Chapter Twelve

The Silver Token motel ended up being as cheesy as its name and announced itself with a huge neon sign showing a blinking silver coin dropping into a slot machine. A smaller sign announced “Vacancy.” As I slowed to pull in the parking lot, Eliza said, “Wait, drive past.” Since I didn’t have my turn signal on anyway—whoops—I continued down the road.

“What’s up?” I asked.

Eliza cracked the window a teensy, weensy bit and tilted her head back.

“There’s a Were nearby. Did you see anyone hanging around outside the motel or on the street?”

Sheila and I shook our heads. My heart beat hard, but I fought to drive normally.

“Hopefully, he couldn’t scent me, since I’m in the car,” Eliza continued.

“Do you recognize the Were?” I asked, then answered myself. “I guess not, or you wouldn’t be worried about it.”

“It’s one of the Weres from the park where Carlos was murdered,” Eliza said, with a grim set to her mouth.

Damn. I’d hoped it might be some random werewolf gambling away his savings.

“What do we do now?” Sheila asked.

Eliza answered slowly, “Well, this is what we wanted, right? To find one of them? I think we head back to the motel, with the car windows shut tightly. You park the car and we look around. Even if it’s a hostile Were—which we don’t know for sure—there are three of us, which they can’t expect. I’m a full moon wolf. A very strong full moon wolf. And I’m already on my guard.”

Sheila and I looked at each other through the rear-view mirror. After a long moment, I said, “Mac was a full, too. And now he’s dead.”

Eliza set her jaw. “Fine. Then let’s just go home, is that what you’re suggesting?”

I turned the car back toward the Silver Token.

“Don’t worry,” said Eliza, “we might not even get out of the car.”

My palms sweated against the steering wheel as we turned into the parking lot. Through the windows, I saw a couple in the office, probably checking in. A man walked toward one of the room doors. Several people piled into a cab, looking pretty drunk already at seven in the evening. A woman paced back and forth along the walk, talking into her cell phone and gesturing as if the other side of her conversation could see her. I glanced into the backseat and saw Carson had fallen asleep—which was good, at least he wouldn’t call attention to us. With a nod from Eliza, I pulled the car into an empty spot near the office.

The motel room doors opened onto the cement walkways on either side of the parking lot, with exterior metal staircases leading to a second floor. The staircases, like the room doors, were coated in peeling green paint that had seen better days. The motel’s once-white siding had aged to an unfortunate gray, and most of the rooms had curtains drawn tight to the outside world.

“What now?” asked Sheila, leaning over the seat. “Can you scent the other Were?”

“Mmm, maybe,” said Eliza. Suddenly, shadows slid over her, hiding her completely from sight even though we sat mere inches from her in the same car. We heard, “stay here,” then the door opening and closing.

“Shit, Eliza,” I hissed, peering through the window.

I couldn’t see her. I knew she was there and it seemed as if she ought to be visible, if I could just force my eyes to focus. Alternately, I felt I should see some sort of cloud of darkness, if not Eliza’s actual form. Instead, my eyes continued to slide from the very spots I wanted to watch, as if the entire evening darkened with a subtle haze that lacked direction or focus.

“What the hell?” Sheila exclaimed.

“She called the moon, called on it to shift light and darkness. She’s out there somewhere, and I’m going to kill her when she gets back here.”

“Can the other Were sense her through that?”

“I have no idea. I imagine she can’t hide her scent.”

We waited for a few minutes. I noticed Sheila—like me—glanced in all directions as if we should see something.

“Should I…should I lock the doors?” My hand hovered over the button.

“What if she needs to get back into the car in a hurry?”

“Damn you, Eliza. What happened to looking around?” I studiously unclenched my hands. “Is Carson doing okay?”

“Yeah, he’s still fast asleep.”

“I hope no one can scent him in the car.”

