on things inside my head.” Mason tapped the side of his temple and smiled. “Plus it gave me an e
xcuse to escape for a few minutes and visit with my girl.”

  He quietly raised his arm and I slipped into the space he’d created, relaxing into him. With my hand resting high on his thigh, if I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine that this was simply a normal day, like any other—one where the only thing we had to worry about was what was for dinner and what movie we would watch on Netflix.

  “How’s he taking it?”

  “So far, so good. He’s still trying to process everything, but he hasn’t run for the hills yet, screaming, ‘The world is ending’. I consider that a positive.”

  I stared up at his side profile, noting the new lines and dark skin that underlined his eyes. He needed more sleep. He needed a day off from all the madness. He needed a few hours where he could simply breathe and be himself again, without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  “Good. I was pretty skeptical when I saw you arrive with him. I haven’t really seen anything good come from involving humans in our business; but I trust that you and Zane did it with good reason.” I meant every word.

  “That’s the crazy thing. Zane turned up at the police station with every intention of compelling him. With what’s happening with the Master, Manning was a liability we couldn’t afford—and someone we didn’t have time to keep from digging too deeply. We both agreed it was the only option, yet the compulsion didn’t work.” Mason’s jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on something in the distance.

  “Holy cow!” I exclaimed, the impact of the last sentence striking me full-force. While I’d heard of people being able to resist suggestions from vampires, no one, and I meant no one, escaped Zane. He was the vampire king; and with the title came some heavy hitting mojo. He could infiltrate your mind, completely rewriting who you were and your history, if he chose to.

  “Exactly. It threw us both for a loop. I’m pretty sure Zane’s jaw hit the floor.” Mason settled in more on the bench, his arm still draped around my shoulders, crossing his legs in front of him. “That’s another thing we’ve been discussing . . . how the hell did he manage it?”