I knew what to expect even as I strode up the wide staircase toward the large front doors of Darkheart Manor and Loren met those expectations perfectly.
“Today’s not a good day, Gus. Way too much going on.” She stood just inside the foyer, a long, green dress puddled around her feet, her hair swept back and across her right shoulder. Her face showed the indications of stress she tried not to convey in her voice, narrow lines at her eyes and just the right pinch of pressure at the corner of her mouth. She tried her best to hide it, but I’d known her for a very long time, hell I was married to her, and the signs were evident. “We’ve got the leaders of the other three North American covens joining us for an impromptu conversation. Talking about how we can broker a peace.”
“Sounds like an adventure.”
“They all swear to me they were not behind the attack— but it’s impossible for me to tell. At any rate, I really don’t have time for lessons today, it’s just—”
“I’m not here for a magic lesson, Loren, I promise.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Can we talk inside?” I looked over my shoulder at the two Handmaidens who lurked just outside the front door, trying to pretend like they weren’t braced to attack me, but failing miserably. Loren’s jaw flexed and for a moment I thought she might politely decline. A sigh escaped her lips and she stepped backwards, gesturing for me to follow her inside, which I did. I wanted to be outside the range of an abrupt sword strike from those Handmaidens if I could possibly help it.
“Gus, I’m sure you understand how crazy things are around here. With the existing conflict with the covens, plus the assassination attempt—”
“That’s actually why I’m here.”
She stopped mid-stride, standing in the center of the long hallway. Painted portraits lined the walls and I noticed that a space had been made for a new one. It struck me that within the next week or two, my wife’s face would likely adorn the sacred walls of the Darkheart Coven and she’d take her place at the head of the table. That seemed too impossible to believe.
“Loren? Is everything all right?” Another woman appeared, wearing a similar outfit as the Handmaidens, but with more ornate trim around the shoulders and along the tunic.
“It’s fine, Leander. Truly.” Loren reached out and touched the woman’s arm. Leander gave me a stern, appraising look. She was the same height and build as Loren and lacked the outer fierceness of the warrior guards, but that didn’t mean she was harmless. Far from it, I suspected.
She nodded and backed away, vanishing into a side room.
“We don’t need your help, Gus,” she continued. “We’ve brought in a dozen separate enchantresses— we’ve got magical barriers erected all along the grounds. We’ve recruited two dozen new Handmaidens and while they’re still going through training, they’ve added to our perimeter patrols. The chances of anymore assassins getting through our defenses are next to none.”
“But do you know who sent them?”
She placed her hands on her hips and bore into me with a cold stare. “Are you telling me you do?”
“Not precisely, but—”
“Okay, Gus, we don’t have time to beat around the bush. If you’ve got something to share, please share it.”
“I seem to have gotten myself tangled up with a werewolf.”
Loren’s mouth gaped. Whatever she’d expected me to say— it wasn’t that.
“But that’s just part of it. The werewolf is being hunted— his family has already been captured.”
“Wait, wait, wait— go back to the part where you’re actually working with a werewolf? Did I understand that correctly?”
“Working with might be an overstatement. It’s more like I’m— helping— a— werewolf?” My voice rose inquisitively and I could see that my rephrasing of the statement did little to ease her mind.
“For the love of— Gus. Are you insane? First of all— I thought werewolves were extinct?”
“Yeah, they’re not.”
“Second of all— why on Earth would you be helping one?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” I tried to explain. “Long story short, werewolves are not extinct— their numbers are greatly reduced, but they’ve been living a low profile existence, many of them here in the human world. Dan— his group has been in New Mexico—”
“Wait, Dan? Did you just call a werewolf Dan?”
“That’s his name.”
Loren lowered her head.
“Anyway— Dan and his family— they were tracked down by a bounty hunter— one with what seemed to be a personal vendetta against them. He and his father escaped and I inadvertently— I caused his father to be captured again. I stumbled upon them and, of course, assumed the werewolves were the bad guys, not realizing that the bounty hunter wasn’t so nice himself.”
