The Wolven (11 page)

Shaken out of her reverie, Shauna took the box and began to work it open. She felt a bit guilty. In the short respite she’d had between customers, she had let her mind float away on thoughts of Danyon instead of focusing on Nicole and Simon, and how they might go about finding the murderer. It wasn’t going to be an easy task. They had found no blaring evidence that pointed them in any specific direction. So far, all they had was speculation—a human couldn’t have done it—a shifter, possible, but not likely—a group of glamouring vampires held some possibilities, but weak ones. For all they knew, those assumptions could be wrong. Maybe a vampire or a shifter or even a were was exactly what they should be looking for. She just wished they had more to work with. Anything that might tighten their aim. In some respects she understood why Danyon wanted to hold things close to the vest for now, and why he didn’t want to inform the
leaders of the other subcultures yet. On the other hand, she saw the benefits that could come from joining forces just as clearly.

“If someone doesn’t do something about that kid, I’m going to hog-tie him and toss him out of the store myself,” Caitlin said storming up to the register.

“Who?” Shauna asked

The answer came running down the center aisle of the store, arms flapping wildly, like a hummingbird on speed.

It was Banjo Marks.

Some customers yelped and jumped out of his way. Others hurried out of the store, as if the building had suddenly caught fire.

“I smell ’em, smell ’em!” Banjo shouted, then slid toward the counter. His knees smacked into the counter wall—hard. He didn’t even flinch. “Lemme have some, girly girl. Now, okay? Where’s at? I smell ’em, smell ’em!”

He was chattering at a hundred miles an hour, and the customers still in the store backed away, giving him a wide berth.

“Look at that,” Caitlin fumed. “He’s scaring our customers off!”

Shauna scanned the store for her muscle, but Lurnell was nowhere to be seen. She’d evidently stepped out to have a private conversation with her new man. He must have truly been a gem for Lurnell to leave an entire plate of cookies behind. The plate still sat near the end of
the counter, where Shauna had placed it a few minutes ago—and where Banjo was headed now.

“I knew it—smelt it—knew it! Smelt ’em all the way across the street,” Banjo declared, then let out a loud, twittering laugh that made Shauna want to slap her hands over her ears.

More customers scrambled out of the store.

Banjo was about to dive into the plate of cookies with both hands, when Fiona suddenly appeared and grabbed him by the arm.

“Come on, sweetie. Let’s go into the office, and I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“No!” Banjo yelled. “Cookies, cookies. Gotta have ’em, want to have ’em. Cookies!” He wiggled, trying to pull out of Fiona’s grasp.

Caitlin slapped a hand to her forehead. “Fi, you’ve got to quit encouraging him like that. You keep feeding him, and he keeps coming back here.”

“Coming back, coming back!” Banjo mimicked, sounding like a hoarse parrot.

“You two go see about the customers,” Fiona said.

“I’ll—”

“What customers?” Caitlin said, frowning. “He’s run nearly everybody off.”

“Then see to the ones who are left,” Fiona said sternly. “I’ll take care of Banjo. Don’t worry, it’ll be okay.”

“Not okay—it’s not okay!” Banjo squawked. “No sandwich! I want a cookie. Cookie!”

Shauna picked up the plate of cookies, thinking out
of sight, out of mind. The moment she turned away with the plate, Banjo let out a loud shriek.

“No, feed it! It’s all good—it’s good!”—hehehehehe, squawk-scritch-squawk.

There it was again. That nerve-grating, hair-raising laugh. It made Shauna’s teeth hurt.

Banjo plucked his arm from Fiona’s grasp and started hopping in place. Then he worked his way around Fiona, bouncing from left to right, so she couldn’t get hold of him.

Still bouncing, he made his way to Shauna. “Gimme cookie, give you secret.” An ugly grin spread over his face. “Cookie—secret, secret—cookie.”

Shauna wanted to punch his high wattage lights out. “Stop bouncing like that. You’re making me dizzy.”

That twittering laugh again.

“Look, just go with Fiona, Banjo,” Shauna ordered, hoping that food would calm him down at least a little.

