Harvest Hunting (23 page)

“I’m Detective Johnson, ma’am.” Chase flashed his badge. “Are you Madge Renault?”

She nodded, looking suspiciously at the badge. “Yeah, what is it?”

“Do you have a brother named Saz Star Walker?”

The irritation on her face gave way to fear, and she opened her mouth in an O as she stepped back and motioned us in with a nod. “Is he . . . is Saz in some kind of trouble, Detective?”

We followed her into a tiny living room overflowing with toys. A large dog sniffed at my ankles and let out a sharp yip then ran off to play with three very messy but happy-looking children, who all appeared to be under the age of three. But their looks could be deceptive—Weres aged slower than humans, though for the first fifteen or twenty years they grew at what appeared to be a normal rate. Then the aging process slowed drastically.

She tried to clear off one end of the sofa, and I quickly stepped forward to help. Giving me a grateful smile, Madge retreated to a wooden rocking chair and shifted the baby to her breast, where the child began to feed.

“I’m sorry—but my husband works evenings, and with five kids . . . it’s hard to keep things clean.” She brushed back a strand of hair from her face, and I caught a look in her eyes that worried me. Madge Renault was reaching a breaking point. I made a note to send out someone from the Supe Community Council to see if there was anything we could do to take the burden off—if only a little. We had been discussing setting up a sliding-scale day care for Weres in the area, and it was about time we followed through.

“Mrs. Renault, I need to ask you some questions about your brother.”

The apprehension returned to her face. “Yes. What’s wrong? He’s okay, isn’t he? Saz is a good kid; he doesn’t get into much trouble.”

Chase shook his head. “As far as I know, he hasn’t gotten himself into trouble with the law, Mrs. Renault. The problem is that he seems to be missing, and we found signs of a struggle at his apartment. We’re trying to pinpoint the last time anyone talked to him and find out if he said anything that might give us a clue where to find him.”

Her face paled, and she motioned for the little girl tugging on her arm to back off. “Saz, missing? No, that can’t be. He was just here . . .” she motioned for her purse, and her daughter brought it over to her. Madge pulled out a day planner and flipped it open. “Hell, it’s been over a week since I’ve seen him. Time just gets away from me these days.” Lifting her head, she asked, “What do you think has happened to him?”

I forced myself not to flinch. What we thought happened to him was far too gruesome to speculate on. Luckily, Chase saw it the same way.

“We’re not sure. Do you know if your brother had any enemies? Anyone out to get him for any reason?”

She slowly shook her head. “Not that I know of . . . oh, he had his run-ins, but so does every hot-blooded werewolf his age. I don’t know . . . our parents are out of state right now on vacation. I hate to worry them until we know for sure that something happened.”

“Do you by chance know his blood type?” While Weres’ blood was of a different makeup than humans, we still could cross match and classify the types.

“That I can help you with,” she said softly. “He was type U-7. Same as me. I needed a transfusion during the birth of my triplets, and he was the only match around.” Tears flickered in her eyes. “Find him, please. He’s a good boy. He’s never been high ranking in the Pack, but he’s worked hard for what little he’s got. I love him.”

Chase nodded. “We’ll do our best. Do you know where he likes to hang out, by any chance?”

“The Loco Lobo Lounge—it’s a Pack-only joint. And let’s see . . . the bowling alley. He bowls a mean game. I don’t have time to check out every place my little brother frequents.”

“Thank you, then. We’ll be in touch with you as soon as we find out anything. Meanwhile, you might want to go over to your brother’s apartment. It’s . . .” Chase’s voice dropped. “I won’t lie to you. There’s blood, and the place has been trashed.”

Madge wavered. “Do you think he’s alive?”

Chase glanced at me. I cleared my throat. “We don’t know. We hope so, Mrs. Renault. If he is alive, we’ll do our best to find him and bring him home.”

As we walked away, leaving her with tears trailing down her face, I felt like we’d just piled one more unbearable burden on the woman’s shoulders.

“How do you do this?” I asked. “How do you go to them, tell them that their life is about to fall apart? How do you handle it?

He was silent for a moment. Then, “I figure that if
I
do it, at least somebody compassionate will be telling them the bad news. They won’t get a callous attitude from me.”

