Setting my past memories aside, I turned back to the present.
“So when is my partner supposed to arrive?” I asked, rifling through my desk in search of my Pack directory. It was highly illegal to have a list of Pack members and their roles, at least, it went against Pack law but then I didn’t really care. In my line of work, you needed an advantage and I certainly needed to know what the heck I would be getting myself into.
“No idea. But, Ari, I’ve got a bad feeling about this one. You wanted the kid to get justice and he’ll get it. You know how shifters can be, they won’t stop until they find the culprit so why don’t you let them handle this, okay?”
There was no way I was going to stand on the sidelines while the Pack took over. Not happening. This was my case. I’d already poured blood and sweat into it and was not stepping aside. I allowed my displeasure to wash over my face.
“Ari don’t give me that look. You know I’m only looking out for you. What would happen if the Pack found out about you, about what you can do?” he said.
When I first began working with Sanborn Place, Mike had let me do my own thing, solve my own problems, take on the jobs I wanted to tackle. But recently his protective streak had begun to chafe.
“Mike you and I both know that isn’t going to happen. I’ll be careful. Why don’t you just tell me what fur ball they’re going to saddle me with?” I smiled when I found the directory buried in my desk’s bottom drawer.
“Finally,” I said pulling the folder out and leaning over it as I scanned the pages within for likely candidates. It was doubtful the Pack would send an Alpha. There were six clans within the Pacific Northwest Pack I knew of. Clan Wolf, Clan Cat, Clan Feloidea which included hyenas, mongooses, and civets, Clan Muridea housed the rodent members of the pack, Clan Canidae was the fox, coyote, and jackals, and Clan Big. The last had an unusual name but I supposed all of its members were just, well, big. It encompassed the bears a handful of others like water buffalos and rhinoceros though from what research I’d been able to conclude, water buffalos, and rhinoceros were rare. It was rare to have any form of shifter that wasn’t known for being a predator and carnivore.
Mike noisily cleared his throat, “Uh hey, Ari…”
“God I hope whoever it is he isn’t a complete moron. If I’m going to be stuck with a Pack partner, the least they can do is send me someone competent,” I said.
Mike noisily cleared his throat again.
“What?” I looked up from my desk.
I was greeted by a tall man standing just inside the office, casually leaning against the doorframe. He had tousled brown hair and steely grey-colored eyes. High cheekbones and a strong jaw formed his masculine face and a hint of stubble dusted his jawline, not enough to appear unkempt but just enough to give a roguish impression. Dressed in black jeans, a black tee, and a black leather jacket, he oozed tall, dark and handsome with deadly intent. I shoved my directory into the top drawer of my desk. Crap.
“That would be this fur ball right here,” he said, an arrogant grin lifting the corner of his mouth.
I let my head fall to the surface of my desk, then for good measure, I none too gently knocked my forehead on its smooth surface, one, two, three times. Dammit I couldn’t believe I’d just called him a freaking fur ball! My cheeks grew warm with embarrassment and I did my best to hide it.
“You all done with the show?” he asked as I lifted my head from the desk. I glared at him for good measure and then allowed my head to connect with the desk once more before sitting up, rubbing the slight sting away.
“Yeah, I’m done.” Well, at least this wouldn’t be as bad as I’d thought. James was the only shifter I knew personally and was one of the few individuals I considered a friend. I met James about six months ago at a shifter bar downtown, though at the time I didn’t actually know it was a shifter bar. Things got a bit out of hand when a group of coyotes started harassing me but…well, that story was for another day.
“So, you’re my partner?”
James nodded. “Yeah, I’m your partner.” He sauntered further into the room. The word coming to mind, swagger. He had some serious swag. If he weren’t the closest thing I had to a best friend I’d be drooling like the rest of society when he walked into a room.
“Ready to do something reckless?”
I smiled, he knew me all too well.
“Absolutely.”
Grabbing my messenger bag I followed James out of the office, aware of Mike’s disapproving gaze on my every step.
James and I piled into his 1970 Boss 302 Mustang and made our way out of the small parking garage attached to Sanborn Place. The car roared to life as we pulled onto the street and I relished the feel of the sleek leather under my hands. James’ car was a work of art. Every man’s wet dream come true, and woman’s if I was being honest. It was his pride and joy. A relic passed down from his father that he had meticulously rebuilt and customized. The Mustang sported a custom black on black paint job with black rims, blacked-out tail lights, and black leather interior. It had badass written all over it.
It fit him perfectly and was a showstopper, sure to attract attention. I had a feeling James wanted to be seen and remembered.
“So, when are you going to let me take her for a spin?”
He laughed. “Never Ari, never.”
I pouted.
“You’re no fun,” I told him.
“We’ve spent enough time together and I’ve seen how you drive. This car is my baby, I’d like her to stay in one piece.”
“I’m a perfectly safe driver. All I’m asking for is a few runs around the block. She’d come back to you safe and sound.”
James shook his head. “There is nothing you could say to convince me to let you have a turn at the wheel.”
