“I hope this won’t be taken the wrong way,” Armand said. “Like I’m unwilling to offer up my own as possible suspects, you know? But honestly, I seriously doubt the murderer is a shifter. Most of us are my size, tall and slender. Just a willow in the forest of life.”
Shauna turned her head, so Armand wouldn’t see her rolling her eyes.
Armand sighed heavily. “My point is that not even a dozen shifters cemented together could hold down a were.”
“But what if those twelve shifted into something larger than a were?” Ryder asked. “Wouldn’t it be possible then?”
Armand shot him a look. “Whose side are you on, Mr. Mallory?”
“He’s on the side of justice,” Caitlin said. “Haven’t you been listening to what’s been said? Each of us has to be willing to put our own on the table for examination. Even shifters.”
This time Armand was the one to roll his eyes. He tsked and looked away, all but saying, “Go away, little
gnat, go away,” despite all the virtues he’d just proclaimed about Caitlin.
“They could have shifted into something bigger than a were,” Jagger said. “But when a shifter changes, doesn’t he or she have to mentally map what they’re changing into?”
“Yes,” Ryder said. “Unless they go into auto-shift.”
“What’s that?” Shauna asked.
“When a shifter is young and shifts for the first time, nine times out of ten, it’s random, almost accidental,” Ryder explained. “One day a dog, a cat, a bird, whatever, catches their attention, and, in that moment, for some odd reason, mother nature decides it’s time for their first shift. So whatever they’re focused on gets imprinted on their brain, and they never have to mind map that particular thing again. For many shifters, whenever they get frightened or sense danger, their shifter nature goes into automatic response and shifts them into whatever imprinted itself in the very beginning.”
“If they have to mind map something or someone before changing into it, what or who is bigger than a full grown were in this area?” Shauna asked.
“Andy Saville,” David said.
“Man, that guy
is
big,” Ryder said.
“And he’s also wolven,” Shauna said.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jagger said. “Everything gets put on the table, remember?”
Shauna nodded hesitantly. She would have bet everything she owned, or ever would own during this lifetime, that Andy was not the murderer.
“Well, I think a vampire is completely out of the question,” David said. “A vamp can’t shift into just anything they please. If one did attack a were, the fight would have been fang to fang. A vamp wouldn’t bother wrapping silver around a were, only to remove his claws and fangs. He’d simply rip his throat out.”
“If the vamp could catch him,” Danyon said, with a lopsided grin.
“Touché.”
“But what if a group of vampires glamoured a were?” Caitlin asked. “Is that possible? Could they glamour a were long enough to restrain him? Once he’s secured, all they’d have to do is release the glamour, and the were’s anger would force his transformation.”
“It’s…possible,” David said, after giving it a moment’s thought. “But I don’t think it’s probable. What would they have to gain? From what we’ve been told, the murdered weres lost a lot of blood. Vampires wouldn’t have wasted an opportunity like that. The were would have been drained dry.”
“What about humans?” Fiona asked.
“I don’t know how a human, or even a group of them, could have done it,” Danyon said. “They would have had to subdue the were in human form, and any attempt to restrain him would have caused the were to transform. Once that happened, no human would stand a chance. One swipe of a paw, and the were would literally claw the human’s face off, or rip his heart out.”
“I see what you mean about the unlikelihood of it
being a human,” David said. “But humans
can
be very stupid sometimes. No offense, ladies.”
“None taken,” Fiona said.
“I can just see some drunk yahoo and his buddies suddenly thinking they have superpowers and deciding to add a were-head to their trophy wall back home.” David shrugged. “Not hard to imagine with humans, is it?”
Armand snorted in disgust. “With humans? No. Stupid is as stupid does.”
“Talking about stupid,” Jagger said. “Word has it that some new biker gang rode into town about a week ago. They call themselves BGW.”
“What does that stand for?” Armand asked. “Big, gold watch?”
Jagger grinned. “From what I’ve heard, it’s supposed to stand for Blood, Guts and Women.”
“How original,” Caitlin said, shaking her head.
“They haven’t had any run-ins with the eighth precinct yet, so I don’t have much information on them. I do know, though, that the gang leader’s name is Frank Macina, but the members of his gang call him Big Frank. And with good reason. The guy is six-five and weighs about four hundred pounds. A stereotypical biker, even down to his bald head, which has naked women tattooed all over it.”
“Oh, how tacky,” Armand said.
“The word on the street is they plan to upstage the Bloods and the Crips.”
“Fat chance of that happening,” Ryder said, “The Bs and Cs are two of the most hard-core gangs in America.
