Shadow led us into the living room where Quinn turned to me. He pulled out the disk and held it out to me.
"A deal's a deal, Detective," he reminded me.
I handed him the vial and got the disk for my trouble. The case was a little scuffed from our fun, but otherwise the disk looked like it would work.
My plans for the disk were derailed for a moment when I noticed Quinn pop the vial. He leaned his back his head and downed the entire contents in a couple of gulps. Quinn put the cork back on the mouth and frowned.
"Could have used a couple of fresh pints," he commented.
"Is a dose of vampire's blood good for the heart?" I asked him.
He shook his head. "No, but it'll help me sleep easier during the day knowing no one else will have my blood," he told me.
I raised an eyebrow and pointed at the empty blood vial. "So that was your blood?"
"Ever astute, Detective," he complimented as he raised the vial to level with his face. He peered into the empty vial and frowned. "It was stolen from me a century ago and landed in the claws of that mercenary. I didn't know, and didn't want to know, what he'd do with it, so I had you get it for me."
"And risk my neck for a disk I can't even access," I commented as I looked at the disk.
"I have a computer here you may use," Shadow spoke up.
Quinn and I turned to Shadow in surprise. I held up the disk so he could see it and waved it back and forth.
"You really want me to play this?" I asked him.
"I don't believe I could keep you from the truth forever even if I wanted to," he pointed out.
I snorted. "I wish you would've learned that sooner."
"Some lessons must be learned the hard way," he returned. He stepped aside and swept his arm towards a staircase that led up to the second floor. "If you'd follow me."
I frowned and looked him over. "This isn't one of your tricks to get me into bed, is it?"
"Please don't go into details around me," Quinn quipped.
Shadow shook his head. "No. No more tricks, no more lies, no more secrets. I'll allow you to learn anything you want, starting with that disk."
I studied his face, but finally nodded. "All right, lead the way."
Shadow glanced at Quinn. "Would you mind-" Quinn held up a hand.
"I already know your secrets, and I'm not interested in a re-viewing of the disk," Quinn assured him.
Shadow bowed his head. "All right. You can find some blood packets in the fridge and-"
"Blood? Like human blood?" I spoke up.
"Sheep and chicken, mostly," Shadow told me. "It curbs the cravings of the wolf during the full moon."
"I wouldn't expect a werewolf to have the best vintage, anyway," Quinn commented. He walked over to the couch and made himself comfortable. "Call if you need me, and scream if you want to warn me."
"No one will find us here," Shadow assured him.
"You never can tell with Night," Quinn argued.
"We'll find out later," I interrupted. I looked to Shadow. "Now where's that computer?"
"Follow me," he requested.
CHAPTER 31
I followed him upstairs to an office with plain white walls, a futon, and a desk with a laptop and cushioned office chair. He walked over and inserted the disk, and I took a seat in the chair. The screen lit up with activity and demanded a user name and password, which Shadow typed in at a speed that I couldn't follow. The computer desktop came up and asked if we wanted to view the contents on the disk.
"I'll leave the rest to you to sort out for yourself," he told me.
He left, and I guided the mouse over to the 'yes' button to view the disk and clicked it. The disk contents popped up and showed folders filled with documents, pictures, transaction reports. You name it, Quinn had somehow gotten a hold of it.
"It pays to live forever. . ." I murmured as I went to the first folder.
It was named 'Current History,' and right then the current was pretty important. I opened the folder and browsed the contents. The first thing that caught my eye was a photo meant to be applied to an ID. I clicked on the photo and the image program enlarged the photo.
My eyes widened and I fell back in my chair. In front of me was a picture of Dr. Thomas Lowell, the man who'd treated me at the hospital and who had once owned the Moonstone. The photo was for his hospital ID, but the name of the file was 'Shadow.' My detective mind hearkened back to the study and Night's comment about my being Shadow's patient. It looked like he was telling the truth.
I leaned forward and scrolled through the rest of the files and documents. It was all there. The fake documents, the comparison in facial structure to the good doctor and Shadow that showed a good match, though not perfect.
