Tristin sat in stunned silence, keeping her eyes averted from the front window of the café. She felt sick, trapped, like she needed to move or pace or run. Instead, she just looked around. It felt like something should have changed. Three people were dead. Something should look different. But everything was the same. The same red vinyl booths she’d grown up playing in lined the space, the same black-and-white subway tiles adorned the walls; the same jukebox sat glowing red in the corner. Everything looked the same, but it felt different.
It seemed wrong somehow. Maybe it was the harsh crackle of the officer’s walkie-talkies or the faint sound of the cops cracking jokes just outside. Maybe it was the way the red-and-blue police lights strobed through the hazy swirl of rain on the windows, periodically backlighting the three corpses swinging from the eaves of the restaurant. Whatever it was, it left Tristin unsettled and on edge. The sudden storm seemed fitting given her mood.
Police and technicians ran about, hurrying to collect evidence before the rain washed it all away. She wished they’d just cut the bodies down already. What could be taking so long? She stuffed shaky hands into her pockets. If the hunters were looking to make a statement, they had. They hadn’t just mutilated their victims; they’d used the blood to decorate the front windows with ancient symbols, guaranteeing the humans were going to start whispering about stupid shit like cult killings. Stories like this one could bring unwanted attention. She got that somebody was trying to make a point but bringing human cops into it? It was just plain dirty.
The Grove was right about one thing; they would never have had to worry about human cops if the restaurant was in Belle Haven. Nothing good ever came from interacting with humans. There was no way to fix this. At least no easy magical way to fix it. It was still dark outside, but a crowd had formed across the street from the restaurant, lured by the spectacle of three mutilated bodies and a good story to blast on their social media. There were too many people outside taking videos on their cell phones; there were even two news vans. Tristin wouldn’t be surprised if this made national news. Tristin’s lip curled. Sometimes it was hard to tell who were the humans and who were the ghouls.
With the three missing cheerleaders and several gnawed-on dead bodies, there would be no convincing the cops that these three corpses were just bad luck and not something more. She watched Ember pace behind the counter, chewing on her thumbnail, her eyes straying to the bodies outside like she just couldn’t help herself. Maybe she couldn’t. Tristin could it feel it too, the compulsion to move closer. Death just drew them. It called to them.
Isa sat at the counter, looking exhausted and angry, her hands folded around a cup of coffee as she stared out the window. Tristin whirled around as the kitchen door swung open, and two men in khakis and black t-shirts walked in; they wore badges on lanyards around their necks and guns holstered at their hips. The first one through the door was tall, blonde, and well-muscled; the other was short, dark haired, and stocky. The blonde had a scar that ran across the left side of his face from his hairline to the corner of his lip, but his smile seemed natural, and he even gave a small wave. The short, stocky one kept one hand floating near the gun at his belt and had a scowl on his face. He made eye contact with Ember and Tristin could feel her cousin’s anxiety spike. She hoped Ember’s magic stayed sleeping; they didn’t need Ember puking up black goop or shooting lights from her palms.
“Which one of you is Isadora McGowan?” the short stalky one asked, squaring his shoulders like he was ready for a confrontation. Isa had her back to the men. She closed her eyes for a long moment before slowly spinning the stool to face them. By the time she turned, Isa was the perfect vision of sad and confused.
“That would be me. Call me Isa, please.”
“I’m Detective Chavez; this is Detective Hughes. We need to ask you some questions.”
Isa nodded. “Would you guys like some coffee? I just made a pot.” She pointed to the machine behind the counter.
They seemed thrown by the offer. The blonde—Hughes—nodded. “Sure. That would be nice, thank you.”
Isa looked at Ember. “Would you mind?”
Ember jumped as if electrocuted, and Tristin lurched to her feet. She didn’t need Ember’s nervous energy making them all look guilty.
“Ember’s still pretty shaken up. I’ll do it,” Tristin said.
Tristin set about getting coffee for the officers. She ignored the mugs reserved for dine-in patrons, instead pouring the cops’ coffee into paper to-go cups. Maybe they’d take the hint. They both accepted their coffees without giving her a second glance.
“Ma’am, did you know the victims?” Detective Hughes questioned, helping himself to the cream and sugar sitting on the counter before him.
Isa’s eyes darted briefly to the window before she shuddered. “I’m not sure. I only saw them for a moment out there, and it was dark. It’s possible, I guess, but I don’t think so. We get a lot of customers because we’re off the highway.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the freeway.
They nodded in unison, looking like bobble heads. “Do you know anybody who would want to send this kind of message?”
“Message?” Isa asked, letting a hint of hysteria creep into her voice. “You think this was directed at me? At my family?”
Hughes frowned, hurrying to say, “No, ma’am. We aren’t saying that. They could’ve just picked you at random, hoping for a spectacle. As you said, you’re off the highway. Difficult to miss…that.” He looked at the window, where men in official-looking jackets were lowering the last corpse into a body bag.
His partner frowned at him before scowling at Isa. “We have no idea who would do this or why. That’s why we’re asking you these questions.”
Isa looked taken aback by the officer’s tone. Isa never failed to impress Tristin. The alpha truly could have made a career in Hollywood. “Of course. I’ll answer any questions you have. I have nothing to hide.”
