Curtis rose and turned, taking a few steps away from the body.
“Curtis?”
“Sorry,” Curtis said. “Wasn’t expecting another victim.” He took a few deep breaths before turning around again. Then he looked down, a small frown on his face.
“What’s wrong?” Luc said.
“This isn’t our guy,” Curtis said. He pulled the azurite from his pocket. He frowned. “This is probably our last shot, but I think I need to confirm what just happened.”
Luc raised his eyebrows. “Do what you need to.”
Curtis pulled out the small bottle again. He repeated what he’d done before, redipping the pendant in the blood. Luc watched as the pendant drew itself at an even straighter angle, pointing directly toward the frozen body. Curtis let go of the chain, and the pendant shot toward the body, hitting the frozen flesh with an all too solid sound, and staying there, pressed against the body’s shoulder, defying gravity.
“The blood was his,” Curtis said.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Luc said. “Anders fought the werewolf this evening. This body has been here long enough to be frozen solid and buried under the snow.” He frowned, thinking of something else that was odd. “Also, why didn’t any animals bother the corpse?”
Curtis hissed between his teeth. “Maybe they could sense the wrongness of whatever was done to him? Animals can be pretty sensitive to magic, and if those strips of missing skin are any indication, he’s fallen victim to the same necromancy.”
“This wolf is dead, and has been dead and frozen solid for a long while. How did Anders make him bleed hours ago?”
Curtis frowned. “There are no claw marks on his neck. Didn’t Anders say he grabbed the wolf around the neck?”
Luc looked down at the body. “You’re right.” He regarded Curtis. “Are you sure?”
“The blood from Anders’s hands came from this guy,” Curtis said. “The magic wouldn’t work any other way. The law of constancy is fixed.” He shook his head. “We’re missing something. I think we need to call David. Maybe someone from the Families can make sense of this.”
“We’re still not sure it wasn’t someone from the Families who is behind this,” Luc said.
Curtis sighed. “I know. And I’m sorry, but I think we have to tell David. I just don’t understand, and I’m too tired to think. If he was killed tonight, someone had to freeze him solid tonight, too. With enough power, maybe I could freeze a corpse, I don’t know. But he was buried under the snowfall. I don’t think magic did this recently. And even then, no wounds on his neck. I think you’re right. He’s been dead way longer than an hour.”
“Then he’s not the wolf tearing flesh from demons,” Luc said.
“Not unless he enjoyed cutting himself,” Curtis said.
Luc pulled his phone from inside his jacket and took a photo of the dead man’s face. He tapped on his screen, composing a message to David, then sent the photo to him.
The response came less than a minute later. His phone rang.
“Hello, David,” Luc said.
“You’re saying you just now found that body in the woods?”
“Yes, and from all appearances, he’s been dead long enough to freeze solid and be buried under snow. He has the same cuts as the demons. Strips of his skin have been removed, though he has no bite marks. I don’t think he was taken down by a werewolf.”
“No, I don’t think he was.” David’s voice was heavy with exhaustion.
“You know who this is, don’t you?” Luc said.
“Oh, I sure do.”
Luc regarded Curtis for a moment. “You don’t sound pleased.”
“Because I’m not. That body you found? It’s Duane Faris.”
“Duane Faris,” Luc repeated, for Curtis’s sake.
Curtis gaped at him.
“Thank you, David,” Luc said.
“Tell me exactly where you are and then get out of there. I want you two gone before I show up with Jonathan Mitchell’s men again.”
Luc explained how far they’d come and where they’d parked. Then he hung up.
“We need to go,” Luc said.
“Duane Faris,” Curtis said, looking back at the frozen body one more time before they started walking.
Luc forced a deep breath into his lungs. “It’s…unexpected.”
“Unexpected doesn’t cover it,” Curtis said. “This screws everything up. Depending on how long Faris has been dead, we’ve been wrong from the start…”
“Yes.” Luc agreed. “If Faris has indeed been dead since this began, who was the werewolf breaking into Wheeler’s?”
