by Nova Nelson
“I think we ought to follow that one, if it comes to choosing,” Bloom said.
“And if it doesn’t come to choosing, we’ve found ourselves in quite a messy situation.”
Bloom couldn’t agree more.
She should have requested that Clifford go along with Deputy Titterfield on his original search. They’d wrangled in a good number of werebears for it, and even a few werewolves, and while their sense of smell was far better than, say, hers, it didn’t hold a candle to the scenting abilities of a hellhound. Maybe if Clifford had come earlier, they could have discovered Swamy’s body sooner and put this case to rest.
But it had all seemed so small at first. The search was more of a formality to allay Opal’s fear than because Bloom thought Swamy was in any grave danger. He’d hardly been missing twenty-four hours (or so they thought at the time) when the search had gone out. Bloom had seen a lot of similar situations over the years, and almost all of them resolved themselves in an anticlimactic way—the missing person simply returned after a little time away with a very sound and often obvious reason why they had left in the first place. Nothing about this, initially at least, indicated it wouldn’t be filed away with all of those cases.
And yet, she was wrong. It was a strange part of being law enforcement for centuries; her rational mind, using the data of her many encounters, almost always told her that the odds of something being terribly remiss were low, while her gut, or perhaps her elevated nervous system, always thought the worst-case scenario was just around the corner. Balancing the paradox was the trick. Knowing when to lean one way or another was a skill she hadn’t yet mastered and probably never would.
But pretending she had it all under control, that was something she was great at. It helped that people naturally assumed an angel would be in control of the situation, let alone one who was also the sheriff. All she had to do was keep from convincing anyone otherwise.
Clifford stopped in his tracks, letting out a low and muffled growl.
Not even Gabby Bloom was immune to the foreboding sensation of watching a hellhound go on high alert. “What is it?” she whispered to Ruby.
“He smells blood.”
“Fresh?”
There was a pause, then Ruby said, “Either a small amount of fresh blood or a large amount of dried blood.”
“Does he know who it belongs to?”
“No. He doesn’t know their blood scent. All three scents are still present on this trail.”
Bloom nodded. “Let’s keep going.”
They did, but there were no more new developments, and ten minutes later they turned a sharp corner, and then another and ended at the edge of a creek.
“We must have found our way to the Silent Reach,” Bloom said.
“And this is the creek Virgil mentioned, I’d bet,” Ruby added.
The sheriff sighed. “Then we’ve hit a dead end.”
“I hope you only mean that figuratively.”
Before Bloom could respond, something large moved on the other side of the creek. The sheriff only spotted it in her peripheral vision, and by the time she looked directly at it, it had stopped moving. She couldn’t make it out as well through the twilit gloom of the woods. Maybe she had just imagined it.
Except, no, because Ruby and Clifford were looking in the exact same direction. The hellhound snorted before his nose began twitching manically again.
And then the thing moved, and Bloom only just managed to keep from gasping.
Because it was large, even at this distance she could tell that. From paw to the top of its horns, it easily had a foot on her.
It was one thing to hear the descriptions of Taurus from unreliable witnesses, but it was a completely different thing to see the beast, or at least its massive silhouette, with her own eyes. The descriptions she’d heard before made much more sense—not just the words, but the emotions behind them.
If she didn’t know better, she might have believed them all now.
But the goddess didn’t give her a brain just so she could disregard it.
With the legs of the werebear, the body of a man, and the head of a bull, Bloom knew this particular creature didn’t exist. That didn’t stop the goosebumps from overtaking her arms at the sight of it, but it did stop her from falling into the same narrative trap that had ensnared its previous victims.
“Eastwind Sheriff,” she called out to it. “I just want to speak with you.”
As she’d expected, the figure took off deeper into the woods.
Clifford relaxed once it was gone and even walked closer to the stream to take a sip.
“Well, isn’t that something?” Ruby said.
“It sure is. Seems a little strange that a resurrected legendary were-killer would flee at the first sign of law enforcement.”
Ruby chuckled. “It does indeed. So what do we do now?”
Bloom considered it. “The only way we can catch whoever that is, is to sit on the next intended target. and wait.”
“And who do you propose?”
“Opal Barker.”
Ruby raised an eyebrow. “But she could easily have been attacked earlier, and Cedric said the attacker didn’t even look at her.”
“I know. But I’m not sure whoever this is wants to see her injured, although I can almost guarantee you there will be a confrontation as soon as he or she can get Opal alone. And when that happens, one of us ought to be there.”
Chapter Twenty
Opal had done an admirable job of cleaning her home, and it freed up Ruby to relax once she got there. In fact, this stakeout might prove nothing more than a great opportunity for the Fifth Wind to have a little peace and quiet and get some reading done.
Ruby sat in a wooden rocking chair, a candle on a small table next to her providing just enough light in the dark bedroom for her to make out the words of Romantically A Were. Clifford snoozed at her feet, close enough that she could stick her toes underneath him to keep them nice and toasty while she read.
