Harvest Hunting (17 page)

As Camille and I ran through everything that had happened, including Carter’s disclosure about his heritage, I reached for more bread.

Trillian crossed the room and took it from me, along with the butter knife. He began to butter the slices and hand them to me, and I gave him a shy smile.

Yep. The same arrogant, cocky man he’d always been, but something had changed, and he was kinder to the rest of us, no longer relegating us to the sidelines whenever Camille was in the room. Whether it was the fact that we were now family or whether he’d gone through something in the war that had changed him, I didn’t know and wasn’t going to ask. But whatever the cause, it was a pleasant change of pace. Even Menolly had cottoned up to him a bit.

When we finished telling them what had happened, Morio let out a long sigh. “Wolf Briar. I know of it—and whoever is using it must be stopped. Anyone with a
shred
of decency wouldn’t touch it. Hell, this is something only someone as rotten as the Merés would pull.” He motioned to Luke. “Have there been any reports of werewolves disappearing lately?”

Luke frowned. “I don’t know, to be honest. I’m ostracized from a lot of Packs because they know I’m a pariah at home, and they don’t want to get on my old Alpha’s bad side.”

Nerissa spoke up. “I’ve got a friend who belongs to the Olympic Wolf Pack. They’re unusual in the fact that they run a matrilineal society, and they aren’t well accepted by other werewolves. Let me call her and see if she’ll talk to us after we finish lunch. She might know something.”

I glanced at the clock. “Menolly won’t be up for another couple of hours. Luke, would you like to come with Nerissa and me, if we can get an okay on meeting her buddy?”

He shrugged. “As long as she doesn’t mind me being there. I wear a mark in my aura of having been excommunicated from the Pack. Most werewolves can pick it up by simply standing near enough to me.”

“I didn’t know that,” I said, wondering just how the energy signature read. I was about to ask Camille to give it a try, but one look at her told me the only thing she was up for right now was a nap. “Can one of you big, strong dorks please carry my sister up to her bed? No fun stuff allowed. She needs her rest. The Wolf Briar played havoc with her senses.”

I overrode her protests as Smoky carefully swept her into his arms and headed toward the stairs. “I’ll stay with her and make certain she’s all right,” he said. “Can someone bring me a tray with something to eat when it’s ready?”

Trillian nodded. “I’ll do it. Then Fox Boy and I’ll start in on our project while you watch our wife.”

“Project?” Somehow that sounded dangerous.

“We’re working on the studio.” That was all he would tell me.

“Katrina said she has the afternoon free,” Nerissa said, putting her phone away. “As soon as you’re finished, let’s head out. And Luke, she said you’re welcome. She lives here in the city, even though she belongs to a Peninsula Pack.”

As I finished up with the sandwiches, I couldn’t help but wonder just where this was all leading. We hadn’t found out much about Amber. We didn’t know where she was. We didn’t even know if she was alive. Frustrated, I fixed a tray for Smoky, and Trillian carried it out of the room. As I bit into my second sandwich, I couldn’t help but feel that the universe was holding a pissing match over our heads. And I was getting tired of it.

It seemed odd, heading out with Nerissa and Luke, when I was so used to handling cases with my sisters. Iris waved from the door, and I waved back, feeling an abrupt sense of loneliness.

The sky was dark, rain looming again, and the wind, chill. I watched as a murder of crows perched in the tall oak near the back of the house. Morgaine, come to spy on us? Shaking the thought off—I was getting paranoid in my not-so-old age—I slowly inhaled a deep breath. The scent of woodsmoke and air made crisp by the sparkling raindrops filled my lungs, followed by the deep, pungent scents of cedar and fir, moss and mildew. This was Hi’ran’s season. The Autumn Lord ruled over these months, and once again, I felt a longing to summon him to my side, to talk with him. His presence was becoming oddly soothing, and I felt calm when I thought about him.

