Kitabı oku: «The Wolven», sayfa 3

Chapter 4

Shauna pulled out of Danyon’s grasp more abruptly than she’d intended. She’d been lost in thought, not paying attention to where she was going and had nearly collided into him. It had taken a couple of seconds for her to blink all six foot four of him into focus, but once she did, recognition was instantaneous. That didn’t surprise her. Danyon was not a man easily forgotten. That exceptionally broad chest, sharp facial features and strong chin … his eyes, the color of honey still on the comb. His thick black hair, a little longer than shoulder-length, was combed back, away from his face. He smelled of soap and testosterone at full throttle. Shauna had never allowed herself to get this close to him before, and had it not been for this accidental encounter, probably never would have.

And all for good reason.

Her mind turned into a puddle of goo every time she was around Danyon. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she would start fidgeting, like a nervous school girl, something she never did. His extraordinary good looks, sharp intellect and wit, and the smoldering sexuality that seemed to ooze out of him when he moved, made her heart beat too fast. She kept her distance to maintain control of her mind and her body, something she would never admit to another soul.

As a Keeper, Shauna had a lot of expectations to live up to. Being the youngest Keeper made things even tougher, because it came with its own set of challenges. She always felt she had to prove her competency twice as much as her two sisters. And in order to do that, she had to keep her mind and body strong and focused. She couldn’t afford to appear vulnerable. Especially to a wolven. Even one as breathtaking as Danyon.

“Something’s happened,” Shauna said, hearing her words come out as a statement rather than the question she’d intended.

Danyon nodded, his eyes wary, quickly scanning both sides of the street. In profile, his hair glistened with a blue-black sheen.

Shauna’s heart quickened. She had to force herself not to take a step back.

“What did you hear?” he asked.

Shauna looked up at him questioningly.

“I mean who told you? What did they tell you?”

She glanced away from the intensity of his stare. “No one told me anything.”

“Then how did you know?”

“That there was trouble?”

He tilted his head, and his gaze intensified.

How was she supposed to explain what she’d heard in the shop? That weird keening she’d instinctively known was a cry for help? Or that she’d heard it over a shop filled with tourists, city noise pouring in from the street and Mattie and Banjo’s fight? How was she to explain that without sounding like a kook?

Shauna opted for the direct route. “I heard it,” she said.

“Heard what?” He frowned, evidently confused.

She chewed her bottom lip a moment. “I’m not really sure. It felt … it sounded like a wolven in trouble. I was going to August’s to find out if he knew anything.”

“I’m headed there myself.” Danyon didn’t appear surprised in the least by what she’d said.

“What do you know? Anything?”

His face hardened. “Unfortunately, yes. Two of my weres are dead.”

Stunned, this time Shauna did take a step back. “Who? When?”

“Simon Filk and Nicole Bergeron. Not sure when they were killed, but both were found a couple of hours—”

“Wait. They were killed? As in murdered?” Shauna’s head reeled. The name Simon Filk rang a bell, but she couldn’t place a face with the name. Nicole, on the other hand, she knew. Nicole and her boyfriend, Ian, came to A Little Bit of Magic often, especially the tea and coffee kiosk. She even remembered their usual order: bayberry tea and pecan scones.

“It appears so, yes. Two other weres from my pack were headed home from work when they found Simon at the foot of the levee near River Road. Ian found Nicole. She’d been shoved between two pilings off Barataria.”

“God … poor Ian. The guy must be—”

“Devastated. And even that’s an understatement.”

Shauna shook her head in disbelief. “But murdered? How … ? You’re sure?”

Danyon gave her what sounded like a condensed version of what he knew so far and what he’d seen. As she listened, Shauna felt her stomach roll over, her knees weaken. By the time he finished, though, she was so angry, she could have tortured and killed the murderer bare-handed. She was also furious with Danyon.

“I can’t believe you moved the bodies,” she said.

“What do you mean you can’t believe it?”

“You should have alerted someone first,” Shauna fumed. “The police, August, me. You might have destroyed vital evidence.”

Danyon’s eyes darkened. “And what do you think would have happened if a human, or anyone else for that matter, had come across them the way Andrea and Paul did? They were in were-state, Shauna. What did you want me to do, just leave them there? Maybe throw a tarp over the bodies?”