Her familiar had remained awake and alert for the first two hours of their watch, but it was well past his bedtime now, and he’d succumbed to the allure of sleep. She couldn’t blame him. For one, he couldn’t have a cup of tea to keep him awake like she could. But for another, he was already well past the usual life expectancy for a hellhound. That was part of the gig with familiars, though. When she’d met him upon arriving in Eastwind, he suspected, though he couldn’t be sure, that he was a couple of years old. Twenty years later, and he had aged much more slowly, adapting to her lifespan rather than his own. If what she’d read and been told by others was true, he could live for another sixty years if she made it that long, though by that point he might have a body more like a what one would expect from a senior dog. But she would have a body like what one would expect from a senior Fifth Wind, so, fair enough.
Long before then, however, she would be too old to do this sort of thing, this stakeout. That is, if she wasn’t already. That part was up in the air, considering she vacillated so furiously between being ready for bed at 9 p.m. and staying up half the night with a complete inability to catch a wink. The latter was a new part of her life, and she suspected it might stick around for the next few years.
But the sleeplessness came in handy tonight. Even as she read a book in the dimness, she felt as alert as could be. Perhaps that was adrenaline, but perhaps it was the other thing, the one she didn’t want to name because not only did no one talk about it, but she thought naming it might jinx it. And jinxes were a genuine concern in Eastwind.
She looked over at the peaceful figure in the bed, her chest rising and falling slowly beneath the light quilt. Must be nice to rest so soundly at the drop of a hat.
They’d carted Cedric off to his own house for the night and told him not to leave under any circumstances. She wondered if he was sleeping soundly or if his wounds were keeping him awake.
Ruby felt a sweat coming on, and pulled her toes out from under Clifford, hoping that was all i
t was.
Nope. As soon as she did so, her feet were cold again, and the rest of her was still a little toasty.
It was just as she tried to shimmy her toes back underneath her familiar that she heard heavy footsteps.
Clifford’s ears were up in a millisecond.
She held her breath.
“Where are they coming from?” she asked.
“Front porch.”
This was it. The moment to test her’s and Bloom’s theory. Was someone hoping to sneak up on Opal? She’d been sure to leave the front door unlocked to allow easier entry so she could unmask whoever it was without him or her getting deterred.
Who’s there? she called out, but only in her mind.
She had a few ideas who it might be. The day’s events had certainly helped narrow her focus.
She nodded for Clifford to follow her out into the hallway.
For a beast so large, he was deadly silent on his feet. Not for the first time, she was glad the only hellhound she encountered in her day-to-day was one she was forever bonded to and therefore one who wouldn’t try to eat her. And she was also grateful that the rest of Clifford’s kind stayed put in the Deadwoods.
But whoever was on the front porch wasn’t so light on his feet.
There was the softest tap on the door, and Ruby paused at the edge of the hallway, taking a quick step back to shield herself behind the corner of the wall where she couldn’t be seen from the front door.
Another soft tap.
Huh. That was strange. Was the intruder testing to see if he could get Opal to answer the door? Perhaps he had plans to pull her out into the night. Maybe he thought knocking could have alerted the neighbors.
It was late, but not quite the dead of night. Those who didn’t have to be up at dawn for work might still be lounging around, enjoying a good book or the company of each other.
“Should I answer it?” Ruby asked.
“I don’t suspect you’ll have to.”
And sure enough, Clifford was right, because a moment after the knock, the doorknob began to turn.
Ruby held her breath, wondering where the best place to hide would be if it came to it. She doubted it would come to that, though—Clifford was a force to be reckoned with, even for someone as large as the figure she’d seen in the woods.
Still, she hated the thought of Clifford going into combat. There was always the chance of injury or worse. What would she do without him?
“Take a step back,” she instructed just as the hellhound was creeping closer to the front door.
“I’m not exactly compact. Whoever it is will see me no matter where I try to hide.”
“Yet again, you blur the lines between bravery and recklessness.”
The front door opened like a whisper.
She felt the cool night air on her face before she could make out the figure in the doorway.
He looked even larger now than he had in the woods.
Except one thing was different.
He didn’t have a bull’s head.
He stepped forward, and Ruby pressed herself to the wall on the other side of the corner. Her heart raced. Was this a half-baked plan? It had seemed so good when they’d concocted it earlier.
The intruder spoke in a low whisper. “Ruby? You here?”
Ruby’s breath caught in her chest. She recognized that voice. But it couldn’t be. And he couldn’t be.
Clifford’s low growl gave away their poor hiding place, and Ruby steadied herself before stepping out behind her familiar.
Zax Banderfield stood just inside the threshold, glaring down at her through the gloom.
Chapter Twenty-One
“I can’t believe it,” Ruby said. “You. This whole time.”
Zax stepped closer, and she took a quick step back as Clifford bared his teeth. The werebear stopped in his tracks and looked down at the hellhound with alarm.
And, unless the shadows from the moon streaming through the window were misleading her, there was confusion in his expression as well.