Curtis blew out a breath. “Whoever it was, they used magic, remember?” He shook his head. “And so did the one that attacked Anders. And the blood from the wolf led me here…” He shook his head. “I’m barely thinking straight. I’m sorry. I need to sleep.”
“I’ll take you home,” Luc said.
They made their way back to the car in silence, Luc’s mind retracing all their steps and reconsidering their actions. Leaving Faris’s body in the snow had given Curtis a moment’s pause, but even Curtis’s gentler heart knew David was right. Malcolm Stirling had asked for their help, but it was better not to get too tangled with him and his kind. And if the other coven head, Jonathan Mitchell, was making David distrustful, they would follow his lead.
Luc drove. He pulled out onto the road and tapped one finger against the steering wheel. Werewolves. Demons. Bindings. Illusions, perhaps. Necromancy, most certainly.
Magic. It kept coming back to magic.
He remembered the list of werewolf names and one name in particular.
“Lapin,” Luc said. “What do you know of druids?”
When Curtis didn’t answer, Luc glanced over.
Curtis was fast asleep.
Twelve
Anders wasn’t a morning person. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t really a late-morning person, either, but given the choice of the two, he’d go for “crack of ten” before “crack of dawn” any day. On weekends, noon wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility. He shifted in his bed, eyes still closed. His chest felt sore.
Oh. Right. Fucking werewolf.
That woke him up.
He groaned and raised his hands to rub his eyes. The long gash across his chest had mostly healed, but the skin felt tight and itched where it was not quite completely recovered.
“Morning,” a sleepy voice said from right beside him.
Anders turned his head, opening his eyes. The curtains had been drawn, thank fuck, so the bright light of the winter morning wasn’t streaming in, but enough light shone in to see Curtis.
“Who’s this sleeping in my bed?” Anders said.
Curtis rolled onto his side, facing him. “I think Luc might have carried me here. How are you?” He lifted the blanket enough to look at Anders’s chest.
Anders looked down. The lines from the claws of the werewolf were still an angry red, but the flesh had knitted.
Curtis reached out and traced a finger across the lines.
Anders took his hand.
“Sorry,” Curtis said. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” Anders said. “But you missed.” He pushed Curtis’s hand lower, across his stomach, and down to his very hard dick, straining at the boxers he wore.
“Ah,” Curtis said. “I take it you’re feeling better.”
“It takes effort to heal,” Anders said. His chest ached dully, a gnawing emptiness that would only be filled by drawing on lust in whatever way he could. In other words? He was horny as fuck and had the mother of all morning wood.
“Do you need a hand?” Curtis said, squeezing just enough to make Anders rumble low in his chest.
“Oh, I could definitely use a hand. Or a mouth. Or…”
Curtis kissed him, and Anders cupped the back of his head and pulled him closer. Curtis shivered at the touch, and Anders let his hand slide down the back of Curtis’s neck, down his smooth back, and then dip
ping beneath the seam of his briefs. He slid his tongue into Curtis’s mouth, possessive and needy, and felt the heat rising to his skin wherever they touched.
Curtis pulled back.
“What’s wrong?” Anders said.
“Neither of us brushed our teeth last night, and as sexy as you are, you taste awful. Toothbrush break?”
Anders laughed. “How about we take this to the shower?” He still felt like he had werewolf smeared on him, despite how well Tyson had wiped him down.
“You want to get clean while we get dirty, eh?” Curtis said.
“Something like that.”
Curtis slid out of the bed, and Anders gave himself a few seconds to enjoy watching Curtis’s lean body. He had runner’s legs, roped with muscle, and although he wasn’t tall, Curtis’s shoulders had a breadth that gave him enough physical presence not to seem small. And given the way Curtis’s briefs were strained by his erection, it seemed like this was going to be a very good morning after all.
Curtis had turned on the shower by the time Anders got to the bathroom, and they brushed their teeth quickly, almost racing.