“Don’t be crass.” Shauna shoved a hand in the back pocket of her jeans. “When did you plan on telling me about this? Next week? Next month?”

“When did you suddenly become my mother?”

“I’m the Keeper of the wolvens! I have every right to know what’s going on at all times.”

Danyon stood tall, jabbed a thumb to his chest. “And I’m the alpha of the East Bank pack. Those were my weres! I’m responsible for them, and I can take care of my own.”

Shauna leaned toward him. “But I’m their Keeper. And, in case you’ve forgotten, yours, as well.”

“What does that have to do with anything? Simon and Nicole are dead. Just what is there to keep … Keeper?”

She snapped her head back as though slapped.

Regret flickered in his eyes, but it went away as quickly as it arrived.

“May I remind you, Mr. Stone,” Shauna said through gritted teeth, “it’s my responsibility to keep peace between the wolven, the other races, and the humans in this city. By not telling me, you put everyone in danger. When word of this gets out, too much or too little information can end up open to interpretation. Have you forgotten about the cemetery murders six months ago, or what happened when the walk-ins tried taking over the city three months after that? In both cases, vampires suspected the shape-shifters, shifters pointed at the weres, everybody pointed at everybody else. If Fiona hadn’t taken charge of her vampires during the cemetery murders and Caitlin her shifters in the walk-in disaster, we might have had another war on our hands. The same kind of war that killed our parents.”

By that time, Shauna’s anger had grown to such a fever pitch, she stepped closer, pushed against him. “Look, you might be the big dog on campus when it comes to the East Bank pack, but—”

“Big dog? Now who’s being crass?”

“But I am the Keeper of the wolven in this city. Moving those bodies was poor judgment on your part. The police should have been notified immediately.”

Danyon’s expression went cold. “How many times do I have to tell you? Simon and Nicole were in were-state. What sense would it have made to involve humans when we spend half our time hiding our true identities from them so they don’t destroy us? None, period. I was not going to take the chance that Simon or Nicole would be seen in that condition.”

“You didn’t have to involve a human,” Shauna said. “You could have called Jagger DeFarge. You know perfectly well he’s a homicide detective.”

“A homicide detective and a vampire.”

“Which only means he’d be more sensitive to the situation. He’s part of the underworld. He knows what has to be protected.”

Danyon looked away for a second, and Shauna could have sworn she heard a low growl rumble from his throat. “We are wolven!” he declared. “We don’t want a vampire involved in our business. I don’t need DeFarge’s help, nor do I need you questioning my actions. Nicole and Simon were my responsibility. I will find their murderers. And believe me, there will be justice.”

“And as their Keeper, I will be involved, whether you like it or not!” Realizing her voice had gotten a little too loud, Shauna glanced about, making sure their conversation was still private.

This time there was no mistaking the low growl emanating from Danyon. Without another word, he whipped around and headed down the street, his long legs quickly widening the distance between them.

Furious that he’d so abruptly dismissed her, Shauna hurriedly back-tracked a block. She planned to detour to a side street that led to the rear of August’s office complex and beat Danyon there.

She walked fast, talking herself out of breaking into a full run. This was starting to feel ridiculous, as if she were one of the last two children left in a game of musical chairs, and only one chair remained. She’d always hated that game.

Okay, so she might she have gotten a little exuberant—upset, even—because she hadn’t been contacted when Simon and Nicole were discovered. Still, that was no excuse for Danyon to get so huffy. She probably could have handled things more diplomatically, but he didn’t have to go storming off as if she’d peed in his Cheerios, for heaven’s sake.

If she really wanted to be honest with herself, though, the buck stopped with her. She had a temper and knew it. It’s what made it too easy for her to run off at the mouth. Along with that, Danyon gave her mush-brain.

Not the man’s fault, but she was living proof that temper and mush-brain made for a bad combination. Any man, wolven or not, would have gotten upset by the way she’d handled the situation. Her responsibility as a Keeper was to help keep peace between the subcultures and humans in New Orleans. The way she’d confronted Danyon had been anything but peaceful.

