Wolves of Haven: Lone (24 page)

Louvel shook his head. “Not
menstruating…I do not think. Doctor?”

Connell rolled his eyes. “I have to
agree with Kid; I don’t want to think about my baby sister’s cycle.
It’s bad enough that I’m her damn doctor, and we’ve had some
extremely awkward talks and exams, but I’m guessing that Kid is too
young to pick up on it, as of yet. It’s nothing that noticeable
unless you’re older, and even then it isn’t something that screams
out to fuck your sister. It’s just a subtle change in her scent.
Nothing major,” he said, trying to explain it in a means that
wouldn’t get lost in translation or compromise his sister’s trust
in him. “Internally though, for her, it’s another story. From what
she said, there is an uncontrollable urge within her. Think of it
as needing to run, only instead of running she needs to get laid.
They’ll be completely useless to us for the next eight hours… At
least that was how long she said they were going at it with her
last three cycles.”

Ulrik scratched his head. “Eight
hours of what?” he asked the obvious since there was no way his
brother was saying what the young man thought he was hinting
at.

Connell looked up from the
file and smirked. “Eight hours of going at it like hot and horny
dogs in heat, imagine that. I might have to give Damian a Vitamin-B
shot or two. I prescribed it to Akia for her
outlet
since that’s a marathon fuck
session even for a werewolf. Fae will need to whip up some carb
heavy food and bring it down in a couple of hours with a case of
bottled water.”

The young man looked back to the
cellar door, his eyes wide. “Dude, that can’t be normal. I mean,
those commercials on the television say to seek medical attention
if an erection last more than four hours. There has to be a reason
for that type of warning, right?”

“Not a conversation I am in the
mood to have with you right now, Kid,” Connell said, returning to
his report. “Why don’t you go wake Ginger Bear and let him know
that he’ll be needed in the kitchen.”

Ulrik groaned then sulked towards
the door.

“Boy, put some pants on,” Louvel
scolded.

“Why is everyone so concerned with
me swinging in the breeze?!” Ulrik complained, throwing his hands
in the air in frustration, not so discretely pelvic thrusting so
he’d swing even more.

Louvel shook his head with a
chuckle; the blue haired young man truly was amusing in ways that
should be criminal.

“Just because we have company,
another werewolf here, doesn’t mean that I should have to put pants
on,” Ulrik whined. “Connie isn’t wearing clothes, and in my
non-professional opinion, the risk of paper cuts to his mangina is
great,” he sneered before sulking up the stairs to his
room.

Beowulf shook his head, joining
them from the library.

“I am scared to ask,” Louvel said,
“but what is a mangina?”

“Man-vagina,” Connell said, kicking
his legs out and rested his feet on an ottoman.

Louvel shook his head; he knew
better than to ask.

“Kid has a point,” Beowulf said,
taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch. “It is one thing to
run around naked in nature or the yard, but sitting naked while
writing a report on a leather couch that company uses, and your
brothers on occasion when they pass out from drinking too much, is
a bit disturbing.”

Connell smirked but didn’t say
anything; the latter was the reason he was sitting comfortably nude
with company in the house.

“That is disgusting,” Beowulf
scolded with a chuckle. “The scent you reeked of is unknown to us,”
he continued once Ulrik was outside, complaining loudly as he went,
and Seff closed the door behind him. “When the two preoccupied in
the basement have concluded their… Can you please put something
on?” he groaned.

Louvel chuckled and went over to
the record player and hit the switch.

When Maria Callas singing
Giacomo Puccini’s
O Mio Babbino
Caro
started playing, Beowulf nodded his
thanks; listening to his daughter have sex was the last thing he
wanted to listen to.

“What changed?” Louvel asked. “This
latest victim, it is greatly different from the others,
yes?”

Connell made a face. “The others
didn’t have their hearts ripped out,” he stated the obvious. “Other
than the obvious, it doesn’t feel right. There is something… I
really wish the two in the basement weren’t humping like dogs in
heat, I really do. It’s as if we’re dealing with an entirely
different perp now.”

Seff joined them with a pile of
books in hand. “I’m in agreement with you,” he said. “The latest,
it is as if the Stray was pissed and just killed to kill because
the Lead in the case said that he would.”

That was exactly how it appeared to
Connell as well.

The latest victim wasn’t dumped in
water; he was left in a parking lot next to a truck. The only
damage was to the ribcage from the removal of the heart. The
precision suggests that it was done by a clawed hand, something
that he wasn’t aware was even possible.

“I think we’re dealing with an
Apprentice and Master,” Connell eventually said. “Perhaps the first
kill was accidental like Sis thinks, and the second was his
confirmation phase, the third was discovery, but the fourth was
refined with the skill that only a Master would have. If I didn’t
know any better…” his words trailed off when the front door
opened.

Beowulf nodded his
understanding.

Ulrik came running in the house,
taking the stairs three at a time without slowing, slamming his
bedroom door behind him.

Faelan chuckled, strolling into the
house, closing the door. “Good morning,” he greeted with a lazy
smile, his eyes half-mast, and the smell of whiskey rolling from
him. “I don’t know why he doesn’t like to hug it out when in the
buff. It’s stimulating for all heads involved,” he said with a
chuckle.

When the others didn’t laugh, he
looked at them curiously.

“What happened?” he
asked.

“Another body,” Connell
said.