“No, no. Got a secret. Gooood secret! One cookie, good secret. Two cookie, more secret!”

“What are you talking about? What secret?”

Banjo lifted his head, sniffed three or four times.

“Sixteen cookies. Got sixteen cookies on the plate. Sixteen!”

Puzzled, Shauna glanced down at the plate in her hand, did a quick count, and was astonished to find it held exactly sixteen cookies. “How did you know how many there were?”

“Smell it. Can’t you smell?”

“Come on, you,” Fiona said, finally latching on to Banjo’s arm.

“No, not come on!” He leaned way over to the left, closer to Shauna. “Give me a cookie, tell you a secret!”

“Go eat a sandwich or something, Banjo. You’re talking out of your head.”

He stopped bouncing and squinted at Shauna, as though sizing her up. Then he opened his eyes wide. “Got no teeth. Ain’t got no more teeth—no more big fingernails. Nope, none!”

Shauna froze. “What—who has no teeth or fingernails, Banjo?”

Hehehehe, squawk-scritch-squawk—“No teeth, gotta have teeth! Gotta.” He hooked a finger on either side of his upper lip and pulled it up over his teeth. Then he tapped a dirty fingernail against a tobacco stained incisor. “Gotta have the teeth.”

“Any idea what he’s talking about?” Fiona asked.

“I’m not sure,” Shauna said, then set the plate on the counter out of Banjo’s reach and took a cookie from the top of the heap. “But we’ll soon find out.” She dangled the chocolate chip cookie in front of him.

With a loud grunt, Banjo grabbed the cookie and stuffed all of it into his mouth in one fell swoop. He closed his eyes, a blissful expression on his face. When he opened his eyes again, he started hopping on one foot then the other.

“Okay, I gave you a cookie, now what’s the secret?”

Hehehehe, squawk…

Banjo broke free of Fiona again and took off running through the store. Fiona and Caitlin ran after him, but before either could corner him at the back of the stop, he’d spun around and was halfway back up the center aisle, heading toward Shauna.

The counter caught him at the waist this time, and for a moment, Shauna thought he would flip clean over to the other side.

“One more dead,” he hissed, glaring at her, fidgeting in place. “One, two—three. Three dead, no teeth. No big fingernails. Three dead, three dead!”

With her heart thudding in her ears, Shauna grabbed the back of his shirt and held tight. “What the hell are you talking about? Who’s dead?”

Banjo suddenly stopped fidgeting and pulled away from her. “Three blind mice,” he said, his voice low, robotic. “See how they run. Run with no teeth. So stupid. Three, stupid, blind—dead mice.”

“Please, Banjo,” Shauna said, keeping her voice low. “Tell me who you’re talking about. Who’s dead?”

Without warning, he sparked back to life. “Cookie, cookie!” he yelled, then shrieked with laughter and ran out of the store.

Shauna’s heart was beating so hard it made her nauseous. Banjo knew about the weres. She was sure of it. But he said there were three.

Nicole, Simon…who else?

Had another were been killed?

And the teeth. How did Banjo know about the teeth and claws?

Shauna felt an uneasiness rising in her gut. An intuitive whisper. And she remembered Banjo and Mattie fighting in front of the store—how Mattie had dented the light pole with her fist.

Too much strength for such a small woman…

And Banjo, who claimed to have smelled the cookies from across the street. With so many tourists clogging the streets, that would have been…should have been…impossible.

August had said that whomever ingested the claws and fangs of a were would take on the traits of a were. Everything but transformation.

Had Banjo and Mattie ingested either? Both?

Fear crept up Shauna’s spin.

Three down—no more to go.

It was time to get Jagger and Ryder involved—time to bring in the leaders of the other races—time to enlist reinforcements.

Whether Danyon liked it or not.

A
Little Bit of Magic was so packed with customers that Danyon had to literally squeeze into the shop sideways. Any other time, and he would have backtracked out of there, refusing to be part of the throng. He hated crowds. The collective energy of too many people in a limited space scrambled his thoughts and made him anxious.

