West Coast Witch (13 page)

When she left, I turned to Amy. “Okay, what’s up with that?”

“I know some of the passwords to the pack. What happens now is that we will get a
minor pack functionary. After that, they will judge whether our request is worth of
the Alpha’s time. If not, we deal with the other pack member. If we do, we meet Finnegan.”

We were there for a few minutes before the door opened. The man they sent to deal
with us was a tank of a man. He was six and a half feet easily, and freaking built.
His entire frame was stacked with muscles. I resisted an urge to ask if the guy was
human. Obviously, he wasn’t. Though, I did wonder what his animal was. I shuddered
at the thought of a wolf that big.

“I’m Jackson Miller.” He said, and extended his hand to Amy. “Your reputation precedes
you, Amy.”

Amy shook his hand, and gave him a pleasant smile. “Why, thank you, Jackson. This
is Eric Carpenter, my associate.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mister Carpenter.” We shook hands once they were done. I saw
Jackson's nose twitch. I knew he was taking in my scent. “So, what business do you
have with the pack today?”

I decided to take the lead. “We are looking into Samantha Coolidge’s disappearance,
Jackson. We were hoping we could as for a bit of help in the matter.”

He nodded as he sat down. “Sam wasn’t a very active member of our pack, but she was
pack. That’s more than family. We’ll do anything we can to help.”

“Well, let us begin with her friends.” Amy said. “Mister Miller, we went to the office
of Raymond Francis, the private investigator who had been hired to look into her disappearance,
and there were two weres there. One of those same weres tossed my associate’s apartment.”

He smiled, just a little. “Cut to the chase, don’t you two?”

“We could waste each other’s time, dance around the subject, and get nowhere. Would
you prefer that?”

Jackson smiled. “Well, I can appreciate that. Can you describe the two men?”

I nodded. “Both were about six feet tall, dark hair. They were stocky, not like workout
freaks, but worker-types. Only one of them spoke, but he was the gruff, few words
type.”

“That describes more than a few people here. What makes you think they were ours?”

“The tattoos, in particular.” I remarked. “They had were tattoos on them, and so I’m
inclined to believe they were weres.”

“So you want us to root through our own on the thought that you think that they’re
one of ours?”

Amy nodded. “That is what we want, yes. We want to know why they are trying to stop
us from trying to find her.”

“Stop you?” Jackson furrowed his brow. “What did they do, Miss Amy?”

“As Amy said, one of them broke into my apartment last night. They were trying to
find a brush that belonged to Sam.”

Amy winced. “You should not have said that, Eric.” She whispered.

“What, why?” I looked over to her. Shit, well there went our cool, professional demeanor.

Jackson leaned forward. His eyes, big dark pools, focused on me. “Why did you have
her brush?” He said. “Her hair wouldn’t help a were. No, you’re not a were, Mister
Carpenter.”

“No, I’m not. I’m a party who’s interested in helping.”

“But what good would that brush do, I wonder?” He smiled a little. “Unless, you are
what I think you are.”

“And what is that?”

“What Diana told me you said you were.” He shook his head. “After all these years,
the race returns. Finnegan says that the witches were extinct.”

Well, that came back to bite me real fast. “Just endangered.” I shot back. “Surely
you can appreciate that?”

“Law of the jungle. As the stories go, the witches couldn’t adapt to the times. The
human animals tore them apart.”

“Not this one.” I said. “But let’s get off the subject. I want to know who these weres
are, Jackson.”

He stood. “I’ll let Finnegan know you're here.”

“Thank you, Jackson.” Amy said, and she inclined her head to him.

“Don’t do that, yet. He’s an interesting case. I have no idea what Finnegan will do
with a witch. This is…well, interesting.”

“Great.” I rolled my eyes as Jackson left the room. Once the door was shut, I said.
“Well, he was…friendly-ish.”

“It’s the nature of his animal. The bears are much nicer than some of the other weres.”

“He’s a were-bear?” I laughed. “That is...well, slightly awesome.”