Shauna slowed her pace.

This wasn’t a game of musical chairs. And it wasn’t about her or Danyon or her attraction to him.

It was about Simon and Nicole, about finding their murderer.

It was about justice.

Chapter 5

When Shauna finally reached the main lobby of August’s office complex, Danyon had already arrived. He was standing alongside Rita Quinn, August’s executive assistant, near the entrance to the hallway that led to August’s maze of offices. As always, the middle-aged were looked immaculate. She wore a lavender pencil skirt and a white silk blouse, and her light brown hair had been rolled into a perfect French twist. Elegant and tasteful, just like everything in August’s life.

When Rita spotted Shauna, she smiled warmly.

Danyon barely looked her way.

“How wonderful to see you, Ms. MacDonald,” Rita said. “Your timing is perfect, as always. I was about to lead Mr. Stone to the conference room. Mr. Gaudin is expecting both of you.”

“He is?” Puzzled, Shauna glanced over at Danyon, wondering if he’d somehow managed to call ahead and let August know they were coming.

As if reading her thoughts, he shrugged, indicating he had no idea how August knew.

“Of course,” Rita said, then motioned for them to follow her. “Mr. Gaudin is already in the conference room. He’s on a call at the moment, but he insisted I bring both of you to him the moment you arrived.”

They followed Rita down a long, wide hallway, a runner of plush beige carpet stretching along the oak-wood floor.

Shauna felt a little awkward walking beside Danyon. She’d acted like a child earlier and was embarrassed about it. Figuring the adult thing to do was probably apologize, she sneaked a peek at him out of the corner of her eye to get a handle on his mood. He was stern-faced, eyes locked forward. As far as he was concerned, she might as well have been in another parish.

Maybe later for that apology.

Maybe.

Rita led them to a set of heavy double doors, then opened one and motioned them inside. The room held a mahogany conference table, massive and oval and surrounded by twelve leather wing-back chairs. In the south corner of the room, near the back, stood a standard-size mahogany desk. August stood beside it, phone to his ear. He nodded an acknowledgment when he saw them.

“Make certain it is taken care of immediately,” he said to whoever was on the other end of the line, then he turned slightly, listening intently.

Even in profile, the elder was a formidable figure. He was shorter than Danyon, although not by much. His silvery-white, shoulder-length hair was a testament to his age, but his stature, the breadth and depth of his chest and shoulders, and his large strong hands appeared to be in direct opposition, for they were appropriate to a much younger man. August’s presence radiated a quiet confidence and wisdom, but when called for, he elicited fear just as easily. He was an attorney by trade and had been elected to the city commission, and also worked with the tourism board. Shauna had always been impressed by his accomplishments, but that wasn’t what bonded her to him.

August was the leader of all the werewolves throughout the South, and certainly the fact that she was Keeper of the werewolves in this city had something to do with the kinship they shared. But the connection between them ran much deeper than that.

August had fought alongside her parents in their struggle to avert the great war between the races, and when they died, he immediately took Fiona, Caitlin and Shauna under his wing. He’d raised them as his own. Taught them what it meant to be Keepers. Made sure they were well educated, well fed, loved and protected. He was like a grandfather to Shauna, and each time he looked at her with those gentle, powder blue eyes she felt unconditionally loved. They might not have been bio logically connected, but sharing DNA never assured anyone of love.

As soon as August hung up the phone, Shauna walked over and gave him a hug. He returned it warmly.

“Would anyone care for something to drink?” Rita asked, still standing at the threshold of the room.

“No, thank you,” Shauna said.

Danyon, who was standing at the far end of the conference table, shook his head. “Nothing for me, thanks.”

“That will be all, Rita,” August said.

Rita nodded and quietly backed out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

August put an arm around Shauna’s shoulder and led her to the table. After pulling out a chair for her, he motioned to Danyon. “Please, make yourself com fort able.”

When everyone was seated, Shauna asked, “Rita said you were expecting us, August. How did you know we were coming?”

“Simple logic,” August said, “I heard about the deaths half an hour ago.”

“From whom?” Danyon asked.

