by Susan Harris
“Agent Doyle, you will answer simply ‘yes’ or ‘no’ when questioned, unless asked to elaborate. If you refrain from answering or skirt the question, we shall take this as an admission of guilt. Do you understand?”
Derek nodded, his eyes looking directly over Agent Knight’s head at the ruckus happening in the viewing room. Sarge had ushered all the uniforms out of the room and was leaning against the back wall, watching while the griffin talked. He gave a slight incline of his head to Derek.
Before Derek looked back at Agent Knight, the door to the viewing room opened again, and in walked Caitlyn, Donnie, and a very scared Melanie. Three weeks into her new life, and this was the first time the girl had left her new house. Gone were the thick-rimmed glasses—her eyes were now big, bright, and terrified. Her long red hair hung loose and free.
When Donnie shut the door behind her, she jumped, and Derek cursed himself for being so selfish. Derek caught Caitlyn’s eye, and as if she had read his thoughts, she nodded at his silent question if the girl were up to this.
Donnie must have whispered in Melanie’s ear that Derek could see her, because she cast a glance in his direction. He winked, drawing a smile from her.
Derek, as not to arouse suspicion, leaned back in his chair and responded to the griffin’s question. “I understand.”
“Then let’s begin.”
Agent Gober slipped a list of questions from a folder on the desk, spreading out crime scene pictures along the table. This was Policing 101—they were watching the suspect’s reactions to the crime they were accused of.
Derek didn’t so much as peer at the images, dismissing the opportunity for the griffins to garner guilt from his expression. If his years under the tutelage of Neville Morris had taught him anything, it was how to hide his feelings. Derek was a master at concealing his true emotions.
“Agent Doyle, do you understand the charges set forth against you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you understand that if convicted, you will be sentenced to death for your crime?”
“Yes.”
Agent Gober narrowed her eyes. “Have you ever been convicted of a crime before?”
“No.”
She held up a photo of the deceased girl, and Derek heard Chloe swallow hard beside him.
“Have you ever seen this woman before?”
“Yes.”
Melanie gasped from inside the viewing room.
“Can you elaborate please?” asked Agent Knight.
“Yesterday afternoon when I woke up, she was dead in the bed next to me. That was the first time I laid eyes on her.”
Agent Gober tilted her head, and Derek almost laughed as Melanie mouthed, “Sorry” to him through the glass. Irritation flared from the griffins.
Agent Knight came to stand next to her partner.
“Did you have sex with the victim and then proceed to eat her organs?”
“No.”
Melanie came closer to the window, almost pressing her nose to the glass. She could hear perfectly well, no matter where she stood, but the girl was concentrating so hard.
“Have you ever killed someone before?”
Derek lifted his head and let the corners of his mouth curve. So this was the game they were going to play. But he liked to chase, and if they wanted a game he would give them one.
“Yes.”
“How many?”
Derek didn’t answer; he let a smug expression slide over his face.
“I asked how many, Agent Doyle.”
Derek raised his shoulders, and pure hate radiated from Agent Gober’s predatory eyes.
“Answer the question, Agent Doyle.”
Chloe cleared her throat. “According to the rules you set forth, my client is only to answer yes or no to questions unless asked to elaborate. He is only abiding by the rules and refusing to speak, as you have stated he cannot do so unless asked a yes or no question. Do you need to be reminded of your own rules again, Agent, or is this interview suspended?”
And that’s why his niece was one of the best lawyers in the country.
“Agent Doyle,” Gober gritted out, “do you know how many people you have killed in your lifetime?”
“Yes.”
“Care to elaborate as to how many?”
“No.”
“Excuse me?” she spluttered.
“No.”
Laughter echoed from the viewing room, but only Derek’s wolf-hearing could hear them. Although griffins were notorious for their excellent sight and truth-seeking abilities, their hearing happened to be as normal as a human’s.
A hand touched his arm. “I think, agents, that you need to be specific with your questions.”
