The Wolven (9 page)

After a long pause, Caitlin shrugged, then nodded. “No question, I would’ve been in the middle of it.”

“Don’t make this any harder than it is,” Fiona said.

“But she’s right, Fiona. You know you would’ve done the same thing.”

“Yes, well…”

“Yes well nothing,” Caitlin said. “You’d have been there. Go on, admit it.”

“All right, all right. But that doesn’t mean I have to like what she did. And it doesn’t mean I won’t worry,” Fiona said. “We’re all the blood family we have left. I worry about both of you.”

“I know,” Shauna said. “But I think you toss a little extra my way because I’m the youngest. And that’s not really fair. I do appreciate your love and concern, and I feel the same about the two of you, too, but I’m not a kid anymore. I’m almost twenty-seven.”

Fiona offered her a smile. “I know. I’ll try to do better.

Promise.”

Caitlin pushed away from the table. “We need some kind of strategy to tackle these wolven murders, ladies. I think the leaders of the other underworld groups need to know about them and—” A frown suddenly settled over her face. “Wait a minute…Shauna; you said Nicole and Simon were found in
were-state?
Weres always revert to human form when they die. Why didn’t Nicole and Simon?”

“Good question,” Fiona said.

Although August had told Shauna and Danyon to keep the information about the metaphysical powers inherent to were claws and fangs under wraps, she wasn’t certain if that applied to her sisters. She was pretty sure if Fiona and Caitlin had been in the meeting with August, he would have revealed the details to them, as well.

Still, to be on the safe side, Shauna said, “August has
some ideas about that, but he’s not one hundred percent sure. He’s looking into it.”

Caitlin’s eyes narrowed, an indicator that she thought the answer smelled a little fishy.

“Regardless, we have to let the leaders of the other groups know,” Fiona said.

“No,” Shauna said. “Not just yet.”

“Why not?” Caitlin asked.

“The more people who know, the more opportunity there is for word to spread, and that might send the murderer into hiding before we figure out who it is,” Shauna explained.

“What are we supposed to do, then? We can’t just wait around for another murder to happen,” Caitlin said.

“That’s true,” Fiona said. “But it’s a double-edged sword. I understand what Shauna is saying, yet at the same time, if word leaks out, and the leaders of the other groups weren’t forewarned, we could very well wind up with another showdown. Just like we did with the cemetery murders and the walk-ins. It’s a toss up—tell them, don’t tell them. Either way, we have a huge problem here.”

“I know,” Shauna said. “But I’m asking the two of you to trust me and respect my role as Keeper of the weres. All I want is a little time before we get the others involved.”

Fiona and Caitlin studied her for some time, and in the silence, Shauna felt a vibration flowing between the three of them. She knew her sisters would respect her space and her place as Keeper. She also knew that they
fully understood the severity of the situation. Everyone who knew about the wolven murders so far feared the same thing—the possibility of another great war.

Now that Fiona and Caitlin knew about the crimes, Shauna sensed that the expectation bar in her role as Keeper had just risen exponentially. That bar now looked higher than the Himalayas, and Shauna felt about as prepared to take on that height as a climber with two broken arms.

E
very time Danyon crossed over to New Orleans’ West Bank, he not only felt like he’d left New Orleans, but that he’d exited the entire state of Louisiana. There was a different feel to the area and the towns that mapped it. Places like Algiers, Gretna, and Harvey. On the East Bank, where the Quarter was located, there was a sense of continuity. Towns such as Kenner and Metairie
felt
like New Orleans. They were only different parts that made up a whole. Having just driven through Gretna, Danyon didn’t get the sense that it was tied to anything other than itself.

It wasn’t unusual for an alpha to cross into other territories, but it didn’t happen often. Some alphas didn’t understand the meaning of borders. They were hardwired to believe that whatever ground their feet touched was
up for grabs territorially. To limit the number of fights that came with that mindset, August had issued an addendum to the laws that governed the weres. The official postscript stated that in order for an alpha to cross into another alpha’s territory, he had to get August’s permission. He was also required to provide a valid reason for crossing into that territory. Since trouble makers rarely had a valid reason for anything, the number of problems and fights dropped significantly. This was the first time since the new law was implemented that any alpha had been given free reign over all territories.

Just as Danyon and Shauna were leaving August’s office yesterday, the elder had given him a directive. He was to contact all the alphas in south Louisiana and inform them of the recent murders. Each alpha was then to choose a few of their strongest, most trustworthy weres and have them stand sentinel around the perimeter of their own territory. And they were to stay there until whoever or whatever was responsible for the murders had been captured.

Danyon had already notified four of the alphas. One in Lake Charles, another in Lafayette, and the two who were responsible for Baton Rouge. The only one left on his list was Kara Matiste, alpha of New Orleans’ West Bank.