“This isn’t over.”
“It never is,” he said with a smile.
As we made our way down the street I fiddled with the knobs on the stereo before asking for information.
“So who’s the father?”
“His name is Eric Delaney, he’s a wolf out on the South Hill.” The South Hill was on the nicer side of Spokane, Washington. Houses were nestled fairly close but the views of the city were stunning and the cramped houses were a fair tradeoff for a lower crime rate and cleaner neighborhoods.
“So I take it then that the kid took his mom’s last name since they don’t match? What’s up with the MIA dad all of a sudden wanting some justice? Not that I’m complaining.”
James shrugged. “Not really sure. He called the Pack yesterday morning and asked for us to look into the matter. He’d been off the grid for a few years and said he wasn’t satisfied with the efforts that had been taken for his son. He seemed pretty worked up over it on the phone.”
“And you guys agreed, just like that?”
James gave me a sideways look, his piercing gaze asking me if I was stupid.
“What?” I asked.
“Aria you know how things work. We’re a Pack, someone needs help, we help. Someone wants answers, we find them. It’s what we do.”
I rolled my eyes. “You just said he’d been off the grid. How does that even work?”
“He requested leave and Declan gave it to him.”
“How much time?”
“I don’t know, at least three years, obviously. The Alpha didn’t mention it and I didn’t ask.”
“And what about your direct Alpha with the wolves? Delaney is one of yours. Did the wolf Alpha have anything to add?”
“You ask an awful lot of questions.” James grumbled.
“That is part of the job.”
“Well no, he didn’t. I got my orders from Declan and headed out to meet with you. My Alpha will have been notified by now and if he has any information he thinks useful, I’m sure I’ll receive a call.”
I drummed my finger
s along the window’s edge. I knew more about the inner workings of the Pack than most outsiders but I still didn’t fully comprehend every detail. I knew that each clan had its own direct Alpha but that “The” Alpha of all of the Pacific Northwest Packs was Declan Valkenaar who ruled each clan with an iron fist.
It didn’t make sense in my mind that the Pack would extend aid to a member that had turned his back on them and his son though.
“Why is the Pack helping him?”
I got the same sideways look.
“I’m not part of the Pack. I don’t know how you work.”
He heaved an exasperated sigh. “You know enough.”
Fine, yeah whatever, I knew enough.
“Do you know the situation between him and the mom?”
“Not much, only that they separated over three years ago and Eric hadn’t seen Daniel since.”
I mulled that over in my mind as we made our way up Freya Street. It just didn’t make sense. I wasn’t judging the guy but from the way I saw it, he walked out on his kid’s life over three years ago and was trying to come back too late in the game. Daniel was gone and he wasn’t coming back. I wanted to bring down the bastard who’d killed him, I really did. But from Delaney’s perspective, I just didn’t get the why. Eyeing James suspiciously I bit my cheek to hold back my retort. There was something he wasn’t telling me.
Pulling up to a single-story home, James killed the engine and we both stepped out of the car. The house was a wreck. It matched the same modern style of the rest of the neighborhood houses but where the surrounding homes were pristine with manicured lawns, the Delaney residence was run down with peeling paint, overgrown shrubbery, and random debris piled on the side of the house.
Making sure my blades were visible within my leather jacket, I left my bag behind and made my way up the short pathway leading from the street to the front door with James stalking behind me. He was giving the impression that he was the muscle in this situation. Which basically, he was. James and I had worked on a few cases together in the past. Nothing concerning Pack business but every now and again he’d pop in and freelance a gig to kill some time. He didn’t need the money, what with the gym and his work with the Pack but he always happened to jump aboard cases involving vamps. I was pretty sure he did it for information, an in of sorts, since things were so hostile between the Pack and the Coven and my cases typically provided insider information, but I didn’t mind, though I’m sure if the Coven knew about it, they would certainly mind. But hey, what they didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt them.
We had a routine already and he typically hung back and let me do the talking. Most were intimidated enough by his presence. He didn’t have to work all that hard at it.
Climbing the few steps to the door I rapped three times and waited for a response.
No one answered. I knocked three more times and again waited, doing my best not to fidget. Patience was not a virtue of mine.
After several long moments there was the distinct sound of a lock being retracted and the door opened just a crack.
“What do you want?” the man behind the door asked. I could make out his olive skin tone and fall of chestnut hair, just like Daniel’s.
“I’m Aria Naveed, a mercenary with Sanborn Place. I’d like to speak with you about your son’s death.”
“He didn’t just die,” he growled. “He was murdered.”
“I know,” I said in what I hoped was a calm and soothing voice. “I’d like a few moments of your time to interview you and see if you might be able to present any leads. I’m trying to bring down your son’s killer and I need your help to do that.”
For some reason, Eric Delaney looked a bit crazed. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was a mess. I faintly wondered if maybe he was having trouble sleeping. Then mentally slapped myself as soon as the thought crossed my mind. Of course he was having trouble sleeping, his kid was just murdered.
