Authors: Winter Pennington
Tim nodded. "Yeah, okay."
Arthur watched me with a curious look in his eyes as he came around the car. "What was that all about?"
"He wanted me to tell him what I know about werewolves."
He nodded. "Well, truthfully, since you say that's what we're dealing with, enlighten me. You've faced one before."
I pulled the cell phone out of my pocket and looked at the time again. Damn it. "It's like I told the kid-I only know what I've experienced and what Jake taught me."
"How'd you kill that one several years ago?" he asked and leaned against my car.
"With a gun," I said. "And silver ammo. Kingfisher, get off my car."
"What? You were just leaning against it." His voice held an edge of shock.
"I've showered in the past month." I reached for the door handle.
He laughed. "I read that if I showered less, the pheromones to attract females would be stronger."
"That's a load of crap," I said, sliding into the seat. "The only thing stronger is your B.O."
He laughed again. "You're always good for a laugh, Kass." His hand rested on the butt of his gun. It was a habit most cops had. "So, what are you planning on doing next? We didn't get much out of the Nelsons."
"I know." I took in a deep breath. "I'll come back out here and do a little bit of trooping around within the next few days. The scene should be cleaned up by then and I'll be able to see if they missed anything."
"What are you going to do? Look for tracks?" he asked jokingly.
"That and a picnic basket," I scoffed. "I've got a friend that used to hunt all of the time. Ex-bounty hunter and licensed paranormal hunter," I said. I didn't know if Arthur would remember him. If he did, I didn't know it was a good idea to bring him up, so I stuck with being a little vague. "I'll probably call and see if he wants to tag along. He's a good tracker."
"I'll tell the deputy sheriff. I don't think he really gives a shit what you do as long as you're taking charge of the investigation and trying to solve it."
"That's my job, isn't it?" I asked. "I'll call you if I find anything. Tell Witkins the same."
I shut the car door before he could say anything else. It was a little after five. I cursed aloud. If I got stuck in traffic I was so chewing someone's head off. Figuratively speaking, of course.
I pressed the speed dial number and listened to the phone ring three times before Rupert answered.
"Guns Unlimited," he said, sounding tired.
"Hey, Rupe. Long day?" I asked.
"Hey, Kass. Yeah, it's been a hell of a day. What's up?"
"Not much. Are you busy tomorrow?"
There was long pause, as if he was afraid to answer. "I don't know," he replied carefully. "Why?"
"How's about you and I go do a little huntin'?" I said with a terrible accent.
Rupert laughed. "What kind of hunting are we talking about?"
"Why, the fun kind, of course. Camouflage, weapons, a nice stroll through the woods on the outskirts of town. . . "
"Who are we taking out?" He sounded calm and professional, as if he was already relaxing and polishing his gun. Wait, that was probably too close to the truth.
"The police assigned me to investigate a killing. The scene reeks of werewolf. I'm betting money his furry ass is still around here somewhere too."
"Sounds promising," he said. "What time?"
I made a left turn onto the access ramp to get on the highway. The Tiburon purred beneath me like a happy little kitten and I smiled. "I'll call you at nightfall."
"Talk to you then."
"'Til then," I responded and hung up.
The chances weren't that high that we'd find the werewolf, but it was best to be prepared. It wasn't being a preternatural investigator that gave me the right to execute a werewolf. Nor was it the fact that we didn't have the same rights as citizens. According to Oklahoma state law, a person found guilty for killing a werewolf had only one threat held over their head-if the family of said werewolf decided to press charges. That threat was animal cruelty. This meant that a murderer could walk away with either a fine, or imprisonment not exceeding five years in a state penitentiary. Now, here's the catch. If I were to kill the werewolf in human form, it's cold-blooded murder. That is until, I presume, scientists learn to recognize the lycanthropy virus.
Unfortunately, they're working on it. Which would probably explain why one side is pushing to be recognized as human beings, and the other side is pushing adamantly against it.
No, what gave me the right to take this bastard down was the paranormal huntress badge in my wallet alongside the one that stated I was a preternatural investigator. My old boss tried to convince people to take the course and get the badge. Oddly enough, a good majority of them refused. There were maybe two officers in our department that had taken the course with me.