A sudden cackling laugh broke through the ambient noise of the night and caused both of us to bolt upright. I grabbed the steering wheel reflexively, heart pounding. The shrieking laughter continued, coming from the staircase at the far side of the motel. A man stumbled down the last few green steps, seemingly drunk, and weaved down the walk. He stopped mid-stride, one foot in the air, and extended his hands to the sky. Dropping to one knee on the pavement, he declaimed in a loud voice, “Oh blessed night, oh angel darkness, oh silver mother moon, watching all your children!”

I relaxed incrementally. “Only in Vegas,” I said to Sheila, as the drunk man continued to bellow poetry at the top of his lungs.

The next moment, Eliza stood at the man’s side. She grabbed him around the shoulders and walked him toward our car. He turned to her in mixed confusion and pleasure, stumbling slightly.

“Do I know you?” he slurred in a loud voice. “You smell like cats.”

Eliza appeared nothing more than solicitous as she collared him the last few feet to the car. Keeping one hand on him, she wrenched open Sheila’s door and said, “Front seat.” Eliza’s face was coated in a film of sweat, and she breathed hard through her fixed smile. Sheila quickly scrambled out of the car and into the front seat, upon which Eliza got into the backseat, in the middle, next to Carson, and pulled the man in after her. She reached over to close the door, hitting the door lock firmly.

“Okay, go,” she said, one hand gripping the man’s arm.

He wasn’t much to look at: a little shorter than six feet, skin the color of black coffee, hair about a week past needing a trim, a bit of a baby face and a genial demeanor. Muddy brown eyes surrounded his widened pupils. I would pass him on the street without a second glance—unless he acted like a crazy drunk. He peered over Eliza into Carson’s car seat. I made a mental note to thank her for not sitting this crazy guy next to the baby.

Then he said, “Coochie coo, little puppy,” and broke into laughter again as chills shot up my spine.

“Go! Julie, get us out of here. I don’t know how long I can hold him, and we need to get away from people,” Eliza said urgently.

Shit! This drunk was our Were?

The engine roared before I realized I turned the ignition. Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself before switching into reverse and driving out of the parking lot. It seemed kind of risky to bring him back to our hotel, but I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go, so I headed in that direction. My mind swirled.

Eliza growled in the backseat, and I looked into the mirror to see her lunge and hold the man down with both hands. Sweat poured down her face—and mine, as I started freaking out about the two of them having a violent confrontation right next to my baby. Of course, Eliza looked kind of sexy and tough. Me, I just looked sweaty and wild-eyed.

My incongruous thoughts were broken by the man dissolving into a fit of giggles. Eliza loosened her hold, though once again she made sure to maintain physical contact with our mystery guest.

Sheila turned around in her seat staring at the two of them. I saw the tension radiating from her clenched muscles. We two humans were definitely in the midst of some fight-or-flight thing, but we weren’t sure what to do with the adrenaline rush.

“Sheila,” I said in a low voice, not wanting to distract Eliza from her task. “Where the hell should I go? Back to the hotel? Do we bring him back to the hotel?”

“Where else? I don’t know—we didn’t exactly plan where to take a hostage.” Sheila glanced at me. “Worst case, we ditch him there and find a new hotel.”

By the time we pulled into the motel, my neck muscles were knotted and I was sure I had lovely pit stains to attest to my not-so-attractive nervous sweating. When I stopped the car, Sheila jumped out and ran to the back door, presumably to make sure the Were didn’t run away. Me, I ran to the other door, opened it, and unsnapped Carson’s buckles with shaking fingers. I snatched him from the car seat and backed away from the car. My baby, of course, woke up and started to scream. Great. Nothing like keeping a low profile while moving a hostage Were into our hotel room, right?

Several anxious minutes later, we made it into the room without overly alarming any of the general populace. Eliza hadn’t let go of our mystery Were for a moment, Carson settled down in the sling and looked around with bleary eyes, Sheila paced next to the door. Our Were placidly spoke to the lamp on the bedside table. With the four of us jammed into the small room, already crowded just with the two beds, the luggage, and the baby paraphernalia, I wished I’d followed Sheila’s advice and looked into a more upscale hotel. Although in that case, she never would have found us.

