Chapter 12

 

Caleb paced in the parlor, his head throbbing. He hadn’t bothered turning on any lights, his werewolf-enhanced vision acute without the extra illumination.

After Lucas Drake had dropped him off, barely a word passing between them, he’d prowled the crime scene. It was still taped off, two patrol officers and a squad car lingering over the cleanup. He’d crept beneath their noses, stealth a convenient advantage of lycanthropy. Seth’s odor had lingered like a fingerprint. In the air, on the ground, traceable in fat splotches of drying blood and patches of trampled grass. His rival hadn’t killed because he’d been driven to, but for pleasure and mastery. He’d killed to taunt Caleb.

“Bastard!” Caleb drove his fist into the wall. A framed watercolor shuddered beneath the blow, slipping on its hook to end at a lopsided angle. Outside, the distinctive purr of Wyn’s sporty BMW breezed up the drive and into the garage. Caleb didn’t need a clock to tell him it was after one AM, or that his nephew had kept him waiting longer than acceptable. And the fool had the nerve to accuse him of being preoccupied with sex!

It was damned unfair of Wyn to have a healthy, normal relationship with a woman when his own was eternally cursed. By the time his nephew walked up the porch steps, Caleb had wrenched open the front door.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Wyn gave a grunt, half laughter, half disbelief. “Work on your greeting, Colonel.” He shouldered past, pushing inside. “If you’re in a piss-poor mood, take a hike. I had a great night with Lauren and you’re not going to spoil it.”

“Winston!” But even the outrage that normally made his nephew draw up short in anger had no effect.

Wyn moved into the parlor and bent to switch on a lamp. “Some light wouldn’t hurt. Not all of us have your senses, Caleb.” Yawning, he rumpled a hand through his hair. “So, how was the big date? Did Arianna bring you home?”

“Lucas Drake brought me home,” Caleb snarled, thrusting past him. The glow from the lamp stung his eyes, intensifying the pain in his head. He didn’t know why he was so angry, at least not with Wyn. Seth was the one who took perverted pleasure in killing, taunting him with sadistic acts of violence. Trying to compose himself, he bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s been another killing.”

Wyn’s head snapped up in alarm. “Another deer?”

“No.” The hostility drained from Caleb along with the frustration that had plagued him since he’d heard the news. He should have been out looking for Seth earlier instead of trying to coax Arianna into bed. “Human. A man, earlier tonight, just down the road.”

The doctor swallowed, taking a hesitant step forward. His shadow leaped across the floor, pencil-thin on the braided rug. “Seth?”

Caleb lowered his hand, his expression cold. “What do you think?”

“I think someone needs to kill that sick son-of-a-bitch.” Wyn swung away, scrubbing the back of his neck. “It doesn’t make sense. For three years he’s been untraceable, now he’s on a killing spree in our backyard. Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Wyn regarded him steadily. “Then I say we find a silver bullet and confide in someone. Maybe Drake.”

“And have him lock us away for mental instability? I’ll deal with Seth Reilly in my own time, Winston.”

“And what happens until then? He’s started killing people. People, damn it! Do you think he’s going to be satisfied with a deer now that he’s tasted human blood?”

Caleb looked away, wishing he could deny the truth. Seth’s brutal excitement at the murder scene had been almost tangible, lingering long after he was gone. Even Caleb had felt the allure of spilled blood, the grisly residue like a seductive siren song. For one heinous moment, he’d wanted to embrace the euphoria that came with animalistic power. He could almost hear Seth laughing.

Admit you want it, Caleb. You’ve always wanted power, authority over others, Colonel DeCardian. You’re glad I made you what you are.

“Seth has dined on flesh before. I’ll handle him.” He ground his teeth. He was human and would stay human. “I want to increase the potency of my injections beginning tomorrow.”

Wyn blanched. “That’s not a good idea. We’re already pushing–”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“I’m the doctor, Caleb.”

“Then do something, damn you!” It wasn’t Wyn’s fault but, as always, his nephew was a convenient target. “I’m going to stop Seth, but I’m going to do it as a man, not an animal.” He made an effort to appear conciliatory and lowered his voice. “I need your help.”

“You damn near chew my head off and now I’m supposed to help you?”

Caleb was reaching the end of his patience. “Winston.”

“All right, all right. But we’re going to do it my way. I’ll increase the dosage, but we measure it out over two weeks, instead of upping it all at once.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you still having headaches?”

“Not like before.” Caleb stiffened, unwilling to admit to pain. What was a simple lie stacked against the curse of lycanthropy? “I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

Wyn accepted the falsehood. “In the morning then?”

“In the morning.” Pain splintered down the back of Caleb’s neck, making him wonder whether or not the increased dosage might kill him.

He grimaced.

It was nothing more than Seth planned to do.

* * * *

Seth crouched outside the house, watching the yellow gleam of light through the window. Oh, he was beginning to enjoy the game! Initially, he’d thought only of killing DeCardian, but found taunting him more entertaining.

He had been careful to stay downwind, making sure his scent didn’t carry as he’d watched his long-time rival prowl about the scene. He knew Caleb had been devastated, enraged by the senseless loss of life. He might shrug off the deer, but a butchered man would eat at his conscience like cancer. Seth had enjoyed the killing, making sure there was plenty of blood as a stark reminder of Crinkeshaw.

Blood for guilt, blood for payment.

It was sweet making DeCardian pay, sweeter than he’d anticipated. It would be sweeter still when he dragged Arianna into the fray, ensuring Caleb suffered for the cowardly sins of his past.