Only Witness, The (18 page)

              Paws replaced her feet, thick black fur moved up the calf to just below the still very human knees. “What the fuck?” Vera finally managed to say something. “You have paws! Paws! Bear paws!” Suddenly it was really hard to breathe again, really hard. “Fuck.”

              “Are you scared of me?”

              “I...” Vera realized that she wasn't. “No, I'm not.” She was more curious than anything else and of course freaked out but not scared. And if she wasn't scared of Susan, maybe, just maybe, she didn't need to be scared of Deacon.

              “Why not?” Susan questioned, a small smile on her face.

              “I... I don't know. I can still see you. I can hear your voice. I know it's you.” Vera eased off of the lounge. “Does it hurt you?”

              “This doesn't hurt, it's a little bit of a bitch to hold only my feet and legs changed, though. Fully changing is painful, very painful, but you become accustomed to it.”

              “If Deke is a werewolf or Lycan, what does that make you?” Vera couldn't tear her eyes away from Susan's legs. Unable to resist the urge, she reached out. Her fingers brushed over the fur; it was softer than she'd thought it would be.

              “You would call me a Shifter. I have the ability to take the shape of anything. I just happen to relate to the bear. I go crazy once in a while, choose something else.”

              “VERA!” A shout from downstairs made her jump and apparently snapped Susan's control. Her feet returned and she got to them with a sigh.

              “That's Houdini,” Susan frowned at the door as footsteps sounded on the stairs. “I'll get rid of him.”

              “No, wait.” Vera got up as well. “Is he... does he change?” She ran her hand nervously over her shirt. “I mean, is he...”

              “That's a really personal question, you'll have to ask him.” Susan stopped with her hand on the lock. “Should I let him in?”

              “Yes,” Vera replied, a flurry of nerves burst to life in her stomach but she swallowed them down. Houdini was her friend, he'd never been anything but nice to her. There was no reason she should believe that he would hurt her. “Let him come up, he's cool.”

              “If you say so,” Susan unlocked the door and went downstairs.

              Vera rubbed her fingers over her temples. The dull ache between her eyes was only growing worse as she tried to organize and make sense of everything that Susan had said. There were still so many questions that she didn't have answers for and even more questions from what Susan had told her.

              Moments later, Susan returned with Houdini in tow. He looked almost out of place in the room, he was taller than both women. “Hey,” he looked in her direction. “You okay?”

              “I am, I'm confused, but I'm okay. I've just got a lot of questions.”

              “I bet you do,” Houdini moved over to settle down on the floor, he leaned back against the wall. “The shit that went down this morning was rough, but you can't be too hard on Deke, Vera. Trust me, that wasn't the way that he wanted you to find out about him. He was trying real hard to keep control around you.”

              “So, Deke can also control the change. If that's the case, what happened earlier? Why did his claws emerge?”

              “I think I know the answer to that,” Houdini cleared his throat and looked between the two women. “Josiah and his guys, The Grievers, are ruthless. Actually, that's probably too mild a term. I know Deke, he lost control at the idea of that evil fuckhead being anywhere near you, Vera.”

              “I bet he's right, I saw how protective he was of you,” Susan volunteered. “When you were out he wouldn't leave you for any reason.”

              “So yeah, they're bad news. Bad news for the town. Bad news for everyone.” He looked grim.

              Vera decided to lighten the subject, maybe change was a better word than lighten. “So Houdini, can I ask what you change into? Or is that too rude?”

              “It's not rude. And I don't have an animal inside of me, though sometimes I wish that I did,” he shifted, removed his gun from his holster and laid it on the floor. “What?” He questioned when Susan glared at him. “I'm not taking any chances.”

              Vera found comfort in the gun though she wasn't sure why. Was that Deacon's feelings bleeding through to her again? The thought made her brain hurt even more. She was more confused than she had been to begin with, now instead of just imagining what Susan was saying was true, she had actual physical proof. Her hand hurt from clutching at the fur that had come off in her palm when she stroked the bear.