Then I stumbled on something odd. It was not one birth certificate, but a half dozen. They all had different names, dates, parents, but the one thing they had in common was that the date of birth was always roughly thirty years apart from each other. I couldn't understand it until I noticed on a file in the main folder named 'Werewolf Myths and Realities - Read This First, Detective.'
I shrugged and clicked it. "Better late than never," I muttered.
The document that came up helped explain the birth certificates. Werewolves weren't just creatures of extraordinary strength and agility. They were demi-gods who lived several lifetimes beyond humans. Their bodies aged at a twelfth the rate as a normal human, if their aging could be distinguished at all. They were nearly immortal, and Shadow had spent all that time and energy on building an empire that covered most of the city, and several parts of the state and country.
I flipped through the folders and gave each of the documents a cursory look. His empire ruled over everything from blackmail and gambling to gaming the municipal bond system to rake in millions, maybe even billions of dollars a year. I leaned forward and clutched my head in my hands as I closed my eyes.
"Damn it. How the hell did this get past us?" I whispered.
"If by 'us' you're referring to the police and administrations, it's because some of them are werewolves," a voice spoke up.
I spun around to find Shadow in the doorway. He leaned against the door frame with his lips pursed tightly together. I glared at him.
"Planted there or were they changed like me?" I questioned him.
"A little of both," he admitted. Shadow pushed off from the doorway and walked over to the desk. He leaned down and studied the contents on the screen. "Quinn is very thorough."
I studied the werewolf's face. "Yeah. He even knows who you are."
A little smile slipped onto Shadow's lips. "I never meant for you to get involved so deeply in my personal affairs."
"You should've thought about that the night those guys attacked your club," I retorted.
He turned to me and his eyes swept over my face. His features were a blank slate I couldn't read. "Would it do me any good to tell you those men were sent by Night?"
I shook my head. "No, because you haven't told me what his story is, or even much of yours." I tapped on the folder that held his hospital ID picture. "Why didn't you tell me who you were when I went to question you about the Moonstone?"
Shadow stood straight and sighed. "Because I still foolishly hoped to keep you from the deeper depths of my aliases. At least until you had adjusted to the changes in your body. That's why I came to you as I am."
"Yeah, that worked out great," I quipped.
"I see now that I should have been forthcoming with you long before this," he conceded.
I pursed my lips and nodded my head at his body. "How does that work, anyway? You don't look much like the doctor."
"A trick for those werewolves who can change their skeletal structure and hair color without the use of plastic surgery or dye," he explained.
"The surgeon world would hate you, and a lot of scientists would love to see us both on the cutting room table," I quipped.
Shadow backed up and took a seat on the futon. "Immortality does have the a
llure of bringing out the worst in people who wish to obtain it," he agreed.
"So it's true? Werewolves really don't age?" I asked him.
"It's true," he confirmed.
"So are you really-" I turned to the screen and scrolled a bit. "-a hundred and eighty years old?"
"Give or take five years," he replied.
"And judging by these financial graphs, you must be worth quite a bit," I added.
"Greater than I dare let the world know," he told me. "And I'm willing to share some of that wealth with you," he offered.
"I think I'll pass. There's something more important I want to know." I jerked my thumb at the screen. "I saw a lot of ways to get this curse, but I didn't see any way of breaking it."
"Because there isn't any way," he revealed. "That is, other than the ultimate release. Death."
My heart sank. I looked away from him and ran a hand through my hair. "Damn it. . ." I muttered.
Shadow leaned forward with his arms over his legs. "I may not be able to give you your life back, but I promise I will give you the best life I can."
I snorted. "If that life lasts that long. It looks like I've been dropped into the middle of a turf war between you and that Night guy."
Shadow pursed his lips, but gave a nod. "Yes. With our attempted murder Night has essentially declared war on my faction. It's only a matter of time before more fights break out and the city plummets into turmoil."
