Devon Monk - [Ordinary Magic 02] - Devils and Details

“Did I black out?” Ryder’s words slurred. He blinked hard as if pulling up out of a dream. “Wasn’t he just sitting there? Did he...disappear?”

  I wanted to smack him for being such an idiot for accepting Mithra’s offer. But he was looking at me with genuine confusion, and I just didn’t have it in me to make him hurt.

  Being the warden of Ordinary was going to do enough of that.

  “Let’s go home.” I stashed the powers in the inside pocket of my jacket, the singing pulsing against my skin, vibrating through my bones with a delicious, familiar heat.

  Ryder followed me out of the casino without a word.

  Chapter 16

  We drove toward town, silent.

  Finally, Ryder spoke. “Can we stop for a coffee?”

  I wanted to tell him no. We were about fifteen minutes outside Ordinary. He could wait until we got back to the station to get something to drink. But I could use a little quiet without him next to me. A minute to catch my breath. Sending him to get coffee would work.

  “We’ll grab something at the Flying Tackle.”

  I slowed and turned on my blinker giving plenty of time for the cars behind us to brake so we could make the left into the Flying Tackle’s pot-hole-riddled parking lot.

  The bait shop sat between Highway 18 and the Salmon River and was a long skinny rectangle painted turquoise blue. A salmon mural covered some of the outer wall to the left, and the few windows it had clustered around the narrow door were filled with flyers about fishing trips, hunting licenses, and boats for sale. On the other side of the door and windows squatted a big old ice machine under a sign that declared “Ice Cold Beer.”

  To round out the decor was an American flag on a pole, and a few white plastic chairs around a patio table.

  I parked in front of the shop and turned off the Jeep.

  Even though Ryder had said he was thirsty, he wasn’t moving.

  “This is as fancy as it’s gonna get,” I said.

  “Right.” He rubbed his fingers over his face, as if shaking off a daydream. “Right. Think you can explain to me what really happened back there at the casino?”

  “You met a god and he lured you to the dark side.”

  “Really. Is that what really happened?”

  I looked over at him. His fingertips were kneading the muscle right above his knee, as if that would somehow keep him grounded in reality.

  “You believe in vampires, Ryder. Why is the idea of deities so difficult?”

  “I’m an atheist?”

  “Not any more you’re not. You worship at the foot of Mithra.”

  “That’s not even a real name. He’s not even a real god.”

  “It is. He is. You can Wiki that up.”

  He drew one hand up to cup his mouth as he leaned an elbow on the window. “I didn’t...I know I said I’d let you handle it...”

  “You didn’t let me handle it. You buckled in front of a god, and let him bully you into a decision that will change your life without knowing the consequences.”

  “I thought it was the right thing to do.”

  “You didn’t trust me.”

  The rain drizzled around us, clouds parting enough to allow sunlight to turn it liquid gold.

  “I was trying to help you.” His words were small, uncertain in a way I hadn’t heard since we were kids. “It was...a lot to process. I’ve had training. I know how to deal with creatures beyond the human. But that was.... Every word was painful. And he wasn’t even talking to me. I can’t imagine—how did you just sit there? How did you tell him no over and over again?”

  “I’m meant for this, Ryder. My family’s been doing this for generations. I know how to deal with gods, how to handle Mithra because that’s not the first time I’ve ever had to deal with him. If you had listened to me, I would have kept you safe.”

  “Maybe I don’t want you keeping me safe, Delaney. Maybe I want you to let me in.”

  “I let you in. You remember that one and only date we had? You pushed me away.”

  “It had taken me a year to get you to even look at me. A year of watching you be a cop, following in your father’s footsteps because that’s what he expected of you. You didn’t see me as anything other than another person in town you had to protect. I didn’t want to be your responsibility. And I didn’t want you tangled up in the agency I work for.”

  “You could have told me that.”

  “You could have told me the secrets you were keeping.”

  We sat there for a moment. I didn’t know what he was thinking about, but I was thinking about missed chances and stupid decisions.

  “So where does that leave us?” I asked.

  The clouds shifted again, dulling the gold drizzle to silver and ash.

  “I’d like...I’d like it to leave us at a beginning.”

  “A fresh start like nothing happened?”

  “No. A fresh start like something did.”

  “Does that fresh start come with you buying me coffee?”

  He smiled. “I might even toss in the cream and sugar for free.”

  I pushed out of the Jeep and so did he. We started toward the shop. Before I’d even reached the concrete sidewalk running in front of the building I heard the muffled growl.

  It was a sound that reached in and plucked the primal chords of fear and hunter and danger inside me. I held perfectly still.

  Ryder stopped. “Laney?” he whispered.

  I held up a finger and tipped my head to my left, while shivers prickled across my skin.

  The growl sounded again, low, angry, deadly.

  I knew that sound, though I’d never heard it like that before.

  There was a werewolf close by. A werewolf in pain.

  “Easy,” I said, keeping my voice soft. “I know you’re hurt. I’m here to help you.”

  “What?” Ryder asked.

  I held up another finger, waited for the answer. The wind pushed through the fir trees behind the bait shop. The cars shooting down the highway behind me were a steady hiss.

  Werewolves ranged outside Ordinary all the time. It wasn’t all that odd for one to be here at the bait shop. But the thing that was unusual was to hear one. Werewolves were shadow-silent unless they wanted to be heard.

  Or were injured.

  “You’re going to be okay,” I said to the wolf I could not see. “I’m Delaney Reed and if you’re part of the Wolfe clan, you know I’m a friend. I’m going to make sure you’re okay. So I’m going to turn now and come to you, all right?”