              “You okay?” Houdini questioned. “I remember when I found out, I swore someone slipped me some acid or something. And they took it easy on me, they had...”

              “That was you?” Susan questioned; she laughed loud and hard. “Oh God, I've heard this story. You fainted when Steven turned into a bunny. Oh man, it's so much worse than I imagined because you're all big and strong looking.”

              “I didn't faint,” Houdini shook his head as Susan doubled over in laughter. “I got dizzy, had to sit down, but I didn't faint.”

              “He fainted,” Susan sat up and wiped tears from underneath her eyes.

              Vera laughed along with them. She was certain Houdini had fainted. The image was hysterical, and she realized that she'd needed the laugh, that connection between friends. It was easier to breathe, her chest wasn't quite so tight. “Don't feel too bad, Houdini, I fainted and went into a coma-like state for half a day.”

              “I still don't understand why. Fear is a powerful thing but I don't know why you weren't up sooner.”

              “If you don't know, I sure as hell don't. I remembered a little more of what happened, though, before I passed out. It wasn't Deke and I accused him of it,” Vera pressed her hands against her forehead, “fuck me.”

              “He's not going to blame you for freaking out a little, Vera, he's not that sort of guy.”

              “She's right,” Houdini agreed. “You'll see once you talk to him.”

              “You can let him know without saying a word,” Susan added. “All that you've got to do is use the connection between you, the empathy. I figure that you'll probably feel better too.”

              “I don't know how to use the empathy thing, I don't understand it. How can I use it?”

              “It's within you, you can figure it out. Just give it a try Vera, it's not going to hurt to try.” Susan urged. “Close your eyes and just think about Deke. Try to feel him.”

              Vera exhaled deeply, felt beyond stupid as she closed her eyes. Her mind was a mass of swirling thoughts, each threatened to distract her completely but somehow she managed to focus on one person, on Deacon. She tried to send the way she was feeling, scared and sorry. Not scared of him, though—no, scared because she wasn't with him. Nothing in the world seemed right, which terrified her even more. Vera reached out as best she could but there was nothing coming back, nothing at all, not even the confusing feelings that she'd been experiencing for the past few days.

              She waited, hoped to feel something from him in response, but there was nothing. The feelings she had been feeling from him, well, they weren't there any longer either. She wasn't sure when they'd stopped, she'd been so focused on being open. Vera felt tears burn her eyes. “I don't think it worked, Susan. Maybe I should just try the cell phone.”

Chapter FIFTEEN

              “Something tells me this isn't a social call,” Deacon looked up at Will Brothers with a sigh. “And I'm kind of in the middle of something.” Something may or may not have been the bottle of whiskey on the table next to him.

              After Vera and Susan had left, he'd lost it. Most of the house was torn apart. He'd broken things that he now regretted breaking, like the music box his grandfather had given his grandmother, who'd in turn given it to his mother, but in the moment there had only been rage. Red, roaring rage. He'd even took a swing or two at Houdini when he'd come back from his run.

              Eventually he'd calmed down or maybe just become exhausted. He'd stepped around the debris, grabbed the bottle and headed outside to the wooden gliders on the porch. Deacon was glad that he hadn't broken those. The last thing he wanted was to see Will Brothers.

              “Whatever it is needs to wait,” Will stepped up on the porch, adjusted his hat. “Couple of hikers came upon a body this morning, turns out it was Graham Caldwell. Also turns out that the gun was left with the body. The gun that had your fingerprints on it.”

              “The fuck it does,” Deacon set the bottle down on the table with a thump.

              “Oh, trust me it does.” Will looked pretty pleased by the fact. “Now, you come with me peacefully and I won't put the cuffs on you.”

              “Let me get this straight, you think that you're going to arrest me,” Deacon didn't know if he should be pissed or amused. Will was lucky that for now this was all pretty amusing. “First off, if I were to ever have reason to murder someone I'm quite sure that I'd be smart enough to take the gun with me or at the least wipe it off.”

              “I don't think, Deacon, I know. This is your last chance to do this peacefully. Otherwise we're going to go about this the hard way.” Will looked almost giddy at the prospect of the hard way.