"Quinn's disk doesn't tell me who he is, and you guys acted like father and son, but the roles were reversed," I commented. "So who the hell is he?"
"He isn't my biological child, but I did give him the curse, and among werewolves that could be considered a parent-child relationship," he explained.
I frowned and pointed my finger between us. "That doesn't make us-" He smiled and shook his head.
"No. I would consider you my mate," he admitted.
"Where I come from it's called friends-with-benefits," I quipped.
He raised his eyebrows. "Are we merely friends?"
"Don't push your luck," I warned him. "You're the one who got me into a lot of these messes, remember?"
"And I've promised to get you out of them, and I always keep my promises," he returned.
"But not oaths of marriage. Night said something about a mom, and I didn't hear anything about a divorce," I commented.
A smile slipped onto his lips. "If I didn't know any better I would guess you were jealous," he teased.
"I'm not jealous, I'm thorough, and I don't want to spend all day rummaging through Quinn's file dump on your life to find all the relations who might try to kill both you and me," I countered.
"His 'mother,' as he calls her, is a former mate of mine from when I turned him fifty years ago," Shadow explained. "She and I had a falling out about Night's methods of doing business a dozen years ago and have seen very little of each other since."
"So you're not hiding a harem like your prodigal son?" I asked him.
"No, though it is a common practice among werewolves," he admitted.
"Human trafficking might be popular for werewolves, but it's still illegal where I come from," I quipped.
"Where you come from is the werewolves," he pointed out. "Whether you choose to admit it or not, you are now a part of our society."
I stood and crossed my arms over my chest. "Fine, let's say I accept my being stuck as a werewolf for a really long eternity. What do I do now? Go get a job as a flea picker or fur barber?" I questioned him.
Shadow smiled. "I don't mean to brag, but I am quite rich and somewhat of a playboy. You could remain with me-" A dark frown graced my lips, "-for the time being," he hurriedly added. "Until the war is over and you find the right occupation that fits your unique skills."
"I think the detective business is all she knows," a voice spoke up. We both looked to the doorway and found Quinn leaning against the frame. There was a smug smile on his face. "Besides, she wouldn't be the first detective to be a werewolf."
"Don't you have a puppy or beautiful woman to drain dry?" I retorted.
"Actually, that last suggestion isn't so awful, and I do feel peckish for a fresher juice," he quipped.
Shadow stood and frowned. "I can't let you leave here. You might-" Quinn held up his hand.
"I'm no Boyscout, but I know how to keep secrets, and keeping this one benefits both of us. Besides, I don't plan on getting caught by Night's men," he replied.
"Then what will you do?" Shadow asked him.
"What I do best. Find information and sell it to the highest bidder," Quinn answered. His eyes flickered to Shadow and a smile slipped onto his pale lips. "And since I know how much you're worth I'm offering my services to you."
Shadow raised an eyebrow. "How can I be sure you won't sell your information to Night?"
Quinn pushed off the door frame and shrugged. "The only way you can be sure of that is if you take my offer now. Otherwise I'll have to find another buyer."
"Then I have no choice but to accept your 'offer,'" Shadow agreed.
"Good. I'll see what I can dig up about Night's latest dealings and get back to you," Quinn promised.
"I have other sources for his movements," Shadow informed him.
Quinn grinned. "You've seen how thorough I can be when the reward's worth the effort. I'm sure I'll dig up something your sources won't find. In the meantime, don't spend all your money in one place."
Quinn slipped away and in a few moments we were alone. Shadow turned to me.
"Your vampire friend is most peculiar," he commented.
I held up my hands. "Don't blame me for him. He's been that way ever since I met him. Besides, he's got the right idea. What can a girl eat around here?"
Shadow smiled and swept his hand towards the door. "Anything you desire."
CHAPTER 32
He wasn't kidding. The fridge was stocked with a wide variety of cut pork, hamburger, steaks, lamb chops, chicken, pheasant, duck, and even a whole salmon.
"Your fridge is a vegan's worst nightmare," I told him.
"But the best food for a werewolf," he returned.
