by Meg Allison
He shook his head and smiled. She could feel so many things from him, it was difficult to know his precise response. Davu’s mind-reading ability often frightened or annoyed others, but not her. Since she was a small child, she had enjoyed their unique, private form of communication. It was convenient on so many levels—plus it had always made her feel special.
The five council members seated, business of the day was quickly introduced. None of them liked one another enough to waste time with small talk. The other men merely tolerated her presence as the lone woman on the council, while she could feel the fear and grudging respect they held toward Davu. All except Maurice, who seemed to dislike everyone he’d ever met. Odd that he’d been given a position on the governing body. Samantha would have thought compassionate men, such as Davu, were much more worthy and capable of keeping the small contingent of volatile, alpha warriors in line. Few of them responded well to pompous arrogance.
“We’ve received reports of four suspicious deaths in the past week,” Maurice began without preamble. “All of them were known criminals in the human world and were connected in some way to prostitution and drug trafficking.”
“You believe Javed Catania is responsible,” Davu guessed.
“Yes,” Maurice replied, then looked at directly at her. “I understand you’ve known of his presence in Savannah since his arrival?”
Her stomach tightened as it did when she was a little girl caught in some lie. God, she hated that feeling. “Yes, I have. He came to see me three days ago, shortly after he arrived I believe.”
“Why didn’t you inform the council?”
“I didn’t feel there was any reason to do so,” she said, swallowing back a strong desire to tell the man to go to hell. She would be diplomatic first, and if that didn’t work… “He was following up a lead on a series of recent killings in the area—murders of local prostitutes. He was wondering if they might be related to his personal quest. But after we discussed the particulars, he realized they probably weren’t.”
“And his quest is to kill the man who murdered his wife, is that correct?” Gustaf interjected. “Revenge is a very strong motive for murder.”
She looked at the normally quiet, subdued man and found a glint of fire behind the cool façade. It made her squirm a little. What other secrets could he be hiding? He had only been on the council a few short years, replacing Josiah Kildare when he disappeared. The other, newest member was Lawrence James, who had replaced the beloved Virginia three years earlier. She didn’t know any of the men very well.
She squirmed slightly, very aware of both Liam and Nathan watching intently from the sidelines. This was getting a lot deeper than she realized it might. Crap. Nathan was going to hear a hell of a lot of freaky stuff now. Things he probably wasn’t prepared to understand or believe. She should have had him wait with Liam in another room. God, what a mess. She hoped Davu knew what he was doing.
“It’s fine, Samantha,” Davu assured from across the table. She frowned. “He needs to know. Now is better. Trust me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Maurice interjected.
Davu sent him a quelling glare.
Samantha took a breath and continued. “Yes, Javed has been hunting the man, who murdered his wife. Her, along with dozens of other women over the course of the many years,” she glanced at Nathan and swallowed. “Every so often, the man resurfaces, kills and then goes back into hiding. Javed’s quest is to put a stop to the killing once and for all.”
“By killing the man, himself,” the tenacious Gustaf reiterated. “Correct?”
“By killing the monster, himself.” She shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I don’t really understand what difference it makes. Javed Catania is a Sentinel, a warrior. He’s not a social worker out to save mankind with flowers and brotherly love. Yes, killing is something he does when it’s necessary. The same can be said of all the Sentinels.”
Everyone fell quiet, but she could feel the pride radiating off Davu. He wholeheartedly approved her support of those he considered to be his men and women. His warriors. His friends. She smiled slightly, unwilling to clue the others in to their non-verbal communications.
“But why weren’t we informed of his presence?” Maurice insisted.
Samantha took a breath, fighting to remain calm. “I didn’t feel there was any reason to do so. He’d done nothing wrong. He’s violated no rules. I’ve known Javed for years, gentlemen. He looks scary as hell and has a chip on his shoulder the size of Montana, but he’s not a vicious killer unless he needs to be. I’ve found he rarely ever needs to be that kind of man. His mere presence puts the fear of God into most men.”