Kara was alpha by default. Not that she wasn’t strong in her own right, but her husband, Carl, had been the true leader of the West Bank for many years. Kara assumed the leadership role when Carl died eleven months ago in a tragic car accident. He had been traveling home from
Atlanta, where he had been summoned by the magistrate for questioning regarding the whereabouts of funds that had recently disappeared from the community treasury. Carl had obviously provided satisfactory answers. The magistrate and council would not have released him otherwise. He was only five miles from the Alabama border when an eighteen wheeler loaded with gasoline T-boned him at an intersection. Carl’s vehicle had exploded on impact.

At the time of an alpha’s death, it’s customary for his mate, always an alpha female, to take responsibility for the pack. She retains that leadership position until her death or until she pairs with another alpha male. If she does choose another alpha, then she is to relinquish the leadership role to him immediately. That particular circumstance was extremely rare, however.

When an alpha chooses his mate, it’s for life. The bond between them is fierce. Indestructible. Granted, when one mate died, it didn’t mean that the survivor didn’t have sexual relations with other weres. But when he or she did, it was usually to maintain or increase the population of the pack, and that would be the extent of the tryst. Rarely, if ever, would he or she call another were their mate.

It was possible for a were to mourn for a lifetime. In the beginning, when the death is fresh and the wound deep, it wasn’t unusual for the surviving mate to become incapacitated by grief. That is when the pack is most vulnerable. At first, many members of the pack act like children, rejoicing that no one is watching their every
move. But soon, when they realize how big and bad the outside world really is, they grow fearful and sometimes angry because they no longer feel safe. That never appeared to be the case with Kara’s pack.

Kara had changed significantly since Carl’s death, which was understandable considering how close they had been. Carl had doted on her. Always surprising Kara with jewelry, roses, or whatever he thought she might fancy at any given time. Being vice president of Regent’s Bank, Carl’s income had afforded them the luxury of a three-story colonial in Algiers and matching Corvettes. Now, Kara lived in a two-bedroom apartment and drove an eight-year-old Chevy Malibu.

Danyon hadn’t had many dealings with Kara since Carl died, but he’d heard that her mourning period was unusually short, and that she ruled with a firm hand, did not tolerate slackers, and was obsessively territorial. He supposed those traits were good for the pack in that they established black-and-white boundaries. But those same traits might prove problematic when it was time for her to take orders from someone else. Danyon couldn’t help but wonder if Kara thought she had to be tougher because she was female and younger than most of the alpha males who led other packs. He wondered if Shauna, being the youngest Keeper, thought the same.

Danyon exited off the expressway and headed south toward Estelle, a small town that sat at the feet of the Jean Lafitte Wildlife Preserve. As he drove, Danyon found his thoughts awash with Shauna. It was difficult for him to see her as the Keeper of an entire race for the city of New
Orleans. She was so young and beautiful. He remembered how she had stood up to him, defiant, wanting to be part of the murder investigation. How she never once faltered in her commitment to that decision, no matter how frustrated or angry he became. She was certainly from MacDonald stock—hard-headed, loyal, fiercely passionate in her beliefs and, of course, stunning.

All three MacDonald sisters were breathtakingly beautiful, but there was something about Shauna that hooked into his senses and refused to let go. When they had sat across from each other at August’s conference table, it had taken a massive amount of will power not to sit and simply stare at her. Watch her move, talk, blink, breathe. The struggle to control his attraction to her had been as great as his battle to fight off the anger that forced his transformation. As difficult as it had been, however, Danyon thought he’d managed it relatively well.

Until last night.

He had only to take one look at her wrapped in that bathrobe, her freshly scrubbed face, bare feet, long hair, wet and tousled, and something so powerful welled up inside him, he feared he’d transform on the spot. It was more than desire, more than common sexual attraction. She looked like a waterfall to a man dying of thirst. Somehow, he’d still managed to control himself, act as if everything was normal—even though he stirred a pot he could not see—heard only the melodic sound of her voice, her laughter. He’d kept reminding himself that she
was human, he was were, and the difference between them was too vast to bridge.

Not that sex hadn’t tried to shove its way to the fore-front of his mind. There was no question he was sexually attracted to her. Any man in his right mind would be. But Danyon had had more than his fair share of sexual encounters, with most of them beginning and ending the same way. A little spark of chemistry—a tangle of arms and legs—a physical need met, but a soul left empty. Intuitively, he knew that any man lucky enough to be intimate with Shauna MacDonald would be satiated in ways he never thought possible.

His intuition had been right.

Danyon knew he was tempting fate when he’d helped Shauna retrieve the plates from the cabinet shelf. And fate did not disappoint. When he’d leaned over to grab the plates, her scent, a heady mixture of musk and lilacs, nearly shattered his resolve. His undoing, however, had been when she’d turned around, and he first tasted her lips. From that moment on, the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

He lost count of the number of times they had made love, but it hadn’t taken him long to figure out he was already in way over his head. She had left him feeling filled and emptied at the same time, which was nirvana in its purest form. But the sure sign of his demise had been the ache in his heart, when he’d watched her leave this morning.

