The Wolven. Deborah LeBlanc
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of his disbelief, he suddenly did a double-take and gawked. He’d spotted Simon.
Ian looked up at Danyon, back down at Simon, back to Danyon. “Just like N-Nicky … just l-like that. They killed her … just like that, Danyon.”
“Did she change back?” Paul asked quietly. As though fearing the answer, he crossed his arms and tucked a hand under each armpit. He rocked nervously from side to side. “Did she? Or … or did she, uh … stay stuck, like Simon?”
Ian covered his face with his hands, dropped to his knees. “She … she’s still were. I—I don’t understand it. My girl’s still—” Sobbing, he dropped his hands, then threw his head back and let out a wail, then a mournful howl so loud and long, Danyon felt it in his soul.
At that moment it would have been easier for Danyon to climb Mount Everest with only one leg than to control the fury growing inside him. Two of his weres were dead. Both stripped of their claws and fangs, the two things that protected them, fed them.
His fury was certainly justifiable. But Danyon knew if he allowed it to manifest, he would be under its control. Raw vengeance would consume him. Even now, struggling to keep himself together, he wanted to rip through something, anything. If he allowed the fury to take over, he would lose clarity, the ability to wisely discern. For Simon and Nicole’s sake, for the safety of the entire pack, he couldn’t let that happen. Justice would never be served that way. In fact, it wasn’t being served now. Not by him standing here, getting angrier by the minute. He needed answers to questions that seemed too improbable to pose.
Who or what was powerful enough to hold down a were, restrain it, then tear out its claws and fangs?
Why on earth had the murderer chosen Nicole and Simon? Neither would have purposely harmed a soul.
There was only one person Danyon knew who might have some answers or at least be able to lead him in the right direction to find answers. August Gaudin.
August was the master elder of all the were packs in the South. Every alpha reported to August and was responsible to him. He was a wise, fair leader, and everyone respected him immensely.
This situation was so out of the ordinary, though, that even August might not have answers. Whatever the case, Danyon had to find the elder right away and let him know about the deaths—and not only because it was his duty. He had to report and make himself accountable to August, before the rage took over.
Before he wound up being a murderer instead of finding one.
Chapter 3
Trying to act normal with all her senses on high alert, was like trying to shove an elephant into a linen closet.
Hopeless.
Shauna felt certain a were was in trouble, but she wasn’t sure what to do about it. She had no idea who the were might be or what kind of trouble he or she might be in. Intuition was usually a given for a Keeper, but she hated when it didn’t provide enough details for follow through.
She had to do something besides pace, though. For her own sanity and to reassure Fiona, who kept looking over at her every couple of minutes from behind the register.
Fortunately, Caitlin had been too busy to notice how fidgety she’d gotten. Unfortunately, her sister’s heavy workload came from picking up Shauna’s slack. She had managed to help the spike-haired couple Caitlin had directed her to earlier. Thankfully they hadn’t asked about pulverized bats’ wings or hogs’ hooves, as Shauna had suspected. They’d wanted gum mastic and dried anise, the first to snort, the second to smoke. All because a friend swore both gave quite the buzz. She’d been slightly abrupt with a response, stating that if they considered death a buzz, then they should go for it. That had certainly sobered them up.
Once she was rid of them, Shauna had tried helping another customer or two, but she’d been unable to concentrate on their questions long enough to answer them. She felt useless.
That horrible, mournful keening sound haunted her. It wasn’t as loud as it was earlier, but it was still there. No less distressing, so painful to hear. Stabbing her repeatedly in the heart. It seemed to call to her. Beg for her …
She considered talking to Fiona about it. Since she was the oldest and the most experienced Keeper, Fiona might be able to tell her what she should do, if anything, about what she heard. Then Shauna reconsidered. The wolvens were her responsibility, and if she was so certain it was a wolven’s cry, she wanted—needed—to handle it on her own. Just because she was the youngest didn’t mean she always had to run to her big sister for help. If she was ever to fully understand and trust her instincts, she had to work through them. Right now, though, instinct was telling her to get the hell off her butt and do something. She just wasn’t quite sure what that ‘something’ should be.
As if hearing her thoughts, and it wouldn’t have surprised Shauna if she had, Fiona signaled her over. Shauna reluctantly headed her way. If her sister asked her what was wrong, she couldn’t lie to her, no matter how badly she wanted to work things out on her own.
Just before she reached the counter, two middle-aged women dressed in expensive linen suits walked up to the register, wanting to check out. Shauna offered a silent thank-you to the universe for the reprieve.
“Hey, where the baby at?” Lurnell asked, while chewing on yet another piece of king cake. She hadn’t moved from her spot at the counter, the one nearest the cake platter. The baby she referred to was the pink, plastic, one-inch doll always hidden in a king cake. Tradition had it that a year’s worth of good luck and fortune belonged to whoever found the doll in their piece of cake. To keep that luck rolling, that person had to buy another king cake and share it with friends and family.
“If you didn’t find it,” Shauna said, “there must not have been one.”
“Girl, you crazy. You know they all got babies.”
“Well, if it did, you would have found it, since you ate most of the cake.”
“Huh?” Lurnell glanced down at the platter … of crumbs. “Uhh …” She dusted the crumbs off her hands. “Yeah, guess you right. Probably had a machine broke down to the cake fact’ry or somethin’. They bes’ hurry up and fix that. People gettin’ kings with no babies like that, they ain’t gonna know what to do. It could get nasty.”
“Excuse me …” One of the women Shauna had seen standing near the register a moment ago now stood beside her. She held up a hand, pinky and forefinger slightly extended as if preparing for high tea. “I could not help overhearing your conversation, and my curiosity simply got the best of me. Would you please explain what a baby has to do with a cake?”
Lurnell snorted. “You ain’t from here, huh?”
High tea became a small, dismissive wave. “Heavens, no. I’m from the Valley.”
“Where that’s at, the Valley? Out by Shreveport?”
The woman rolled her eyes. “It’s in California, dear. San Fernando, to be exact.”
Lurnell’s educational background might not have been extensive, but she didn’t need a Harvard degree to know she’d been talked down to. Her nostrils flared, the first sign that Mount Lurnell was about to blow.
Fiona must have realized the same thing because she suddenly appeared, holding a small, pink, plastic doll. “Look what I found,” she said. “Probably fell out of the cake when I was slicing it.” She smiled, then handed it to Lurnell. “You’re the one standing closest to the platter, so I think you should have it.”
“For real? Me?” Lurnell said, eyes wide as she took the doll. Her notion to teach Ms. High Tea a few manners had obviously taken a backseat to more important matters.
Lurnell held the plastic luck charm up for everyone to see. “Look here, y’all. I got me the baby!”
A handful of customers applauded, and Lurnell did