There was only one reason he allowed this exception. Shauna. He had to talk to her.

As soon as the West Bank was a dot in his rearview mirror, Danyon had hurried back to the Quarter to find her. That in and of itself had made him feel strange. He had never hurried back to anyone for anything before.

Since their time together last night, Shauna had burrowed into his core, and there was no getting rid of her. He wouldn’t have wanted to if he could. His intellect
kept telling him that the intimacy they shared had been a mistake. A human and a wolven didn’t belong together. Their worlds were too different. It would never work.

His emotions countered, however, telling his brain it was full of crap. He needed to enjoy and treasure the remarkable gift that she was.

Danyon couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this alive. And, if the truth be told, it had little to do with the sex they’d had—although to him it scored a thousand on a scale of one to ten. Danyon had had more than his fair share of intimacy with other women, but not once had he left their beds with a total sense of contentment.

Shauna had been different. Being with her had caused a floodgate to open inside him.

The contentment he had felt had been absolute, filling him, yet emptying him at the same time.

Danyon not only wanted to share her bed, he wanted to share her heart and share his with her. He had never felt more emotionally raw, vulnerable or befuddled in his life.

Shauna was the Keeper of the weres, so she had a right to know about the death of Kara’s were. That’s what he kept telling himself. But it was only half the truth and mostly an excuse. He simply wanted, needed to see her again.

Danyon moved slowly through the crowd, making his way to the front counter. If Shauna wasn’t there, working the register, he knew one of her sisters would be. And they’d know where to find her.

When he finally made it to the register, he saw Caitlin
pounding away at the keys. A long line of customers waited their turn. He stood off to one side, waiting for a break in the action so he could talk to her. Caitlin must have sensed him watching her because she glanced over and gave him a hesitant smile.

A moment later, she peered over at him again. But the fifth or sixth time she looked his way, her brow was deeply furrowed. Either curiosity was getting to her or she was worried that she might have a stalker on her hands.

It didn’t take long before she gave in and turned to face Danyon. “May I help you?” A middle-aged man, who had been next in line, let out an exasperated sigh.

Evidently hearing the customer’s distress, Caitlin quickly turned back to the man and offered her apologies. “Thanks so much for your patience. I’ll only be a couple more seconds.”

With that, Caitlin faced Danyon again. “Is there a reason you’re just standing there staring? Do I know you from somewhere?”

“I don’t believe we’ve met before. My name’s Danyon Stone. I’m looking for Shauna.” There were too many people around for him to identify himself as the alpha of the East Bank pack.

Caitlin’s frown deepened. “What do you want with my sister?”

“I’m a friend of hers,” he offered.

At first, his answer seemed to puzzle Caitlin all the more, then a twinkle lit up her eyes and she smiled.

“So you’re the infamous Mr. Stone,” she said.

Wondering what Shauna might have told her sisters about him, Danyon cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I am, yes.” He smiled. “Is Shauna here?”

Caitlin chewed her bottom lip, as though trying to decide if she should divulge any information. Finally she said, “Shauna’s in the reading room. Take a left after the row of curios, then head straight back. You’ll see a heavy blue curtain. Push past it, and you’re there.”

“A reading room?”

“Yes…oh, sorry. I figured you already knew. I read Tarot cards, our oldest sister, Fiona, reads tea leaves, and Shauna palms. We do all of our readings back there.”

Taking in that nugget of information, Danyon thanked Caitlin for her help and headed for the room with the heavy blue curtain. He wondered if Shauna had read his palm without him knowing it. He didn’t know whether to smile or cringe at the thought.

As soon as Danyon laid a hand on the curtain’s edge, ready to pull it aside, he heard voices in the room beyond it. It sounded like two men—another woman.

Shauna wasn’t alone.

He hesitated. Ordinarily he would have knocked, so as not to seem intrusive, but there was no door.

Caitlin directed you here. If she’d thought you’d be interrupting on a private matter, she wouldn’t have…

With that thought in mind, Danyon pushed the curtain aside and stepped across the threshold of the room. Their conversation stopped abruptly when they spotted him a few seconds later, but he heard scraps of their conversation in the meantime. He felt his heart drop to his feet.

