Lycanthropy Files Box Set: Books 1-3 Plus Novella

by Cecilia Dominic

  “I suppose you don’t mean kids your age.”

  “No, my other friends.” He did that disconcerting looking over my shoulder thing. “You have a new one. He’s wearing old tartan and a necklace?” He squinted. “And not much else. And he’s dirty, but he’s excited.”

  “Is he talking to you?” Again I listened for something, but I only heard the breeze stirring the leaves on the trees.

  “He’s a warrior, and he’s happy you have his favorite weapon.” He spoke hesitantly with the effort to translate spirit-speak as he went along. “But he’s also worried about you because you are alone, and warriors need their fellow soldiers like wolves need their pack.”

  “I don’t have that many I can call on,” I told him, and I found myself speaking to him like I would to an adult. “The only other vargamore I know has a child to consider, so I can’t put her in danger, and I can’t trust my fellow Council members. My other friend died.” I stopped. What had my life distilled to—the Council and nothing else? If I were to be killed that evening, would anyone miss me besides Morena and Troy the bartender? And maybe Lonna and Max, but if I failed, they would have bigger problems to concern them.

  Selene would, but would she only miss me temporarily before turning her attention to rescuing her brother? Or rescuing herself along with him. She’d made the sacrifice to save him, and family was her priority—as it should be—but I found myself wanting to be part of that or something like it. Since my father died, I’d been tossed out and knocked around on my own before taking his position on the Council, but in spite of the long lycanthropic history, I didn’t have anything or anyone to anchor me. Sure, that had stood me in good stead when I was away on assignment as Investigator, when I could take risks I might otherwise not have if I’d had a family at home, and they’d paid off.

  “I would miss you,” Alexander said. “You understand me. So would Miss Reid. She smiled a lot when you were about to visit the Council School last week and was sad after.”

  That would be an unnecessary complication in my life. “She would only miss me a little bit, though. We’re only acquaintances. That’s different from friends.”

  A heavy hand landed on my shoulder, and I looked up to see David Lachlan standing there, his flat, cold eyes upon me. His skin had the gray pallor of death, and his throat hung open in a jagged parody of a grin. Alexander’s eyes widened, and I stood to put myself between the apparition and the boy.

  “David, what do you want?” I asked.

  His words came into my mind as a ghostly wail. “I cannot rest until you have vanquished the Boar King. Nor can the others.” He waved over the empty lot behind the house, and I saw row upon row of soldiers in the garb of all eras of warfare from Highland clan warriors wrapped in scraps of tartan to modern-day soldiers in pixellated camouflage. And the murdered scientist and security guards from the Institute, yet three more victims of this crazy creature. What did Wolfsheim want? Did I even know it was a he?

  “Can you tell me who, exactly, Wolfsheim is?”

  But he remained silent.

  “Are any of the others telling you anything?” I looked at Alexander, who hunched over on the ground, his hands over his ears. His mouth opened in a silent pained scream.

  “Get out, all of you!” I yelled. The ghosts disappeared in a fog, and Alexander’s father ran outside.

  “Who the hell are you yelling at, McCord? You’re as daft as the boy.” He knelt by his son, who still covered his ears and panted. “Alex, son, what is it? What did he do to you?”

  Alexander moaned.

  “Go. Get away from him!” He stood and shoved me with both hands.

  I backed away, palms facing him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that would happen.”

  “I’ll be telling the Council about this, McCord,” he snarled at me, and his eyes flashed like he was going to change right there. He grabbed his son’s shoulder and hauled him to his feet. “Are you okay, Son?”

  “I’m fine, Da. There were just so many of them,” he whispered. The little clairvoyant flinched away from his father’s touch.

  “I’m sure the Council will be very interested in all of this.” I wanted to reach toward Alexander, but I held back. “In fact, I’ll put a call into the Council School’s headmistress this afternoon and tell her about what happened.”

  “Tell her she’s done a terrible job of toughening up my son.” He pushed Alexander toward the back door. His hand curled into a fist.

