“We’re the parents and we decided that this case was over,” Mr. Blackmore bit out, his patience visibly running out. “Your services are no longer needed.”
James grinned. It was a feral smile full of teeth. The kind of smile most would consider friendly but I knew better. This was the smile James showed people before he smashed their heads into pool tables and bruised every inch of their bodies. I’d seen it a few times over the past few months and it never ended well for the other guy.
“Mr. Blackmore, allow me to introduce myself. My name is James Shields.”
I could tell that Patrick Blackmore still had no idea who he was but knew Jessica did. As soon as James said his name, her skin grew even paler, taking on an almost gray quality. The pulse point in her throat drummed rapidly beneath her skin, her hands clenching and unclenching in an anxious gesture. One she was likely unaware of. She’d been with Eric Delaney long enough to likely have learned the who’s who within the Pack.
“I don’t care who you are—” Patrick said before his wife interrupted him.
“Patrick, please,” she placed a hand on his folded forearm. He looked down at her in irritation and I could tell he was about to brush her off so I decided to jump in before he jammed his foot into his mouth further than he already had.
“Mr. Blackmore, I believe that your wife is trying to warn you, because unlike you, she realizes the significance of Mr. Shields’ presence. James here is a member of the Pacific Northwest Pack. He is here on official Pack business and as I am sure you are well aware, Daniel Blackmore was a shifter, a tidbit of information the two of you failed to provide early on, which means the Pack has every right to investigate his murder and you sir, would do best to cooperate. I assure you that it’s in your best interest.”
I hadn’t known that Mrs. Blackmore could go any paler, but she did. Her skin had taken on an ashen quality and I made a mental note to watch her for any further reactions. There was something very wrong about these two.
Patrick seemed to digest my words and I could tell he was fuming but he made the smart choice and opened the door wider, letting us in. Looking over my shoulder I gave James a feral grin of my own. See, I could play nice. Sort of.
I at least got points for getting them to let us in without having to pull out one of my daggers. James once again sidestepped around me and took the lead. I was slowly growing used to his irrational form of chivalry so I followed him in without comment. Mr. and Mrs. Blackmore led us into a room directly to the right of the entryway. It was a small sitting room with thick carpets and heavy draperies. Everything in the room was refined and of quality material. My hands itched around all of the finery and I had to fight myself from running my hands over the arm of the sofa I was seated in, luxuriating in its soft texture. While another irrational part of me fought not to light the damn thing on fire. Funny how conflicted I felt over fabric.
Once everyone was seated, we all stared at one another in silence. I honestly had no idea where to begin. These weren’t the people I was expecting to speak with. When I’d spoken with Mrs. Blackmore before, she had been a distraught mother searching for her only son. She had tear tracks down her face and bruises beneath her eyes hinting at a lack of sleep, but now, now she looked better than ever. I couldn’t wrap my head around the sudden change in her appearance.
I’d never met with Mr. Blackmore, so in his case, I hadn’t known what to expect. But a man who easily had ten years on his wife with greasy hair and a thick mid-section was not what I would have pictured for Jessica’s husband. She was beautiful in a classic way. After meeting the two together though, I figured it was safe to assume that she had married for money. Times were rough. The Awakening had completely collapsed the economy so wealth and even comfort were hard to come by for most. Jessica seemed the type that wanted to be taken care of.
After several moments in silence James finally spoke.
“Did either of you have anything to do with your son’s death?”
I raised my brows in surprise. I was thinking along the same track but hadn’t anticipated him actually voicing the question. Nonetheless, I eyed both parties for any hint of a response.
“Of course not!” Patrick said. His voice rose in outrage.
“No, I would never,” Jessica said in a more subdued tone.
James inhaled a deep breath through his nose, and tilted his head to the side. He appeared lost in thought for a moment. Jessica twisted her hands nervously in her lap. Patrick’s face was red with rage. He was on the verge of exploding and holding onto his temper only by the thinnest of threads. I honestly didn’t care though. If either of these two had anything to do with Daniel’s death, I would make them suffer.
“You have no right to come into my home and accuse either of us of any foul play. We did nothing wrong,” Patrick said. He turned his attention to his wife and rested a hand on her shoulder. For a moment I thought he was comforting her but her eyes flickered with a hint of uncertainty before tears began flowing freely down her face. The reaction was delayed, she was faking it. But why?
“Now you’ve made my wife upset. We’d like you to leave,” Blackmore bit out.
James stared at Mrs. Blackmore in silence, his gaze assessing. Every few seconds her gaze would flicker to his before she promptly looked away, her tears increasing. She was really putting on quite the show.
I pulled one of my daggers out and began using it to clean my fingernails. Mr. Blackmore eyed my blade with equal parts apprehension and outrage. He wasn’t used to being threatened and he certainly was not used to losing control over a situation. Not that I was openly threatening anyone. At least, not yet.
“Mr. Blackmore, Mrs. Blackmore,” I said, addressing them both. Jessica sniffled a few more times before wiping her face and pulling herself together. I had to give it to her, she was almost convincing. Almost.
