Secret of the Wolf (2 page)

He sounded less enthused about being with her than she’d like. It befuddled her. What was going on beneath that brush cut? She’d thought they had been on their way toward rebuilding the relationship that had been put on hold by their trip through the rift all those years ago, yet he seemed remarkably disinterested.

Before she could delve into it further, her cell phone rang. With a murmured apology, she slipped the rift device under her pillow and then grabbed her phone from the nightstand. She noticed her brother’s sharp eyes hadn’t missed the fact that she’d hidden the alleged MP3 player. She’d have to make sure to find a better hiding place than a book and her underwear drawer. She answered the phone on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Got a brouhaha over on Chaparral, just east of Hayden,” the council dispatcher said without any formal greeting. He was an irascible werebear who didn’t put up with a lot of crap, though he sure could dish it out. “Local LEOs have things in hand at the moment, but you need to get your furry self over there.”

“What happened?” All business, she rose from the bed and headed toward her closet. For now, at least, the Scottsdale police had things under control. She paused as she reached for a blouse and wondered if Dante MacMillan was already at the scene. A sensual shiver worked its way through her. There was something about that man, something that, even though he was human, called to everything feminine and primal within her.

“Some kind of skirmish between a werewolf and a vamp,” the dispatcher answered, drawing her back to the conversation, “with a human bystander caught between ’em. Think the human’s okay, though. Well, mostly okay.” The werebear gave a little growl. “As okay as one of ’em can be in the middle of a fight between two prets, I suppose. But you need to get over there pronto.”

“Ten-four.” She grinned at the dispatcher’s disgruntled snarl. He really hated it when she used police codes. Tori rang off and looked at her brother. She shoved the phone into the pocket of her robe. As she pulled the blouse from its hanger, she started, “Rand, I—”

“Let me guess,” her brother said. His voice held a hint of sarcasm that dismayed her. “You have to go.”

She nodded and went to her dresser to pull out a clean pair of jeans. “Rand, we really—”

He slashed a hand through the air. His face darkened, glittering gaze meeting hers. “Just forget it, Tori. It’s always been this way with you. Job first, family second.” He sounded like a sulky child.

She tamped down a surge of irritation even as she felt the need to defend herself and her choices. “That’s not true!” She dropped her clothing on the bed and went over to him. She put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I love you, you know that. And I love having you here. It’s just like old times. With you around, it makes this place, this planet, feel like home.” For the first time since she’d arrived in this strange, new world it felt…comfortable. Family made all the difference.

She was surprised to see a film of tears make his blue eyes shine. “It’s not that I don’t like being here with you,” he said, his voice low, a little hoarse. “It’s just…” He shook his head with a sigh. “I’ve always felt like I existed in your shadow. ‘Why can’t you be more like your sister?’” he mimicked in an excellent approximation of their father’s bellicose tones. “‘Your sister never disappoints us.’” He went back to his normal voice. “I knew he was disappointed in me. Always disappointed. And I’m just not sure that, if I stay, things will be any different. I’ll be known as Tori’s little brother, the inept one. The loser.”

“Rand, no you won’t.” Tori felt much more compelled to build up Rand’s self-esteem than to defend her father. He had been strict, demanding perfection from a son who was too emotionally fragile to withstand the pressure. She gave her brother’s shoulder another squeeze. “You’re not inept. And Father loved you. You know he did.”

“Did he?” Rand shrugged. His fingers started tapping against his thigh. “Whatever.” He wore the same churlish expression he had when he’d been a teen. She felt momentary dismay that he could still be so immature. Hadn’t he learned anything from his trip through the rift? Had he not grown at all in the century and a half they’d been on Earth? He seemed to shake his mood, because a slight smile tilted his lips. He lifted his hands, spreading them in a sheepish gesture. “Listen, I’m just being…” He shook his head. “Don’t pay any attention to me. Go. Get to work. Save the day,” he said in an approximation of a superhero’s voice.

She returned his smile, though she couldn’t get rid of the worry niggling at the back of her mind. He was lost and alone and resisting her attempts to make him part of her life again. If she pushed too hard she might lose him again. On impulse, she hugged him and quickly released his thin but firm body. Anyone who made the mistake of thinking he’d be physically weak might make the last mistake of their lives. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and tried to ignore the sour-milk scent of his sullen discontent. “I’ll see you later, all right? We’ll have dinner together. Think about what you’d like, and I’ll stop by the grocery store on my way home.” She searched his eyes, looking for a sign, any sign, of what he might be thinking, what he was feeling. “We’ll talk. Catch up some more.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He gave another smile, though this one was definitely forced. With a nod he left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Tori grabbed the device and schematics from beneath her pillow. She slipped the folded paper into the pocket of a fleece jacket she hardly ever wore and tucked the device into the toe of one of her boots. The jeans she shimmied into were formfitting, and the blouse was frothy in various shades of turquoise. Her women’s athletic shoes were serviceable with bright purple along the edge of the sole. Being a werewolf was so much a part of what she was, she needed to find ways to feel like a woman. To be feminine. To be more than the beast. Purple shoes and filmy blouses helped.