  “Where’s your girlfriend, Taylor?”

  “At the market, not that it’s any of your business.”

  “I need to borrow Alexander for the rest of the afternoon,” I told him.

  He turned, slowly, his face a mask of anger. “Haven’t you done enough? The neighbors are probably already whispering about my daft boy and his daft friend yelling at nothing in the backyard.”

  “It’s Council business,” I said, hoping that appealing to his inner sense of hierarchy would overcome his anger. Also that giving his son some importance would protect him, not backfire on him.

  He looked down at his son. “Fine, then. His bedtime’s nine. Have him back by then.”

  I held out my hand, and Alexander walked to me and slowly took it. He looked up at me with big brown eyes with smudges underneath them, and I noticed how thin and bony his hand felt in mine.

  “Come on, I’ll have you back by dark,” I said.

  He nodded and wouldn’t look at his father, who grabbed his chin when we walked by and made him look up at him.

  “Behave yourself and don’t disappoint me, hear?”

  Alexander nodded. We preceded his father into the living room, and I grabbed the book he’d been reading out of the cushions and put it in my jacket pocket.

  Once we’d settled in my car and backed out of the driveway, he turned to me. “Do I get to help with the ghosts?”

  “Only as much as you can while staying out of danger.”

  “You need my help. I sent the guard into the blue club when you went in when I told you not to.”

  “Thank you. That was very helpful.”

  “I meant it. You need help. Tonight too.”

  “And what about you? Do you need help?”

  He pulled his sleeve over his wrist and the darkening red mark from where his father had grabbed him roughly. “I can take care of myself.”

  His words confirmed what I had suspected: he’d seen more horrific things than dead soldiers, and he was trapped in a, abusive situation. I gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath to calm down, and he shrank into his seat, his gaze wary.

  Dammit. I need to calm down.

  “I won’t hurt you, Alexander,” I said. “And I won’t put you in harm’s way. I’m going to take you to a friend’s house. Maybe they can figure out how to help you.”

  29

  I drove Alexander to Lonna and Max’s. She settled the boy in the kitchen with a piece of pie.

  “He’s so thin,” she said when she joined me and Max in the parlor.

  “Look, I know that you’re already overwhelmed with what’s going on,” I said, “but I had to get him out of his house.” I related what had happened and my suspicions.

  Max nodded. “The boy’s energy field is off. He lives in a lot of fear, and not of the spirits.”

  “Can you do something for him?” I asked. “He’s technically one of you even though he has lycanthrope parents.”

  “As far as you know,” Lonna said. “He could be adopted or from a previous marriage. Or his father could suspect he’s not his. It’s extremely rare for two wolves to produce a little wizard, especially one so strong and talented.”

  “The mother’s boy is dead, so we can’t ask her.”

  Max ran his hand through his hair. “We’re limited in what we can do for him right now since we’re at odds with the Wizard Tribunal.”

  “What about your friend Arnold?” I asked. “Surely he’d be interested in a little clairvoyant like Alexander.”

>   “Still missing. Leave the boy with us,” Lonna said. “At the very least, I can fatten him up, and Max can maybe show him some shielding techniques so he’ll have more control over how much the spirits communicate with him. As for his home life… I’ll kick in some of my social worker training and see what options are available for him.”

  We all looked at each other, feeling helpless, but even our sketchy plan felt better than just leaving the boy there with his brute of a father.

  “And what are you going to do?” Max asked me when he walked me to the door.

  “I have a date with a vargamore tonight. He has Selene.” I gave him a summary of what had happened the night before.

  “My condolences for your loss. I didn’t know him well, but David seemed like a good guy.”

  “He was.” And now he’s relying on me, too.

  The weight of all those counting on me for help—David and my father, Selene and her brother, Max and Lonna, and now Alexander—pressed down on me along with the heavy torc around my neck. Morena and then Alexander had urged me to seek help, but I didn’t know where I could find it. Morena hadn’t volunteered, and I was pretty much out of options unless one dropped into my lap.