              Deacon was happy to give it to him. “Guess it's going to be the hard way, then, Chief Will, because I don't know jack shit about what happened to Graham Caldwell.” Deacon picked up the whiskey bottle, took another sip and felt a now familiar tickle at the back of his mind. Vera was opened to him again, not just opened but reaching out to him. Deacon held firm, fortified the wall he'd been keeping up between them.  There was no way he could deal with feeling her being scared of him again today, maybe not ever.

              “Deacon Hawke, you're under arrest for the murder of Graham Caldwell. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say may be used in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can not afford an attorney one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?”

              “Fuck you,” Deacon replied.

              “I'm going to take that as a yes,” Will moved forward, grabbed Deacon's arm and twisted it hard before he shut cuffs tight around his wrist. Deacon hissed at the bite of the silver against his skin. What cop carried silver cuffs? The answer dawned on him, and it was the last thing he wanted to realize. If Will was using silver cuffs that meant he knew more than anyone had given him credit for.

              “You're making a mistake Will,” Deacon warned him.

              “Don't think so Deke,” Will let out a laugh as the phone began to ring on the table next to the whiskey bottle. “Looks like you're not going to need this.” Will snagged the bottle and tightened the cap before picking up the phone. “Hello. No, this isn't Deke. This is Chief Brothers. Who is this?” Will listened for a moment. “Well, I'm sorry, Vera, but Deacon can't talk right now. He's under arrest for murder.”

              Will ended the call and turned off the phone. “The guys in evidence will hold onto this for you.” He slid it into his pocket. “Get moving, Hawke, or I'll start to think that I didn't make the cuffs tight enough.”

              “You're going to regret this, Chief Will,” Deacon wasn't even bothered by the pain of Will tightening the cuff; it was worth it to have gotten under the man's skin. The silver handcuffs had tipped Will's hand. He knew the secret. The question that needed to be answered was how.

              Deacon didn't resist as Will shoved him in to the SUV. He was taken to the station, where he was booked, photographed, fingerprinted and charged with first degree murder. He knew his rights, he remained silent. He hadn't pulled the trigger on Graham Caldwell, didn't know who did, but it had nothing to do with him or The Vikings.

              Once he was in the holding cell, he turned to Will, who was gloating on the other side of the bars. “I want my phone call.”

              “Doesn't matter what lawyer you call, Deacon, I've got you dead to rights! The gun! Your prints! If you're smart, you'll admit it. It'll make the DA go easier on you. Hell, you might not get life. Maybe only twenty or thirty years.” Will was smiling ear to ear, Deacon was sure he'd have danced a jig if he could, or maybe he already had.

              Deacon didn't rise to the bait. “I want my phone call.” He repeated. He'd say nothing else until he got it. After a few moments of silence, Will reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

              “What's the number?”

              Deacon rattled off the number to Whiskey's registered phone. The older man would be awake while Master would be passed out still. Anytime Master was in charge, he partied, though he called it celebration. He took the phone from Will, listened to the ringing.

              “What's up, Kid?”

              “I'm down at the police station. Get Master up and get a lawyer down here.”

              “Police station?” Whiskey chuckled. “What did you do to piss off Chief Will this time? One day the charges he throws at you are going to stick. What are you going to do then?”

              “Let's hope I don't have to find out this time. Get it done, will you?” Deacon wasn't in the mood to give details, couldn't even if he was so inclined. He just wanted to get out of the cell. Normally he had no problem with the size of any space, large or small, but he was so on edge that it made him feel like he was actually in a shrinking box.

              “That's enough,” Will held out his hand for the phone.

              Deacon ended the call, handed it over when he really wanted to smash it against the ground, but that would be stupid. “Thanks,” he said brightly, “really appreciate it.”

              “Fuck you, Deke.” Will told him. “You're going down for this.” The threat was typical of Will, unable to be really menacing even when he tried. Deacon ignored it, moved to sit down on the hard bench that was the only place to sit with the exception of the floor.