Danyon was still lost in thought when the smell of blood caught his attention. Puzzled, he glanced down at
his hands and then up into the rearview mirror to check his face. No blood. He slowed the car and lowered the driver’s side window. The scent of blood slammed into his nostrils. He swerved to the shoulder of the road and hit the brakes. Fortunately, the road he’d been driving on wasn’t heavily traveled. Aside from an old pickup that had passed him some time ago, his car was virtually the only vehicle on the road.

Following his nose, Danyon inched the car back onto the road, then drove another mile or so before the scent of blood led him to a graveled road on the left. He turned and followed its meandering path to the base of a forest that was part of the Jean Lafitte Wildlife Preserve. The road eventually ended at a small boat launch on a lake.

Danyon parked the car and got out to further investigate on foot. The blood trail led him around the short end of the lake, then deeper into the woods. It wasn’t long before he heard voices. The loudest belonged to a female, and he recognized it almost immediately.

It was Kara Matiste.

“When I tell you to pick it up, that means now!”

“I tried,” a male voice cried. “It makes me—”

“I don’t care if it makes you sick.”

“Swear to God I tried!”

“Quit your sniveling. What kind of man are you, crying like a girl?”

“But I—I can’t.”

“There’s no such thing as can’t. Do you understand me?”

Danyon stepped into a clearing and saw Kara shove
one of her weres, who he knew— Lawrence Castille—so hard, the were stumbled backwards and nearly fell. Standing a short distance away to Kara’s left, was James Darbonne, another were from her pack. Lawrence and James had been two of Carl’s top men. Both stood a little over six feet tall and had average builds. In human years, they would have been closing in on their mid-thirties. Although James and Lawrence were twice Kara’s size and topped her by at least four inches, they cowered away from her like frightened puppies.

Kara’s long black hair was pulled back and held in place by a gold barrette, and she wore jeans with the pant legs tucked into black cowboy boots. Her short-sleeved blouse was blood-red with white snaps running down the front. She did a double take when she spotted Danyon. Obviously, she’d been so wrapped up in verbally bashing her weres, she hadn’t caught wind of his approach.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him, sounding a little unnerved.

Lawrence and James looked away shame-faced.

“I have news from August,” Danyon said. The smell of blood had grown so thick, he actually tasted it. From between Kara and Lawrence’s legs, he spotted something on the ground behind them. He suspected it was what led him here. He wanted to walk over and see for himself, but out of respect for Kara’s role as alpha and the fact that he was in her territory, he stayed put.

“Is that so?” Her dark eyes flashed with anger.

Danyon glared at Kara long and hard, making sure she understood—
If you think you’re big and bad enough to
get me to fold at your feet like the other two, you need to think again.

Evidently getting the message, she broke eye contact first. “How in the hell did you find me way out here?”

“I smelled blood. Followed it here.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Well, you’re just a regular effin’ Sherlock Holmes now, aren’t you?”

Danyon glanced down at her legs, a signal to let Kara know he’d spotted something behind them. Then he asked, “Anything I can help with?”

Her eyes became black, cold marbles. “Not unless you can raise the goddamn dead.” With that, she shoved Lawrence back, then turned to one side, giving Danyon a better view.

A were lay on the ground about ten feet away. He was in full were-state, wrapped in cable, covered in blood, minus claws or fangs—and was most certainly dead. A roll of plastic sheeting lay on the ground beside him. From the looks of it, Kara had probably been trying to get Lawrence and James to move the body onto it.

“Who is he?” Danyon asked.

“Why in the hell does it matter to you who he is? He’s one of mine.”

Danyon narrowed his eyes, felt his nostrils flare. “It matters because he’s were, Kara. One of us.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”

“His name is Theodore Price,” James said, taking a tentative step toward them. “But everybody called him Teddy.”

“Did anybody ask you?” Kara snapped.

James bowed his head submissively and retracted his step.

“When did you find him?” Danyon asked.

After a long pause, Kara sighed, evidently sensing that she wasn’t going to get rid of him that easily. “About an hour or two ago. I’m not sure of the exact time. Can’t keep track of every damn thing. Been trying to get the body moved before all hell breaks loose out here. If the rest of my pack sees this, they’re going to panic like a bunch of effin’ coyotes.”

Danyon nodded. “I know what you mean.”

She let out a sarcastic snort. “You don’t know jack.”

“I know more than you think.”

She frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

With an almost imperceptible aim of his chin, he signaled that he didn’t want to discuss the matter in front of James and Lawrence.

Kara turned to James. “Get your ass to town and take the sniveling fool with you. But I want you back here in thirty minutes, no later. Got that?”

“Yes,” James said, head down, eyes averted.

“And this time, bring somebody with you who’s got a set of balls. Now get outta here, both of you.”

In a flash, the two weres darted off, disappearing into the forest on the opposite side of the clearing.

Once they were out of sight, Danyon turned to her, knowing he would get blasted for the question he was about to ask. “Why do you treat them that way, Kara?”

Her face clouded, and her lips tightened into a thin line. She took a step toward him, and he saw the muscles
in her forearm begin to ripple. “What kind of pussy alpha would ask a question like that?”