It was my turn to be silent. As I climbed back in the Jeep, deep in thought, Chase took off for the FH-CSI headquarters, and I glanced back at Menolly and Vanzir. “Life fucking sucks sometimes,” I whispered.

“Yeah, I kind of know that.” Menolly smiled, her fangs descending. “I get to remember that every night and every morning, when the sunset calls, when the daylight chases me into sleep.”

Vanzir pointed at his neck. “This creature beneath my skin . . . he kind of underscores your thought, too.”

I looked at both of them. “Yeah. I get it. Okay, let’s head home for the night. Menolly, you want me to drop you off at the bar?”

She shook her head. “I need to get my Jag. You going to be okay?”

I smiled faintly. “Somehow I can’t imagine not being okay anymore. I’ve got one of the Harvestmen guarding my back. Even if I die, I’m guaranteed a good job in the afterlife, you know?”

My laughter just a tad on the verge of hysterical, I pulled out, and we headed for home.

 

 

By the time I got home, I was exhausted. I trudged in and dropped in a chair at the kitchen table. Menolly waved, grabbed her keys, and headed for the bar. Vanzir had stopped at the shed-turned-studio apartment where he, Roz, and Shamas shared quarters.

Iris took one look at me and put on the teakettle. Then, before I could say a word, she plopped Maggie—who was playing with her Barbie that had a replacement head in the form of Yoda—into my arms and began to forage in the cupboards. For once, she said nothing about my junk food habit, just set a bowl of Cheetos in front of me.

I buried my face in Maggie’s soft, downy fur. The calico gargoyle was our child, our baby, our pet—all the innocence of the world rolled up into one cute and destructive little package. But even she wouldn’t stay that way, and she was—like cats and wolves—a predator at heart. But right now, she was just a baby, laughing and playing with her Yobie doll, as she called it, and shrieking as she ran her fingers through my short spiky hair.

“Deeyaya! Ca-yee-ko!” She seemed delighted with my new style, and I suddenly realized that some of my colors matched her own fur.

“Yes, baby, that’s right. Delilah’s a calico now!” I laughed then, blowing on her belly and tickling under her chin. We’d finally taught her not to bite, though she still made mistakes at times, but she just shrieked again, laughing. Then, with a yawn so big I could have seen her tonsils—if she had any—she began to close her eyes. I handed her back to Iris.

“I think she’s ready for bed.”

“Yes, the cream drink puts her to sleep when it’s late and she’s tuckered out.” Iris carried her into her room, where Maggie slept at night, and a few minutes later returned. “Maggie’s already asleep. She had a hard day helping me weed the garden and clean house. Of course, her help was more hindrance, but I don’t mind. And Trillian and Morio took her out for a walk—they put her on a leash, which I don’t think is necessary at this time—she can barely toddle—but it makes them feel more secure. Her leg muscles are starting to strengthen up some. Another year or two, and she’ll be waddling around without a problem.”

“When is she supposed to start flying?” I asked, picking up one of the Cheetos and blissfully closing my eyes at the tangy taste.

“Oh, not for another ten or twenty years. Her wings won’t be big enough till then. In the wilds of Otherworld, the young ones are secluded for the first fifty or so years, and their parents bring them food. But she has to learn quicker than they would, although her body can’t grow faster than it’s normally supposed to.” Iris poured us both tea and sat down near me at the table.

“On one hand she seems to be growing so quickly, and yet . . .” I sighed, thinking of how we were going to deal with a teenaged gargoyle. But we’d have many, many years to worry about that. We just had to stay alive for the present.

“How are you faring tonight?” Iris sipped her tea, inhaling the steam. She motioned for me to do the same.

I lifted the cup, letting the minty smell envelop me. It soothed my headache that was brewing, though it couldn’t cure the heaviness in my heart. “I’m probably better off than Camille. I just lost a boyfriend. She lost a father. It’s quiet in here, did she go to bed?”

“Aye. A few hours back. Her men made sure she was tucked in and asleep before ten P.M. They’re a good lot, those boys are. They may be a handful at times, but they love her dearly. But you’re right. Camille worshiped her father—to have him pull this, it’s a dark day for her.” She shook her head.