I stood in front of the open fridge and Shadow sat on a stool at the short bar that separated the kitchen from the dining room. A cold but cooked leg of chicken caught my eye, and I took it from its leggy brethren and tore a sizable bite from the bone.
"So is this your main hideout or is it that other place you took me to?" I asked him through a mouthful of chicken.
"Neither, though I do prefer the seclusion this apartment offers," he replied.
I moved to stand on the side of the bar opposite him and I leaned over the top. "So what's your story, anyway?" I questioned him.
He raised an eyebrow. "My story? Quinn provided you-" I waved the chicken in front of him.
"I know what Quinn gave me, but I want to hear it from the asses mouth," I insisted.
He shrugged. "I was raised on a small farm in the Midwest, and as a young man I ventured to the cities in the northeast to make my fortune. Unfortunately, fate had something else in mind."
"And you ran into a werewolf," I guessed.
Shadow nodded. "Yes. His intention was to make a meal out of me, but I got the better of him in our fight. He no doubt never expected to meet a farm boy with a silver pen in his breast pocket. I used that to stab him in the chest."
I raised an eyebrow. "What were you doing with a silver pen?"
"My plan was to become a reporter, but instead I became part of the news," he told me. "No one believed my story that the person I killed in self-defense had been a monster, and even I didn't fully believe myself until the next full moon."
"When you transformed," I guessed.
He gave a nod. "Yes. The change made me realize I needed to adjust my plan, so I followed the dead werewolf's trail and found a small enclave of other cursed people. They taught me what I needed to know, and I went out into the world with the knowledge that, barring some accident or murder, I had a lot of time on my ha
nds."
"As far as empires go, that's not that great of a story," I quipped.
He chuckled. "No, I suppose not, but it's the only one with the whole truth."
"Speaking of truth, is your name really Thomas Sowell?" I wondered.
Shadow shook his head. "No. Just my current alias."
"So what do I call you? Thomas, like Gloria called you?" I asked him.
"I would rather you kept with Shadow. That name suits me better than any other, even my original one," he admitted.
"So which one of those birth certificates had your real name?" I inquired.
"The one that read Ferdinand Finkle," he told me.
I swallowed a bite of chicken that was a little too large for my throat. "You're right, Shadow is a lot better," I choked out.
I set the leg chicken on the counter and coughed on the piece I swallowed. Shadow slipped off the stool and patted me lightly on the back.
"Easy there. I don't want you to die from something as wasteful as chicken," he teased me.
"I can. . .handle myself," I insisted.
My chicken was choked up when Shadow wrapped his arms around me. He leaned down and his soft breath wafted over my ear.
"But I would rather do that," he whispered.
I felt a blush rise in my cheeks and I tried to pull myself out of his grasp, but he held me tight. Shadow pulled my back against his hard, firm chest.
"I don't need the Heimlich," I told him.
I gasped when I felt his sharp teeth nibble on my ear. "No, but it has been some time since you satiated another need."
"I-I don't think that's what we should be focusing on," I stuttered.
He chuckled. "No one will find us here unless I send for them. We're completely alone."
His hands reached up and cupped my breasts in his palms. He massaged my mounds of flesh and ignited a hot fire inside me. I leaned back and bit my lower lip to keep back the groan.
"Don't fight it," he whispered. "Don't fight me."
He spun me around and pressed our lips together in a hot, possessive kiss. My stubborn refusal melted against the fire of his lust, and my own need for him overtook me. The new feral nature inside of me took control, and we soon found ourselves in the bedroom.
He lay me down on the bed and pressed half of his body over mine. My chest heaved with each excited gasp, and I squirmed beneath the fiery glow in his yellow eyes. His hand swept up my side and his claws cut through my pants and underwear. They fell away in ribbons and revealed the quivering flesh of my ample hip. His fingers toyed with my hip before they slid to my inner thigh. I jerked up when his warm hand slipped into the coarse hair between my legs. His fingers dipped between my hot folds and stroked my sensitive nub.