A sudden movement caught my attention out of the corner of my eye, but there was no one there. A second later, I felt someone cup my elbow.
Hi’ran?
I could feel his heat, and yet—and yet—again, it wasn’t him. Shaking my head but feeling less lonely, I unlocked the Jeep and motioned for the others to get in.

Nerissa called shotgun. She was dressed in a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved top, and stilettos that brought her to my height. Her golden hair trailed down her back, curling in tendrils that made me smile. She really was beautiful; I could see how Menolly had fallen for her. Luke sat in the backseat, his face a tense slate of worry. He was hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Could you please sit back and put on a seat belt. I don’t want to be responsible for killing you if we have an accident, the gods forbid.”

Blinking, he obeyed without question. As I inched us out of the driveway, I could tell he was struggling with something.

“Are you okay, Luke? Whatever it is, you can tell us.”

He shrugged. “It’s just . . . as much as I hate Rice, I hope to hell he’s not the one who did this. Any member of the Pack who would use Wolf Briar against another member should be shot. I don’t want to think about Rice having the balls to use it, especially not against my sister. One thing Sharah didn’t mention to you, apparently—and perhaps she doesn’t know, we tend to keep a tight rein on the information—is that too much exposure to Wolf Briar can lead to domestication. Ultra-submissiveness. Wolf Briar can turn a Were near the top of the Pack into a groveling slave. Forever.” Venom filled his voice.

I winced. “Not good. I didn’t know that, and I don’t think Sharah does either. I take it you’d prefer that information to be kept quiet?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, if you and Nerissa would be so kind. If it leaked out to the general public, do you know what the hate groups would do with it? Or anybody with a beef against a werewolf?”

I could see his point. What if the Freedom’s Angels got hold of this information? They’d crossed the line from hate speech into action, and they would have no problem with funding the production of Wolf Briar and using it. Anything to get rid of the object of their fear and disgust.

“So, why does your friend Katrina live in Seattle when her Pack is over on the Peninsula?” I turned onto Greenwood Avenue.

“She works over here, and it’s easier for her Pack to keep their paws in the Supe Community Council activities with one member nearby.”

We headed north through the Bitter Lake area, then took a right onto Westminster Way, then left again on Dayton. When Dayton intersected Carlyle Hall Road, we curved left and continued along past the Shoreline Community College area, where the woods were still thick and the city took on a greenish hue. Seattle wasn’t called the Emerald City just because somebody liked L. Frank Baum’s books. Eventually, Carlyle merged into Third Avenue, and shortly after that, 175th Street, where we turned left.

“She lives out there a ways, doesn’t she?” Luke said.

“Katrina lives near the sound, on Sixteenth.” I quickly turned onto Tenth, and we wound our way through more wooded suburbs, until we came to 167th. From there, it was a short jog, and we were on the right street, the last street before Puget Sound. I slowed as we drove through the cul-de-sac, stopping in front of a modest house that had recently been built at the end of the road.

As I parked, I glanced at the view and thought that, modest or not, this had to have set the werewolf back a pretty penny. Waterfront property—and that included anything with even a remote view of the water—was mega-expensive.

The wind was whipping a froth on the sound as we climbed out of my Jeep. The scent of brine hung heavy as it filtered in, and the screech of seagulls made me nervous. I didn’t like the water—most werecats didn’t. Even though we were nowhere near any danger of falling in, the mere sight of such a vast expanse of silvery waves unsettled me. I never could figure out what people found so soothing about the water. To me it was all one big scary bathtub.

Luke, on the other hand, lifted his nose into the air and sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes as the wind whistled past.

“I love this weather,” he said. “I love this area. I’d never go back to Arizona, even if the Pack asked me to return.”

“Let’s go,” Nerissa said. “Katrina’s waiting for us. I don’t know if Luke gave you the rundown, Delilah, but a few pointers: never stare down a werewolf. It’s a challenge, and even though Katrina’s not an alpha bitch, it will set her on edge. When you greet her, smile, nod, but don’t lock gazes.”

