Perfect Love

8

  Dusty needed some comfort before he could tell me what bothered him. I loved comforting Dusty. Luckily, our hot tub was enclosed so that the neighbors couldn’t complain about the time we spent there, comforting each other, and we did that a lot, especially when life got weird. With the amount of time he wanted to spend in the hot tub, I thought he was more wereotter than werewolf.

  Dusty, curled up with his head on my shoulder and finally relaxed enough to start explaining what was on his mind. “You know sometimes I think I am being selfish,” he began softly.

  “How so?” I brushed one of my loose blonde hairs off his forehead.

  “Uncle Bob really needs my help with the pack and here I am living my overly happy life with you.

  I tilted his head up so I could look into his green eyes. The moisture from the hot tub had darkened his eyebrows to the point where they looked liked blood streaks arcos his brow. “Well I need you here in my life too, so if you're being selfish then so am I.”

  He leaned up and kissed me deeply. “I know and you’re the most important person in my life. I just realized tonight that Uncle Bob’s dying and he’s scared. I should try to find a way to be there for him and make sure that everything he’s worked so hard for continues to hold together after he’s gone. Everything my father had was lost. I don't want that to happen to Uncle Bob.”

  My mind reeled, “Coyote’s dying?” The man looked middle aged, but wers aged more slowly than normal humans and were immune to most diseases. The idea that Coyote was dying hit me hard. I had trouble wrapping my mind around it. I figured he would be a constant in the wer community for years to come.

  Dusty sank back down resting his head on my shoulder again as one hand trailed down my stomach. “Uncle Bob’s over four hundred years old. He won't show his true age until the last couple of weeks of his life, which hopefully is still a little ways off. But he knows it’s coming and he’s worried about the pack. He doesn't think Toby will make the best Alpha. Although Uncle Bob won the pack by force after the Civil War and to all outside appearances he holds it by force now, in truth, he hasn’t had a challenger to his reign in over a hundred years because his pack loves him and defends him. That’s almost unheard of in the werewolf world. The Sherkahn of the weretigers in India has that type of rule, but werewolves are notoriously aggressive by nature and Uncle Bob’s worried about where Toby will lead the pack. We have one of the largest packs in the country and there’s bound to be instability at the time of change. Too much instability in the pack will spread to the rest of the meta-community here in Dallas and possibly the rest of Texas.”

  “And too much instability in the meta-community risks drawing the attention of the mundane community,” I finished the thought for him and it wasn’t a pleasant one. It meant a lot of work for the Council and more work for the Council translated to more work for me since Carmine was so good about calling in favors whenever she and her team got overworked. There was a growing group of the community who were pushing us to go public, but I was still on the stay-in-the-shadows bandwagon. I just didn’t think the mundane world was ready to deal with things like real magic, wers, vampires, fairies and such. It could turn the entire world on its ear. Instability in the werewolf pack was something we had to keep to a minimum or avoid, if possible.

  “Exactly. The catch is I’m stronger than Toby and everyone knows that, but a lot of the pack wouldn’t follow a gay alpha, let alone one who’s partnered with a non-wolf. They see that as a weakness.” He hugged me tightly and lightly kissed the curve of my neck sending shivers up and down my spine. “I'm not sure they’d believe me when I tell them that you’d probably kick most of their collected asses without too much trouble. I know that you are a major asset to me and my life. I wonder sometimes what it’d take to bring that public enough for me to help stabilize the pack after Uncle Bob dies.”

  I ran a hand down his arm and onto his hard hairy abs. “I wonder if that may not be part of the reason he called us in on this problem with the invader. He might be thinking if you and I can prove our worth to the pack that you can help stabilize things when that day comes.”

  That thought perked Dusty up. “You know Uncle Bob’s a crafty old wolf; that might be what he’s doing. It would make a lot of sense when you stop and think about it. And if we can prove to the pack that you’re useful, it’d be easier for me to step in and take a more active role in things.” He swung his legs around me so he was sitting on my lap and kissed me deeply. “I love you.” He breathed into my mouth.

  My hands slid across the firm planes of his wet back. I pulled him closer to me as the bubbles of the hot tub flowed up around us. His strong arms sought to crush me to his powerful chest as his mouth engulfed mine. I felt the passion rising up between us. He needed me and the primal energy we could raise between us right now.