“Ms. McGowan, do you know anybody who dabbles in the occult, or who maybe believes a little too much in the supernatural?” Officer Chavez asked.
Tristin’s pulse jumped, and she knew Isa heard it by the slight twitch of her face, but she never gave it away. “Officer Chavez, I get why you would think that with all the weird stuff on the windows but of course not.”
“Detective,” he corrected. He pointed to the staff shirt Tristin wore. “Ma’am, the name of your restaurant is the Howl at the Moon Café. Your shirts even say you’re closed on full moons; it sounds supernatural to me.”
Isa’s brows rose, her lips twitching. “Are you implying we’re werewolves, Detective?”
He flushed, glowering. “Of course not, but you wouldn’t be the first group of crazies I met who thought they were werewolves or vampires. Ever since those damn vampire books came out, everybody wants to believe that they're special.”
Isa smiled like she was indulging a child. “You work for the Wolf Creek police department; surely you know how it got its name? When my grandparents opened this café forty years ago, there was a wolf sanctuary here. My grandmother was obsessed with wolves. She thought it was a way to tie their restaurant to the community and support a cause she believed in. It worked too. The sanctuary closed years ago, but our business is still going strong.” Chavez narrowed his eyes at Isa. What was this guy’s problem? Isa gave him a small smile. “But if it makes you feel better, I was Team Jacob all the way.”
Hughes smiled, but Chavez was unflappable. “Ms. McGowan, three teenagers are dead.”
Any hint of amusement disappeared. “Teenagers?”
“Yes, two girls and a boy. The coroner says they appear to be between fifteen and twenty, though that obviously can’t be confirmed without a positive ID of the bodies.”
For the first time, Tristin saw the real Isa creep through. “May I see their faces? As I said before, it was dark. Maybe I do know them? We get a lot of the kids from the high schools.”
The blonde cop frowned. “The bodies…they’re in pretty bad shape.”
“But their faces are…intact?” Isa looked like she wanted to vomit as she stumbled over the last word. “M-Maybe I could just see their faces. If I do know them, at least their families could be notified?”
Isa hit them with big eyes, a look so genuinely earnest Kai would have been proud. Chavez’s mouth tightened, but he pushed open the door to the kitchen, flagging a uniformed officer. “Gates, tell the van to wait.”
The officer nodded and disappeared.
“You sure you can do this?” Detective Hughes asked. Isa grimaced but nodded, resolved.
“Okay, let’s go take a look,” Chavez agreed begrudgingly.
The three of them disappeared through the kitchen door, leaving Tristin to watch Ember pace a hole in the checkerboard flooring. They didn’t speak. In fact, they made a concerted effort not to interact with each other in any way. It was better that way; talking led to fighting, and they couldn’t afford to start fighting with each other here.
Tristin didn’t breathe again until Isa came back through the kitchen doors with the detectives. She looked terrible. Her usually golden skin was pale, and there were dark circles just under her eyes. She looked disturbed, and she wasn’t faking it.
The mean detective handed Isa his card. “That’s all for now, but we’ll be in touch if we have more questions.”
Isa nodded. As they started to leave, she thought to ask. “How much longer for all this?” She waved at the officers outside.
“They should finish processing the scene in a day or so. You’re going to want to find a crime scene cleanup crew. In the meantime, I can have a couple of officers tack up some plastic sheeting.”
She shook her head. “Thank you, but I think we can take care of it as soon as you tell us it’s clear. My fiancé and my brother can help me with any cleanup if I need help.”
“Where are they today?” he asked sharply.
“Out of town. Fishing trip down south with some old friends,” she lied smoothly. “They are already on their way back.”
Detective Chavez nodded once, his gaze passing over Ember and Tristin before doing a double take. Ember shrank back at the detective’s focus. Tristin leaned forward, lifting her chin, almost daring him to say something to her.
“Are these your siblings, Ms. McGowan?”
“No. I’m their legal guardian.”
“How did you come to have custody of two minors at your age?”
“Our parents all died in the same fire. Wolf Creek is a small town. I took care of my brother and the twins.”
Tristin noticed that Isa didn’t clarify that Tristin and Ember weren’t, in fact, the twins Isa spoke of. Sure, they looked nothing alike, but they did share the same eyes, and not all twins looked alike. Tristin didn’t have to be supernatural to know that the detective wasn’t buying it, but he said nothing.
“Don’t leave town,” he said, turning on his heel without another word. Hughes shrugged sheepishly, appearing used to having to apologize for his rude partner. “Thank you, ma’am.”
When they were gone, Isa collapsed into the booth, looking like she might pass out. Tristin and Ember joined her.
“What?” Ember asked.
“The bodies. One of them is the cheerleader that attacked the officer. I don’t think they’ve realized it yet. The others: a pale, freckled redhead and a dark-haired boy. I didn’t get it at first…but it’s a message. Whoever turned those cheerleaders picked them because they looked like you three, and whoever murdered them wanted to make sure the world knew it.”
“That cop got the message, loud and clear. How long before he realizes those corpses that look like us are also the missing cheerleaders?” Ember asked.
“I don’t know, but I do know the humans are the least of our problems. If that grim my brother killed is to be believed, we need to figure out who did that.” She pointed to the window.
“And whether they’re done,” Tristin muttered.