“So now you feel guilty of course, because you always do, and you’re helping Dan because his father got captured?”
“You catch on quick.”
“You’re a moron, Gus.”
“That seems— extreme.”
“Werewolves are deadly predators. The only reason for their existence is to hunt and kill, sometimes for food, but more often for sport. It’s a miracle you didn’t end up getting mauled.”
“Well— now that you mention it.” I twisted and lifted the edge of my Golden Earring t-shirt to show Loren the bandages that Lamar had bound my torso in.
“Gus!” She strode closer and leaned down, touching the bandages with three fingers. “What the hell?”
“This was his dad, not him. And— I mean— I melted his face with a fireball, so I can’t exactly blame—”
“No, no, no,” Loren stood again, turned, her head shaking. “We’re not having this conversation right now.”
“I haven’t even gotten to the helpful part yet.”
“There’s a helpful part?” She looked over her shoulder. “Okay— maybe we fast forward to that, then.”
“Okay— well, as I said— his family was captured by someone— he only knows him as the bounty hunter, at least that’s what he called him.”
“You said that already.”
I could hear the growing frustration in her voice, the stress from everything taken root in her words.
“This bounty hunter owns a container ship. According to Dan he was going to transport them all to Europe where there’s apparently a robust black market for werewolf pelts.”
She said nothing but didn’t look the least bit surprised about the pelt revelation.
“Anyway, we paid the container ship a visit last night.”
“This just gets better and better.”
“I know, I know. But that’s what happened.”
“And what did you find?”
“We found that this ship was under watch— I saw nearly a dozen orcs and a few demons I couldn’t identify from as far away as we were. These demons, however, were powerful enough that they were able to generate a masking spell for the entire group of them. There were a few human dock workers milling about and not a single one of them seemed to realize who any of them were.”
Loren nodded. “Realm Walkers.”
I stopped for a moment. “Realm Walkers? Like the ones who attacked you?”
“If they were generating a widespread spell that disguised their appearance— them and the orcs you’re talking about, they weren’t like the ones who attacked me. The ones who attacked me were lesser demons. But where there are lesser demons, there are greater demons lurking in the shadows.”
“Wonderful.”
“In truth, the term ‘Realm Walkers’ is just the Anglicized name of a demon clan that’s been known to walk with humans for generations. They have this innate mystical ability to mask their true selves, allowing them to integrate with human society almost perfectly. Especially powerful ones can create a field around them that also masks others.”
“Why haven’t I heard of them before? I mean— before they attacked you, anyway.”
Loren shrugged. “It wasn’t in the Caretakers best interests? Out of sight, out of mind, right? Let the Realm Walkers mingle with humans— what harm would it cause to the supernatural realm? The cynic in me might even say that in the Caretakers’ minds it would represent less demons that they had to deal with.”
“That is pretty cynical.” I let my gaze drift up and down the hallway. “So this could all be connected.”
“Connected?” Loren looked legitimately confused. “What makes you say that?”
“Lesser Realm Walkers attack you, greater Realm Walkers working the docks, near a supernatural bounty hunter’s container ship?”
“Means nothing, Gus. Realm Walkers are like cockroaches— they’re everywhere. It’s a large clan and they’re used quite often by supernatural beings because of their innate ability to mask their appearance. It would be like me seeing another overweight, middle-aged guy and thinking he was your brother.”
“Holy shit, Loren.” I pressed my hand to my chest. “I’m legitimately offended.”
She smiled and tilted her head slightly. “It takes much more than that to offend you, Gus, I know that well enough by now.”
“I hope you feel half as guilty as you look.”
“Not really. Anyway, I could have sworn we were fast-forwarding to the helpful part.”