The class was easy. In fact, it had been too easy. We listened to an already licensed Paranormal Hunter lecture us on the how-tos of "humanely" executing shape shifters and other super beasties.
My boss had wanted to cover his ass, but it was only another reason for me to cover mine after the incident.
The words on the actual license stated that I had the right to execute any paranormal that had committed a murderous crime when granted the authority or the proof. The downside was that it covered a broad spectrum of paranormals and unfortunately the class hadn't. You'd think that would make my life easier, but there are some things even I don't want to sniff out and hunt down.
It wasn't until around six that I arrived back at the office. I wanted to get the Pro .40 out of my desk drawer tonight instead of tomorrow. If I did it tonight, my entire afternoon tomorrow would be free, since Rit was working. Her name is actually Avani Ritika. I fell into the habit of calling her Rit for short, and not long after that June started calling her by it as well. Oh, she was a bit irked with me for a few weeks, telling me that I made her sound like clothing dye or a lice-killing shampoo. I think it eventually grew on her, because she finally stopped complaining. Rit and I alternated days. She worked one day and I worked the next. It helped us both to keep a healthy balance between fieldwork and office work. Every P.I. works differently. It's what worked for us.
There were days when I got called out of the office while the only person here was June. If that was the case, she told any potential clients to make an appointment. She tried not to schedule any appointments that would interfere with our days off, but as with any job, it happened.
I crossed the street and stepped onto the sidewalk, reaching for the door. My fingertips had just brushed the handle when the smell hit me. The breeze smelled of forest, of damp leaves and moist soil. It was an earthy scent, not the salty scent of a human. I let my hand fall away from the door. I didn't reach for my gun. My nostrils flared as I took that scent inside of me. It flooded my senses better than any alcoholic burst of air freshener. Being a werewolf, I'd recognize another werewolf from a mile away. This wolf was much closer than that. I turned my face toward the direction of the smell.
She stood about ten feet away wearing a yellow sweater and jeans. Her skin was lightly tanned, a healthy tan that only the sun could give. The breeze sent her shoulder-length auburn hair billowing, and she raised a small hand to tuck it behind her ear. Her rich amber eyes met mine and there was a moment of acknowledgment. Her chest rose and fell as she drew a long breath. I watched as her nostrils flared slightly, and her full lips parted. She tasted my scent on the air.
Those lips curved into a seductive smile and she inclined her head, as if to say, "I know what you are," but neither of us needed words. I stood there for a moment and then slowly inclined my own.
The door opening startled me and I turned to find June about to run me over.
"Well, finally you return," she grumbled, "just as I was about to lock up."
"I need to grab something before you do," I said. I sprinted up the stairs and down the hallway to my office. I unlocked the door and went to my desk, opened the bottom drawer, and took out the Pro .40. I tucked it at the small of my back, pulling my blouse down over it. I made sure that the coat covered the bulk.
June was waiting at the door with an impatient look on her face. "Hurry up," she said. "I've got to get home and get dinner started."
I decided to be polite, instead of reminding her who signed her checks. "Sorry, June. I'll see you Wednesday."
She waved me off. "Yeah, yeah. I'll see you then."
I shook my head. People thought I was rude? Obviously, they hadn't met my secretary.
That trace of earth and pine still rode the wind, letting me know that the she wolf was still close by. I resisted the urge to draw my gun and focused on getting to the car.
I was almost to the car when a woman's voice stopped me in my tracks.
"Are you Kassandra Lyall?"
I spun on my heel to face her, drawing the Pro .40, clicking off the safety, and hoisting it in a two-handed grip. I looked down the sights, barrel aimed at her forehead. Her eyes widened.
"Why?" I asked as a strange sense of calm filled me.
"Because if you are," she took a brave step forward, "then I need to talk to you. Please," she said, eyes meeting mine over the gun, "I swear, I give you my most solemn oath that I mean you no harm."
