White Wolf 2: The Call of a Soul (16 page)

“Oh. I forgot to mention. Valérie’s agreed to meet us at the Caboose. Apparently some of the waitresses aren’t up to par, and she wants to choose the catering staff herself.”

“Mike. Drake. How lovely to see you both.” The devil had to be having a hysterical hooting fit. For there, striding in their direction, was the about-to-be-strangled Valérie.

“Don’t get up.” Valérie halted not three inches from his chair. She rested a proprietary hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Lucinda, that suit is absolutely perfect on you.”

Mom ducked her head a tad and smoothed the fine wool. “I can’t thank you enough for dragging me to Grand Rapids last week. It was such a fun day. Too bad your mother couldn’t make it.”

He’d bet Whisper Derby odds that Valérie had finagled her mother’s absence. What the fuck was the witch up to? Her hand traced the seam of his shirt. Mike dug his fingers into his thighs. He hated her touching him and choked back a snarl.

“I’ll see you three at the Caboose at five thirty.”

He’d lost track of the conversation and was hard put not to blow out a relieved sigh when Valérie’s palm fell away.

“Chantal is very fortunate to have such a loving daughter.” Lucinda kept her gaze trained on Valérie’s retreating back, so she didn’t notice Drake rolling his eyes and then mimicking a strangling motion.

The childish gesture made Mike grin, and he almost didn’t resent his mother’s implied chide that he hadn’t been the most loving of sons. Mike signaled for the waiter and sent a mental thank-you to fate for Melanie working the breakfast shift.

Lunch lasted a full two hours, and in that time, all of Chabegawn’s who’s who stopped by to welcome them back to the town. It turned out that virtually every mother had an eligible daughter either his or Drake’s age. Invitations were issued left, right, and center. Though he attempted to parry each one with the ubiquitous work and just-moved excuses, at least five events had been scheduled before the brothers departed the restaurant.

Mike entered the office in a grumpy, pissed mood.

“That was exactly what I was afraid of.” Drake looked like Mike felt: mouth turned down, eyes narrowed. “I’m not getting on that fucking social carousel that those de Verteuils and Laroques ride. Not. Do you hear me?”

“Stop battering that keyboard.” Mike shrugged out of his jacket and hung the worn leather on the coatrack. “I don’t see any way we can escape. At least not until after Christmas and possibly New Year’s. And you should thank God for small mercies. You don’t have Vamp Valérie breathing down your cock.”

Drake threw a pencil at the far wall. “You got out of coffee and cake with the Havelocks.”

“Only because I’m too old for their precious Helena.” Mike shuddered. “I don’t envy you that one. Look on the bright side. It’s not dinner.”

“What’re you going to do about Valérie’s engagement dinner? I have this niggling feeling Valérie’s going to insist Melanie be part of the catering staff.”

“Motherfucker.” Mike slumped into his chair. “I figured the reason Valérie wanted in on the planning was to make sure Melanie
wasn’t
there. But you’ve hit the nail on the head. Humiliating Melanie would be her goal.”

“You’ve got to preempt it.”

“How?” He dragged a hand through his wind-tousled, knotted hair.

“Don’t have a clue. But you’d better come up with something fast. It’s near four.”

For three seconds Mike debated the merits of telling Drake about their soon-to-be involvement in the Caboose, but decided against it. A change of topic was in order. “Isn’t Helena younger than you?”

Drake picked up a pencil and snapped it in two. “She’s a kid, for crying out loud. Not even eighteen. Is there some sort of time clock for grandkids? ’Cause that’s all Mom talked about this morning over three cups of coffee. Apparently all the women her age have a pack of ’em.”

“Grandkids?” Mike buried his face in his hands. Hang on a hoppin’ second. Grandkids. He grinned. “I think I just found the perfect way to get Mom to accept Melanie.”

If an entire body could grimace, Drake’s did. He gave an exaggerated shudder. “You ready for squalling brats and diapers and all that crap?”

“Yeah. I sure am. A home. A pack. All the crap. Wait. When you find your mate, it’ll be the same.” Mike leaned back. “What do you know about birth-control implants?”

“Huh? Mate lust addling what’s left of those gray cells?” Drake tapped his skull with the eraser end of the pencil. Then a rapacious grin swamped his even features. He tossed the broken pencil halves on the desk and stood. “Hel-lo. You got laid. And Melanie has an implant. Fucking A!”