“Good point,” Luke said. “I’m pretty good about controlling the impulse, but a lot of werewolves haven’t been able to master their inner beast.”

“I’m glad you told me, because in the feline Were world, it’s the opposite.”

We headed up the sloping lawn to the house, where Nerissa rang the bell on the freshly painted house. The smell of paint had faded and now mingled with the smells of overturned earth—which meant Katrina probably had a garden—and woodsmoke. A glance at the roof showed she had a chimney and yes—it was puffing away.

The door opened, and a dark-haired, rather intimidating looking woman stood there. I don’t know what I’d expected, but it hadn’t been to see a woman in a corporate skirt suit, with her hair done up in a bun, wearing wire-framed glasses. She was trim and petite, barely five five I guessed, and her jaw was set strong and firm. In days gone by, she would have been called a
handsome
woman. Her eyes, though, were arresting. Dark, brilliant brown, like molten chocolate, ringed with a circle of topaz.

As she saw Nerissa, a smile washed over her face, and the stern primness turned to warm beauty. “Nessa! Long time, no see. Are these your friends?” She glanced at Luke and me. “Weres, both of you, but you—” She pointed to me. “You have something else in the mix. You’re not a typical Were.”

Just then a crack of thunder rumbled overhead, and the clouds broke, drenching us with huge, fat raindrops. Nerissa squealed and covered her head as Katrina slipped away from the door and ushered us in.

“Good grief, where are my manners? Get yourselves in here. Come on.” She hustled us into the living room near the fireplace. I gasped as I saw the huge bay window that faced Puget Sound. Enough of the obscuring greenery had been cut away for us to be staring out over the huge body of water that Seattle nestled itself against, and the sight was breathtaking, picture-perfect.

“How lovely,” I whispered, sinking down onto the window seat that jutted out from the house, providing a panoramic view. With glass and rocks and plenty of ravine between me and the water, I could appreciate the sight. “You have a wonderful home,” I added, glancing around.

Polished, rich hardwood floors underscored cream-colored walls, and the built-in shelves and trim matched the color and grain of the floor. The furnishings were dark and heavy, leather and wood, and matched perfectly with the brick of the fireplace. The décor was that of a hunting lodge but upscale and comforting.

I sucked in a deep breath and looked around.
Yuletide,
I thought. It smelled like Midwinter. Sure enough, a jar of blue spruce-scented potpourri rested on an end table next to an oversized chair. Cinnamon sticks poked out of the mix, and cloves, and what I suspected was a dried vanilla bean.

“Thank you,” Katrina said, sitting down in a wooden rocking chair that had been covered with a patchwork quilted throw. I had a feeling she’d made it herself.

Nerissa motioned to Luke. “This is Luke—he’s the Were who’s . . .” She paused, glancing at him, her face flaming.

“What Nerissa is trying to say without offending me is that I’m the Were who’s pariah to my Pack. I was excommunicated and turned out on threat of death many years ago.” He pulled back his hair, and I gasped as a notched ear came into view. “I bear the mark of the unworthy.”

If Katrina was surprised, she didn’t show it. Instead, she offered him her hand. “Luke, it’s nice to meet you. Welcome to my home.”

It was as if some unspoken acceptance ritual had passed between the two, and by the look of relief that washed over his face, I knew I was right.

“And this is Delilah,” Nerissa said. “One of Menolly’s sisters.” When her voice touched on Menolly’s name, there was a hint of pride in it, and I repressed a grin. Nerissa had it bad for my little sister, all right.

Katrina shot me a long look. “You’re right, she’s definitely pretty—but she’s not as flamboyant as you mentioned.”

“That would be Camille, her other sister,” Nerissa said, turning bright red. She glanced over at me, flustered. “Trust me, I don’t talk about you guys to everybody,” she offered. “Just to my friends. Oh wait—that didn’t sound right . . .”