“Rayo Black, one of the bartenders at Jumani’s. Apparently he was working when Andrea went into the bar looking for Andy Saville. Rayo saw how upset she was and offered her a drink to calm her nerves. He claimed after Andrea downed a couple, she began to cry and told him about the dead weres. He called me immediately. Since the weres were from Danyon’s pack, and since you, Shauna, are their Keeper, it was only logical that the two of you would come to me.”

August sighed deeply, propped his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “Details, please,” he said to Danyon. “Tell me.”

For the next forty minutes Danyon relayed the details of how Simon and Nicole were discovered, who had found them, and the condition of their bodies when found. He also told August about his decision to hide the bodies so passersby wouldn’t stumble on them, and that he’d summoned Andy Saville to help with the transfer after dark.

Hearing it all again, Shauna’s anger sparked anew. She still couldn’t believe someone had actually killed the young weres. The emotions hammering her must have been minuscule in comparison to August’s, though. As he listened to Danyon, the elder’s eyes went from powder blue to cobalt. His lips drew into a thin, tight line. Shauna noticed his neck muscles ripple; then, like a wave in motion, that ripple traveled across his chin and up to his cheeks. He was fighting transformation.

Ever since Shauna was a child, she’d known August to be master over his human form and his werewolf identity. Not once had she ever seen his emotions overtake him and the transformation occur spontaneously. He had always been in control. It was understandable that August would be upset about the were deaths, but for the news to have this great an effect on him, there had to be more going on in his head than processing what he’d just heard.

Danyon leaned across the table. “I plan on examining the bodies more closely before they’re returned to their families. Something—”

“Have them taken to my lake house in LaPlace,” August said sharply. “I want to see them for myself. Do you remember how to get there?”

“Of course.”

“Wasn’t that house damaged during Hurricane Katrina?” Shauna asked.

“Yes, but it’s been renovated, and I had a large workshop built beside it. Forty by forty, plenty of fluorescent lighting. Andy can bring Nicole and Simon there. I’ll take care of notifying the families, as well. Although I’d be surprised if news hasn’t already reached them by now.” August turned to Danyon. “You were about to say more before I interrupted. Please continue.”

“Just that something occurred to me when I was on my way here.”

“Yes?”

“Well, Nicole and Simon had obvious wounds from being declawed and defanged, but I didn’t notice anything that specifically pointed to the cause of death. No gunshot wound or blunt force trauma. There was a lot of blood, but I don’t believe either of them bled out. The silver wire used on Nicole—and I suspect on Simon, as well—definitely did some damage. Burned right through fur, flesh and muscle. But as torturous as that sounds, I don’t believe that’s what caused Nicole’s death. Simon’s either. They may have been stabbed, but I won’t know that for sure until I examine the bodies. But, August, the bigger question is how is it possible that both remained in were-state after they died? I’ve never witnessed that before. Never even heard it was possible. Have you?”

August bowed his head, pushed away from the table and slowly got to his feet. He walked over to an occasional table that stood against a far wall beneath a six-foot painting of St. Louis Cathedral. On the table sat a crystal pitcher filled with ice water and surrounded by six crystal tumblers. August filled one of the tumblers with water, lifted it to his lips and drank slowly until it was drained.

Shauna had never seen August act this way, and it frightened her.

After setting the empty glass back on the occasional table, August turned toward them. His face had gone from grave to gray. “Yes, I have witnessed the phenomenon before.”

He walked back to the head of the conference table, but instead of sitting, he paced slowly back and forth, like a lecturer preparing to give a speech. When August finally spoke, his voice was low and distant, the voice of a man pulling up a memory that he would prefer not disinter. “I witnessed the kind of death you mentioned nearly six decades ago. I was in Romania at the time. A group of local weres had captured a rogue were—a wolven, as it happened—who’d been responsible for the mutilation and deaths of three human children. He was brought before the were-council, and it didn’t take long for them to pronouce him guilty and sentence him to death. I concurred with the council’s decision, of course, as did the magistrate who was serving at the time. But the magistrate wanted the rogue’s execution to be as severe as his crime.”

August took a deep breath, stopped pacing, and faced them. “He had the rogue bound in silver and steel, then beaten relentlessly while the silver burned through his flesh. Of course that intense pain created the emotional state that was needed to force his transformation. As soon as the transformation was complete, he was stripped of his claws and fangs.”