“Sheila,” Eliza’s voice sounded strained, “check his pockets for a wallet or anything else.”

Sheila sidled up to the Were and gingerly reached into his back pocket to extract a fat black wallet. Backing away several steps, she flipped it open and pulled out a driver’s license.

“Tim Rogers,” she read. “A New York driver’s license.”

“Oh,” Eliza and I said in chorus. Eliza didn’t relinquish her hold on the Were—on Tim—but the set of her shoulders loosened.

“Isn’t that the other council investigator?” Sheila asked.

“Yes. What do you think, Eliza, does that mean he’s okay? Now what?”

Eliza quirked her mouth to the side. “I guess now I let him go, and we have a talk.”

“What are you doing, exactly, anyway?” I took a few steps closer to Tim, staring intently at the wall and giggling.

“I, uh, I called the moon and kind of made him insane. Temporarily.”

“Oh. Is that all,” I said. Sheila turned to stare at Eliza.

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

“Whatever happened to staying in the car and just checking things out?” I demanded.

Sheila jumped in. “Jules, Eliza, can we talk about this when we don’t have a currently-insane potential-ally Werewolf giggling in our hotel room?”

Right. Yes. Of course. I gestured Eliza to proceed.

Eliza drew in a deep breath, then released Tim’s arm. All three of us tensed as we watched him. For a few seconds, nothing seemed to change. Then he stopped giggling, but remained staring at the wall. In the next instant, he whirled around to face us. He dropped into a crouch, arms raised. His eyes widened in alarm, pupils no longer dilated. My skin felt tight from the energy spilling into the room, and I noticed Sheila hugging her arms as if to ward off a chill. Tim and Eliza remained still, both ready for sudden movement, their gazes locked as if they were the only two in the room. One of them growled softly; I couldn’t tell which.

I cleared my throat and tried to speak once or twice before sound emerged. “We’re here to help you, Tim. We’re sorry—Eliza’s sorry—she called the moon on you. She thought you were one of the enemies.”

Tim didn’t respond, so I continued my halting explanation. “We’re on the side of the council, trying to figure out who murdered the Weres and kidnapped Kayleigh.”

I saw the effort Eliza extended as she forced herself to drop her hands, stand in a relaxed pose, and take a step backward. She took a deep breath.

“It’s true. I’m Eliza Minuet, from Roger MacGregor’s pack in Wyoming. This is his son, Carson.”

Tim’s gaze moved between the three of us—four of us, actually, since he definitely noted Carson. He gradually straightened, though I had the feeling he might still pounce at a moment’s notice.

“Well, I must say this was a bizarre way to introduce yourselves, if indeed you mean me no harm.” His mild voice was utterly at odds with the sense of deadly energy that still radiated from his figure.

“I apologize. I thought you might be one of the Weres responsible for all of this,” Eliza explained again, hands open and spread wide.

“We don’t know anything about the Weres involved,” Tim said.

“Actually,” I said, “we do. Suzy Zhang reported a strange Were visited her—called himself Taylor Dunn—and asked a lot of questions about you and Kayleigh. He’s not too tall, blond, and has a beard. In the course of their conversation, she told him which hotel you were at.”

Tim looked at me for a moment, before he nodded and his shoulders relaxed.

“All right,” he said, “If we’re going to work on this together, I need to know everything you know. And I want to know how a full moon,” he gestured to Eliza, “a Witch,” he tilted his head to Sheila, who had been silent through this whole exchange, “and, apparently, a dark moon with a full moon pup ended up as part of this investigation.”

Sheila extended a hand in a grand gesture. “It’s a long, long story, Tim Rogers. I, for one, need some sustenance before this exchange. And perhaps a glass of wine. It’s been a very trying day.”

Eliza laughed, I rolled my eyes, and Tim just looked puzzled. Leave it to Sheila.