She brushed her still-damp hair and braided it, then slipped her brush into the fanny pack she usually wore instead of carrying a purse. After shrugging into her shoulder holster, she retrieved her Magnum from the gun safe. It was a requirement of the council that all liaisons, in essence law enforcement officers for preternaturals, had to carry guns. Tori didn’t usually mind, but sometimes the gun was the least favorite part of her job. While it often made her feel sexy, it rarely made her feel feminine.

Besides, when it came to defending herself or running down a suspect, all she really needed were her claws and fangs.

T
ori parked her Mini behind a Scottsdale squad car and hopped out. She gave a nod to one of the uniforms standing at the perimeter of the scene, keeping the crowd at bay. Several squad cars with lights flashing marked the area of the grocery store parking lot where the action was taking place.

As she approached the police van near the group of black-and-whites, the acrid scent of drying blood wafted to her. Quickly, she scanned the scene, seeing patches of blood on the pavement and a lump of bloody material lying near the entrance to the store. Never far from her thoughts, she wondered if Dante had arrived yet, and she glanced around again, this time to suss out something, someone, entirely different. Her stomach bottomed with disappointment when she didn’t see him. Maybe because there wasn’t a human fatality he wouldn’t be dispatched. It’s not like he covered all the cases. There were several members of the Special Case squad that could be sent to work an active crime scene, but the extent of their involvement, if at all, depended on whether humans were embroiled in the action. If Dante had too much on his plate, another detective would be sent here. At that thought, her disappointment grew.

She blew out a breath and put her attention on the police van. A man sat in the back, huddled in a blanket, his hands clutching the edges in front of him to cover his nudity. Since he was naked, she had to assume he’d tangled with the vampire in his werewolf form. She grimaced. That was easier to picture than him just cavorting around in the buff. “Well, there’s the werewolf,” she murmured to herself. “Where’s the vampire?”

Glancing around, she spotted him off to one side, a couple of uniformed officers standing beside him. Their hands rested on the butts of their weapons; their eyes shifted from one another to the vampire. Tori made a mental note to keep the van between her and them in case those itchy trigger fingers weren’t held in check. The vampire liaison, Aldis Knox, was already there, taking the vamp’s statement. She lifted a hand in greeting and stopped next to another uniformed officer. “What’s the status of the human?” she asked the young cop.

“EMTs took him over to County.”

If he was taken to the hospital, it meant he’d probably gotten in the way of somebody’s teeth. “Was he bitten?” she asked.

“Looks like.” The officer gave a quick shrug. “They weren’t sure which of the EDs did it, so they’ll keep him in the secure wing until they know whether or not he’s going to turn.”

“We prefer to be called preternaturals. Or prets if it’s easier.” Tori held his gaze.

A slight flush darkened his cheeks. “Sorry?”

She couldn’t tell if his confusion was genuine or put on. “You called them”—she gestured toward the werewolf and the vampire with a swoop of one arm—“EDs. Extra-dimensionals. Most of us prefer to be called preternaturals,” she repeated, just in case he was missing her point.

“Oh.” He stared at her for a few seconds, then offered a muttered apology. “I didn’t know.”

“No problem,” she responded easily. “Now you do.” She glanced around the scene again, unable to keep from searching for Dante. She didn’t see tall and sexy anywhere. “Has Detective MacMillan arrived yet?”

“No, ma’am.”

She gave a brief nod and, as she started to move off, the officer said, “Ah, ma’am?”

Tori stopped and looked back at him.

“How does that work, exactly? Turning someone, I mean.” He gave a sheepish smile. “They explained it to us in the academy, but I didn’t really understand it.”

She was glad to educate him, figuring the more informed humans were the less they might let their imaginations overtake them. “The pret releases a little bit of their essence—a piece of their soul, if you will—into the victim’s blood. For a vampire, the timing is critical. It has to happen right before the person dies.” She remembered the first time she’d seen someone “come back” after being bitten by a vampire. The poor thing hadn’t been expecting it, and it had taken all of Knox’s considerable strength to hold the woman down while he explained what had happened. Only the sound of Tori’s voice had finally calmed the new vampire enough so that she could actually hear what Knox was telling her. Tori looked at the officer. “A shapeshifter can do it at any point during the attack. And the victim doesn’t necessarily die. But at the next full moon they will transform.”