“There are a number of animals out there that weres shift to. Wolves are just common.
Bears, all the big cats, birds, some are even known to take the form of fishes.”

“So, there’s like, a were-tuna out there somewhere?”

“I don’t know everything. I have met a were-shark in my journeys, but that was long
ago.” She gave a cursory shrug. “Let us focus on the matter at hand.”

“What can you tell me about Finnegan?” I asked.

“His full name is Connor Finnegan. He was born in the eighteenth century, to the alpha
of a powerful werewolf in Ireland. He emigrated to America in the eighteen-fifties,
and in the latter half of the century became a minor industrialist.”

“So what’s he doing running the Irish mob?”

“The Great Depression. He lost everything, disappeared for fifty years, and reappeared
in the eighties. He worked his way into the packs here and worked his way up to Alpha.
He is old enough to think this is still the Old World, but don’t underestimate him.”

“I wasn’t planning on it. I’m planning my continued survival on the fact that I shouldn’t
be underestimating anyone.”

“Clever enough.” She murmured. “I will let you handle the negotiations. Finnegan will
not like me butting in on this.” Her eyes rolled in derision. “Our history is not
exactly joyful.” We waited a few minutes until the door opened again.

Finnegan was very different, compared to Jackson. Where Jackson was burly and wide,
Finnegan was lanky and skinny. Where Jackson had rough features and a little smile,
Finnegan had toothy grins and a thin face. Finnegan also looked older, though he only
appeared to be in his forties. His long blond hair was pulled back. I noticed a few
gray streaks, but they were just beginning to take root.

“A witch, eh?” Finnegan’s voice still had a bit of an accent from the old country,
though there was also some New England in it. “Pleasure to meet you.”

He shoved his hand out, and I stood and shook it. “Mr. Finnegan, I take it. I’m Eric
Carpenter.”

“Carpenter…hmm, the name doesn’t ring any bells, but I had guessed that you got the
gift from your father.”

“I’m afraid not, sir.” I remarked. “But I’m not here to talk about my family history.”

“No, you’re here to talk about Sam Coolidge.” He nodded. “Well, take a seat.” He sat
down at the head of the table, while I sat back down. “Oh, you brought Amy with you?
How are you, my lovely?”

I looked to Amy, and I had to force myself to not mouth the words ‘My lovely?’ to
her.

She cleared her throat. “I am doing well, Connor, thank you for asking.”

“You two know each other?” I asked, casually.

“Knew.” Amy said quickly. “Back quite some time ago.”

“Oh, it seems like it was just yesterday, Amy.” Finnegan said, his voice jovial. “Now,
I just have to wonder why you’re running around with the first witch to show up in
public in centuries.”

“None of your business.” Amy’s voice went low, almost to a hiss. “Keep the past in
the past, Connor. We are talking about the present now.”

Finnegan looked like he was ready to devour Amy. I’d seen the look before, though
it was usually in drunken lechers. There was something, though, about Finnegan. He
had the animal nature right behind his skin. He was ready to go from one to the other
in a moment.

“Amy,” I said, breaking the silence that had started in the room. “Could you please
wait outside?”

“Eric, I-“

“I can handle this.” I cut in. God, I didn’t want her to have to go through this any
further. This was just awkward. Somewhere in there was the supposed southern gentleman
my grandma had raised who didn’t like to see women in danger. Hey, hubris, what's
up?

“Fine.” She stood, and moved so quickly that she almost seemed like she was stamping
out of the room. Gone was the perfect composure that seemed to be just part of her
nature. She slammed the door on the way out.

“Well, I can see who wears the pants there.” Finnegan grinned. “Though she’s not your
mate. You haven’t hit that yet? Pity, boyo.”

“Drop it.” I snapped at him. “Right now. We’re not here to talk about Amy. I’d prefer
to talk about Sam and those two weres who were tailing us.”

He nodded, and relaxed back in his chair. I decided, in that moment, that out of the
two big shots I had met so far, Ishmael was a lot more agreeable. Finnegan seemed,
put plainly, like a slime ball.