*
With hot water and soap and each other’s bodies to enjoy, Anders decided there was nothing better than an eager and talented man with an eager and talented mouth. He leaned against the tiled wall of the shower, Curtis on his knees in front of him, and closed his eyes while the two very different heats made him growl and swear.
“Get up here,” he said.
Curtis let Anders’s cock free from his mouth and grinned up at him. “What if I don’t want to?” The cocky little smile suited Anders, as did the sight of his dick in Curtis’s slender fingers.
“I want to make you beg,” Anders said. “Or sing. Something louder than that pretty little noise you make when you come.”
Curtis rose, the water sluicing down his thighs and darkening the hair there.
“I can’t,” Curtis said. He shrugged. “You’ll have to settle.”
Anders wrapped both arms around Curtis, squeezing him. Their cocks rubbed together, hard and wet.
“I don’t settle,” Anders said. He gripped Curtis’s ass with both hands, squeezing him again.
Curtis bit his lip, both hands pressed against Anders’s chest. “Anders,” he said.
Something in his tone as well as the faintest shimmer of a kind of sadness passing between them caught Anders’s attention. “What’s wrong?”
Curtis shook his head.
“Hey.” Anders let go of Curtis’s ass and cupped his chin, tilting his face up. “Tell me.”
“I have to think about every word I say, otherwise the magic…” Curtis bit his lip and closed his eyes when Anders cupped their cocks and stroked them together with his rough hand.
“The magic?” Anders said.
“When I’m…emotional? The magic can get out. Easily. That’s why I’m…” He blushed, and Anders knew it had nothing to do with the hot water or the stroking of their cocks. “It’s why I’m quiet.”
Anders turned him around, taking Curtis’s wrists and placing his hands against the tiled wall. He pressed up behind him, and Curtis rubbed against him. When Anders turned off the shower and grabbed the condom from where they’d tossed it into the soap dish, Curtis turned his head to watch Anders pull it on.
“Graisses,” Curtis said, and slick warm lube filled Anders’s palm.
“That’s a new trick.”
“Not in the mood to wait.”
Despite Curtis’s words, Anders took pleasure in fingering him with a slow, even pressure that had Curtis making the little swallowed noise the demon loved so much. He lined himself up, slicked the rest of the magicked liquid along his cock, and pressed into Curtis with the intention of getting them both off, fast.
Curtis’s tiny noises of pleasure with every twist of Anders’s hips were music to his ears, and he wrapped his arms around him, bucking into him. He slid his hand up Curtis’s chest, across his throat, and then up and across his mouth.
“Beg me,” Anders said.
The noise of surprise Curtis made was a garble through Anders’s fingers, and the way Curtis’s body shivered made it clear he understood Anders’s intention. He covered Curtis’s mouth with his fingers and fucked him hard.
“That’s right,” Anders said, lips close to Curtis’s ear. “Let go. Let go for me.”
It didn’t take much longer.
Curtis’s whole body tightened, his back arching as he came.
Even muffled by Anders’s hand, whatever Curtis yelled sent a flash of something through the small space. Snaps of static sparked along the top of the shower door, and a wave of heat pulsed between them. Anders drew a single, teasing swallow of Curtis’s soul. He wanted more, was desperate for more, but more might leave Curtis affected too much, so he had to stop and stop now—and then Curtis sagged against the tiled wall, panting heavily.
Anders uncovered Curtis’s mouth and pulled away, careful not to hurt him as he slid his dick free. That had been rougher than they usually played. He took a second to deal with the condom and turned back to find Curtis just staring at him, a very relaxed grin on his face.
“Okay,” Curtis said. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” Anders said. He wrapped both arms around Curtis and squeezed. “You make me want you all the fucking time, you know that?”
Curtis laughed. “Aw. Sweet talker.” But he wrapped his own arms around Anders’s waist. “I think we need another shower.”
“We do,” Anders said. He grazed one of Curtis’s nipples with his thumb.