“Okay.” He glanced over his shoulder at the vampire. He seemed much more nervous of the vamp than the shapeshifter.

Tori decided to disabuse him of any illusions he might have that werewolves weren’t a threat. He’d live longer if he learned this lesson now instead of while being maimed by teeth and claws. She leaned in and let the wolf come to life in her eyes, just a little. “We’re all just as dangerous, officer.”

His face paled and he jerked back a couple of steps. “Right. Yeah.”

She’d meant to get her point across, not scare the crap out of him. She sighed and held up a hand. “Look, I’m sorry. That was a little heavy-handed.” She put some space between them and heard his breathing even out. “Just…don’t underestimate any pret, okay? You’ll live a lot longer,” she added in a dry tone.

“Right.” He swallowed and then dipped his chin. “Thanks.”

Tori nodded and walked over to the werewolf in the blanket, unzipping her portfolio as she went. She drew a breath and frowned as she stopped at the back of the van. “Barry,” she greeted the werewolf in a calm voice. She’d discovered over the years that having such a melodious tone was at odds with her being a wolf, and it kept people off guard long enough for her to worm out more information than she might otherwise ordinarily get. She drew out her pen and jotted down the date and location on the incident report form.

“Ms. Joseph.” He briefly met her gaze and then ducked his head. She hadn’t thought it possible but his shoulders hunched even more. A definite odor of tequila and rum poured off him, though it lessened with each passing second. The smoky mixture of chagrin and irritation only grew.

“You want to tell me what happened here?” she asked.

“Not really.” At her sharp look, he cowered as if expecting a blow. When one didn’t come, he lifted his head slightly and looked up at her. Well, looked in her general direction, because he didn’t make eye contact.

“Barry,” she said. “I’m not part of your pack.” She wasn’t part of anyone’s pack, not really, unless you counted the other werewolf liaisons in the region. “I’m not going to hold you to your Omega status, okay?” It was obvious to her from his subservient demeanor that he was the lowest ranking member of his pack, one that treated him roughly, if his cowering was anything to go by.

His eyes darted to hers but he didn’t say anything.

“Now, tell me what happened.”

“He started it.” His expression turning mutinous, Barry pointed at the vampire. “He called me a mutt.” His words came out a little slurred, but she knew any intoxication he currently suffered would soon dissipate. The incredible metabolism of a werewolf made it impossible to maintain a drunken stupor for long.

She knew that from firsthand experience.

“And calling you a mutt started the fight?” She made a few notes.

“Well, no.” He shifted and pulled the blanket tighter. “He said my mother was a real bitch.” His mouth tightened. “I loved my mother.”

“I’m sure you did.” Tori held her pen at the ready. “So that’s what started the fight? Him insulting your mom?”

“No.” Barry straightened. “He said my Wilma was a shitmobile. A shitmobile!”

That seemed a strange insult to deliver to a wife or girlfriend. “I take it Wilma is your…”

“She’s a 1965 Mustang convertible.” He gave a low growl. “Shitmobile.” His face darkened. His gaze on the vamp, he started to get up.

“Barry, sit down. Now.” Shooting him a look but not changing the calm tenor of her voice, Tori jotted a few more notes on the incident report. Once Barry had sunk back down onto the seat, she looked at him. “So you let this guy insult you, insult your mom, but when he dissed your car, that’s when you let him have it?” She lifted her eyebrows. It made no sense to her, but then she didn’t have testicles.

“Wilma can’t stand up for herself. He had no business insulting her. I had to make him pay for it.” He sent a glare the vampire’s way.

Tori glanced over her shoulder to see the vampire completely ignore Barry, though she could tell by the smirk on his face he was well aware the werewolf was glowering at him. The vamp said something and then shook Knox’s hand before he walked off.

“They’re just letting him leave?” Barry jumped down out of the van, leaving the blanket behind. “What the hell!”

Shocked gasps and then titters from the crowd drifted to Tori. “Oh, for the love of…Barry!” she barked, dropping her calm voice. Barry flashing his junk was not going to garner any points with the locals. “Get your ass back in the van. And cover it up, for crying out loud.” When he started past her, she grabbed his arm and whirled him around with a snarl. She held his gaze, the wolf clawing to get out. She was determined to maintain her professionalism, despite the fact that her inner wolf wanted to let loose with teeth and claws. It always wanted to rumble. “You do not want to start something with me. Do you?”