I tried to sense a threat coming off her, and didn't. I had to admit that I was curious as to how she knew my name. There was no Kassandra in Lyall Preternatural Investigations. She had to have figured it out by other means. Call me foolish, but I wanted to know those means. Here's to hoping that phrase about curiosity only applied to cats, not werewolves.
I clicked on the safety and slid the gun into the back of my pants.
"What do you need to talk to me about?"
Her gaze darted around the empty parking lot. "I'd prefer somewhere more private."
*
The Corner Café was a little coffeehouse and bakery a few blocks away from my office. The lighting was dim, as if the atmosphere was supposed to be romantic. It was clean and well kept, despite being the ideal place for high school kids to bring their dates. Then again, I wasn't feeling under the table for gum. The food was reasonably priced, too. There weren't very many customers. Even if there had been, the high backed booths gave the illusion of privacy, which was one of the reasons I liked it.
I found a seat in the far corner so I could watch the doors. It was quiet, with most of the noise coming from the employees doing their various tasks. Keeping my eyes on the front doors, I tore off a piece of croissant and popped it into my mouth.
She must've walked. If I had known her I might've offered her a ride. As it was, I didn't, and I'm not that generous toward strangers, especially when they could probably match me in supernatural strength.
I caught sight of a canary yellow sweater and leaned back, waiting. She slipped into the seat across from me.
"I apologize if I've made you go out of your way, but it was important that I speak to you where no one would see us."
I swallowed. "It's not that far out of the way." I motioned toward my plate. "I haven't eaten anyhow. What do you want?"
"Wow," she said softly. "You're forward, aren't you? Just cut right to the chase?"
I shrugged. "In my line of work, you lose patience with the cat and mouse."
"Well then, we should start off the right way. I'm Rosalin Walker."
I wiped my hands on the napkin in my lap, taking the hand she'd offered. "Kassandra," I said.
"Kassandra Lyall." I smiled. "You already knew that. How?"
Rosalin Walker blinked a few times. "I'd heard you were to the point. I didn't think you'd be this to the point." She shook her head and then said, "I spoke with Avani Ritika the other day over the phone. I told her I'm looking for an investigator. She said she was booked solid." Rosalin folded her arms across the table. "I feel like I can trust you more, knowing what you are."
I gave a nod, urging her to go on as I finished the croissant.
"My brother is missing," she said matter-of-factly. "He's been missing for a few days now. I haven't heard anything from him, and his girlfriend hasn't seen him since last Sunday."
"When was the last time she heard from him?"
"Sunday evening, before he went to work. He works the night shift as a janitor at an elementary school."
"Which school?" I asked.
She smiled wide enough to show a row of perfect white teeth, "Jefferson," she said thoughtfully.
"I'm pretty sure. I'll have to double check with Paula for one hundred percent certainty."
"Paula is his girlfriend?"
"Yes. He never made it back to the house that morning. Paula called me an hour or so after he was supposed to get home, before she went to bed. She asked me to try and get a hold of him because she couldn't reach him at his cell phone or work. I tried calling and kept getting voicemail. The last time I called was yesterday, and it was the same thing."
When she spoke her face showed worry, but not the concern of a woman who thought she'd never see her brother again.
"Before I agree to take this case. . . I need to know why you're being so secretive and having me meet you in private. Are you in trouble?" I asked.
The set of her shoulders stiffened and she leaned back. I thought for a moment that she wasn't going to tell me. "You know what I am," she said, "and I know what you are. You don't smell like pack. If you did, I wouldn't be talking to you about this."
"You belong to a pack?"
"Yes. I don't want the others in the pack to know I'm talking to a private investigator. It's too close to going outside of pack law." Her brown eyes hardened, carefully guarding whatever there was to see in them.
I understood that werewolf packs resembled traditional wolf packs. There was an alpha, a beta, and an omega. Due to lack of experience and the fact that most packs are very secretive, I didn't know a lot about them. And no, the secretive part didn't make me feel any safer about the idea of joining one. The whole idea of a pack seemed very power structured to me. I didn't want to have to answer to an alpha werewolf. It's one of the reasons I chose to go it alone.