Fallen Stars (The Demon Accords) (17 page)

A commotion from the front of the house interrupted the questions.  Loud voices and complaints carried over the table chatter and the disturbance seemed to be getting closer.

The table quieted and a moment later, Simon Masten came into the room dragging a young girl.  His packmate, Bo Morrison, came behind him, holding a young man in a choke hold.

I recognized the girl as Jetta, which made it a pretty safe bet that the young man was her brother, Mack.

“Masten, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Granger said, jumping to his feet.  Simon looked at him, wild-eyed and trembling with barely controlled violence.

“I found them!  The ones that have been killing my Pack!” he said.  He was wearing jeans, work boots, and a black tee shirt.

“Jetta?  Jetta from my restaurant has been killing your Pack?  Are you insane?”

“No, the FBI figured out it was her.  Ask him!” Simon said, jabbing a finger at me before using that hand to grab Jetta’s red hair to help control her.

All eyes turned my way.  “Chris, what’s he talking about?”

“Agent Krupp and her team think that Jetta and her brother Mack are their prime suspects.  They’re looking for the two of them right now.”

“And you brought them here, Simon?  For what purpose?” Granger asked.

“Justice, Ned.  Justice!  This bitch and her brother killed off most of my Pack, hunting them down like dogs.”

“Excuse me, but am I to understand that a pair of teenage children have successfully hunted and killed more than a half-dozen adult male werewolves?” Vrana asked suddenly.

“You must be Vrana!  Sorry to meet you like this, sir, but this is one smart little viper.  Daddy always told me to watch the redheads.” He lifted the girl, who had been sitting on the floor, both hands clutched to his where they were locked in her hair.  I noticed for the first time that she was wearing form-fitting exercise clothes: a red sleeveless stretch shirt and black yoga pants.  Standing upright, her athletic female form was much more apparent than when I had seen her dressed in a baggy, ill-fitting waitress uniform. 

“She lured my guys in, ya see, one at a time, dressed like this!  Then, while they were distracted by her slutty charms, she’d shot them with that gun!” he said, pointing at Bo, who was easily holding Mack with one arm and a strange looking firearm with the other.  The gun was just over a foot in length, cut down from a single shot rifle and with a slender oil filter mounted on the muzzle

“Clever.  She exploited your men’s’ complete lack of self-control and put them down like rabid animals.  Perhaps for the best,” Vrana said before turning to Granger.  “Is this what I can expect my children to learn?”

“No, Kral.  You can expect your children to learn what doesn’t work from an example like Simon,” Granger said before turning back to Simon.  “What are you doing, Simon?  Why did you bring them here?  The FBI is tracking them, and you dragged them here?”

“I brought them here to show you and your highbrow
friends
how a real Alpha handles an attack on his Pack,” Masten said, lifting one arm and
shifting
it into a clawed beast paw.

There was no in-between moment; I was just instantly there, holding his pawed arm.  The wind from my movement blew Stacia’s hair straight back and pulled petals from the centerpiece flowers on the table.  The decision to act wasn’t detailed or planned out.  I just wasn’t going to watch any more young people die in my presence without an objection—a strong objection.

Simon, frozen to my perceptions as I
moved
across the room, resumed normal movement, jumping at my sudden presence.  “Wha…? Get the hell off me!” he yelled, jumping back and shaking his arm, trying to free it from my grip.  He also released Jetta when he jumped, which gave me an opportunity to move my body between them.

Awasos was there next, moving and herding the girl back toward her brother and the young were who held him.   Lava red eyes fixed like lasers on Bo, who took the hint and released his hostage.

Masten had a moment to recover his bluster, and he started forward to reclaim his victim.  A palm strike to his chest knocked him back to the wall seventeen feet away.  This time, he was growling as he stood back up, pulling his shirt off.

“Gordon, what are you doing?” Granger asked

“Objecting—interrupting—preventing a murder? Take your pick.  All I know is he isn’t killing this girl and her brother.”

“They murdered my Pack!” Simon growled, unbuttoning his jeans.