“What do you mean?” Zax said. Then he groaned and held up his hands, the gesture of an innocent man on the defensive. “No, you got it all wrong.”
“Oh, do I? I’m not so sure. You’re sneaking into the house of the missing person, the house of a woman who was in close contact with an attack just today.”
“I know it looks bad—”
“Then you’re not an idiot, at least.” That shut him up, and she was able to continue. “Clifford smelled your scent heading to the Silent Reach. I totally dismissed it, but… Why did you do it?”
“I didn’t!”
The loudness of his voice felt crass in the quiet home, and she flinched.
“I didn’t,” he repeated, this time a whisper. “If you’d just let me explain.”
Clifford growled again.
“And call off the dog, please.”
Ruby said, “He’s not a dog.”
“You bet your hide, I’m not!”
A pleading in Zax’s eyes reached out and touched the part of her heart that would do anything to keep this betrayal from being a reality.
“For fang’s sake,” she muttered, disappointed with herself. Then, “Okay, Cliff. Give him some space.”
Clifford tucked his teeth away beneath his heavy jowls and backed a step closer to his witch.
“Tell me why you’re here and make it quick.”
Zax didn’t hesitate. “I thought you’d be here.”
“And? What were you intending?”
There was one thing she would have liked for him to say, and another (murder) that she was dreading.
“I was intending—I am intending to help keep you safe. This is a dangerous idea. Whoever attacked Virgil and Cedric and Swamy could be coming here next.”
“Yes,” she said, losing patience, “that’s the idea.”
“And all you have to keep you safe is Clifford?”
“He made you back off, didn’t he?”
Zax grunted. “Yes, but—”
“You don’t know me that well,” she said, a sneaking suspicion forming. “What made you think I would do this?” Before he could answer, she took a stab at it. “It was Malavic, wasn’t it? You filled him in on news from the mountain, mentioned I was involved, and he guessed I would be doing something like this.” Only the vampire, in his perpetually bored and therefore calculating state of mind would have stumbled upon this scenario. And been completely correct.
“Yes, okay,” Zax admitted begrudgingly. “He mentioned that this would be something you and Bloom would think up.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth? You were unaccounted for when Cedric was attacked this afternoon.”
Now Zax seemed to be losing patience. “Why would I attack someone and then immediately bandage him up? It makes no sense!”
“Maybe you didn’t have a choice.”
“I had a choice with Virgil, and I dragged my hide into town to get him supplies at the Pixie Mixie. I’m the sleuth leader. They’re all under my care. Why would I have done any of this?” He risked a step closer, and this time Clifford didn’t growl.
“It all revolves around Opal, doesn’t it? Perhaps her secret relationships extend beyond Cedric.”
He caught her insinuation immediately. “No way. She’s not even a little bit my type.”
“No?”
“No.” He inched closer. He was only a few feet from the corner of the hallway. “She’s still in her twenties. I like women more my age. And I like them smarter. And smaller.”
Ruby cleared her throat. “Maybe we ought to take this discussion into the bedroom.” When he arched an eyebrow at her, she hastened to add, “To keep an eye on my ward. If you’re not the one I’m waiting for, then he or she could show up at any minute.”
“Right. Of course.”
“Smooth,” Clifford said.
“Oh, please.”
Ruby entered the room first and peeked at the woman beneath the heavy bl
ankets. The conversation in the living room hadn’t roused her, so the plan was technically still a go.
To say that things turning out this way with Zax was a relief was a gross understatement. In fact, it was actually better this way. Now she had even more protection against whoever might show up to get a final word in with Opal.
Ruby took a seat in the chair again and watched as Zax looked around only to discover that there was nowhere left for him to sit. “Settle in,” she whispered, nodding toward the spot on the woven rug next to her.
His eyes flicked down to Clifford, who had already settled in at Ruby’s feet. “I’m fine standing.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “So, do we just wait until someone comes creeping—”
The quiet but unmistakable click of the front door shutting cut him off. Ruby’s eyes went wide, and she pointed frantically at the closet just to the left of where Zax leaned against the wall.
There was no way the three of them would all fit, so as Clifford slinked back into the shadows in the corner of the room, Ruby and Zax squeezed into the closet, trying desperately to keep the hangers from clattering against each other as they did.
She closed the closet door, peering through the wooden slats, waiting to see who entered.
Ruby was keenly aware of Zax’s warm arm pressed against hers. And though the proximity was making her a little lightheaded, and she had a strong impulse to grab his hand for security, she refrained.
The soft and slow footfalls coming down the hallway were those of someone determined not to be heard.
Only a moment later, and the bedroom door slid open with the faintest squeak of rusty hinges. The sound sent shivers down Ruby’s spine.
And then, finally, the figure stepped forward, and she was able to see who it was. Zax must have gotten his first look, too, because she felt him stiffen beside her. She looked up at him, the moonlight from the window at the head of the bed slipping between the slats and casting stripes of pale blue across his face. She held a finger to her lips, and he nodded.