The room wasn’t very big, maybe ten by twelve and sparsely furnished. Shauna was indeed inside. So was her older sister, Fiona, Jagger DeFarge, the vampire homicide detective and another man, tall, square-faced, someone Danyon didn’t recognize.

The collection of people wasn’t what made Danyon’s heart drop. It was their topic of discussion—his dead weres. He had gone on blind faith that Shauna would honor his request to keep the information about Nicole and Simon quiet for twelve hours. And if he went strictly by the clock, she had fulfilled that request. But after the intimate time they had spent together last night, he had stupidly assumed she would extend that vow of silence until they at least had a chance to discuss the matter again.

He felt betrayed, even though he knew he had no right to the emotion.

Shauna had fulfilled her obligation.

She owed him no more.

His disappointment must have shown because the tentative smile Shauna gave him when she spotted him in the room suddenly collapsed to a frown.

“Danyon, how good to see you again,” Fiona said.

He gave a small nod. “Good to see you, too, Fiona.” He had only met Fiona twice before, and the last time had been over a year ago. He was surprised she remembered him. “Sorry for the interruption. I was looking for Shauna. Caitlin said I’d find her in here.”

Fiona offered a small smile. “Not at all. Please, come
in. I’m sure you know Detective DeFarge…” Fiona motioned to Jagger.

“Yes, of course,” Danyon said.

“This is Ryder Mallory,” Fiona said, introducing him to the man he hadn’t recognized. As soon as Fiona said his name, Danyon remembered that Ryder was the shape-shifter and bounty hunter who had come into town a few months ago in search of the walk-ins. Ryder had been instrumental in bringing that battle to an end. He, along with Caitlin and the leaders of the other subcultures, had literally saved the city from destruction.

Danyon nodded a greeting to Ryder, and he returned it.

By this time, Shauna had made her way to his side. She placed a hand on his arm, her touch tentative. “I heard there was another dead were,” she said quietly. “And there was no way for me to reach you. I hadn’t heard from you all day and wasn’t sure when you’d be back.” Her sad, beautiful eyes searched his face. “Three dead in two days…I had to do something. We need back up.”

He studied her, hoping his eyes relayed the message in his heart,
How could you possibly believe I wouldn’t contact you again? Did you honestly think I would simply disappear?

Shauna dropped her hand from his arm. “Everyone in here knows about Simon and Nicole, Danyon. We also know there’s been a third murder. Who was it? Anyone from here? Where was he or she found?”

“East Bank were,” Danyon said tersely, then clammed
up. He wasn’t about to share any intimate details about Kara’s dead were in front of a vamp and shifter.

Evidently sensing his reluctance, Shauna said, “It’s okay, really. Everyone here just wants to help.”

Danyon looked from her to Jagger. “I appreciate the offer, but we can take care of our own.”

Jagger nodded. “I understand completely. I felt the same way during the cemetery murders six months ago. But I was wrong. Believe me, nobody here is questioning your ability as a leader. We’re only offering more manpower to help you get the job done.”

“I think it’s important for all of us to stick together,” Fiona said. “We had major problems with finger pointing during the cemetery murders, and the same when the walk-ins tried to take over the city. The vampires blamed the shape-shifters, the shifters blamed the weres, and so on. Everyone in our respective communities may have calmed considerably since then, but I believe there’s still undercurrents of sensitivity and wariness running through the city. We don’t need that exploding in our faces.”

“I agree,” Ryder said, sidling up to Fiona. “I get where you’re coming from, Danyon. Just like Jagger, when I came here looking for the walk-ins, I had been tracking them for over two years. The last thing I wanted was anyone’s help. Sharing the takedown after all the time I’d spent tracking those bastards was unacceptable to me. But, man, the truth is I had to get over myself. My stubbornness wasn’t helping anybody. People were dying faster than I could count. I needed help fast, whether
I liked it or not.” Ryder hooked a thumb in the front pocket of his jeans. “Look, the murderer you’re looking for could be walking down Royal Street this very minute. Maybe scoping out restaurants and bars for that perfect were. Once he targets one, all he has to do is wait him or her out until the end of a work shift, and he’s got himself another victim.”