“Right. Well— based on what you just said, maybe it wasn’t that helpful after all.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, while we were spying on the container ship, we were attacked by one of the lesser demons— looked remarkably similar to the ones who attacked you. So I kinda figured there was a connection there. But then you threw that middle-aged fat joke at me and suddenly— maybe I’m not so worried about someone taking a chunk out of your gorgeous hide.”
“Is my hide really gorgeous?”
“Yeah, it kinda is.”
Her cheeks flushed and she struggled to keep herself composed. “Remind me,” she said, then cleared her throat. “Where was this?”
“Around this container ship near Boston Harbor. In a slip at the Conley Terminal. A ship we believe is owned by the same bounty hunter trying to track down these werewolves.”
Loren’s expression stiffened, but to my surprise I also saw a knowing look in her eyes, some strange sense of recognition.
“What is it?”
“What you’re describing— it resonates with me. I’m not sure I saw it before, but I’m starting to see it now.”
“Resonates with you how?”
“Tell me, Gus, does the name Lucas Androse mean anything to you?”
“Lucas Androse?” I leaned back on an ornate end table, my arms crossed over my chest. We hadn’t moved from our spot in the decorated corridor of the Darkheart Coven.
“Bounty Hunter. One of ours.” Loren gestured with one hand between the two of us.
“What do you mean by ‘ours’.”
“Supernatural refugee. Name spoken mostly in whispers and rumors. A bounty hunter that supposedly ran afoul of the shifter clans centuries ago and has spent every waking moment since dealing with them in his own unique way.”
“By hunting them down and selling their pelts?”
“I suspect the pelt selling is a by-product of the hunting. A way to help pay for his lifestyle. I think for him, the real thrill is in the capture and the kill.”
“Again— why have I never heard of this guy?”
“Again— your information comes filtered through the Caretakers. They hated shifters. Always did. Why would they care if someone was systematically hunting them down and eliminating them? It furthered their goals.”
“But you don’t know why?”
“Nobody really knows the true story.” Loren paced slightly down the corridor. “And whatever rumors I’ve heard are likely untrue. Of course all of this doesn’t explain the demons, right? If he’s hunting these shifters— why is he working with Realm Walkers?”
“Maybe they’re just helping him stay under the radar? Using their magic to disguise him and his dock workers. Maybe it’s an arrangement of convenience?”
“Perhaps.”
“Do we even know if they are working for him? How do we even know this is him? It could all be wacky coincidence.”
“Gus, please. You’ve made it abundantly clear what you think of coincidence.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
“The same time as a trio of demons try to assassinate me, this bounty hunter shows up in Boston trying to track down other shifters and another demon just happens to be hanging around near his ship? It’s him, Gus. It’s gotta be.”
“So what does he have against you?”
“What do you mean?”
“If he’s working with the Realm Walkers, and a trio of lesser Realm Walkers tried to kill you, doesn’t it seem likely that—”
“That what?” Loren looked legitimately confused. “That a shifter hunter would target me? Why?”
“He was— hired to?” I shrugged.
Loren seemed to chew on that for a moment. “It’s like I said,” she finally replied, “Realm Walkers are like cockroaches. I’m not sure there’s a link there.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Who can ever be sure, Gus? I’m the newest coven leader. I just happen to be at the head of the table for one of the most powerful covens in the world—certainly the most powerful in America. The minute I accepted this role, I put a bullseye on my back. Any number of people could be targeting me, especially as an inexperienced leader. I’m probably seen as vulnerable.”
“Clearly they don’t know you like I do.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Savage.”
“Doesn’t hurt to try.” I leaned against the table and looked at her, taking her in, trying like hell not to fall in love with her all over again. Of course, all over again would insinuate that I’d fallen out of love with her at some point. “Lucas Androse, you said?”
Loren nodded. “Try and stay out of werewolf business, would you? That’s a recipe for disaster.”
“Those are the only recipes I know.” I stepped from the table and moved to the center of the hallway. “You be careful, too, would you? It’s a dangerous world out there.”