Faelan scratched his head with one
hand and his hairy chest with the other. “I thought that was to be
expected?” he asked, confused.

“Heart ripped from the chest,” Seff
said.

“Eve?” he asked the
obvious.

“Never left the cell,” Louvel
said.

“If it wasn’t Eve, and we knew
there would be another body on the black moon, why the somber
looks?” Faelan asked, unsure as to why the tension in the manor was
so thick that you could cut it with a spoon. “What am I apparently
too hung over to grasp?”

Beowulf shook his head, not
entirely sure how to address the situation. “The Stray turned into
an Apprentice when a Master apparently sought him out,” he
said.

Faelan cocked an eyebrow. “In
Haven?” he scoffed. “How in the hell would a Master have come
across a Stray in Haven of all places without us knowing
it?”

“Not all have crossed our paths,”
Seff reminded him. “We don’t travel the country or world, not even
our territory, simply to track down Strays. Our pack is not big
enough, nor do we care enough, in order to do that. Remember, Fae,
it isn’t our job to protect humans from our kind. It’s our job to
protect the pack from them. Protect the pack at all
costs.”

Connell made a mocking face; he’d
heard Seff’s fuck everyone but the pack speech for decades and had
never been one to completely agree with it or that
attitude.

“That is enough,” Beowulf scolded.
“Fae, can you please shower, get dressed, stop harassing Kid, and
make something high in carbohydrates for the two in the basement?
From what her doctor has suggested, they will be indisposed for the
next,” he looked at his watch, “seven hours-twenty-three
minutes.”

Faelan gave them a look. “What are
they doing down there?”

“Having animalistic sex,” Connell
said, as if it were obvious. “I think we need Damian’s nose on this
one. His pack is much, much bigger and more connected than ours, so
he might be able to identify the new scent. Dad, Lou and Little
Black Hitler, please go through the records for any similar Modus
Operandi; similar progression of kills and rapid refinement of
them, body counts might vary so look beyond that. Also, if they
were caught, contained, or neutralized doesn’t matter… Holy shit, I
sound like my baby sister,” he groaned the latter, just then
realizing it. “I am totally kicking her ass for this one. I’m a
half-ass doctor, a bored medical examiner, not a damn
cop.”

Faelan shook his head, heading for
the stairs. “Connie, wasn’t it you who introduced little sister to
Sherlock Holmes?” he teased.

Connell flipped him off.

“Never mind him, Son,” Beowulf said
with a small smile, trying to hide the pride flooding him because
his son was finally stepping up and taking control of the situation
like a mature adult. “Sherlock Holmes was my favorite as well.
Louvel, Seff, join me in the library,” he said, and got to his
feet. “Son, put some pants on and join us. We have a little over
seven hours before the two experts join us, so that gives us time
to compile what we can in order to make their job
easier.”

They nodded their
understanding.

“How’s your ass?” Akia asked as she
pulled a shirt over her head, watching Damian dry off with a towel
after a long, stimulating shower, before fastening her necklace
around her neck, tucking it under the collar of her shirt so the
pendant rested between her breasts.

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll live.
Those needles get bigger and bigger every time. I swear you’re
trying to kill me.”

She smiled wide; almost nine-hours
of passionate love making was nearly enough to sate her animalistic
urges. “The bruise is nearly gone,” she assured him, admiring his
firm, muscular backside and thighs as he pulled his briefs
up.

“Stop admiring me as if I’m nothing
more than a piece of meat with an impressive cock,” he grumbled
under his breath before shaking his backside, causing her to roar
with laughter.

There was another body, they were
sure of it since the others were held up in the library and Faelan
said nothing when he opened the door to the cellar, slid a basket
of food and jugs of water inside then closed the door behind it.
Another victim should have concerned them, but they knew it was
going to happen, and there honestly was nothing they could have
done to stop it. Even if Akia wasn’t fighting against Eve and the
allure of the lunar cycle, and wasn’t at the peak of her cycle and
in need of a sexual release, the Stray’s hunting grounds were too
great to effectively patrol. Also, the risk of one of them coming
across the Stray on their own, possibly resulting in them losing
their life, was much too great to risk in both of their opinions.
It was a sad reality, and extremely hard to accept since the two of
them swore an oath to uphold the law and protect the innocent, but
protecting the pack took precedence. It wasn’t their jobs to
protect humans from their kind, it wasn’t their job to protect
werewolves from humans, but it was their job to protect the pack at
all cost. Even though the two were from different packs, Damian
gave his allegiance to Beowulf and his pack when he presented the
Alpha with his birthright in the form of his pack crest ring; he
would protect Akia’s pack and family with his life if it meant
protecting her from heartache and loss.

“I’m hungry,” Akia complained as
she watched Damian get dressed; her jeans, shirt and boots took
minutes compared to his three piece suits and bathroom pampering
ritual that took an hour in itself.

“Yes, I know,” he said, buttoning
his dress shirt. “You haven’t had nearly enough calories to
replenish what you burned. If you like you can head down to the
dining room; it smells as if your brother is nearly ready for an
early dinner service.”

She gave him a look. “Are you
preparing yourself for having to go in front of those at the
office?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Yes. Usually I get a
couple of days to recoup from my favorite time of the year,” he
teased with a wink, “but this time I have to face the world while
only running on two cylinders, as my grandfather used to
say.”