Her voice was no longer the soothing tones she’d been using. It was low with the growl of the wolf. And he took note of it.

“No, ma’am.” He climbed back into the van and draped the blanket over his lap. “Sorry.”

Tori drew in a deep, cleansing breath. She made a few more notes on the incident report and then closed her portfolio and tucked it under her arm. She looked at Barry. “You’ll have to spend the night at the council jail, and go before the council tomorrow. They’ll decide what your punishment will be.” The western region Council of Preternaturals, made up of thirteen members representing most of the major clans of prets, handed out swift justice. It wasn’t always merciful, though, and Tori hoped Barry got a break.

“Why do I have to spend the night in the pokey but he gets to walk away?” He sat there, shoulders hunched, blanket bunched over his lap, looking like a recalcitrant child, not the vicious killer he had the potential to be. The killer he probably was. Every werewolf she’d ever known had killed at least one person. Some on purpose, some by accident.

It was something you never forgot, that first kill.

Tori pushed back guilt over dark things she herself could never undo. “Pouting on a werewolf is never pretty, Barry.” She narrowed her eyes. Referencing a popular board game, she said, “Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars. You started the fight. You’re the one who lost control, not the vamp. Just pray you weren’t the one who injured the human, or your punishment will be worse. And if you turned him, against his will…”

Barry heaved a sigh and leaned his elbows on his knees, scrubbing his face with his palms. “Oh, God,” he moaned, his voice muffled by his hands. “I am in so much trouble.”

“You very well might be.” Tori reached in and touched his arm. She remembered a time when she hadn’t made the best of choices, so she could certainly feel for him in his current situation. Faced with what he’d done, she knew he’d do anything to turn back the clock, to undo what had happened. “I’ll do what I can for you,” she murmured.

“Thanks.” He rubbed his hands over his face again and then turned his head to look at her. “I won’t cause any more trouble.” He sounded weary. Defeated.

Sooner or later the wolf broke them all. Then you learned to live with what you were, learned to accept your darker side and the atrocities it was capable of committing.

Tori lifted her chin in acknowledgment and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. After making transportation arrangements for Barry, she put her phone away. Struck by a thought, she looked at the disheartened werewolf. “Barry, you’ve heard about the attacks in the north quadrant?”

He held up his hands. “Hey, it’s not me. I’m not stupid.”

She raised her eyebrows in unspoken disagreement. The idiot had taken on a vampire because of an insult to his car.

“Usually,” he amended with a sigh. “I’m usually not stupid.” He crossed his arms. “And I’m definitely not stupid enough to go turning people into wolves without council sanction.”

An accidental turning now and then was usually forgiven, as was an unsanctioned turning out of necessity, done to save someone’s life. But in most cases a rogue pret who willy-nilly started making other preternaturals was executed. And one who turned people against their will had no other option than to pay with his own life.

Preternatural law was efficient and deadly.

She studied Barry, saw the honesty in his eyes, smelled the light aroma of his sincerity, yet still, she had to be sure. She ripped a blank piece of paper out of her notebook and handed it to him. “Write down where you were on the fifth, sixth, ninth, and tenth. Account for every minute, Barry.” Deciding she wanted the vamp’s side of the story, Tori started toward Knox. “Sit tight,” she said to Barry over her shoulder. “Transport should be here in about half an hour.”

He gave a nod. Blowing out a breath, he leaned back against the inside of the van.

Tori’s long strides covered the distance between her and the vampire liaison quickly, but when a spicy, woodsy scent wafted her way she faltered. She glanced around and saw Dante MacMillan standing at the perimeter of the parking lot, talking to one of the uniformed officers. As she stared at him, her heartbeat picked up speed, setting up a hard thump in the pulse at the base of her throat. Mutant butterflies began doing somersaults in her stomach. Her breathing quickened.

This is ridiculous
. She was a hundred and seventy-six years old, for crying out loud. Yet here she was, reacting like a schoolgirl with her first crush. But she’d have to be dead inside to not appreciate that walking advertisement for tall, dark, and sexy.

Dante’s head was bent as he listened to the officer, and the sun glinted off his dark hair. As usual, it was brushed back from his forehead, but stubborn strands insisted on falling forward. They made Tori’s fingers itch to stroke them off his face just so she could watch them flop down again. He gestured, and her attention was caught by his masculine hands. Long, square-tipped fingers and broad palms.