Otherworldly Bad Boys: Three Complete Novels (17 page)

“I told you he was yanking your chain.”

“I don’t think he was. I think he does know something. But he’s not going to tell me now.”

“Right,” said Avery. “So how do you feel about King pulling the plug on letting you go see your number one crush?”

Dana glared at him. “He is
not
my number one crush.”

“So, you’re over all that now?”

“I didn’t say that, not exactly.”

Avery laughed. “See, that’s what I thought. I think it’s a good move on King’s part.”

“Well, maybe it’s good for my psyche,” said Dana, “but I’m not sure it’s good for this case.”

“Does it matter, though?” said Avery. “I mean, these guys did their damage. So they knew each other in high school, and they fit the profile that Randall killed. Knowing that doesn’t bring anybody back to life, you know?”

“True.” Dana drew a heart in the margin of the notebook. “Did King tell you how Cole reacted to finding out I wasn’t coming back to see him?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Why do you care?”

She drew an arrow in the heart. “Just wondering if he was angry. If he might try retaliating.”

“Retaliating?” he said. “How would he do that? He’s locked up.”

She drew another heart, this one with a jagged edge in the middle of it—broken. “Just something he said to me when I was down there.”

“I thought he didn’t tell you anything.”

“Well, maybe I left this part out. I wasn’t thinking it was important. He said he would do anything to see me.”

“At what point in the conversation did that come up?”

“Maybe I left some stuff out, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

Avery shot her a disgusted look. “You really
shouldn’t
see him, should you?”

“I think he was taking responsibility for the killings. He heavily implied that they didn’t do it of their own volition, didn’t he? I think he did it somehow.”

Avery shook his head. “That’s crazy.”

“Well, he makes me do crazy things, doesn’t he? Maybe he can...”

“Control people’s minds?”

“Okay, you’re making it sound stupid.”

Avery got up and walked over to where Dana was sitting. “Look, I know that if something like that was true, it would make you feel a whole lot better about yourself, because it wouldn’t be your fault—”

“Don’t try to analyze me, Brooks. I’ve got a shrink for that.” Dana sighed heavily. “So, do you know how he reacted or not?”

“He was angry.” Avery considered. “Maybe he did make some sort of stupid threat, now that you mention it.”

Dana leaned forward, setting the notebook aside. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. That he wouldn’t stop until he saw you or something?”

She pointed at him with her pen. “See? He’s behind it.”

“He can’t control people’s minds.”

“I guess not,” she said. “So that means... what? How could he be doing it?”

“He couldn’t be,” said Avery.

Avery’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and answered it. “Hello?... But it’s not a full moon.... Yeah, we’ll be there.... No, Gray’s with me.”

Dana was standing up. “What?”

“There’s been another rogue attack,” he said.

“Now?” Werewolves didn’t turn unless it was a full moon. Dana had never heard of anyone doing it, except Cole. And, of course, herself. He’d taught her. He’d forced her.

“I know, I know.” Avery’s face had gone the shade of the paper in her notebook. “We’ve got to move.”

CHAPTER NINE

The scene was much more typical this time. A small apartment, a bloody body, and a rogue who was sobbing over the corpse. There wasn’t much need for trackers here. The rogue hadn’t run.

Still Dana and Avery did their job, observing the scene, confirming the death of the victim, and scenting out the rogue. That done, they were certain of what they told the police officers on the scene.

“This was definitely a werewolf attack,” Avery said.

The police officer had her dark hair pulled into a thick braid. “You can smell that, huh?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Dana. “And the rogue is still here. We’ll be taking him into custody.”

“I thought that werewolves only came out on the full moon,” said the woman. “It’s not the full moon, is it?”

Dana and Avery both shook their heads, but neither said anything.

The woman nodded. “Ah. I get it. Neither of you got any idea why it happened either. That it?”

“We’ll be investigating—”

“Spare me,” said the woman. “Am I supposed to tell the community they aren’t safe now? That a werewolf could get them anytime?”

Dana and Avery exchanged a look.

“We’re certain this is an isolated incident,” said Avery.

Dana glared at him. They weren’t certain of anything. “Tell them the truth, ma’am. That something strange is happening, and you don’t know why. We’re all working on figuring it out, I can promise you that.”

* * *

The rogue had been in such a bad emotional state, it had been all they could do to get him to give up his name. The whole drive back to headquarters, all he asked about was his girlfriend. He couldn’t seem to get it through his head that she was dead.

“But it wasn’t a full moon,” he kept saying. “They told me I wouldn’t shift unless it was a full moon. And I knew how to control it. How did this happen?”

They’d sent him off to be processed, mess that he was. Dana’s heart went out to the poor guy. He hadn’t wanted to kill his girlfriend, that much was clear. He hadn’t done this on purpose. But how else could he have shifted when there was no full moon?

That didn’t make any sense. No one could do that, except possibly people who had been trained by the SF. Trackers were taught how to let out parts of their wolf anytime they needed, full moon or not. Dana didn’t know anyone who tried it, but she thought it might be possible for trackers to shift whenever they wanted. But this guy wasn’t a tracker, and he didn’t seem to have known what he was doing.

What the hell was going on?

Now, armed with his name, Dana was at her desk in the tracker office, looking him up in the system.

A few key strokes and she had him. Trent Bailey. He was twenty-two years old. He’d been bitten a few years ago, in high school. He’d never killed anyone, just been shuffled into the SF right away. He fit Cole’s profile, just like she’d known he would.

Actually, she couldn’t be sure of that, could she?