“Agent Doyle, is it safe to say that you have killed many people in your lifetime?”
“Yes.”
A vicious smile spread across Gober’s face as Knight simply tsked.
“Elaborate.”
“I’ve been alive for a little over a hundred years, agents. I killed many people before I was changed, and double that after I became a werewolf. It is impossible for me to quantify it with a number. But I’ve never spilled anyone’s blood without just cause.”
A look passed over the griffins’ cold eyes. “Have you ever killed someone in the manner in which this woman was killed?”
Aww shit. Now that was the loaded question of the day. If he lied, they would know; if he told the truth, he may lose any defence or loyalty from his team. Blowing out a breath, he snuck a peak at Sarge, who nodded.
“Agent Doyle, please answer the question.” Agent Knight’s tone was even and low; she knew what he was about to say.
“Yes.”
Melanie jerked back from the window, and he listened as she muttered, “He’s telling the truth. He killed someone just like this before.”
Sarge placed a hand on her shoulder and a finger to his lips, but when Melanie turned to face him again, she didn’t meet his eyes.
Gober almost clapped her hands in glee. “Explain your meaning.”
“When Neville Morris made me a werewolf, he had certain rules to ensure his pack consisted of only the strongest and most ruthless wolves on the planet. In the event of a dominance fight, you only won the bout if you ripped apart your opponent’s chest and ate his heart while in human form.”
“Did you do this a lot?”
“Yes.”
He lowered his lashes and took in a deep breath. The smell of the blood he had spilled suddenly filled his nose, and the wolf wanted out. He counted to ten in his head, ignoring the griffins as they asked him again to elaborate his answer.
Once he composed himself and banished the ghosts of his past for the moment, he replied, “I know exactly how many wolves I killed in that manner. Seventy-two. As the runt of the pack, I fought my way to beta of the pack after seventy-two dominance fights.”
Surprise flashed through the griffins’ eyes, but Gober still wanted to claw the past from him.
“How many of those were you forced to do? And before you get all smart-assed, you have free rein to speak.”
Derek folded his arms across his chest. “Morris forced me to endure fifty-nine in my first five years as a wolf. The rest I did to gain access to Morris so I could eat his sadistic heart.”
Gober placed her hands down on the table and almost came nose to nose with him. “And tell us, dear wolf… did you enjoy it?”
Chloe sat ramrod-straight in her chair. “I’m not sure how that question is relevant to the crime my client is accused of. He is not on trial here, and I take it from his answers and the subsequent questions that he has proven his innocence.” Chloe stood. “I assume my client is free to go?”
“Not quite yet, Ms. Doyle. I, too, am curious to hear Agent Doyle’s answer.”
Chloe started to protest, but Derek reached out and squeezed her hand before letting go. He needed to prove to them that even though he was innocent, he was indeed as much of a predator as they were. He could be cold, r
uthless, and bloodthirsty. So Derek did the only thing he could do in this case—he told the truth.
“I’ll answer your question, Agent Gober, no problem.”
He bared his teeth, and Gober sprang back, a hiss on her lips.
“Yes, I enjoyed killing them. I enjoyed the feel of their flesh underneath my nails and teeth. I savoured the taste of their blood as it worked down my throat, and you know what else? I so fucking enjoyed the moments when my bare hands ripped their heart from their chest and it gave one last twitch in my hand. That honest enough for you?”
Shock coursed through the room, and Derek inhaled the scent of it, picking up another scent, too, and growling as chaos reigned supreme in the viewing room.
Thirty minutes earlier…
Melanie hesitated outside the station, the blood thrumming in her veins, and she guessed if her heart still beat, that sucker would be pounding so hard against her chest that she might’ve thought she were dying… that is, if she weren’t already dead. Out of habit, she rubbed her bare arms vigorously against the cold night air—a sensation that no longer bothered her, but still, old habits died hard.