Lawrence James spoke up. “What did you tell Mr. Catania? After you determined this killer probably isn’t the man he’s after?”
“I told him to contact my brother, Adam, if he needed more information regarding the recent murders. I also said I would try to find out more, if I could, and would call him if I heard anything new. I ended our meeting by asking him to stay out of trouble.”
“Apparently, he wasn’t listening,” Maurice observed, his thin lips pulled into a smug little smile that made her want to hit him.
“What makes you so sure he’s the one who killed those men?” she demanded. “If they were all involved with prostitution and drugs, then the suspect list is likely a mile long. I assume you have some reasoning behind this witch hunt?”
“One of the men appears to have been clawed to death by a very large animal,” Maurice announced. “By a cat, perhaps?”
Her stomach clenched and she glanced at Nathan who sat, listening intently at Liam’s side. No, this hadn’t been such a good idea.
“No, I’m sorry,” she finally replied. “But if Javed was involved, then there was a reason. He’s not a cold-blooded killer. He’s a warrior.”
Maurice raised a brow. “There’s a difference?”
“How did the other three men die?” Davu interjected.
Maurice glanced at Lawrence, who apparently had been given the police reports. Samantha couldn’t help but wonder who had given them to the council. She’d have to ask Adam. He was supposed to be their liaison, and he would have mentioned such a thing to her, particularly if he suspected Javed was involved, somehow. Keeping their outside contacts to a minimum meant a smaller chance of the Sentinels becoming too widely known. Anonymity had been their greatest asset since time began.
“It says here…” Lawrence shuffled through several sheaths of paper, “One of the men was stabbed. One was hit by a pickup truck, and the third was shot with a small caliber weapon. A twenty-two?”
Samantha shook her head. “Javed never carries a gun. It wasn’t him.”
“Can you be so sure?” Gustaf interjected. “Guns are easily had, particularly in a large city such as ours.”
“It wasn’t him,” she insisted. “He hates guns. Always has. Even if he did, I doubt he’d use such a sissy weapon as a twenty-two. He’s a big man with a big ego. He’d likely go for something more macho with a lot of fire power. Also, he doesn’t drive a truck. Wouldn’t be caught dead in one. Says they’re too common. You should really get to know the man better before you accuse him.”
“You seem to know him very well,” Gustaf snarled as he leaned across the table. The hatred in his pale blue eyes made her cringe. “But what does it matter if there’s been one murder or four? There’s little difference to be had. Any unauthorized execution creates a security risk for our people—particularly when the executioner is half man, half animal. He’s created an uncomfortable situation that needs dealt with swiftly, before he kills again.”
“I doubt there’s any need to worry—” Samantha began.
“Worry?” Maurice shouted. “You’re damn right I’m worried. The shifter is a murdering bastard who needs to be kept on a tight leash.”
Silence.
“He’s a warrior,” Davu interjected, his tone deadly quiet. “He’s not an animal. He’s also been my frie
nd for over a hundred years, so I suggest you watch your tone and choose your words more carefully from now on.”
“He’s dangerous,” the other man insisted. “He’s completely lacking any self-control or things wouldn’t have come this far.”
“No,” Samantha added. “What’s dangerous is getting everyone worked up for no reason. You cannot go around accusing people of murder when there’s no hard evidence. His reputation is at stake.”
“Why can’t we?” Gustaf chimed in. “It’s not as if it were an abnormality. He has killed before, he will kill again.”
“As have I,” Davu interjected. All eyes swung to him. Samantha could feel his deadly seriousness…his tightly controlled anger. These men were very lucky to still be whole and conscious. “All of those who are called Sentinel have killed, gentlemen. Like it or not, that’s the way of the warrior—the way of war. And you may rest assured, we are at war.”
Maurice snorted. “With who? Humans? Demons? I haven’t seen any signs of this war you mention in almost fifty years. Except for a brief possession now and then—mostly humans and for the most part asked for—there has been little demon activity. Why continue to frighten us with your fairytales, Davu? You’re only hurting the people you claim to be protecting.”
