I rounded a corner and skidded to a halt. A large werewolf was pinned to a dumpster. I felt eyes watching me and growled under my breath. One of the stalkers was peeping again. Was it the silver hood or the other one? I scanned the rooftops and fire escapes, but found nothing.
I turned back to the wolf, realizing it didn’t matter.
As I stared, I heard Killian catch up, and then grunt from over my shoulder. He held both daggers in his shaking fists, but I wasn’t concerned about that. Not after seeing this.
“Watch and learn, Killian. And welcome to the dark side…” I warned him.
The fur began to fade away, revealing a male humanoid torso. Killian sucked in a breath loudly. Then the wolf’s claws and jaws slowly made the change back to human. I studied the face in disbelief, clenching my fists. The Hispanic kid, the third werewolf. Motherfucker.
I took a breath and studied the body clinically. He was riddled with railroad stakes, but they must have been made of silver – because the blood around the wounds was cracked and dry, where it had burned on contact with the metal.
A giant cross painted the ground beneath the body, white paint still wet, and a Bible lay open at his feet, bookmarked with a crust-stained silver spike.
I took a few steps closer, eyes alert to any sign that the killer was still here, and I felt Beckett doing the same behind me, checking the area like a military veteran. I glanced down to see that a section in the book of Matthew had been highlighted. I grimaced, recognizing it after a few lines.
“So, every healthy tree bears good fruit, but the diseased tree bears bad fruit…” Beckett read.
This was most definitely a hate crime. Against my suspect for the church murder.
And judging by what we had seen, the crowd of protestors had definitely seen the werewolf pinned to the dumpster, and they had heard howling from this very alley. Of course, when the police showed, they would find a naked human, but they would still connect the two murders, what with all the religious paraphernalia around the body. Lucky for them, the other murder scene was just around the corner, and their flyers were encouraging this very act.
So… had someone in the crowd done this? Taken out the cops? Or the man I had just been chasing? Or the black stalker from the previous murder? Whoever it was, the killer had time to set up the scene, paint the ground, and then leave without attracting attention. And it had been quick, because the werewolf had only just changed back as we arrived. The killer knew his stuff.
I almost gasped at a new thought.
Maybe the killer was one of the other eleven Shepherds, deciding to head to town after hearing about the uptick in crime lately. Or learning that Roland had left town. But… Shepherds kept their kills low key. That was the point. I knew one other thing, though. If the third wolf had been killed, I was betting his pal, Yuri, was next on the list. If he wasn’t the killer.
I reached out with my magic, scanning the area, but after a few seconds, I let it go. I couldn’t sense anything other than the victim. Definitely no bear scent. And I didn’t have the strength to try the new power. My fingers began to tingle painfully even thinking of it.
I glanced at Killian, who was silently watching the body. He met my eyes, swallowed, and then spoke in a rasping voice. “That’s… a werewolf.”
Even though it wasn’t a question, I nodded. “Technically, it’s also my number one suspect for the first murder.”
Beckett stared at me, mouth working silently. He likely just realized the worst part about straddling both worlds. What you learned in my world didn’t typically hold up in the courts of the Regular world. In the cop world, he had nothing to link this body to the first murder. His eyebrows began to bunch up with frustration. “What’s going to happen?” I asked him. “If word – official word – gets out that monsters are real…” I waved a hand at the scene before us. “This will only be the beginning…”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I see a dead man. Although murdered with religious motives, still, just a man,” he said carefully. “People heard a wolf howling, and then they entered a dark alley to chase it. They saw this, and mistook it for a wolf. Not surprising, with their zealotry.”
I closed my eyes, and almost whispered a prayer. “Thank you,” I said.
“What are those?” he asked carefully, pointing at my hands.
I glanced down to see a crackling energy Kama in each quivering fist, popping like a cattle prod, but brilliantly white. The black feathered fan hovered before me, feathers ruffling lightly in an unseen breeze, but otherwise motionless.
My face colored, and I released them, grimacing guiltily. “That wasn’t for you,” I said, realizing how it might have looked. That if I hadn’t liked his answer I would have killed him.
He smiled weakly. “You’ve had them out since we rounded the corner, otherwise I might have considered them a… form of persuasion,” he said. He stared at the empty space where they had been. “Magic?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” he said distantly. Then he straightened his shoulders, regaining some confidence. “Looks like I have a night ahead of me. And you should probably leave. I won’t be able to hide that you were here, but I can put you in the report as a witness that I previously interrogated, and that you had returned to the scene of your own volition, hearing about the crowd outside. No different than the other protestors, really.”
“I think the other protestors might need to be questioned, because they kind of read the same book, and their signs share the same love for… people like me.”
He nodded. “I’ll call it in.” He met my eyes, a very determined look on his face. “If you want this kept quiet, you need to tell me everything. I can’t be lying to my people and still be unaware of the truth. Or I might say something I shouldn’t.” My eyes must have flashed with heat, because he instantly held up hands in an innocent gesture. “That isn’t a threat. It’s simply the truth. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore. If you want me to keep your secrets, I need to know what those secrets are… I already have two men down,” he added, glancing back.