  I drove to David’s estate and parked outside the main house. I thought it was empty, but Garou came out of the front door. He looked even thinner and less rested than the previous time I’d seen him, and I suspected he’d been up all night.

  “Burning the candle on both ends again?” I asked him.

  “If my witnesses would only cooperate, I wouldn’t have to,” he replied. “I don’t suppose I’m fortunate enough you came to give a statement.”

  The soft breeze and sunlight on my face mocked my irritable mood, and I couldn’t help but bait him. “I hadn’t planned on it, no.”

  “Fine. I will file an order with the Council.” He ran a hand over his face, and I could almost hear my mother scolding me. My mental voice wasn’t as gentle as hers would’ve been.

  Stop being an ass, Gabriel. He’s just trying to do his job.

  “Look, I have a few hours to kill, and I need to fill you in on what I’ve found,” I said.

  His expression of surprise turned to one of suspicion. “What’s the catch, Investigator?”

  “No catch. Honestly, I may need your help.” It surprised me to say so, but now that David was gone and Morena had essentially stepped aside after warning me and giving me the torc, Garou was my most reliable ally.

  Now he looked even more skeptical. “Are you healed from your injuries last night? It seems you may have hit your head.”

  “Let’s just say I’ve finally started listening to what the universe is trying to tell me.”

  He neither argued nor gloated. He only nodded. “I am at your disposal. Shall we go inside?”

  The front door hung open like the mouth to a den of horror. The images of my father and then David flashed through my mind. “I can’t go in there. Grab one of the bottles of whiskey and a couple of glasses, and we’ll talk on the back patio.”

  Because that’s how we Scots prepare for battle.

  He gave me a strange look but went inside and closed the door. My father’s picture, the one the commander took on the battlefield, nudged the edge of my consciousness, but I pushed it away.

  I have to focus on the present now. And my future.

  “Mind if I smoke?” Garou tapped a box of cigarettes against the wrought-iron table. It seemed ridiculous, the two of us sitting there sharing a decanter of whiskey like gentlemen of leisure. I checked my watch. Seven o’clock. Three hours until sundown…and my showdown with Wolfsheim. A long time to wait and a short time to figure out whether Garou would be a useful ally. Not that I wanted to put anyone else in danger, but the overwhelming chorus seemed to be in favor of me not doing this alone.

  “Go ahead,” I said. “How very continental of you.”

  He lit one. “Why have a long lifespan if you’re not able to enjoy it?”

  The combination of the smells of cigarette smoke, summer air, and Scotch brought old memories to the surface. I struggled to hold on to my sense of time and place. “How old are you, anyway?”

  Garou leaned back and squinted at me before putting on his sunglasses. “Old enough to have known Agatha Christie.”

  “No kidding? You’re older than I thought. I’d ask if you were her model for Hercule Poirot, but you’re French, not Belgian.”

  “No, I am Belgian, albeit a Walloon. But no, I wasn’t her model. I did help her with some of the finer details of her stories.”

  “Interesting.” Had I never really looked at the guy before? Or had I been seduced by the “old family, Council member” snobby mentality I detested so much? That thought made me squirm.

  “And you?” he asked.

  “About eighty. And feeling every year.” I looked into my glass, where the amber liquid reflected the still strong sunlight. “Kind of makes it ridiculous that you and I were arguing over Selene last week. She’s just a pup.”

  Garou shrugged. “Does age matter, Investigator? The young are full of impulsivity and passion, but that’s what keeps us old dogs alive.”

  His words tickled the back of my brain and returned me to the question of how Wolfsheim had managed to live for centuries.

  “What do you know about Wolfsheim?” I asked. “If you’ve been around that long, surely you’ve heard of him.”

  “Yes, I am aware of the Order of the Silver Arrow, but I thought they were a legend. I could never understand why the Council was so obsessed with them.”