“I’d like you to be aware of our investigation and know that we will bring the individual or individuals responsible to justice.” I made sure to make eye contact with each of them, allowing the meaning of my statement to sink in. If either of them had played any part in their son’s death, I’d make them burn for it. They were supposed to be loving parents. Parents who were grieving over the death of their only child.
Abruptly James stood up. “Mr. and Mrs. Blackmore, thank you for your time. We’ll be leaving now.”
I stared at him, a question evident in my gaze but the slight shake of his head kept me from voicing the question out loud. Instead I stood up as well, nodded at the two surprised individuals seated across from us, and followed James out the front door, not bothering to say anything else.
Once outside James and I headed straight to the car. With my seatbelt on and the engine started, I turned to James for an explanation.
“They were lying?” I asked him as he put the car into drive.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? I thought shifters could scent a lie?”
“We can,” he said, frustration evident in his tone. “But something is off about those two. Especially the mother. My wolf is fighting to get out, he’s angry and senses a wrongness in them. But I’m not sure what it is. I’m having a difficult time keeping him in.” James heaved a sigh as we wove our way onto the freeway.
“They know something. Their lie wasn’t outright, it felt more like a lie of omission.”
“You can scent a lie of omission?”
James shook his head. “It’s more of a feeling. I’m going to put a tail on them and see what that exposes. When they said they weren’t involved in Daniel’s death, that was truth, I think. But when Blackmore said they’d done nothing wrong, that was a lie.”
Parents loved their kids, right? I didn’t have any children so I had no idea what that was like, but I know my parents loved me and I’d thought Jessica loved her son, but that woman back there, she wasn’t
the mother I’d initially met.
“Do you usually have problems containing your wolf?”
James gave me a sidelong look that said he didn’t like my question. I shrugged my shoulders and waited for him to answer anyway.
“No. I do not have issues containing my wolf, ever,” he ground out.
“Well you’re obviously having issues today. I think you should get a handle on that before you go all furry on me.” I gave him a sweet, and what I hoped was an innocent smile.
He cringed, so much for sweet and innocent. Giving it some thought I lowered the visor mirror and smiled at my reflection.
“What are you doing?”
“Admiring myself.” I smiled and then cringed at myself. It looked forced and a bit crazed. I tried again, this time pulling the corners of my mouth down just a bit.
“Are you smiling at yourself?”
I shut the mirror and put the visor back up before glaring at him. “Yes, I’m smiling at myself. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Seriously, Ari?” he said in a condescending tone.
“I just want to make sure I look normal when I smile, ‘kay? Can we move on now?”
James started laughing, a deep rumble in his chest and I had to grit my teeth and cross my arms to keep from smacking him upside the head.
Idiot.
James and I went to Sanborn Place after grabbing coffee at the Rocket Bakery down the street. With a steaming cup of deliciousness in my hands, I rested my feet on the edge of my desk and inhaled the earthy aroma, allowing the warm steam to fill my senses. I was a sucker for a good cup of coffee and after a sleepless night and a vigorous workout, I could use its rich warmth.
Taking a tentative sip, I let the thick, warm liquid make its way down my throat before returning for a steaming gulp. James sat across from my desk in the guest chair with his own cup of coffee in hand. I watched through half-closed lids as he took several deep gulps, devouring the beverage in a matter of seconds. I shook my head, he didn’t even savor the taste. What a waste.
“Do you always chug your coffee?” I asked.
“How else am I supposed to get the stuff down?”
I stared at him in shock, my eyes as wide as saucers. “What do you mean, ‘how else are you supposed to get it down?’ Do you not like it?”
James made a face of disgust. “Nope, can barely stand the stuff.”
“Then why do you drink it?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Dunno, for the caffeine kick I guess.”
“You don’t get a caffeine kick, the Lyc-V in your system burns through it too quickly to really get any sort of result.”
“If I drink enough of it, I suppose I can get a caffeine buzz for a minute or two. But I’d need to drink a lot.” James’ gaze was far away for a moment. “Maybe 20 espresso shots, maybe more.” He shrugged.
“O-kay, so again, why do you drink it?”
James shrugged again. I was getting nowhere.
“Whatever,” I mumbled under my breath as I savored the remainder of my cup of joe. The shadow of a man crossed the front office window catching my attention. I leaned forward as James got up to look around the office but the shadow didn’t cross again. A faint buzz left just as quickly as it had come. I shook the feeling and turned back to James’ study of my office.
It wasn’t anything overly exciting, just a decent sized room sectioned off into four office spaces, a small kitchen, and three side rooms. One was used to catch some sleep, another housed weapons, and the third was a small bathroom. The main office space housed mine and Mike’s desks along with two others pushed off into a corner for the non-regulars. It wasn’t much but it worked for us.