“You butchered our parents!” Jetta screamed back at him. “Tied them to a tree and ripped them apart like dogs!”

“Masten, that true?” Granger asked.

“They were prey, Granger, ours for the taking.”

“We don’t hunt regular humans, Masten. It’s our law.”

“Laws!  We don’t live by laws, Granger!  We’re top of the food chain! Nothing hunts us!” he screamed, dropping his pants and falling to the floor.  Jep stood up, along with several Pack members, but most of the guests just turned their chairs to watch.  John and Deena had left their seats and were now standing behind Coreena, watching us.

Bo looked uncertain, but after seeing his Alpha begin to Change, he started to pull off his own clothes.

Granger ignored the Changing were, instead turning to Jetta and Mack, where they crouched behind the protective bulk of Awasos.  “Is what you say true?  His Pack killed your parents?”

Mack spoke up this time, his voice much deeper than his lean build would suggest. “My folks had a small getaway cabin in the mountains just behind our ranch.  They would go there to catch a weekend alone from time to time, as running a horse ranch is a full-time deal.  They never came home, so we went looking for them.  Found the cabin broken into and torn apart.  They were about a hundred yards away, tied together to a tree.  Huge canine tracks all around them.  The police were baffled, but my uncle knew what was responsible.  He knew about your people—knew that there was a local Pack.  My uncle hunted those hills his whole life, served in the army, and he’s the one who taught us to track and kill the predators that threatened our horses.  He helped us kill the first two werewolves, built that gun, and loaded the ammo for us.  He died of a heart attack after the second, but by then we knew how to do it.  We’re not afraid to die, Mr. Granger.  This… person killed our family, and family is everything!”

“Stand down, Masten!  There will be no killing here!” Ned said, turning back to the newly formed wolf.  But Masten was too enraged to listen.  He stood, shaky from the Change, then shook himself and charged.

Grim wanted to chop him into chunks, but I controlled him.  He was, after all, only one wolf and not even that impressive. 

Masten leaped directly at me, jaws open wide.  Once he was in the air and committed, I slid left and back fisted the side of his head, striking just behind the eye.  The blow broke a bone or two and caused his stretched-out body to yaw slightly.  That brought his hind feet closer to my left hand, which latched onto his ankle.  Turning first with the direction of his leap, before continuing on in a circle, I redirected his momentum.

Have I mentioned that Posting is my favorite vampire technique?  Locking my body in place with a shaft of quantum power.  I also like Clinging, which is basically the same thing, but on a smaller scale.  But Posting is so damn useful in a fight.  It gives me the counterbalance to fully employ my strength, making it easy to do things like spin in place while holding a three-hundred-pound werewolf by the ankles.

Masten’s jaws missed the kids, but his heavy skull made nice contact with Bo’s body as the young were was unbuttoning his jeans.  The kid went flying, but I kept hold of Masten’s ankles and looped his body up and around another half circle before slamming him down hard on the flagstone floor. It was like the part in gymnastics when the girls twirl the ribbon sticks, except with fur.

Bo started to get up, but two of Ned’s men were suddenly on either side of him, holding him in place.  One of them picked up the suppressed rifle.

Masten lay on the stone floor, stunned enough that he involuntarily Shifted back to human form.  Jep stepped over to him and pulled him upright by the neck, hauling him out of the room, followed closely by his men and Bo.

“Thank you for not killing him,” Ned said to me.

I shrugged.  “I’ll let you folks deal with him. I just wasn’t going to let him kill any kids.”

“How did you know Mr. Gordon was capable of handling one of our kind?” Vrana asked Ned.

“Lots of ways: Jep’s evaluation, a warning from the Malleks, things like that.  But the best clue I had was last night when I first laid eyes on him.  Chris, Stacia, and Awasos were meeting us at our club.  I was curious as to who would come in first.  It would make sense to send the liaison in first, or, if you were worried, then you might send your giant wolf first, but it was Chris who came in.  In Nam, we always put our most dangerous guy on point.  He entered the bar like it was hostile terrain and he was ready for anything.  The other big clue was a few moments later when he threw Jep across the room like a basketball.  To tell you the truth, I was kinda curious about how it would go.”