“You ignorant bastard—” Samantha began, her blood boiling in her veins. But Davu sent a wave of peace out to her, enveloping her, reassuring. She snapped her mouth shut, the anger still simmering beneath the calm.
“Since you are all so sure of Javed’s guilt,” he began aloud, “Perhaps we should ask him directly. Shouldn’t every man be given a chance to defend himself?”
“We’ve tried to talk to him,” Lawrence announced. “We can’t find him.”
“Lucky for us, I’ve had no such problem,” Davu said with a smile.
He arose from the table amid a wave of hushed whispers, and walked to the closed door. When he opened it wide, Javed Catania stood there, dressed in black leather from head to foot, arms folded and one foot crossed lazily over the other as he leaned against the door jamb. Samantha felt fear roll through the room. She almost laughed.
“Javed, thank you for joining us,” Davu said. “Come in and have a seat. We were just talking about you.”
One corner of Javed’s mouth quirked. “Wondered why my ears were burning.”
Samantha cringed inwardly. No doubt the shifter, with his notoriously superb senses, had heard every single word. He dropped onto an empty seat and slumped down in it like a sullen teenager. Then he glanced around the table, fixing his one-eyed stare on each man in turn. They all looked away—all except Maurice who held his own.
Finally, he looked at Samantha. His grin returned and it broadened into a seductive smile. A smile that said he knew all her secrets. He winked. She looked away as a wave of heat zinged from her middle to her face and back. Damn. The man was so not her type, but he could still give her that quivery, lusty feeling for which he was famous.
She’d heard the whispers, the gossip among the women at every family and Sentinel gathering. Javed Catania had quite a reputation built for himself as murdering warrior by day, a consummate lover by night. But he never, ever stayed with one woman longer than one night.
“These gentlemen are worried about you,” Davu told him as he resumed his own seat.
“Really?” he asked, a mocking note in his tone. “I’m touched.”
Samantha cleared her throat. “Javed, we’ve been given reports of four local men killed in the last week. We were wondering if you knew anything about them?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” the shifter drawled as he rubbed his bearded chin. “There have been so many. Can you describe them for me?”
She snorted. “Drop the tough-guy crap, okay?” All the other men looked at her in surprise, except Davu. He seemed amused. She directed the full force of her gaze at Javed, who was currently acting the bad-ass and asking for a kick in the butt. Javed at least had the decency to straighten a bit.
“Here’s the deal, tough guy,” she continued. “All of them were low-life pimps—the type you prefer for punching bags, not that anyone truly minds. All they’re good for is beating up whores, anyhow.” He seemed to flinch at the last comment. Interesting. She would stow that bit of info away for later.
“However,” she continued. “One of the dead men seems to have been mauled by a large animal—a very large animal with big sharp claws. Since we’re in the middle of a city with few wildcats wandering about, we were wondering if you had something to do with his death or not?”
He shrugged. “I did fight one man. He was beating up on a girl and I stopped him. When I tried to walk away, he came at my back with a knife—otherwise, I would have left him alive. My instincts kicked in and I defended myself.”
“As an animal?” Lawrence asked in disbelief.
Javed looked at the man for a moment. “No, not entirely. However, when I’m threatened physically, my darker nature tends to take over a little.”
Samantha frowned. “In what way is ‘a little’?”
He looked down at his hands and flexed his fingers slightly. “My nails grow, so to speak. It’s pretty much a reflex. It’s a part of my survival instincts. Not much I can do to stop it even if I wanted to.”
Wonder filled her at his words. “You can change in small measures? Just your hands?”
“Yes, something like that,” he answered a bit cautiously.
“How much control—?”
“Enough,” Maurice interrupted. “I don’t give a damn what freakish tricks Catania can perform. What I care about—what we all care about—is whether or not this is a pattern.” He looked at the other man. “Will you kill again?”