If this so called BGW gang plans to nudge into their territory, they’d better go armed with Uzies and lots of them.”
“It might not be a bad idea to talk with Macina,” Jagger said. “I could be pointing at shadows here, but it seems a little too coincidental that the murders happened about the same time Big Frank and his gang got here. Might be worth checking out.”
“Something else we may want to check out,” Shauna said. Everyone turned to her, which made her nervous, so she looked at August and kept her focus on him. “Banjo Marks came into the store yesterday.”
“Banjo Marks?” August asked.
“Yes,” David said. “He’s a vamp from an old bayou family who never quite fits in anywhere. Banjo does his own thing and is always high on something. To be honest, I think the kid is some sort of a half-breed and don’t ask me how that’s possible, because I don’t have a clue. I know he’s a vamp because I’ve seen his fangs, and I’ve seen him feed. But I’ve also seen him eat food and sleep so hard at night he’d snore. There is just something really off about the guy. He’s homeless, as far as I know. Walks the streets and begs for loose change.”
“Banjo just needs someone to tend to him, to care about him, that’s all,” Fiona said. “The kid comes into the shop a couple of times a week, and he always looks half starved. I know what you mean about him eating, David, because Banjo does eat and drink whatever I give him, just like a human. When he first started coming
to A Little Bit of Magic, I didn’t even know he was a vamp.”
“It would be you to feed tea and cake to a junkie vamp,” Jagger said, the adoration on his face blatant.
“Oh, she’d take in a stray skunk if it crossed our threshold,” Caitlin said. “She’ll mother anything.”
“Now what about this Banjo Marks?” August asked Shauna.
“He came into the store yesterday, acting really weird.”
“Banjo always acts weird,” David said.
“Weirder than usual,” Shauna explained. “Fiona had brought cookies to the shop that morning, and Banjo claimed he smelled them from across the street, and he wanted some. He was creating such havoc in the store, Fiona tried bringing him back into the office, offering to fix him a sandwich, but he refused to go, yelling that he wanted cookies instead. He was really wired, like he’d taken a mega dose of cocaine. Then he fixated on me, sing-songing that he’d trade me a secret for a cookie. When I finally gave him one and he ate it, he started talking about three dead blind mice, no teeth, and something about no big fingernails, and his voice changed when he said it. Sort of low and monotone. Not the chitter talk he’d been doing since he arrived. When I tried to get more information out of him, he ran out of the store. In Banjo’s jumbled up way, I think he was trying to tell me that he knew about three dead weres and that their claws and fangs had been removed. I only knew about two of the weres then. How could he have possibly known
all that?” Shauna wanted to tell them more—elaborate about Banjo’s heightened sense of smell, about Banjo and Mattress Mattie’s fight, and how she’d dented the light pole with a fist. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Not without revealing what August had told her and Danyon about the metaphysical powers in were claws and fangs.
“I don’t think you can trust anything Banjo says or does,” David said. “Half the time he can’t even remember his name.”
“You may not be able to trust him,” Armand said, with a flap of a hand, “but I’d love to have a little of whatever he was on right about now. I’ve been so exhausted lately. Probably becoming anemic. I could use the energy boost.”
Caitlin glared at him, and Armand tsked and turned away.
“All I ask,” August said, “is that you stay alert, keep an eye out for unusual activity, whether it is within your circle or outside of it, human or some other subculture. Nuit du Dommage is tomorrow, and all of you know how crazy it gets during that time. Because of the holiday, many were will be working longer hours, especially at night. That concerns me. With so many tourists in the city, it will be difficult to discern the unusual from the drunken norm.”
“Eyes wide open here,” David said.
Armand nodded. “Same for me.”
“I know you probably have an alpha who’s already stationed weres to keep watch on the West Bank, August,” Jagger said. “But I have a friend on the force there. Really
sharp guy. I’ll ride over and talk to him. Find out if he’s seen or heard anything.”
“Are you talking about Luke Simms?” David asked.
“Yes.”
“You’re right. Luke’s a very smart vamp. Not much gets past him.”
“If you’re taking the West Bank, then I’ll take a couple of shifters with me Lakeside,” Ryder said. “We’ll check out that area, then head north.”
“I’ve got the Quarter covered,” Danyon said. “I want to find this Banjo character and the leader of that new biker gang, Big Frank.”
“You may want to let me take Frank,” Jagger said.
“His gang might not have a lot of muscle yet, but that can make them twice as dangerous. They still have to prove to everyone how tough they are, you know? Don’t get me wrong, I’m in no way saying you can’t handle Frank. I’m just thinking that if he sees a badge, it might temper his mood.”