I let out a nervous sigh. Shit was piling up, and I was only getting more confused. “Okay. Let’s talk tomorrow, Detective Killian.”
He nodded. “Call me Beckett. And you should probably leave.” I noticed the sound of sirens approaching, and sighed.
With a roguish smile, I opened up a Gateway right there in the alley and stepped through into another nondescript alley a few blocks away. I wanted to jog home, clear my head.
I saw his eyes widen with wonder as I glanced back through the Gateway. Then he smiled, shook his head, and waved goodbye. I did the same before letting it wink out.
This had just become a freaking nightmare.
But maybe I had a Regular on my side, now.
Still, Roland needed to know about this. As did Father David. So he could talk to Pastor Benjamin. And maybe get the psychopath to calm his congregation down.
Chapter 22
I stared at Beckett across the table of the diner. Everything about him looked tired, except his deep blue eyes. They danced with an almost feverish excitement. Caution, as well, but mostly excitement. I took a sip of my coffee, letting him digest the supernatural crash course I’d just given him. Next would be the dozen questions.
After leaving Beckett at the crime scene last night, I had jogged home to get some shut-eye. I had three missed calls at five in the morning when I woke up. Two had been from Roland, and one from Beckett, asking to join me for breakfast.
Guess who won first callback?
I had met Beckett and his partner, Detective Sanchez, at a local diner to give them an official account of the previous night. They told me the two cops had suffered blows to the head, but with so many fleeing in terror, they had no idea when it had happened. Detective Sanchez dutifully took down my statement while Beckett asked questions. We had all left the diner at the same time, Detective Sanchez taking his own car, and then parted ways. Five
minutes later, Beckett and I had met back up a block away to enter a different diner for a more clandestine discussion. That way his partner didn’t grow curious as to why Beckett was privately meeting with a witness. Or a suspect, depending on their analysis of my story. But I didn’t really fear that, because Beckett had included in his report that he had been with me the entire time, watching the protestors enter the alley.
Which was true.
“That’s it?” he asked, almost sounding disappointed.
I laughed behind my steaming coffee. “That’s just the tip,” I winked at him.
His eyes widened in disbelief, and then he burst out laughing. “Wow. You had to put that in there.”
“That’s what she said,” I muttered dryly.
“Alright, you’re officially a member of the boys’ club. That was an easy one, but I had to be sure you were willing to go there,” he winked.
I nodded. “Politically correct, I am not.”
He took a bite of his toast. “And a nerd, to boot,” he said, between chews. “I think we’re going to get along fine.” I nodded back, studying him discreetly as he glanced out the window, assessing the pedestrians with an efficient glance.
He was handsome. Very handsome. And although I wasn’t looking for a slap and tickle, I found that I might be persuaded into changing my mind. Not today, but maybe later.
Which made me think of Nate. I quickly buried both thoughts as Beckett turned back to me.
“Basically, every supernatural movie, show, or book I’ve read is really a documentary of sorts, right?”
I thought about it, and finally shrugged. “In a way, I guess.”
“Okay. We can get to specifics as they come up. Silver for shifters. Stakes or decapitation for vampires. Holy stuff for our downstairs neighbors…” I nodded with each point. He studied his coffee thoughtfully. “Is Nate Temple like you?” he asked softly.
I almost choked on my coffee, and his eyes latched onto me like a bird of prey. “How—” I cleared my throat, ignoring the flash of triumph in his eyes. “Why would you think that?”
He rolled his eyes. “You already ruined it. You should probably work on that.” His face grew pensive. “There are so many strange stories about him. And when he came to town during a concert a few months ago, there were a bunch of weird stories going around the watercooler. Eye witness testimony telling an entirely different, crazier story.” He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head as he laced his palms behind his head. “So many cold cases could suddenly be solved…” he murmured regretfully. He must have noticed the look in my eyes, because he sighed. “Don’t worry. I’m not an idiot. They would think I’d snapped under the pressure. But still, it sucks. Like that fucking bakery case. It just doesn’t make any—” He paused, seeing me squirming. “Spill.”
I let out an uneasy breath. I didn’t want to tell him, but maybe his resources as a Detective could help lead me to Yuri. “Fine. You know the missing girls?” He nodded, face blank. “The two wallets you found belonged to werewolves. They had been abducting the missing women. We tracked them down to the bakery and killed them. Even saved two of the girls…”
His eyes widened. “What?” he asked in a low whisper. “You saved two of the girls? That’s fantastic! Where are they? Which girls—”
I held up a finger. “They were kidnapped, raped, and turned,” I said with a low growl, killing his cheer. “An associate of mine is keeping them safe. Out of town.”
He studied me, face crestfallen, but finally seemed to understand. “Turned… into werewolves. After surviving all of that…” he said angrily, shaking his head. “Those sick fucks.”
I nodded. “A third wolf got away, but he conveniently decided to get staked in an alley last night,” I said. “No way to know for sure, now, but I suspected him for the church murder. I think he has another friend, Yuri, who I would really like to meet,” I said with a hungry look.
Beckett scratched his chin, thinking. “How are you connecting them together?”