Shauna nodded. “To keep that from happening, we need more eyes keeping watch in and around the city, especially during Nuit du Dommage. More weres will be working overtime at their jobs because of the flood of tourists. We have to protect them. It’s our job.”

“It’s my job,” Danyon snapped.

“Not only yours,” Shauna shot back. “I’m the weres’ Keeper. It’s my responsibility to keep them safe, too.”

He glared at her and lowered his voice. “You should have discussed this with me before telling them.”

Shauna didn’t even flinch under his stare. Her expression hardened. “I kept my word. Twelve hours, remember? And, for your information, I would have talked to you about it first, but you weren’t around.”

“How did you find out about the third were anyway?” Danyon asked. “Who told you?”

“Banjo Marks.”

“Who?”

“A local vamp,” Jagger said. “The kid lives on the street. Heavy drug user.”

Danyon frowned. “How’d he hear about it?”

“I don’t know,” Shauna said. “Banjo didn’t actually come out and say he knew about Nicole, Simon or a
third were for that matter. He sort of…it’s a long story. I’ll have to fill you in later.”

“Danyon, we all have a vested interest in this matter,” Jagger said. “I know the victims of the murders have only been weres so far, but that doesn’t mean it’ll remain that way. Members of the other communities might be targets, as well.”

“No, they won’t,” Danyon said, then immediately regretted letting the words out of his mouth.

“What do you mean?” Jagger asked.

Danyon didn’t answer. The information August had given them about the rogue were, about the metaphysical powers inherent to were claws and fangs, was proprietary knowledge. The only reason August had shared it with them was because he was the victims’ alpha, and Shauna their Keeper. The information wasn’t meant for a vampire or a shape-shifter. In fact, August had specifically told them to keep the knowledge confidential.

As though reading his mind, Shauna said, “We have to tell them everything, Danyon. I trust them. All of them. I’d bet my life that whatever we say will never leave this room.”

“You have our word on that,” Fiona said.

“Have you forgotten what August said about confidentiality?” Danyon asked Shauna.

“Of course not,” Shauna said. “But August didn’t actually come out and forbid it.”

“Semantics.”

“Not really. Besides, I’m the Keeper of the weres, which includes you. I’ll take the responsibility for what
is or isn’t said and deal with August myself. You forget that he taught me the ways of a Keeper. Trust me. He’ll understand and respect my decision.”

Danyon slowly swiped a hand over his mouth. Every one in the room was staring at him intently—waiting. It was obvious Shauna hadn’t revealed everything to them and for that, Danyon was grateful. It left him with a little dignity. Shauna would have probably thought that to be petty, but to an alpha, dignity was paramount. His pride had been bruised when he’d heard them discussing what he considered his business. But the truth was he trusted Shauna. They had only been together for a short time, yet he felt he understood the very core of who she was. And that was more than enough for him to trust her with his life. If she believed that strongly in everyone here, he had no reason not to.

Hesitantly, Danyon began to recount the story August had shared with him and Shauna. How decades ago a rogue were had been captured and sentenced to death, and why a specific manner of death had been chosen.

When he was done, everyone stood silent for some time, evidently trying to absorb all he had said.

Finally, Ryder asked, “Is this common knowledge amongst your people? The special powers in the claws and fangs I mean. And that if they’re stripped away, the were’s heart will burst?”

“No,” Danyon said.

“Now I see what you meant when you said the other cultures weren’t at risk,” Jagger said. “But you’re still
going to need help. I think we should get the leaders of the subcultures together and let them know. If—”

“No. This needs to stay low profile,” Danyon said.

Jagger held up a hand. “Please, hear me out. If what you’re saying is true, then the wolven in and around New Orleans aren’t the only ones at risk. This is much bigger than any one group in one city. Weres around the world could be in danger. The only way this is going to be stopped is if we all band together.”