  His hands ran through my short blond hair as our kiss intensified. His tongue played across mine while his hot breath shot down my throat. His fingers found my ear lobe. He traced the contours knowing it would bring a rush of passion. The energy plunged through me tingling up and down my body. I would have wiggled in pleasure if his weight had not been holding me to the bottom of the hot tub. I felt him jump ever so slightly as I ran a hand stiffly up his spine all the way from his tailbone to the thick red hair at the base of his skull. I forced energy up into him, using the light play of the water to help relax him even further.

  Dusty moaned deeply and pulled me tighter against him. His powerful arms forced us together. He knew just how much pressure to apply and never let his werewolf strength hurt me. His moan turned into a growl, deep and lusty. He nipped at the smooth skin in the shallow of my neck. His teeth pricked just enough to send little jolts of electricity through me.

  “I hate to interrupt this little display of affection.” A deep rumble of a voice echoed in my mind. I could tell that Dusty had heard it too. Standing on the edge of the hot tub, the slightly-glowing form of our warding spirit, Griff, was outlined by the steam rising from the water. Griff was a spirit I created several years ago to guard the property, taking the image of the gryphon statue I used as a physical form for the magical energy I’d called. His sharp eyes and quick reflexes kept unwanted things out of the yard and out of the house. In the rare occasion that something slipped past him, he would drive it out before too much could happen. Most of the time, we barely knew Griff was around. Every once in awhile someone would catch a flash of a wing that looked like a small sparrow disappearing into a bush or a glinpse of a tail as it slipped around a corner.

  “What's up Griff?” I wrapped a hand around Dusty's waist to keep him from sliding off my lap as our mood vanished. I could hope it was nothing major, but for Griff to appear like this it probably was.

  “Well, sirs, I thought you should know that there is a werejaguar slinking across the back yard. He is using some kind of bruja charm that resists my efforts to get rid of him. He is currently behind the garage heading this way.” Griff sounded put out that someone would dare use magic to deter his responsibilities.

  So much for my quiet time with Dusty. I sighed, gave him another quick kiss and let him slide off my lap and out of the hot tub. “Thank you Griff. Please stand by to fetch Tiffany if things get bad.”

  “Of course, Sir.” Griff flew up to the pitch of the tile roof, folded his wings and sat waiting to see how it played out.

  “I wonder what the jags want?” Dusty asked, as he wrapped a large blue towel around his waist before handing one to me.

  “What else? They’re missing people too.” I was beginning to see a trend here and it wasn’t looking good. I tucked the edge of the towel securely and leaned up against the side of the hot tub. I heard Dusty turn it off behind me.

  “He's trying to come in upwind,” Dusty said sniffing the air. “But he put on too much aftershave. No, that must be the bruja charm, stinks to high heaven.”

  “No sense sneaking in,” I called out. “We know you're out there.”

  No
sound betrayed his presence as he appeared out of the bushes. I envied werecats’ ability to move in perfect silence. Dusty could be quiet when he tried, but werecats naturally moved with the complete silence of newly-fallen snow. It’s almost other worldly. If it wasn’t late at night, the sight of a large jaguar in the alleys of Dallas would’ve plunged the neighbors into a blind panic, but I’m sure this jaguar was only seen when he chose to be seen. Shadows played off the dark rosettes of his coat, and although his coat wasn’t black, it wasn't until he stepped completely clear of the bushes and out into the dimly-lit yard that I could distinguish the lush depth of his coloring. I’ve heard that if you are around werejaguars and wereleopards long enough you can tell each one apart by the pattern of their spots, but I’m not around that many. I had no idea who this was.

  The jaguar stared at me for a moment and then stared at Dusty. Then a shimmer covered it and it changed from beast to human and Police Officer Paul Ramirez, member of the Council, second of the local jaguar pride, stood in the yard. That he was clothed confirmed my long-standing suspicion that Paul was a hereditary wer. Most wers who are made, that is, wers who result from attacks on humans by wers, are the classic wers that have little control under the full moon, kinda go crazy for three nights a month and end up naked when they shift back to human form since their clothes are shredded from the initial change. Hereditary wers are ones that are born that way, sometimes from one wer parent and sometimes from two. Dusty’s one of the ones born from two. Hereditary wers have more control, and since they’re truly magical creatures, their clothes can shift back and forth with them. They are also less likely to go berserk at the change of the moon. From what Dusty said, part of the berserk issue came from the pain the made wers underwent during the change. Hereditary wers only experience pain the first time and that’s only if their alphas don’t have the control to help take most of the pain away.