But she supposed everyone would understand her reluctance to go inside and have all eyes on her. When she’d been kidnapped and Caitlyn had been forced to make her a vampire, Melanie had been loath to admit that she was happy, that being a supernatural creature felt right, like she had finally found home. And although Caitlyn and Donnie surveyed her like a hawk, expecting her to have some sort of mental breakdown, it hadn’t happened.
Now, on her first trip outside of the security of Caitlyn’s home, she was terrified.
A firm hand clasped her shoulder, and she turned her head upward. Donnie grinned at her, and she instantly felt reassured. To be honest, when she had first met the vampire, he had frightened the bejesus out of her, yet now he was her confidant, the person she went to with her worries, who sensed when she had pushed the hunger too far in her bid to be stronger and never chastised her for it. While Caitlyn was indeed her sire, Melanie knew that Caitlyn wasn’t entirely comfortable about creating baby vamps, and Melanie didn’t want to force herself on someone who had no interest in her.
“You doing okay?” Donnie queried, concern evident in his voice.
Melanie shrugged. “I’m not sure how I feel. It’s the first time people will see me like this,” she said, gesturing toward herself. “I don’t want anyone to look at me different.”
A slow smile spread across Donnie’s handsome face. “Then you should have worn a less obvious outfit.”
Melanie cast her eyes down to the outfit she had thrown on when Caitlyn had asked her to come to the station to help Derek. Her black combat boots with her skinny black jeans tucked in were her normal attire, but when she glimpsed the ‘Fangtasia’ logo on her scarlet coloured T-shirt, she returned Donnie’s smile. “Whoops.”
Caitlyn sauntered up to them. “If you can’t walk in there, Melanie, Derek will understand. But if mon loup did not feel it necessary to bring you here, a mere three weeks into your new life, then he would not have asked it of you.”
Melanie blew out a breath and chewed on her bottom lip. She ran through the list of worries in her head. She had gorged herself on blood, so she was well fed for now; Donnie and Caitlyn had her back, so if she went all fanged, they would stop her; but the one thing she was really worried about she still hadn’t asked.
“He’s not here, is he? I don’t think I can face him yet.” The words came out in a rushed whisper, Melanie knowing that anyone with supernatural hearing would be able to hear her and know who she meant.
The door at the back of the station opened, and Sarge stood in the doorway, a genuine smile on his lips. “You look good, Melanie. It’s nice to see you. And to answer your question, no. Ricky has been sent on a special assignment and won’t be back for a while.”
Melanie nodded, anxiety rippling through her. Oh God, oh God, oh God. What if she killed someone? What if she saw the pulse on their neck and couldn’t control the vampire side of her? What if she killed someone she knew, someone she liked… or loved? Bile rushed up her throat, and she gagged, embarrassment flooding through her as she stumbled to the bushes and retched into the foliage.
Her body trembled, and she forced herself to calm, the tiny voice in her head telling her it was her right as a predator to hunt, to kill, to feast. As she bent over, gulping in air and realizing she didn’t need to do that anymore, she felt a cool hand on the back of her neck. As with all her little meltdowns, Melanie had expected Donnie to comfort her, but as she sensed it was Caitlyn grasping her neck, her spine went ramrod-straight.
The hand slowly moved away from her neck, and Melanie turned to face the woman who had saved her life. Caitlyn had always fascinated Melanie. The vampire had an elegant, poised gracefulness that only added to the deadly power simmering beneath her exterior. Her gunmetal eyes told a story of sadness and loss, but Melanie had admired her from afar for years.
“Take the time to gather yourself, and then we’ll go in. Sarge is clearing the area of humans apart from Derek’s niece, Chloe.”
When Melanie’s eyes widened, Caitlyn brushed a strand of hair from Melanie’s face. “She will be in another room, sitting next to Derek and far enough away from you to not cause you worry. You are stronger than you think.”
When Melanie shook her head in disbelief, Caitlyn spoke in a soft tone. “Do you remember the night you were made a vampire?”
“Kinda.”
“Do you remember what I said to you before I snapped your neck?”