“Before my associate killed the two wolves at the bakery, one of them used that catchy slogan, God is dead. Yuri was heard saying the same thing several times. I think they might have been part of an organization.”
“An anti-church organization,” he muttered, frowning in disgust. “Or… Yuri is the last member of their tiny club, and there is no big conspiracy,” he offered, gauging my reaction.
I smiled mirthlessly. “Glass-half-full kind of guy?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Just throwing it out there,” he said, leaning back. “I like to consider all possibilities.” He looked frustrated. “Everyone would be better off if we could work together on this. Your information, combined with mine, could solve a lot of crimes, put a lot of people at ease.” He trailed off, then shook his head. “But it’s more likely that everyone will go crazy with terror and join ranks with the church mob instead.”
I met his eyes, very serious. “Another point is that you don’t know which of your fellow officers might not be pleased with your sudden… revelations.”
He nodded slowly, as if the thought had never occurred to him. “Fair point…”
I shrugged. “Just something to consider.”
“Okay, so you think this wolf killed the woman at the church. But who killed him?”
I leaned closer, making sure our conversation was private. “I have no idea. Nothing concrete, anyway. But,” I held up a finger sensing his doubt, “it was definitely something aware of my side. Because they used silver, and the victim was in wolf form. Not many could stand up to a werewolf. Unless they had foreknowledge or were a Freak themselves. Wolves are no joke.”
“A godly person who hates Freaks. Gee, I wonder which church they go to…” he said dryly.
I sighed. “Maybe. But that seems too easy, doesn’t it? Like a setup.”
He shrugged. “Or a response to the first murder. Occam’s Razor.”
I nodded at his point, but I wasn’t convinced. “Well, go do some police stuff. See if you can find anything out about Yuri. He might be the key to unraveling this whole thing, or he might be the next victim, since his pal was just taken out. But keep it low key. You don’t want your officers trying to take out…” I realized I hadn’t told him what Yuri was. “A werebear.”
He stared at me incredulously. “Are you shitting me?” he whispered. I shook my head.
He nodded uneasily. “Okay. But don’t go dark on me. I think I’m going to have questions in the future as I try to wrap my head around everything. What to say, what not to say. What to kill, what to arrest.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “And with the message at the last crime scene, I’m pretty sure you’re right. This killer is just getting started. It’s like watching the beginning of a war…”
I nodded, disgusted at the thought of it. “I could very likely be a target,” I said softly.
He leaned forward, a very dark look in his eyes. “Looks like I’ll have to keep you safe, then,” he promised, his eyes as hard as a marble pillar. “Both within the law, and possibly without,” he added in a severe tone.
I smiled, placing a palm over my chest. “How touching…”
He scoffed. “I’m just looking after my C.I.”
I arched a questioning brow at him.
“Confidential Informant,” he explained.
“Ah, got it. I’m an investment, now.”
“Hell yeah, you are,” he said with a playful grin, a beam of sunlight striking his blue eyes through the blinds beside him.
“Well, I need to get going.”
“I’ll stick around for a while so we aren’t seen leaving together,” he said, leaning back into the booth.
I smiled at him, probably a bit longer than I should have, and then left in a rush, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Rein it in, horn-ball,” I muttered to myself as I pushed open the door, walking towards my car in the parking lot. I needed to get to Abundant Angel to do some damage control. Warn Father David, and see if h
e could talk some sense into Pastor Benjamin. He needed to calm his people down.
Unless one of his people was the killer.
I sighed, remembering Roland’s missed calls. I needed to call him back before he had a panic attack.
Chapter 23
I parked in back and headed towards the door, talking urgently and succinctly into my phone.
“I’m fine, Roland, but I really need to know if any of our people are in town. This thing is going to blow up, and I’d rather not accidentally kill or get a Shepherd arrested by accident.”
“I’ll check, but I find it doubtful. Since Kansas City is mine,” he said with a territorial growl, “I should have received notice ahead of time if they were even considering it. And with me digging into other things here, I don’t want to attract attention.”
“On that front, have you found anything?” I asked anxiously.
“No, but I’m working on it. Something is definitely wrong here, but I don’t want to push too hard and send them fleeing before I can catch the mole.” He paused. “Callie, keep your eyes open. Even if a Shepherd was in town, you mentioned two stalkers…”
I nodded angrily as I entered the waiting room for Father David’s office. Roland was right. The stalkers were a problem. I pushed the door open, trying not to slam it with anger as my thoughts drifted back to the mole, hiding in the fucking Vatican, working with demons. “Listen, Roland. I don’t care if you have to personally strangle the pope in person! You have to—”
I stopped short to find Father David wasn’t alone. Pastor Benjamin and Desmond sat before his desk, all turning to face me, eyes wide at my words.
I frowned guiltily. “I’ll talk to you later,” I said into my phone, hanging up hastily as I shot an apologetic look at Father David. “Just kidding?” I asked sheepishly.
His eyes were tight with displeasure. At my comment and my rude entrance in front of guests. Seeing Pastor Benjamin here, I was pretty sure I knew why he looked frustrated. Murder at a church, and then another murder near an angry mob that followed the same church. Even if it wasn’t his church, that struck close to home. God was being slandered. Mocked. Degraded.
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