“I don’t understand,” Shauna said. “How did that serve as an execution? Did he bleed to death?”

“No. The manner of death was far worse. You see, there is a metaphysical power inherent to a werewolf’s claws and fangs. That power is so potent that when they are torn abruptly from the body, the were undergoes a molecular restructuring.”

“How so?” Danyon asked.

“The cells of the body begin to pressurize, which automatically seals the body in were-state,” August explained. “The cells continue to pressurize until the body mimics a pressure cooker, except without a release valve. Eventually the pressure becomes so great that the were’s heart literally bursts.”

Shauna slumped in her chair, overwhelmed by the thought of such a horrible death. She glanced over at Danyon. He was sitting ramrod straight, hands on the table, his fingers laced together and white-knuckled. The expression on his face looked treacherous, hard and cold.

“Believe me,” August continued, “even back then, I

was no innocent regarding death. I had seen far too many die in battle. But I will never forget the sounds of agony that came from that rogue. It was, and still is, indescribable. It affected everyone who was there, every council member. Even the magistrate.” August looked over at the portrait of the cathedral, kept his gaze there. “That wolven screamed … pleaded. He cried for mercy so loudly … I didn’t think any being had the vocal capacity to produce such volume. And it would change from howls to human screams to … something …”

August turned to them, his eyes dull with sadness and regret. “The look of terror on that rogue’s face … if ever a being looked death square in the face, he did. That look remained on his face even after his heart burst, as though even death itself gave him no relief.”

Shauna leaned forward, put a fist to her mouth and slowly shook her head. She couldn’t imagine Nicole and Simon suffering that way.

August returned to his chair. He looked utterly drained.

They sat in silence, everyone seemingly at a loss for words.

Shauna’s mind played reruns of Nicole and Ian at the shop. The two laughing—talking—holding hands. Nicole’s smile, how it flashed in her eyes and lit up her face.

“Why them, August?” Shauna asked quietly. “I didn’t know Simon very well, but Nicole … she wasn’t a threat to anyone. Why them?”

The elder shook his head. “Chances are it had little or nothing to do with whether or not they were threats. My guess is that Simon and Nicole were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Random killings? In that manner? Then it would have to be someone who knew about the molecular restructuring. Still, why would they choose that manner of death? There are easier ways to kill a were. Are we dealing with a lunatic? Somebody who gets his kicks from seeing others suffer?”

“I don’t think it’s a lunatic or someone killing for recreation,” August said. “The metaphysical power in the claws and fangs can affect others, as well. Not just the victim. Because of its potency, it only has to be ingested by another being, and he or she becomes empowered with the same traits as a werewolf. Not transformation, but strength, speed, agility, heightened senses, even sexual prowess.”

Shauna spotted Danyon throwing a glance her way.

Then he cleared his throat and asked, “How would someone ingest claws and fangs?”

“By pulverizing them to fine powder,” August said. “The killer may be doing this simply for profit.”

“A drug dealer?” Shauna asked.

“In essence, yes,” August said. “The one advantage we have is that the metaphysical power is not common knowledge. It’s usually kept within the council. So it is possible that the killer may only be someone hunting trinkets, the way a trapper collects bear claws and alligator teeth, then sells them as jewelry. We can only hope that is the case. If not, if we are dealing with someone who understands the power involved, then the death count will grow astronomically. Once this person, this … being, realizes the financial potential, there will be no stopping him. Needless to say, it is crucial that the information I have shared with you not leave this room.”

“It won’t.” Danyon got to his feet, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “I’ll find whoever’s responsible for Nicole and Simon’s death. The reason for the killings doesn’t matter. The murderer will be stopped, and if I have your permission, he’ll be stopped by any means necessary.”

August nodded. “You have my permission. But understand this, Danyon. If it is as I fear, more murders will follow so quickly, all the alphas in this territory combined may not be able to stop it.”

A shiver ran up Shauna’s spine, and she prayed it wasn’t another intuitive whisper. But somewhere deep in her heart, she suspected her prayers would be futile. For August’s words rang far too true.