The words weren’t meant to be harsh, but to make Melanie understand how she had come to be reborn.
“No, that bit’s a little fuzzy.”
Caitlyn lowered her full lashes, and when she slowly reopened them, Melanie could see a sheen of wetness.
“I told you that you were strong and brave, and that if my daughter had lived, then I would’ve wanted her to be just like you. I never wanted to sire any vampires—you know that—but the two that I have made have surprised me in many ways. Never have I seen a new vampire take to the life as quickly as you have. Donnie and I, we will never let you do something you may regret. I promise you that.”
A lump formed in Melanie’s throat as Caitlyn turned and headed toward the station. “Caitlyn,” Melanie called.
The older vampire halted but refused to turn.
“You would have made an amazing mother.”
Caitlyn gave a nod to Donnie as she tried to slide past him and up the steps leading into the station, but his hand reached out and grasped her arm. A moment passed between them, and Melanie looked away, allowing them some privacy. When she glanced back around, Caitlyn was gone and Donnie was waiting for her.
“You ready to go, little sister?”
“Sure, big bro, just don’t let me kill anyone.”
“Depends if I like ‘em or not.”
Melanie folded her arms across her chest and headed in through the door that Donnie was holding open.
She inhaled the scents of the station; the lighting was a little overwhelming, the sounds scratched her ears, and the emotions of others crashed over her. She vaguely heard Donnie telling her to shut it out, to push it all aside and concentrate on just him. When she had contained herself, Melanie jutted out her chin and managed to put one foot in front of the other.
Her boots clattered against the tiled floor as they fell into step with Caitlyn and moved through the back of the station. Caitlyn opened the door to the human interrogation room and motioned for Melanie to head inside. When she didn’t, Caitlyn waited, drumming her fingers against the doorframe.
“Don’t they know this isn’t built for supernatural creatures?”
Donnie chuckled. “Guess not.”
Taking in a breath she didn’t need, Melanie nodded and followed Caitlyn and Donnie inside. The viewing room was small with a massive see-through window. She saw Derek sitting next to a woman with similar features, and two other wom
en with birdlike eyes that caused Melanie to shiver.
Donnie closed the door behind her, and she jumped, scolding herself for being such a coward. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, reminding her that Derek could hear and see her, and she finally fought back her nerves enough to catch Derek’s eye. He winked at her, and she felt her lips curve into a smile as the wolf leaned back in his chair and spoke to the women.
“I understand.”
“Then let’s begin.”
Melanie whispered, “What the hell are they?”
“Those, my dear, are griffins,” Sarge answered, coming to stand closer.
She wrinkled her nose at the wet fur smell that suddenly tickled her nose and cast a disgusted look at Donnie.
“Bears don’t smell very appetising now, do they, little sister.”
She shot a horrified look at Sarge, who simply chortled.
“Don’t worry about offending me, Melanie. Vampires don’t smell particularly nice to shifters, either.”
Self-conscious, Melanie lifted her arm and sniffed but couldn’t smell anything. “Like, Greek mythology griffins?” she asked, returning to the previous conversation.
“Also known as truth-seekers,” Sarge said.
Damn… she had a lot to learn, didn’t she?
“Don’t worry, kiddo. I’m still picking up stuff, too. There’s so much out there that’s real, you wouldn’t believe it.”
Turning her attention back to Derek, she narrowed her eyes and concentrated. She still wasn’t entirely sure what he needed her here for.
Derek continued to answer the griffins’ questions, and she tasted the truth on her tongue—a bitter sort of taste that burned. One of the griffins held up a photo of the woman Derek was accused of killing and asked him if he had ever seen her before. When Derek replied that he had, she gasped, still tasting the truth on her tongue.
The griffins assessed him before asking him to explain further.
“Yesterday afternoon when I woke up, she was dead in the bed next to me. That was the first time I laid eyes on her.”
Shit, Derek was toying with them. She grimaced and mouthed “sorry” to him as he fought not to return a smile.