  “Hello Paul.” I tried to keep irritation out of my voice. Staying on good terms with him was important. He was our main contact at the police station and he comes in handy with investigations.

  “Hey Ethan, Dusty,” he said, glancing around nervously. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen Paul this jittery. “Could we please go inside to talk?”

  “Sure,” I said, catching the second towel that Dusty tossed and starting a quick dry off so I didn't track too much water into the house. “Give us a sec to dry off.”

  I noticed that Paul’s skin-tight black t-shirt and jeans showed no evidence of the gun he normally carried, then I reminded myself that he was on family leave due to the new baby. I’d never met his wife, but she was the daughter of the local jaguar priest, putting her high enough in rank to have children, assuming the jaguar pride was set up anything like a werewolf pack where only the alphas or other high-ranking members were allowed to add to the population. The Council promoted the idea since it helped limit the number of wers. The local werejaguar pride was the third largest weregroup in town, with the wolves being first followed by the bears.

  I walked toward the house, running the towel over my hair. Paul fell into step behind me and Dusty brought up the rear, which showed how much Paul either trusted us or needed our help because he didn’t jostle with Dusty for last in line. A lot of wers were uncomfortable with another wer from a different group behind them.

  Once we were inside, Dusty disappeared up the back stairs as I led Paul to the kitchen. I was in the mood for a drink and after the time in the hot tub, I’d worked up a bit of an appetite, not as big as if Paul hadn’t interrupted, but I had the munchies nonetheless.

  “Would you like something to drink?” I offered as I opened the fridge to pull out a bottle of water for me and one for Dusty.

  “Water’s fine,” he replied, pulling out the kitchen chair closest to the door. “If I come home smelling of tequila, Rosa will kill me.”

  I tossed him a water bottle. "We don't have any tequila right now anyway.” Even in human form, Paul's reflexes were lighting fast. He caught the bottle before it started a downward fall toward the table.

  “Thanks.”

  Dusty reappeared wearing the pair of hunter green silk shorts I brought him for Yule last year and carrying my blue robe over one arm obviously sending Paul the message that he’d interrupted something. He handed me the robe and settled on the opposite end of the table from Paul.

  I took the robe then discretely tossed the towel toward the washer that I could barely see. I gave it just a little telekinetic push to make sure it landed on the washer and not the floor. I didn’t need Tiffany fussing about me leaving towels lying around in the morning, and if it was off the floor, she wouldn't say anything.

  “I understand congratulations are in order,” I said, sitting next to Dusty. “So how’s fatherhood?”

  “It’s nothing like what I expected, but the whole pride’s doing as much as they can. They’re treating Rosa like a queen. You know this is the first birth that the pride’s had in almost ten years.” He puffed up a little bit. The fear that shone in his eyes in the yard had vanished in his pride.

  “Wow that’s a cause to celebrate,” Dusty said.

  “Oh, the pride’s been celebrating since the birth. We’re going to have the naming ceremony next full moon. The invitations will be going out in the next few days. If I’d been thinking, I’d have brought pictures, but I kinda hurried over,” Paul paused and glanced back over his shoulder toward the door.

  “Paul, what’s going on? Are you being followed?” I asked, looking straight in his dark brown eyes.

  “I don't think I was followed, but something weird’s going on. I can't go to the police with it since it’s a wer problem and I can't go to the Council since my priest wants to keep it quiet for fear of losing face in the community.” His nervous look returned in full force.

  “Gee this sounds familiar. Don't tell me. Let me guess. Someone is trying to take over the priest’s territory and is killing jaguars to do it. And he wants us to investigate.” This was definitely a pattern and not one I wanted to see.

  “Well, close” Paul replied. “He wants me to investigate and I want your help.”

  I started to open my mouth, then his hand popped up.

  “Look, I'm a police officer and the Council contact on the police force. I should be able to get leads on this. Unfortunately I am on family leave which cuts off my access to the official police channels I can go through to get information.” He set his water bottle down on the table. “I can still get some through the Council. I know that old Coyote’s made some discreet inquires to the Council about missing wers.”

  Dusty leaned back in his chair. “I was under the impression that Toby had been in touch with the local wers, trying to find out if anyone else was missing people and came back that it was just the wolves missing people.”

  Paul shook his head. “No one’s come to the jaguars asking anything. He might have asked Sliver, since she works at Coyote's Place. But since she’s a puma, she doesn't get as much information as the rest of the pride. I'm not sure if she even knows we’re missing people. We just include her due to a treaty that was signed with one of the prides of pumas out west that’s supporting one of our people while he’s in their territory. So far we’ve lost two people and several more have reported being stalked.”