“Not fucking A. Not yet.”
Shit
. Was there a way to remove an implant without Melanie knowing? How deep were they planted anyhow? And how long did they last? The pill would’ve been so easy.

“Hey. Where did my alpha bro go? Someone replaced him with a daydreaming idiot.”

Hands jammed into pockets, Drake paced a tight circle between their desks.

Mike recognized the taint to his brother’s distant stare. “What’s up?”

“I paid a visit to the murder site after coffee with Mom this morning.” Drake sat on the edge of his desk and picked up the stapler.

“Must you fiddle?” Mike snatched the stapler, and Drake promptly picked up the letter opener and twirled it. “Describe the site.”

Drake hopped off the desk. “Gory. Blood on the tree trunks, leaves, everywhere. It was after the sheriff and his team had left. The remains had been removed. I can’t shake the feeling that I missed something. I took pictures. Check your in-box. Maybe you’ll see something I didn’t.”

Mike jiggled his mouse. “What else?”

Drake dropped his gaze to the wooden floor. “You know I don’t believe in that evil-good crap.”

Their discussion on the existence of evil and good was an ongoing one and stemmed from polar opposite opinions. “I know. What of it?”

“I smelled evil, Mikey.” Drake stared at him.

His brother had been thrown off-balance big-time to have called him Mikey. “You’re not nuts, Drake. Evil
has
a distinctive foul odor. Once you’ve scented it, it sticks with you. I smelled it where Boyd was killed and again when I found the mother and her cub.”

“So, that’s the black wolf stench…” Drake rocked on his heels. “I hate to admit it, but it rattled me so much my hands shook.”

“Welcome to my reality.” Mike clicked through Drake’s e-mails and previewed the attachments. “How far did you say this was from the main house?”

“Five miles away, give or take a few feet. Why?”

“No one heard anything?”

“Nada. But as you can see, the area’s heavily forested.”

“Not so. Come here.” Drake moved to stand behind Mike. “See the yellow tape markings, here, here, and here. They form a small but definite circular clearing marked by the leaves piled against the pine trunks. Very similar to the site where I found the cub and mother.”

“I see it now. Think it was cleared deliberately?”

“If not, it’s a helluva coincidence.”

“Yeah. Right.” Neither brother held much sway with weird coincidences. “One more thing. Another alpha was at the site. Scented him clear as day.”

Mike did a double take and eyed his brother. “Funny thing, that first site with the bear cub and the mother? I thought I smelled another alpha too.”

“Another fucking coincidence.” Drake blew out a long breath. “The pace of events are getting close to out of control.”

“By the way, why were you kicking me under the table at the country club?” Mike pressed a thumb to his suddenly throbbing temple.

“How in heck does Mom know Virgil?”

“Why do you think she knows him?” Mike rolled his eyes. Why was Drake fixating on such a stupid point?

“She mentioned him twice this morning, and she knows he owns the Caboose.”

“Probably did some research for the damned engagement party. Focus. Anything else at the site that bothered you?” He rolled his shoulders, but the motion didn’t ease the tension in his muscles.

“Nothing comes to mind. There
is
one other thing. Remember old Coat-check Harry?” Drake wore a frown Mike knew only too well.

“From the country club? Been there forever? Yeah, spoke to him briefly today.”

“Did you know his daughter died in the mill fire?”

Mike frowned. “I knew two women died in the fire, but hadn’t made the connection. Why?”

“Harry and his wife moved to a smaller place. Cleaned out his house. Said he found a couple of accounting books from the mill and would I like to have them? Shocked the spit out of me.”

The squirrelly back-of-the-neck danger itch that had saved them in the past went on overdrive. “I hope you said yes.”

“Picking them up later.”

“Too many balls popping into the air. I don’t like any of this. Not one bit.”

Drake hissed. “Agreed. It’s four fifteen. Thought of a plan as yet?”

“Yeah. I have. I need to speak with Virgil.” Mike pushed his chair away from the desk.

“Uh-uh.” Drake blocked Mike from standing. “You have that look on your face. The one that says you’re hiding something from me.”

“Out of my way.”

Dropping his hands, Drake sidestepped and shot him an amused glance. “By the way, I arranged to meet Brinda before she starts the evening shift. Around now.”

“There are times when I could easily beat the stuffing out of you. Come with me, then.” Mike elbowed Drake aside, grabbed his jacket, and shrugged into the sleeves. “Any word on any of the autopsies?”