“Are you okay?” Curtis said. “Did you get enough?”
It took Anders a moment to realize what Curtis was asking. The ache in his chest was still there, of course. That sliver of Curtis’s soul hadn’t replaced what he’d used fighting the werewolf and healing from the wounds, but it felt better. Too much better, truth be told. Even a sliver from Curtis seemed to do so much more than what he got from others. He knew wizards were like that. As if they had extra. But Curtis seemed to have extra and then some since they formed their triad.
“It helped,” Anders said.
“If you need more…” Curtis said, hesitantly.
“No,” Anders said. “The last thing we need is you without your self-control.” Then he smiled. “Well, unless I have you tied up and gagged. I liked feeling you let go. I think it’s worth exploring, don’t you?”
Curtis blushed.
“What was that word?”
“Graisses,” Curtis said. “It’s French.”
“Good word.”
Anders reached past him and turned the shower back on. Happily, the water was still warm and got hotter in moments.
*
“We can’t see Kavan right now,” Curtis said. He was looking at his phone.
“Why not?”
They’d dressed, and Curtis had sent a text message to his wizard friends to find out more about Kavan’s survival. While they’d eaten omelets at the kitchen table, he’d also filled in Anders about their double wolf problem and finding the body of Duane Faris.
Two werewolves. Neither of them a known quantity. They were back to square one.
Now, a hot cup of coffee and tea respectively sitting between them, they were trying to work out their next step. Given how much power he’d been putting out lately, Anders knew his own next step needed to include more than just a good romp with Curtis in the shower. He wasn’t looking forward to telling Curtis, though.
Instead, he listened as Curtis filled him in.
“Mackenzie said the Mitchells had him moved to Riverside, but right now a tonne of the Mitchell people are still with him.” Curtis put his phone down. “I guess they were the ones that showed up last night and helped David. Hey, maybe I should ask David if we can get to see him?”
Anders bristled. He didn’t like the way David looked at Curtis or how nice he treated him. He had the feeling David wanted something from Curtis. In fact, he was sure of it. He didn’t know what
the fuck it was, and he didn’t intend to let David get it, regardless. But he knew it pissed off Curtis when he pointed it out, so he swallowed the urge to say something about David and went with, “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”
Curtis blinked at him. Then he picked his phone back up and tapped away on the screen. “Maybe I’ll try Rebekah, too. She’s a Mitchell.” He paused midway through whatever he was typing. “Jonathan Mitchell didn’t seem to like us much, though, did he?”
“I don’t think any of them do. He was just bad at faking it.”
“Fair enough.” Curtis turned his attention back to his phone.
They sat together quietly for a few moments.
Curtis’s phone pinged, and he picked it back up.
“It’s Mackenzie. The coven heads are all meeting at six tonight. She said that’s Rebekah’s best guess for when Kavan might be alone.” He blew out a breath. “At least Luc can come with us then.”
Anders grunted. “Gives me time, too.” He didn’t have to spell it out. Curtis was a smart guy.
“Of course. You probably need a recharge, eh? I guess I can try to learn more about werewolves. Especially werewolves who can apparently shape-shift or cast illusions or whatever let our werewolf look like Louis Flint.” He pushed away from the table and rose, picking up their plates and cutlery.
Anders grabbed their cups, following him to the sink.
“Hey,” he said.
Curtis paused, turning.
Anders leaned down and kissed him.
Curtis blushed. “What was that for?”
If I could, it would be you, Anders thought, but what he said was, “Breakfast. You’re a good kitchen boy.” Then he wagged his eyebrows. “But I’ll come up with something else for dinner.”
Curtis laughed. “You’re a pig.”
“Oink. Meet back here at five?” Anders said.
“Sounds good.”
Anders left him to load the dishwasher, pulling out his own phone as he started for his room. Time to hunt up some willing meat. Maybe the adventurous couple who ran the art studio on Bank Street would be willing for an afternoon hook-up. A threesome would juice the battery faster.
Triad Soul Page 15