  I felt a flicker of hope for information. “Did you happen to get any description?”

  Paul shook his head again and looked sad. “Unfortunately not. They never saw anything for sure. They just had the feeling that there was another predator of some kind there, but they could never get a visual. One of them said there was an odd smell. He could not give me anything to compare it to. He just said it was odd.”

  “Well that’s more than the wolves have,” I mused. “How long have these been going on?”

  “Since the last moon,” Paul replied

  “Just like the wolves. Do you know of anyone new in your territory?”

  “Just a couple of werelions passing thro
ugh on tour from Egypt,” he explained. “They came in last night and will be leaving in the morning. They’re seeing what the world holds and looking for a new place to settle down. Seems the Dark Continent is getting a bit crowded for their people, so they’re looking over here.” I recalled the lions we’d seen earlier.

  “Right, they were at Coyote's Place this evening having dinner,” Dusty replied for me. “Do you know if they’ve decided where they’re going to settle yet?”

  “Well we’ve made a couple of suggestions to them, but advised them that there are enough cats in the Dallas area and they don't need to look too close. They’re also looking for somewhere more desert like. They like Albuquerque or Flagstaff. The last we heard, the prides out there were rather thin and wouldn’t be affected too harshly by additional competition and there are pronghorn antelope out there to remind them of home.” Paul paused only for a moment, obviously deciding it was not a pride secret.

  “What about the bird I saw at Coyote's place?”

  “I haven't been able to confirm anything about a werebird, but there have been rumors for a couple of years about either a werehawk or wereagle in the area,” said Paul, his curiosity perking. “As you know, they’re all officially extinct after that incident back in World War Two when Hitler killed off the last aerie, but there have been sightings around the world since then.”

  “Well I saw someone tonight at Coyote's Place that had the aura of a wer, but the image was a bird of some kind. You might tell your people to keep an eye out. I'll pass the information along to the Council on the bird, but nothing else.” I knew what I’d seen, and now that he reminded me, I knew how unique it would be too. The wereagle incident was one of the points that people wanting to keep us in the shadows used as a reason to do so. They didn’t want to end up destroyed by human ignorance or wind up in a lab somewhere.

  “I'll pass that along,” said Paul, the wheels visibly turning in his head. “That’s interesting information, since the attacks on my people definitely look like something a wer would do, but we can't get a recognizable scent from the scenes. None of my people will have ever encountered a werebird.”

  “How long since the last attack?” I asked, drawing Paul back to the part of the discussion we could follow for the moment.

  “Two nights, over in Turtle Creek Park.”

  “Has the scene been disturbed much since then?” There hadn’t been any rain since then, but the fog had been thick last night and the creek would have made it even thicker in the park which was in a little depression that ran along the creek.

  “I went over the scene with some of my people looking for clues, but other than that and the local foot traffic that it gets, no. We removed the body as soon as we found her and the police haven’t been there.” Worry clouded Paul's eyes. The conflicting duties of a police officer with his ties to his pride and the Council often tore at him.

  I glanced at the clock. It was nearly four and I knew Tiffany would be setting up things for me to do by noon if she could. But it was a lead and the sooner we moved the better. “Can you show us the place right now?”

  “At your standard rates?”

  “How about favors, we’re already getting paid on this one. We help you out on this, you help us out on something down the road.” I offered a handshake across the table to seal the deal.

  “I can live with a favor.” He smiled and grasped my hand.

  “Maybe two,” Dusty added.

  “Okay, give us a moment to change and we'll be ready to roll.” I grabbed Dusty's hand and led him up the stairs. He didn’t look overly happy. When we got into the bedroom, I could see that he had hastily set out the candles around the room when he had come up earlier to grab the shorts and robe.

  I pulled him close and kissed him. “Oh Dusty, do you want me to go down and see if this can wait until the afternoon and have Tiffany pencil him in?”

  His ran his hand across my chest under the robe and lightly squeezed a nipple. “No, we both know that the longer a trail sits the colder it gets. This one has been sitting for a couple of days already. We should go now.” He pushed the robe off my shoulders before hugging me tightly. “There will be time for all of this later.” His teeth teased my ear as he pushed his shorts toward the floor. “We should hurry. Paul will worry if it takes too long.” He said as he went over to the dresser and bent over to retrieve a well-worn pair of jeans from the bottom drawer, his pale ass promising things for later.