He peered over my shoulder and eyed James up and down before his eyes strayed to the car parked just a few yards away. I watched as his nostrils flared, inhaling our scent, and saw the moment he realized James was a shifter flash across his face, all color draining from his expression as he put two and two together. Only one shifter drove a car like James’. Taking a step back, Delaney opened the door wider and motioned for us to come in.
I moved to take a step into the house but before I could pass the threshold, James slid in past me, blocking my way. He stood still as stone for a tense moment before making his way further into the house. Stupid shifter habits, always thinking women needed to be protected. James knew better than most, I was capable of looking out for myself.
Rolling my eyes I moved to follow and was met with the overwhelming stench of booze and sweat. I wrinkled my nose and did my best to breathe through my mouth as Eric led us through the entryway and into the living area. Taking a seat on one of the sofas in the room, James sat beside me while our host sat across from us, nervously playing with his hands. The smell in the room was all encompassing. If he truly was sober before calling the Pack, how the hell had things gotten so bad, this fast? I could only image how it was affecting James with his enhanced shifter senses. I had to repeatedly blink my eyes just to keep them from watering, but I was fighting a losing battle.
Composing myself as best as I could, I tried to size up Eric Delaney. He was small for a man, around my height of five-foot-seven and was much thinner than I would have expected for a shifter. Most shifters were built with corded muscles and an athletic body. Eric was so thin he appeared sickly, almost malnourished. I surveyed the room and spotted several empty bottles strewn across the carpet and several shards of broken glass, likely remnants from previous bottles as well. There was a questionable pile in the carpet near the window and the flies buzzing around it led me to believe it was vomit.
Gross.
I returned my gaze to Eric and took a breath, instantly regretting it as the smell of vomit hit my nostrils. God what had he been doing, drinking himself into a coma?
“Mr. Delaney,” I began, “when was the last time you saw your son?”
He didn’t seem to hear me because his gaze kept flitting back and forth from James to me and then to the floor, all the while making restless movements with his hands and feet.
“Mr. Delaney?”
Still nothing. I looked at James, a question mark on my face.
He sighed. “Eric, I’m not here to hurt you. Answer her questions.”
I raised a brow, but James didn’t bother answering my unspoken question. Why would Eric think James was here to hurt him? Did they have past issues or something?
Regardless of the why, Eric seemed to immediately calm down and was able to sit partially still though he continued to wring his hands. “Umm…three years ago or so,” he finally answered.
“And why is that?” I said. He looked even more uncomfortable than he had a few moments ago. I watched as a deep flush rose up his neck.
“Umm…because…I was a drunk,” he whispered. Well it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out.
“Still am,” he admitted a second after the first admission.
I sighed. This wasn’t going to be as productive of a meeting as I had hoped.
James and I spent close to an hour at Delaney’s house grilling him for any information he may have held relevant to Daniel’s death. In the end, we still came away with nothing. Eric Delaney was a sad man who walked away from his son because he’d thought in some twisted way that he was doing the right thing.
I found out he’d requested leave from the Pack because he was ashamed. The Pack wasn’t aware of his drinking habits but assumed he’d requested the time to help mend his broken heart after his divorce. They’d respected his privacy and while he was on leave, he’d managed to check in every three months with his Alpha, continuing to buy himself time and avoid any suspicion
.
After the divorce his drinking took a turn for the worse and when he’d finally gotten himself clean and sober, he had approached Jessica, Daniel’s mother, about seeing his son but when he called, her curt reply had been that Daniel was missing. Days later, she called him, notifying him of Daniel’s death. As a result, Eric took yet another downward spiral back into a drunken stupor until he sobered up just enough to phone his Alpha and ask for help.
He had no information. No idea why his son may have been targeted or who might be responsible. We all knew it was a vampire based on the twin puncture marks left on the body and the significant blood loss but that remained the only piece of relevant information we had. The wrench in the entire thing was that the body had also been mutilated leading me to believe it was a rogue who had attacked the boy. If that were the case, our culprit would be much harder to track down than a Coven Vampire. A rogue’s bloodlust led them to be messier eaters. They’d lost every shred of humanity, giving in to the call for blood and feeding relentlessly, never feeling any sense of fullness. The thought of a rogue being our culprit didn’t add up either though because if we had a rogue in the area, our body count would be much higher.
As we walked out of Delaney’s house, James hung back for a few moments and spoke to Eric in private before following me outside to the car. Climbing into the Mustang we both mulled over what Delaney had told us in silence. I kept going back to the why. Why Daniel? Why him of all the kids out there? The vampire who attacked him had to have known he was a shifter. Their senses were enhanced enough to catch even a hint of shifter genes in a person, so why follow through?
From what I’d been told, vampires didn’t like the way a shifter’s blood tasted. It didn’t provide the same effect human blood did and even rogues tended to know the difference. There had to be more to it.
“What did you say to Delaney?” I asked as we headed back into downtown Spokane.
Cursed by Fire (Blood & Magic Book 1) Page 2