She made a note of the date that Trent had been added to the system.

Then she went back out to a search screen and entered that date.

Trent was one of only two people admitted that day.

She clicked on the other entry, a girl named Coraline Shirley.

The door to the tracker office opened, and Avery strode in.

Dana looked up to see him. “Did you talk to him?” She’d insisted that someone go talk to Cole after they’d gotten back with Trent. Considering that she wasn’t allowed to see him currently, she figured that it had to be Avery, who’d agreed to go down and see what he could figure out.

“I talked,” said Avery, sitting down next to her desk. “He just smiled.”

“He didn’t say anything?”

“He said one thing,” said Avery. “He said he wants to see you.”

Dana rubbed her forehead. “Well, maybe I should go down there.”

“No way. You give in to him, and he wins. He doesn’t get to win,” said Avery. “Besides, I thought you were going to figure out who’s our rogue’s matched pair.”

Dana nodded. “Yeah, I got it.” She checked the screen to confirm. Coraline and Trent had been the only survivors of the same attack, which had been Trent’s older brother. Damn. No wonder Trent was such a mess. He’d lost his parents and younger sister to his big brother’s attack. “Coraline Shirley.”

“So the two of them fit Randall’s profile?” asked Avery.

“To a T,” she said. “You still think Cole isn’t involved somehow?”

Avery sighed. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t know if we have time to think. You got Miss Shirley’s home address?”

“Right here,” said Dana.

“Last time, the next attack didn’t happen until the next day,” said Avery. “Assuming that this is related, we have to assume that Coraline Shirley’s going to go rogue as well.”

“Then let’s get to her before anything happens,” said Dana.

* * *

Coraline Shirley lived in a log cabin in the woods with her husband and young child. The nearest neighbors were about a half a mile away. Avery and Dana had to urge the car up steep, turning roads to get to the cabin, which perched on top of a mountain.

When they finally got there, the house was silent and dark.

“They’re probably asleep,” said Avery. “The sun’s not due up for another hour.”

“Well, we’ll have to wake them up,” said Dana.

Together, the two trooped to the door of the cabin. There was a stone walkway, each rock embedded in the ground, arranged artfully. It was surrounded by flowers on each side. They were just getting ready to bloom. Avery knocked.

They waited.

Dana peered down at the welcome mat outside the door. It said, “Welcome Friends!” in a pink script that looked like a ribbon. Behind the ribbon was a picture of a wreath.

Avery knocked again. “I don’t think they heard me.”

Dana raised her voice. “Coraline Shirley? This is the Sullivan Foundation. We need to talk to you.”

They waited.

Nothing.

“Maybe they’re not home,” said Dana. A garage next to the house concealed the presence or absence of a car. She gestured with her head. “Should we see if it’s empty?”

“Won’t tell us anything definitive, but sure,” said Avery.

They walked over the stone walkway, across the driveway, and over to the garage. There was a side door, white, with a window. It had scuff marks on the bottom, and small paw prints. The Shirleys might have a cat.

Dana cupped her hands against the window to look inside. “Two cars.”

Avery looked as well. “Yeah. They’re here.”

“Unless they have another vehicle.”

“That’s why I said it wouldn’t tell us anything definitive,” said Avery.

Dana looked from the garage to the house. In the east, the sky was lightening. The sun was coming. It made her realize she hadn’t been to sleep tonight. She was hungry, too. They’d come all this way, and the Shirleys were either sleeping through everything or had gone on vacation without their cars, or—

A high-pitched mewling noise interrupted her thoughts.

Both she and Avery turned in the direction of the sound, just in time to see a furry tortoiseshell cat crawl through a cat door. The cat pranced down the stone walkway, leaving behind dark, wet paw prints.

In the scant light, they looked black, colorless.

Dana stripped away her protections, let out the wolf’s sense of smell.

She knew Avery had done the same thing, because he started moving towards the door of the house as quickly as she did.

She could smell it. The cat was tracking
blood
.

Avery banged on the door again, but this time he didn’t wait for a response. His hand went to the doorknob and rattled it. The door was locked. He looked over his shoulder. “Stand back.”

He put his shoulder into it, forcing the door open.

Behind them, the cat meowed.

They stepped into the cabin, Dana scrabbling along the wall for a light switch.

She found it, and the interior of the house was illuminated as a too-yellow overhead light snapped on.

They had entered a living room. The carpet was a light brown color, stained in a few places. Dana could smell wine, coffee, even ravioli. None of it was blood.

There were two couches sagging against the wall, hugging a corner together. Child’s toys—blocks, rattles, a teething ring—were scattered in front of the ratty couches. There was a TV hanging on the wall. It was a sleek, brand-new flat screen. It looked out of place next to the stained carpet and the old couches. It showed where the Shirleys’ priorities were, Dana guessed.

She could still smell the tang of blood, rusty and sharp. But it wasn’t in the living room. It was further inside the house somewhere.

She and Avery moved into the next room, a kitchen.

Light came in through a glass sliding door at the back of the room. A door that had been shattered, the screen behind it ripped through, clawed open. Dana and Avery both sniffed the air.

“That was the rogue,” said Avery. “Female.”

“She was in wolf form when she went through the door,” agreed Dana.

The rest of the kitchen showed signs of disruption. The table had been knocked onto its side. A napkin holder must have been on top of it, because Dana could see it lying on the floor now, paper napkins scattered everywhere. A breeze blew in from the shattered door, fluttering the paper, lifting the napkins from the ground.