“Yes,” he replied with so much as a blink. “Yes, I will. But not today, unless someone comes at my back, attacks a woman or royally pisses me off.”
The other man grunted and looked away. Javed’s emotions reached out to her then. He must have let his guard down for that moment. She looked at him in surprise. The normal anger was there, strong and fierce, but underneath it was hurt. Pain so raw and deep that it must take every mental barrier he had to hide it from the world. She never would have thought the tough-as-nails man could feel such anguish.
Tears of empathy sprang to her eyes, hot and unyielding. A few slipped away and rolled down her cheeks. When she looked up at him, he was scowling at her. Did he realize she now knew his secret?
“Javed,” Davu interjected into the silence. “Why didn’t you dispose of the body properly? So the authorities wouldn’t question the man’s death or be able to discern the claw marks on the corpse?”
“No time,” Javed replied. “I heard sirens and thought it best to get the hell out of Dodge before they found me.” He glanced at her and smiled slightly. “Wasn’t sure I could find someone to bail me out this time.”
“Did anyone see you shift?” she asked.
“No, and besides, I only used my claws, remember? There wasn’t really anything to see.” He looked around the table as he pulled himself up in the seat. “Is there anything else?”
“No, I think you’ve answered everything,” she said.
“So, what now? Slap my wrists? Take away my membership card? What?”
Davu snorted and Javed grinned at him.
“This is serious business, young man,” Maurice snapped. “You’d do well to treat it with more respect.”
Samantha almost lost it then. The shifter might look thirty-five, but he was a far sight older than the other men’s ages combined. Except for Davu, of course. She glanced at him and frowned. He never would tell her how old he was, either.
“Sorry,” the shifter said with a surprising amount of sincerity. “It won’t happen again. I’ll be leaving Savannah soon. At least, as soon as this killer is caught.”
“Good,” Davu said as he pasted a very false smile on his handsome face. “Time to adjourn until the next crisis.”
“I disagree,” Maurice added. “There’s still mu
ch to discuss.”
“No,” Davu replied. “No, there isn’t. Javed is innocent of any wrong doing. He acted purely in self-defense. He’s given his statement, and I am well satisfied with what has transpired.”
Maurice rose from the table, anger rippling from him in waves so strong it made her a little seasick.
“This isn’t over,” he insisted. “I am not satisfied. Neither is anyone else, I’m sure. Just because you’re the oldest being in existence and this man is your pet, you do not have the right to tell the council our opinion. We have laws! We have regulations!”
Davu moved around the table in the blink of an eye and stood staring down at the gray-haired man. She could feel the fear and anticipation seeping through the room. Underlying it all—venomous hatred. It made her shudder.
“That’s enough,” she demanded as she stood. Insides quaking, she kept her own fears from showing with shear strength of will. “Hold your pissing contest later, gentlemen. We’ve answered all questions to the best of our ability now. I’ll speak with Adam and find out what he knows about this death and see if he can intervene somehow with the investigation.” She glanced at Lawrence who sat clutching the police file in shaking, white hands. “In the meantime, we are not supposed to be in possession of such documents without official consent.” She held her hand out to him. “Give them to me, and I’ll make sure they’re returned without anyone being the wiser.”
Lawrence’s face went red and he held out the papers, gaze downcast.
“This isn’t over,” Gustaf warned again.
Davu looked at him and smirked. “Damn straight, Ivanovich. It’s only begun.”
“And we’re supposed to just let him walk?” Maurice bellowed. “We’re supposed to take his word for it that he had nothing to do with those other murders?”
“Yes,” Javed answered, staring at him in such a way that the other man slowly sat back into his chair. “Yes, you are.”
Samantha held her breath as she followed Javed and Davu out the door. She only prayed the three idiots still sitting had at least enough sense not to call the shifter a liar. Only one other man had ever done so, that she was aware of. He’d spent months in a cast and on crutches. Javed Catania held his reputation dear, for it was all he felt he had left in this world.