“Well, Mister Carpenter, I can take a look into it. Of course, there’s no assurances
we’ll find anything.”

“Bullshit.” I said. “There’s a were who attacked me, broke into my home, and they’re
hampering me from trying to find one of your own.”

“Consider the fact that I never asked for your help, boyo.” He remarked. We stared
at each other for a long moment. Either he was trying to stare me down, or do some
sort of mystical ‘see into your soul’ business. Finally, he said. “I’ll ask around.
Really. They won’t be able to hide it. If it’s one of mine, they’ll answer for it,
and you’ll get them.”

I nodded. “Thank you.” I said, and then stood. “Thank you for your time, Mister Finnegan.
I can only hope that this is the beginning of a fruitful relationship.”

“There’s only one thing I want from you, Mister Carpenter, and that’s Amy.” He growled.
“The bitch is mine.”

I froze, and just looked at him. He talked about her as if she was a possession, something
to have. “Listen here.” I said, my voice reaching a hiss with how low I got it. “Amy
is not yours. And I am going to forget that you called her that, because I got raised
to respect a woman even if she didn’t want to be with my sorry, fur ball ass. So,
you’re going to just drop the Amy subject, stay out of her life unless she says otherwise,
and we’ll all be happier.”

He nodded. “You’ve got balls, runt. I’ll forget it, for now. Here’s to a beneficial
relationship.” He was lying, for our mutual benefit on this one. I wasn't going to
trust him, I knew that much.

We shook hands again, and I walked out of the conference room. Amy was back in the
lobby. “Come on, we’re going.” I said.

“What happened?”

“Well, they’re going to look into it. Hopefully one of the pack here will fess up.
Come on, I need to get to work.”

We had left the building and were back to the Jeep when we heard Jackson call to us.
“Mister Carpenter, Amy?”

I turned around, seeing Jackson approach us. “Uh, hi, Jackson,” I said. I shoved my
hands into my pockets, thinking about the bad feeling I had gotten from Finnegan when
we left. Was he here as an enforcer? “What can we do for you?”

“Can we discuss this in your car?”

I nodded to Amy. “Let’s.”

“Very well.” Amy sighed and unlocked the Jeep. I sat in the back seat with Jackson,
while Amy sat down in the driver’s seat. “Talk, Mister Miller.” She instructed him.

“Finnegan’s lying. He isn't going to investigate this at all.”

“And how do you know that?” I asked him.

“Because Finnegan wouldn’t know. We’ve had a lot of people from out of town show up
in the last year, and Finnegan can’t control all the weres. It’s not like the vampires,
who can control their numbers. We breed, Eric, and we’re an ever-changing people.”

I sat back into the seat. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want to be honest with you, Eric.” He said. “You seem like a good man,
one I can trust.”

“And here it comes.” Amy muttered.

Jackson shot her a glare. “It’s not like that. Amy, I’m not like Finnegan. I just
have the interests of the weres of San Francisco at heart.”

“And what’s in the interests of the weres?” I inquired. Finnegan had been territorial,
aggressive. I sensed that Jackson wasn’t like that, at least, not in a sense that
he was malevolent. He was an honest man, more protector than aggressor.

“I want them to be protected. I want them to be safe, and cared for. You remember
Tyler Young, the minor pack leader you encountered on Ocean Beach?”

“Yea, sure,” I nodded. “Seemed a decent guy. How did you know that??”

“Tyler recounted that to me. He told me about you, about how well you seemed to handle
the situation. Listen, Tyler’s got a sister, Rebbecca. Becca’s a good girl, but she’s
ran into some trouble recently.”

“Define…trouble.” Amy said.

“She’s gotten hooked on Bliss.”

“Bliss?” I’d attended a class on it a few years ago, Terry's request..

“It’s a narcotic that has popped up in the last few years. It’s an aphrodisiac. Not
just one of those placebos. It really gets a person going. It’s also a hallucinogenic,
and very addictive.”