Another security guy came into the room and spoke in Granger’s ear.  “Send them in, Larry,” Ned responded out loud before looking at me. “Are you psychic, Chris?  The FBI is here.”

“No. I just know a stubborn cop when I see one.”

The security guy led Agents Krupp and Mazar into the room, along with the entire Behavior Analysis team, as well as what looked like part of an FBI Hostage Rescue Team in full assault gear.  Someone had been expecting resistance.

Both agents looked around at the group, Krupp with a professional cop’s eye and Mazar like a fascinated scholar or scientist.  Krupp focused on Jetta and her brother instantly.  She gestured and two of her team moved to take custody of the kids.

‘You’ve found my suspects, Mr. Granger,” Krupp said, her tone genial but her eyes suspicious.

“Actually, Simon Masten found them and brought them here mere moments ago, Agent Krupp,” Ned replied calmly.  Gabe, the Pack attorney, sat up straight and interested, watching the Agents like a cat with a pair of mice.

“Where is Mr. Masten?  I’d like a word with him,” Krupp asked, looking around.

“He left rather abruptly.  Something about his head hurting, I think,” Ned answered.

Mazar stepped forward to look at the stone flooring right where Masten had impacted.  There was a bit of fur, some blood, and one of the flagstones looked loose.

“What happened here?” she asked.  Before anyone could answer, Awasos lunged over by Stacia’s chair and reclaimed his beef haunch in a loud display of canine eagerness.

“'Sos got a little rambunctious with his dinner,” Stacia said, reaching down to ruffle the big wolf’s head.

“What do you think we’d find if we searched the house, under probable cause, having found our suspects here?” Krupp asked.

“You’d a find a harassment complaint filed with the Mayor’s, Governor’s and Regional FBI offices,” Gabe, the attorney, answered. 

Krupp ignored him, keeping her attention on Granger.  Mazar was watching me.  “You would,” Ned began to answer, raising his voice and turning his head toward the kitchen, “find our dinners, I would hope, about to be served.  Otherwise, not much of anything.”

“What do you think, Mr. Gordon?” Krupp asked.

“I’m hoping he’s right, because between you and me, the ostrich appetizer was kinda small.  I’m hoping that the main course is beefier, so to speak,” I answered.

“Is it usual to have a wolf at a dinner party?” Mazar asked the room, looking at Awasos. 

“It seems like all men are wolves,
especially
at dinner parties,” Stacia said with resigned sigh.  “Open bar doesn’t help.”

“Miss Reynolds’ observation aside, my investment group is very devoted to the environment and conservation of our wild spaces, Agent Mazar,” Ned said.  “Awasos is a fine symbol for that side of our organization. Excluding him seemed wrong.”

“I see,” Krupp said, not buying it.  She casually glanced at Mazar, who gave the tiniest shake of her head.  “Well, Mr. Granger, my apologies for the interruption. I thank you for taking such good care of our suspects.  Hopefully there won’t be any need for complaints,” she finished, smirking at Gabe Fontz, obviously unimpressed with the threat.

“It would seem not, Agent Krupp.  Oh, seeing as how the children don’t appear to have legal representation and at least one of them is employed by Mr. Granger, I’ll be offering my services to them.  I’ll just follow you down to your field office,” Gabe said, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin and standing to go.

“Super,” Krupp said, her smile forced.  “Folks, enjoy your evening.”  They left in reverse order with the two lead agents first, followed by the rest of the team and finally by the M4-rifle-toting SWAT guys. 

Gabe spoke softly to Granger for a moment before excusing himself and heading out after the federal agents.

The door to the kitchen opened, and a stream of waiters and waitresses flowed into the dining room carrying plate after plate of what appeared to be filet mignon.

“Ah, dinner is served,” Ned said with a tight smile.

Chapter 18

The questions resumed as we all started in on our dinners.  “Who is Tatiana Demidova?” Malcolm asked around a bite of beef.