  “It’s very much alive, but in a way no one expected.” I leaned toward him and lowered my voice. “What if these organizations we’ve been watching closely, the Young Bloods and the Purists, weren’t their own gig, but rather were the new face of the Order?”

  “How many of them could possibly be involved?” Garou asked. “You’re talking about a huge conspiracy.”

  “There’s no way to determine the entire scope of it. I can’t help but wonder if there truly is a Wolfsheim or if it’s a title that’s been passed down. Secret societies have outer rings and inner ones. It could be that there are so many layers that there isn’t a true center anymore.”

  “Oh, no, there is a Wolfsheim,” a young male voice said. I turned to see Robert MacLemore and his wife Alice, the leaders of the Young Bloods, standing at the edge of the patio.

  Garou and I leapt to our feet, but they both drew weapons before we could reach for ours. Not that I had one. The menacing firearms in their hands seemed at odds with their golden, sun-kissed stylish appearances. The thought crossed my mind, But hippies hate guns! I guess hipsters don’t. Remember the era you’re in.

  “And he wants to see you right away,” Alice added. “You should’ve stuck with us, Investigator. We would’ve made your capitulation a lot more pleasant.”

  “I’m sure you would have. Tell me, do you drug the objects of your interest often, or just the ones you really like?”

  “Just the ones we think might fight back too hard.”

  Rob kept his gun on us while Alice patted us down for weapons. She took Garou’s service weapon and the knife he kept strapped at his ankle.

  “Of course we can’t confiscate your most dangerous weapons, your wolf selves,” Rob said. “But we can dampen them for a while.”

  Alice took a syringe out of his pocket. “Just one?”

  “We were only instructed to bring in McCord,” he said.

  She sighed, obviously exasperated. “I told you to bring two just in case.”

  “I didn’t have an extra. You forgot to pick up the refills. We used the other two last night. Just inject McCord.”

  “I’m not going to let you,” I said.

  Rob turned his gun on Garou. “If you don’t, I’ll kill him. The boss doesn’t care whether he lives or dies.”

  “I bet you know what this is,” Alice said in a singsong voice and came toward me with the syringe in one hand, her gun in the other. “If y
ou try anything, Inspector Garou gets it.”

  “Let me guess, Luridatone?” I asked. An atypical antipsychotic, it cut off our ability to change by short-circuiting the reward and motivation pathways in the brain, making our bodies not want to go through the effort. Its effects were temporary but potent.

  “Very good,” Rob said. “Now inject it into his quad, Alice. Either one is fine.”

  I sighed, frustrated that they had Garou hostage. Alice took the top off the syringe and injected the clear liquid into my left thigh. It burned, and my knees gave way beneath me.

  “As for you, Detective,” she said, “I’m going to have to make sure you don’t get found for a long time. Lead the way inside.”

  “Act like you don’t want to go in the dungeon,” I told him with my telepathic wolf-voice, hoping I had the talent Morena had mentioned earlier. Theoretically it shouldn’t have worked with us both being in human form, but he nodded slightly as she walked him away. “There’s a hole with a grate at the very end. It leads to a tunnel in the woods. Follow my trail to the ruins. Wolfsheim’s lair is underneath.”

  They disappeared into the house. Rob checked his watch, but not for long enough that I could distract him or get away.

  “Aren’t you millennials supposed to be addicted to your phones or something?” I asked. “You know, there’s a pause in the action, so you need to tweet about what you had for lunch. Or Facebook—‘OMG holding Council Investigator hostage. Hashtag gonnagetputaway.’”

  “Very funny,” he said but didn’t laugh.

  After a few minutes, Alice reappeared. “All right, I knocked him out and locked him in the dungeon.”

  I cursed under my breath to sound like I wasn’t happy about it. Hopefully Garou wouldn’t be out for too long or get lost once he woke up. As for me, a heaviness spread through my limbs, and my vision narrowed.

  “There might’ve been a little something else in there.” Alice’s voice floated above me like an oil slick on the water—opalescent in color but not pretty. I sank into the blackness away from the blue sky and everything that was safe and pure in my life.