“Nothing yet. I should have a copy of the Hurit homicide report by the time we get back.”

They reached the elevators, and Mike stabbed the Down button. “How’d you manage that?”

“Tiffany.”

The doors dinged open, and they entered.

The Ground Floor button glowed after Drake punched it.

“What’s the point of meeting Brinda, then?”

“I sort of got roped into teaching her daughter some self-defense moves.” The doors dinged open.

Mike stopped and whirled to face his brother, who had colored pink and wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Sort of?”

Drake scuffed his boot. “I volunteered, okay.”

“Spill. How the hell did this happen?” They hurried out of the elevator.

A blast of freezing air pummeled both brothers when the double doors to the building opened. Drake donned his coat, and the flaps went flying in the stiff breeze.

“What can I say?” Drake rolled a shoulder. “People tell me things.”

“Women, you mean.” Mike shook his head. “You can’t fix everyone’s problems, Drake.”

“She’s being bullied at school. Could you leave that alone?”

The pup knew how to win an argument. Mike had beat the crap out of two of Drake’s schoolmates when he’d found out they were bullying his brother. Years later, he’d realized that violence begets violence, and that the bullying not only hadn’t stopped but had actually intensified. And Drake had kept it a secret.

“No. Do what you have to.” Mike resumed walking.

“Don’t I always?” Drake hopped the three steps to the Caboose’s narrow porch.

Mike joined Drake. “I’ve been thinking that it’s time to bring Gray White in on everything. I’d bet any odds he’s the alpha we’re scenting at the kill sites.”

Drake frowned. “Why would you even think that?”

“Been going over that year.” The year their world had shattered. “Gray’s an alpha whose father and grandfather died on the same day. A few days later the only murder, well until now, in Chabegawn’s known history occurs—Uncle Boyd’s. If you were him and so many killings suddenly started occurring close to home—what would you do?”

“Good point. Maybe I’ll ask him to help me show Yvonne some defensive moves. You’ve been checking your phone for messages every three seconds. Talk about needy.”

“Needy? Can’t wait for you to find your mate so I can make you eat your words.” Mike snapped the door to the Caboose open. “Have fun with Brinda and Yvonne.”

“Welcome to the Caboose.” The cashier greeted them as if they were long-lost relatives. Relatives she didn’t like. Even the woman’s numerous wrinkles seemed to turn down at the edges to match her dour expression. But she’d been in the kitchen when Mike had carried Melanie out to the back parking lot, and it appeared the Caboose’s entire staff felt protective of his mate.

“Afternoon, Janie. Brinda in?” Drake flashed the cashier a smile.

The woman batted her eyelashes. “Drake, honey. Didn’t see you behind
him
. She’s in the back booth waiting for you. Sliced a big piece of peach pie for you.”

Mike raised an eyebrow.
Drake, honey?

“Thanks. You’re the peach, Janie. I bet you’re the one who suggested the pie.” Drake leaned on the counter and pecked Janie on the cheek.

Janie giggled; the sound was so incongruous with her grimness that Mike did a double take. “You go on now, boy. You deserve ice cream and pie for helping poor Yvonne. Nothing worse than a bully. And that snarky Nadine de Verteuil deserves to be put in her place.”

“That’s some feat. That woman actually blushed,” Mike muttered as the brothers made their way around the U-shaped counter and stools.

“What can I say? Charm—you should try it sometime.” Drake grinned.

The back booth came into view.

“I’ll go out the back and come in when Mom and Valérie arrive.”

“Brinda.” Drake halted at the booth and half blocked Mike as he edged by. “That pie for me?”

Mike feinted in the direction of the men’s room and then switched course and hurried through the swing doors. The kitchen wasn’t bustling like it had been this morning. He glimpsed Homer Sledden peeling a fat potato by the wall of sinks.

“Hi, Mike. Virgil’s not here.” Homer flashed Mike a brilliant smile.

“I can see that. Do you know where he is?”

“He’s out back on a break.”

“Thanks.” Mike lengthened his stride and was out the door in seconds. Though the hour hadn’t changed, the days had become noticeably shorter. Not yet four thirty and already shadows crowded the edges of the parking lot. He spied Virgil, seated on one of the benches shaded by a grove of birch trees, nursing a glass of what looked like red wine, and puffing on a cigar.

“Mike.” Virgil waved him over.