“I’m so pissed at him. I can’t even begin to express how mad I am. Menolly and I are going to have to confront him before long.” As I sat there, contented to eat Cheetos and watch Iris as she made little snow etchings on the table with her magic—doodles, really—I began to drift. The room grew hazy, and the next thing I knew, I was standing in a misty vapor.

“You’re here.” The voice and presence felt familiar. I turned but could only see shifting shadows skittering around me.

“I . . . I don’t know. What am I doing here? Who are you?” Puzzled, I looked around. I was in the astral, that much was apparent.

Eyes shimmered from the mist, gleaming like those of a cat, but this was no feline energy. It felt like Hi’ran, and yet . . . there was something different. The voice was smoother than his but had the same timbre. “You must be tired. I didn’t realize you were so strong at sending.”

“Are you . . .” Hi’ran’s name would not form on my tongue. “You aren’t . . .” My voice fell. “But you feel so much like him. Who are you? Tell me?”

A shadow moved forward; the rush of bonfires came with it, the scent of the autumn wind, boreal and icy, and the silhouette of a man around my height swept me into his arms. Even though I couldn’t see him clearly, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“Oh, I wish I could take you here. Now . . .” He nuzzled his face in my neck, and I closed my eyes, letting the wash of passion rush over me in one fell swoop. It was like being dragged under dark seas. Welcoming the embrace, I wanted to slide into the sweet taste of restful oblivion.

The shadow kissed me again, and I tasted loganberry wine. He pressed his lips to my neck as his hands searched my body, setting off explosions—a cataclysm of sparks, a rain of
la petite mort
. It suddenly occurred to me that with Hi’ran, even though I’d felt his energy envelop me and stroke me, this was more tangible, actual fingers touching me, hands sliding across my body.

And then, with a shudder, I climaxed. The shadow kissed me again as I caught my breath, feeling renewed and refreshed.

“I’m not sure who you are,” I whispered, “but only one other being has made me feel like this.”

“Before long . . .” He paused, and I stared at the dark form that smelled of bonfire smoke and oak moss.

“Before long . . . what? Is my death drawing near?” I didn’t want to know, and yet—I had to know.

“No, my dear one. No . . . nothing of the sort. But keep your eyes open. Listen to your heart.”

“What about . . . the Autumn Lord?”

And then Hi’ran himself was there, strong and looming in back of me, and the shadow faded from view. He enfolded me in his cloak and once again, it was his energy touching mine, not the touch of fingertips.

“While you are mine in the end scheme of things, I am not a jealous master as long as you remember that I
am
your master.”

And then—like the wind—he was gone, and I opened my eyes. Iris stared at me, grinning.

“
Him
. . . again?” She could feel the energy. I could see it in her face.

“Yes, him. The Autumn Lord. He makes me feel . . . beautiful and brilliant and powerful. I both fear him and desire him in a way I’ve never wanted anyone else before. But . . .” How could I explain there had been someone else, someone who felt like Hi’ran but wasn’t him? I decided to keep that to myself for now. “I don’t feel quite so worn out.”

I was tired but no longer heartsick. I felt like I’d just had the mother of all massages, and in a way, I had. Orgasms given by the gods—priceless. I finished my tea and picked up my Cheetos.

“I’m going to go to my room, finish eating these, then sleep for a good eight hours. I’ll see you in the morning, dear Iris.” As I kissed her, she smiled, but behind that smile I sensed worry. And then I remembered—she was carrying a secret of her own, one that she had yet to tell Menolly and me. “And tomorrow, perhaps you can tell me what’s going on with you—why you need to go to the Northlands.”

The house sprite dipped her head. “You’ll know at some point. But for now, sleep well, my dear. Sleep well.”

As I headed upstairs, I pondered what Iris could be keeping secret. It was enough that Camille had promised to visit the Northlands with her—a journey not for the faint of heart. In fact, it was a daunting journey and—with what we knew about Smoky’s father and him being on the rampage against my sister and her husband—potentially dangerous.

My thoughts whirling, I slipped into my Hello Kitty night-shirt, flipped on the TV in my room, and settled in for an hour or two of late-night TV and junk food. And I realized that even though the other side of the bed was empty, I wasn’t lonely. I felt secure and comfortable, and for once I was glad to be alone with my thoughts. It was a soothing end to an otherwise stressful day.