“It’s the cost of doing business, Gus, and honestly— I think you’re seeing connections where they don’t exist. The other North American covens are coming together for a peace summit. I should be able to gauge who can be trusted and who I should watch out for. But, please, this isn’t the first time someone has targeted a coven leader for assassination and it certainly won’t be the last.”
“That’s all well and good, but I don’t care about those other coven leaders. I care about you.”
I stood there for a moment, waiting for that inevitable spark, a connection between us which would drive her forward, carry her into a long stride where she’d take my hand in hers. But she stayed where she was, making no indication she was moving anywhere.
“Stay safe, okay, Loren?”
“Trying my best.” She seemed more rigid and guarded than before, as if she’d purposefully erected a barrier around herself.
Two Handmaidens emerged from a doorway down the hall and I took my cue, walking in the other direction. As I left the manor house I recited the name Lucas Androse in my head repeatedly, committing it to memory.
#
I stood behind Sammy, looking over his shoulder during a rare moment when the phone wasn’t ringing. Sammy had accessed several different law enforcement databases he still had somewhat illicit access to and entered the name Lucas Androse into all of them. None of the search queries produced anything resembling a measurable result.
“He’s got a clean record, whoever he is.”
“What about the boat registration? The one in the berth we saw last night?”
“Still working on that one. I had to reach out to a buddy of mine with the Army Corps of Engineers— closest thing I could find to any sort of maritime administration. He doesn’t have the information at his fingertips, but he’s rattling a few cages.”
“Tell him to rattle harder and faster.”
“Gus, we’re dealing with government here. Government that I’m asking for a favor from.”
“I get that, Sammy, and I appreciate it. I do. I’m just worried if this drags on too long, Androse is just as likely to pick up anchor and take off.”
“Androse?” Indigo rested a hip against the kitchen counter. “Are you telling me you know who the guy is?” She’d been a little late to the party.
“Not for one hundred percent certainty. But I’m going based off some information I received from Loren.”
“And Loren has suddenly become an expert in werewolf hunters?”
“Not necessarily. But she brought up a guy who has some history— not just hunting werewolves, but shifters in general.”
“I’m more worried about how we think we’re going to stop this guy. He must have had almost a dozen— what did you call them? Orcs? Those dudes were beefy.”
“Yeah, orcs.”
“Like the dude we ran into at Fuentes’ place?” Sammy looked up from his screen.
“Exactly like that dude.”
“Even one of those ugly bastards nearly took my head off— a dozen of them?”
“That might have to be a problem for another time,” I said and tapped my shoe on the floor as I worked through the various options. Stepping away from Sammy, I wandered into the kitchen and tested the coffee pot, happy to feel some weight to it. I poured a fresh mug.
“What time did you get home last night?” Indigo came up next to me. “After you dropped me off at the apartment, I mean.”
“I came right home pretty much. Why?”
“There’s a four pack of Guinness in the trash can and a chunk of your whiskey is gone.”
“Ah.”
“I mean— I don’t mean to pry, Gus, but—”
“It wasn’t all me.” I took a drink from the coffee mug.
“You had company at three in the morning? Last night wasn’t a karaoke night, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t, smart ass. It was Troels.”
“A troll? You had trolls in your—”
“No— Troels. Tall, dark and blonde? Viking looking guy? Worked for the Caretakers with me?”
“Ohhh, Troels.” Indigo nodded, but then looked serious again. “Why was he here?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. Trying to convince me to kick Dan to the curb. To not get involved in werewolf business.”
Indigo’s brow furrowed, her arms crossed, and tipped the mug to her dark lips. “And?”
“And what?”
“Are you going to listen to them?”
“I know you haven’t known me long,” I replied, taking another sip of coffee, “but how well do I typically take direction?”
“Not well.” Indigo’s face held the hint of a smile. I held out my mug in her direction and lifted my eyebrows. “Can I ask you a question?”
“I suppose.”
“What changed your mind?”