Danyon smiled, but the gesture looked more menacing than pleasing. “I’m wolven, remember? I think I can handle Big Frank.”
“I’ll cover the Quarter with you,” Shauna said.
Danyon’s head snapped back as though he’d been shot. “No, you won’t.”
“And I’ll go with you Lakeside,” Caitlin said to Ryder.
“No, you’re not,” Ryder said adamantly. “I know you and Shauna want to help, but it’s crazy enough out there.
The last thing I need is to be worrying about you getting hurt, while I’m trying to dig up a killer.”
“I agree with Ryder and Danyon,” Jagger said. “I think—”
“You may want to think again,” Fiona said. “Because I’m going with you to the West Bank. I know I don’t have to remind you that the three of us are Keepers. We protect and look after our race.”
Jagger shook his head, held up a finger. “But—”
“No buts,” Fiona said. “The end.”
After ten more minutes of round table debates, the men finally conceded—as Shauna suspected they would.
When they finally adjourned, it was with the understanding that everyone would meet back in the conference room the morning after Nuit du Dommage so they could compare notes and share any new evidence.
As they stepped out of August’s office complex and onto the street, Danyon took Shauna by the arm and pulled her closer to him.
“I know toward the end there I said it was okay for you to come with me, but I really don’t want you to,” he whispered. “There’ll be so many people out tonight. If I end up chasing a lead, I could lose you in the crowd. Shauna, I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt.”
She leaned against him and whispered back, “I promise, I won’t get hurt.”
He sighed heavily, and Shauna closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, taking in the air he had exhaled. She felt her body flush with heat. The response seemed inappropriate, considering the seriousness of the matter they
had met about only moments ago. But she couldn’t help it. She was no more in control of her body’s reaction to Danyon, than she was to the cloud cover overhead.
He touched her cheek, then lifted her chin gently, until her eyes met his. Under his gaze, every molecule inside her sprang to life.
And, as was always the case when Danyon touched her, the rest of the world simply vanished.
She only wished when it returned again, it would be sans a murderer.
S
hauna actually felt hope as she stepped into the shower.
The meeting at August’s had gone better than she’d hoped. Everyone in attendance seemed eager to help. With Jagger and Fiona working the West Bank, Ryder and Caitlin going Lakeside, and she and Danyon covering the French Quarter, they would have New Orleans pretty well covered. August had taken care of the rest of South Louisiana by having the alphas post sentinels around their territories. David and Armand would keep an eye on the traffic that flowed through their bar and restaurant. The Underworld and Muriel’s were famous hot spots in the city, and eventually every tourist wound up visiting one or both. If anything new or unusual, aside from the standard freaks, who showed their behinds during Nuit
du Dommage, David and Armand would either see it or hear about it.
They still didn’t have any solid clues to work with, but with so many eyes and ears on alert, they stood a far better chance of finding some than they did when it was only her and Danyon.
Danyon had not exactly been forthcoming during the meeting with the leaders of the other cultures. But she admired the fact that he had put aside his reservations for the sake of the were community.
It had to be difficult being an alpha. She knew the challenges that came with being a leader, but an alpha carried much more. Not only did he have the responsibility of his pack, he had a take-charge-and-fix-it switch that never shut off. He always ran ahead, taking bullets for those behind him. It had to have felt awkward for Danyon as he stepped to one side and allowed others to join him in the lead.
At first, when all of this began, Shauna had thought pride kept him from accepting help—hers or anyone else’s. Though there may have been a little truth to that; it wasn’t the kind of pride that made for glory-hounds. Danyon wasn’t about basking in the glory of anything. He really cared about his pack, about wolvens as a whole. She found him to be honest, honorable and a bit hard-headed—but who was she to talk?
It was impossible for Shauna not to notice that each time she thought about him, her heart thumped a bit faster and her body grew a whole lot warmer. There was no question that little Miss Stay-in-Control was falling
out of control fast, and there didn’t seem to be a way to stop it—not that she would have wanted to.
She wasn’t a prude by any means. There had been other men in her life, even though they were few. Some she had gone out with because they were funny or intelligent, or both. Most had been decent sex partners. But every one of them had lacked something that kept her from fully committing to them.
Danyon was different.
He simply
got
her.
And he did it without her having to explain a thing to him. He seemed to intuitively know what she was about, who she was at her core. She saw it in the way he looked at her, talked to her, made love to her. She could be herself with Danyon and not be afraid that any part of who she was would be rejected.
Shauna considered herself lucky, because there had been one point in her life when she probably wouldn’t have even given herself a chance to get to know him.