James walked slowly around the perimeter of the room, examining the various article clippings and pictures framed there. Mike was a tad sentimental and liked to document anything that he considered to be a memorable event. Most of the images were from cases solved. Missing people who were found, lives that were saved in the nick of time. Those faded clippings were our Hall of Fame. The reason we showed up each morning. Sure we were mercs but we had hearts. I just wished Daniel Blackmore’s image could have made its way onto that wall.
“So what do you suggest we do next?” James asked from across the room.
I raised an eyebrow at his question, surprised he was letting me take the lead.
“I think we should arrange a meeting with the Coven. We know the cause of death and know that a vampire is the culprit. I think if the Coven knows the Pack is involved now, they may be more willing to corporate.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Well it would be in their best interest to avoid a war wouldn’t it? And the death of a shifter child could easily ignite a war. I think if given all of the proper facts, Rebecka will realize it’s better to just hand over the perpetrator than to have us dig further. Politics and all that nonsense. From what I’ve gathered, she isn’t a fool. Besides, if the culprit is a rogue, we’d be doing her a favor. Vampires don’t have the same loyalties that shifters do, they wouldn’t bat an eyelash over leaving one of their own out to dry if it benefitted them as a whole.”
“I think you’re wrong, Ari,” he said, his tone now grim.
Where was he going with this? “And why is that?”
I thought over my earlier statement and it still sounded solid in my mind. Vampires were loyal but not the way shifters were. In the end, vampires did what was best for them. If they could get further in life, or the afterlife, by severing their own hand, they would do it.
Shifters on the other hand were more like a family unit. They all looked out for one another and regardless of rank, everyone was important to the pack structure.
“The vampires want a war. They’ve slowly been growing their numbers and believe they are in a position to challenge the Pack for power over the territory as a whole. They want us out, completely.”
“The Pack has what, close to thirteen hundred shifters within the Pacific Northwest? The Coven doesn’t have a chance. Besides, don’t the Pack and the Coven have a truce of sorts?”
“We do, which is why they haven’t come and shown any outright aggression, but this, this is something that, like you said, can ignite a war. When it boils down to just numbers, we have them over the Coven nearly two to one if we pulled everyone in but I know how Rebecka’s mind works. We’ve been studying her habits and tracing back through her history for years. She wouldn’t plan an overtaking if she didn’t think she could win and that is what concerns us the most.”
James shook his head in frustration. I hadn’t realized the Pack was keeping tabs on the Coven, let alone tracing Rebecka’s history but it made sense. A truce was made for a reason and while the hope was usually to build long-lasting political relationships, reality typically deemed that they were simply enacted to keep everyone from killing each other. There was always a reason that they wanted to kill each other. Not that those reasons always made sense.
It took close to forty minutes on the phone and several transfers later but I was finally able to schedule an appointment for eleven p.m. at the Cove, the Coven’s secret hidey hole, well it wasn’t really all that secret. The Cove was an old historic building built in 1901 that boasted eclectic architecture and beautiful landscaping. From what I’d learned, Rebecka and the rest of the local vampires began occupying the mansion about five years ago, shortly after the Awakening. Where they had lived before, no one knew but they were here now and I doubted they would be moving any time soon.
Before all things paranormal came out, the Cove was used by a non-profit organization. Rooms were often rented out for events and tours were offered to the public. Now it was rare for any non-vampire to ever enter the establishment. Vampires couldn’t enter homes without being invited. Since the mansion had no permanent residents, vampires were able to come and go as they pleased but they
were a bit touchy about uninvited guests. I always assumed since they weren’t able to go in the homes of others, they didn’t want others coming into theirs.
It made sense in a twisted, jealous sort of way.
At ten fifty-five p.m. James and I pulled up to the elegant mansion nestled south of Upriver Drive. The mansion lawns were lit by small pockets of light hidden between shrubs and stones, illuminating the rich, lush grasses. Even though it was dark out, every piece of molding and every detail in the stain glass windows could be seen. It was breathtaking.
I hadn’t realized I was staring until I heard the clank of a door shutting as James exited the car. Clearing my head, I followed suit and exited the vehicle. James came around and stopped beside me as we both gazed ahead. Taking a deep breath I pushed back my shoulders and took measured steps up the stone pathway with James by my side.
The night was cold and silent, despite the beauty of the mansion before us there was an eerie quality to it that had my nerves on end. I casually brushed my hands along the handles of my daggers, hanging low on my hips in their leather sheaths. Their soft weight added an extra measure of comfort as I headed straight into unknown territory. I told myself I was walking into a lion’s den but really, this was worse.
When we reached the front door, I admired the woodwork once more before administering three solid knocks, knock, knock, knock.
James and I waited in silence as we heard the distinct sound of high heels on wood flooring grow progressively louder as our host made their way towards the front door. The door opened on silent hinges and before us stood the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She towered over me by a good five inches with a figure most women would die for. She was thin but not too thin and had curves in all of the right places. Dressed in a floor-length navy dress, she looked like a movie star, if such things still existed after the Awakening.
Cursed by Fire (Blood & Magic Book 1) Page 5