“What do you mean?”
“Just a day ago you were still in the anti-werewolf camp. Very much so. You seem amazingly— open-minded just twenty-four hours later. What changed?”
I drew in a breath, looking into what remained of the dark liquid in my coffee mug. “I guess, Dan did. Seeing first-hand what he goes through— his desperation to maintain some semblance of control. I think there’s guilt there, too, the knowledge of what I did to his father pretty fresh in my mind. It’s a combination of things. I guess spending some time with Dan— with human Dan, not wolf Dan helped me realize that they’re complex creatures like the rest of us. Not cut and dried.”
Indigo smiled and drained the rest of her coffee. “I’m proud of you Savage.”
“Nothing makes me happier than the approval of a young woman four hundred and ninety years younger than me.” I winked sarcastically, though inside, I had to admit— I felt a little chisel chip away at my old, crusty interior. As I spoke with Indigo, I could hear the phone ringing behind me, Sammy scooping it up and talking low into the receiver.
“So what do we do next?” Indigo asked as she scooched up onto the counter, perching herself there and looking down at me.
“We need to figure out exactly who Lucas Androse is, if that is who we’re dealing with. If he’s got a container ship parked at Conley Terminal, he’s using legitimate business credentials to be there. Shell corporation or something.”
“A shell corporation for a magical bounty hunter? How did we get here?”
“Some of us have always been here.”
The phone clacked behind me and I glanced over my shoulder as Sammy turned in his chair. He held up his pad of paper, a smug smirk creasing his thin lips. “You’re never going to guess who I just got off the phone with.”
I walked toward him as Indigo shoved herself off the counter and followed along close behind me. “Let me guess—”
“My guy at the Army Corps of Engineers.” He held out the pad of paper and I swept it from his fingers. The boat in the slip at Conley Terminal was registered to a company named Cornerstone Logistics. Chief Operating Officer — Lucas Androse. I smiled a crooked smile in spite of myself.
“You know, Sammy, I don’t care what Indigo says— you are good for something.”
“That ain’t all,” Sammy replied and spun back around in his chair, pointing to the computer screen. “Just so happens that Cornerstone Logistics is renting office space right here in Boston— about a quarter mile from the harbor.”
“Even better.” I nodded and started to walk toward my coat rack near the front door to the apartment.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Indigo looked up from where she stood, next to Sammy.
“I’m checking out Cornerstone Logistics.”
“Alone?”
“It’s an office building, Indigo, not an enemy labor camp.”
“Yeah, and that was just a container ship last night, only there were orcs crawling all over it and a horned demon who tried to rip your guts out.”
“I was an Enforcer for centuries, Indigo, horned demons trying to rip my guts out was actually a pretty easy day at the office.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way—”
“Every time you say that it’s something that I will most assuredly take the wrong way.”
“You’re not exactly in Enforcer shape these days.”
“See now? There is no other way to take that other than the wrong way.” I swept my coat from the coat rack and shrugged it over my shoulders.
“Hey,” Indigo said, nodding toward me, “don’t forget about tonight. You have to at least live that long.”
I paused, my eyes searching the apartment.
“Don’t tell me you forgot.”
“Okay, I won’t tell you.”
She sighed an exasperated sigh and jumped down from the counter. “We’re having dinner tonight. The three of us and Miranda. She’s a month sober.”
“Oh. Right! Of course.” I had absolutely zero recollection of this event in my mind.
“We’re meeting at our place at six.”
Our place. I couldn’t help but find something adorable about her referring to where she and Miranda were staying together as “our place”.
“There— enough room for all of us?”
“Keep making cracks like that and I’ll rescind the invitation.”
“Six. I’ll be there.”
“You better.”
I turned toward the door.
“Call me if you need me,” Indigo lifted her phone from her pocket.
“Of course.” I flashed her a smile and she scowled back in my direction, clearly unaffected by my winsome charm. A moment later I was out the door and gone.