About two years ago, she’d gone to a party with a guy named Lance Miller, a smart, right-out-of-the-gate successful entrepreneur, who she’d been dating for about a month. The party had been for his younger cousin, Brian’s, birthday, and it was packed with younger people whose music of choice had been heavy metal. The music had been cranked up so loud Shauna had thought her eardrums would burst. She had to get out of there and fast. When she told this to Lance and tried to explain how sensitive her hearing was, he had looked at her as if she had grown an additional head and three extra nostrils.
Even worse, he had been drinking rather heavily, which was obviously all he had needed to convert back to a juvenile. He started making fun of her in front of his cousin’s friends, who in turn made certain to shout whenever they spoke to her, crank up the music another ten decibels, and intermittently blow air horns in the house for over an hour.
She had stormed out of there, leaving Lance to play with the rest of the juvenile delinquents. It was the last time she had spoken to Lance, much less saw him. After that experience, it had taken her a while to gather up enough courage to date again.
For Shauna, physical attraction only played a bit role when it came to relationships. There were so many other things far more important. Like enjoying each other’s company, valuing each other’s uniqueness—being able to laugh together, play together, appreciate similar things and having mutual interests and values.
Danyon was right on the mark in all those areas…
She turned the knob on the shower head, intensifying the spray. Standing anywhere thinking about Danyon was distracting for her. Standing naked in a soothing shower and thinking about him was downright physical torture.
She grabbed a loofah and a bottle of body wash, and was about to start scrubbing away when she thought she heard the chimes of the doorbell.
Puzzled, Shauna turned off the shower.
In order for someone to reach the doorbell, they had to get past a ten-foot tall, wrought iron gate. The only
way for them to get through that gate was to be buzzed in by someone in the main section of the house. Fiona and Caitlin had left over an hour ago to meet Jagger and Ryder, so neither of them could have buzzed anyone through. It was possible that whoever went through the gate last may not have closed it all the way, then left, thinking it had latched.
Shauna waited a few more seconds, listening, but heard nothing more.
She was about to turn the shower back on, when she heard the chimes go off again.
“Who the heck can that be?” she asked aloud, and stepped out of the shower.
After wrapping herself in a towel, she padded out of the bathroom and her apartment, quickly heading for the main section of the house and the front door. Danyon wasn’t due to meet her for another hour and a half, and she wasn’t expecting any other company. She figured she’d look through the peephole to make certain it wasn’t some kind of emergency—like someone standing out there on fire, but unless that was the case, she had no intentions of letting whoever it was into the house.
When she reached the front door, Shauna was surprised to see Danyon standing on the other side of the peephole. A thought occurred to her, and she bit her bottom lip. They had discussed the possibility of one or more shape-shifters being responsible for the murders, and although the idea had been given little merit, no one knew for sure if they weren’t. What if the man standing outside her door was a shifter posing as Danyon?
She would have to let him in to know for certain. A shifter might be able to take on his appearance, but not Danyon’s natural scent, which was something she knew very, very well. The only problem was she had to be close enough to him to smell it, which meant letting him into the house, which defeated the purpose. Then she remembered something…
Shauna pressed an ear to the thin crack between the door and the door frame, near one of the hinges. She squeezed her eyes shut, concentrated and prayed that her hypersensitive hearing wouldn’t fail her now.
It didn’t.
In a matter of seconds she heard it—the sound of his breathing. The same sound she had heard when Danyon had whispered her name—the same that had followed his moans of pleasure. She would know it anywhere—and knew that a shifter could not mimic breathing patterns.
Now that she was certain it was Danyon, Shauna suddenly felt a rush of panic, and her eyes flew open. What if he was bringing news about another dead were? She quickly unlocked the door and threw it open, forgetting she was dressed only in a towel.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, not bothering with the standard hello.
“Nothing,” he said, looking a little surprised—and amused.
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Do you greet all of your guests this way?”
Shauna leaned to one side, looked past his left arm,
and saw that the wrought iron gate was closed. “Just the ones I work with on murders scenes. How did you get past the gate?”
Danyon looked down at his feet. “Uh…long legs?”
“The wall and gate are ten feet tall.”
“Okay…I took pole vaulting in high school?”
Shauna smiled and motioned him inside. It wasn’t until she closed the door that she realized she was wrapped only in a towel. She clutched it tightly to make sure it stayed closed.
“Sorry, I’m not dressed yet,” she said. “Was in the shower. Besides, you said you’d be here at ten. It’s a little before eight-thirty.”
“I thought we’d get a bite to eat before hitting the Quarter.”
“You could have called to give me a heads up, you know.”
He grinned. “Spur of the moment thing.”
“Are you always this spontaneous?”
“Now that you mention it…not really. It just sounded like a good excuse for being early.”
Shauna laughed softly. “Fair enough. Come in then. You can have a seat in my apartment while I get dressed.”
As soon as they left the foyer and entered commons central, Danyon let out a low whistle of appreciation.
“Very nice,” he said, taking in the two curving stair cases, the wall tapestries, the chandelier and heavy oak furniture.
“Thanks,” she said. “My sisters deserve all the
cred it, though. I have the interior decorating talent of a porcupine.”
“Oh, I bet you have a great sense of style.”
“Not even close. If they had left me to decorate this place, it would look like an oversized garage.” She grinned. “Fiona lives over there, in the west wing, and Caitlin lives in the east wing. My place is straight ahead.”
“I think it’s great that each of you have your individual space, but still live under one roof.”
“Me, too. I mean don’t get me wrong, I love my sisters dearly, but we’d probably get on each other’s nerves if we had to live in the same space every day.”
When they finally reached her apartment, Shauna signaled for him to follow her through the open door. She had obviously forgotten to close it in her mad dash to see who was at the main entry. “Here we are,” she said.
She watched him look over the place from the corner of her eye. Judging by his smile, he evidently approved.
“Did your sisters decorate your apartment, as well?” Danyon asked.
“Unfortunately, no,” Shauna said, closing the apartment door.
His smile broadened. “You see? I was right. You do have style.”
Shauna felt herself blush. “Yeah, well…” She glanced away before he could see her turn red and waved a hand toward the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. I won’t be long,” she said, then turned to head for the bathroom.
“Shauna?”
Something in his voice brought her to a halt in mid-step. The tone of it had changed, and she suddenly felt like a million butterflies were fluttering in her chest. She held the towel in a death grip and turned slowly around, only to find him standing inches away from her.
The smile had faded from his lips, but his eyes were soft and warm. He reached out and gently cupped her face in his large hands.
“The real reason I came early was because I wanted to try and talk you out of coming tonight.”
“We’ve had this discussion already. I’m—”
Danyon placed a thumb over her lips, silencing her. “I already know what you’re going to say. Look, hear me out, please.”
She saw worry in his eyes and nodded hesitantly.
“Everyone knows your loyalty and commitment to weres is exemplary,” he said softly. “You really don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”
She tried to speak, to let him know that her desire to be involved had nothing to do with proving herself to anyone, but he kept his thumb firmly in place.
“It’s bad enough that it’s Nuit du Dommage,” he continued. “You know how it brings out all the crazies. But we’re looking for a murderer here, Shauna—a sick psychopath. Remember what he did to Simon and Nicole? If he can do that to two young weres who would’ve never harmed a soul—I don’t even want to imagine what he might do to you.”
She tried once again to speak, and he placed his other
thumb over her lips, obviously determined to finish saying what was on his mind.
“I understand that as a Keeper you have to look out for the safety and welfare of the weres in this city. But who takes on that responsibility if something happens to you? Think about it.” He held her face a little tighter and looked deeply into her eyes. “I meant what I said when we were leaving the meeting this morning, Shauna. I really don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”
She wanted to reassure him, but his lips replaced his thumbs, and she lost the words.
His kiss was tender, and his tongue soon parted her lips, seeking the warmth of her mouth. She felt his hands in her hair—he pulled her closer.
And she melted into him.
Cupping the back of her head with one hand, he lowered his lips to her neck and lightly brushed them against her skin. The heat emanating from him set her body ablaze. She moaned, desire flooding her and bringing with it a need so great it made her tremble. Her moans soon became small gasps, as his lips moved lower. He kept his touch light and traced the edge of the towel that covered her breasts with his tongue.
She didn’t realize she had let go of the towel until she felt it fall away from her body. His free hand moved surely over the swell of her left breast and gently stroked her nipple. It was already hard and aching for his lips—his tongue. She held her breath as his mouth moved toward it, then gasped when he suddenly scooped her
up in his arms. She’d been so consumed and blinded by need, she hadn’t seen that coming.
He carried her over to the couch, laid her on it, then leaned over her and pressed his lips to hers once again. Her mouth opened to him, and his kiss quickly matched the hunger of her own. She held on to him as his hands caressed her body, one sliding down between her legs and gently urging them open. His long, thick fingers were sure but tender as they pressed against her swollen, wet mound. She arched her back, urging his fingers inside her. But he would not be rushed…