  I waited, didn’t hear anything else. I headed left toward the end of the building where I thought I’d heard the sound.

  Ryder followed quietly behind me, his boots crunching in step with mine on the loose, wet gravel.

  I saw the blood before I rounded the corner of the building.

  Then I saw the werewolf. Not just any werewolf: Jame.

  “Shit,” Ryder whispered.

  Jame was mid-shift, lying on his stomach, his body lengthened and nude and mostly human, but his face elongated, hands and feet sharp with claws, face fully fanged and dark fur covering most of his body.

  “Is he a...is that a...”

  I shot Ryder a look and he shut his mouth.

  “Jame,” I said soothingly, “it’s Delaney. You’re hurt. I need to see how badly you’re hurt, okay?”

  He was breathing too hard, his back rising and falling as he panted, growling as his ribs, lumpy and looking to be broken, shifted.

  “Call 911,” I said to Ryder as I eased my way forward. “Request Mykal Rossi and only him. We need an ambulance out here.”

  Jame growled, but it ended in a low whine, as if even that took too much effort.

  Ryder hadn’t moved, probably still trying to decide if werewolves were as easy to accept as vampires, or if they fell under the unbelievable like gods.

  “Reserve Officer, Bailey,” I said. “Now.”

  He snapped out of whatever trance he’d been in, and pulled his phone, quick
ly dialing and reporting the details.

  I scanned the scrubby area and looked into the trees, wondering if Ben was anywhere near. I thought they’d told me they were going on a fact-finding mission.

  Crap. They probably had done that.

  This was the result.

  “Jame, I’m going to touch your shoulder, then your head.” I stopped beside him, then crouched down. He hadn’t moved except for breathing.

  The smell of mud and rain, motor oil and blood filled my nose.

  I reached out and put my fingertips on his shoulder.

  An angry werewolf had reflexes like lightning and could tear a person’s arm out of the socket with one swipe. Jame felt hot to the touch, his fur thinned so I could feel the flesh beneath. It was sticky with blood.

  “You’re okay. It’s going to be okay.” I touched the back of his head and winced at the give of his skull. Something had hit him hard enough that it was probably only his werewolf healing ability that was keeping him alive.

  “Don’t move, we got you.”

  “Ambulance is on the way,” Ryder said. “Shouldn’t we be applying pressure to his wounds?”

  “Nothing big enough I can see to cause all this blood,” I said.

  We’d need to turn him over and make sure he wasn’t gushing out of a gut or chest wound.

  “Help me roll him over.”

  Ryder walked to the other side of Jame, who opened his eyes—gold and hot—and snarled at me.

  “It’s Ryder. He knows. He’s safe. Trust me.”

  Jame’s eyes clouded with pain and his mouth opened in a silent whine.

  “This is gonna hurt. But we got you. Ready?” I glanced at Ryder.

  It had started raining harder. Ryder was wet with it and I knew I was too even though I didn’t feel it.

  “It’s me Jame,” Ryder said. “You took a hell of a hit buddy, but we got you.”

  Ryder and I locked eyes, then moved Jame as easily as we could onto his back.

  Jame whimpered, a soft almost child-like sound, and then went completely limp as he passed out.

  “Holy fuck.” Ryder pulled his hands away from Jame and shifted on the balls of his feet. “What the hell is that?”

  It was blood.

  A lot of blood.

  Written in scrolling symbols across his skin. His fur.

  But it was not his blood.

  There were no gushing wounds.

  I had seen these symbols before.

  On Sven.

  Ichor techne.

  “Get some pictures,” I told Ryder.

  He paused.

  “Before the rain washes it away. Photos. Of the symbols, his body, then the surrounding area.”

  Ryder got busy, while I gently pressed my fingers to the side of Jame’s neck, looking for a pulse.

  His heartbeat was thready and uneven. He hadn’t shifted back into human form even though he was unconscious. His survival instinct had taken over, and his body was working hard to heal.

  I pulled my fingers away from his neck. They were tacky with blood.

  “Here.” Ryder held out a kerchief.

  I took it and pressed it against Jame’s neck. That wound was the only one still leaking blood that I could find. I knew what had caused it. It was a bite. A puncture made by two fangs.

  A vampire bite.

  Jame’s breathing changed and his eyes slitted open, amber burning through.

  “Jame,” I asked gently, “where’s Ben?”

  He snarled and showed teeth, but it was all he could manage. He lay there, staring at me, eyes like fire, chest rising and falling with shallow little jerks.

  I scanned the area again. Didn’t see any sign of Ben. “Check inside the shop.” I told Ryder. “Be careful.”

  I had a moment to worry if I should have sent Ryder in there. I hoped he wasn’t kidding about carrying his gun. Mine was in the Jeep, and there was every chance whoever had done this to Jame was still around.

  There was also every chance that whoever had done this to Jame couldn’t be stopped by a gun.

  I shifted on my feet, reluctant to move out of Jame’s line of vision. When I moved away, intending to check on Ryder, Jame whined and tried to reach out for me, which made him moan even more painfully.

  “I’m right here,” I said, holding the cloth to his neck. “I won’t leave.”

  He worked his mouth. I knew he was trying to tell me something but with all his teeth and panting, it was impossible to sort out anything close to actual words.

  The 911 call would go straight to Myra and Jean too, so they were on their way. But I needed someone else. I need Rossi.

  I tugged my phone from my pocket and dialed Rossi one-handed.

  “Delaney,” he said, drawing out my name.

  “Where’s Ben?”

  Silence. One heartbeat. Two.

  “He’s not in Ordinary,” Rossi breathed. “I can’t feel him in Ordinary.”

  “I just found Jame at the Flying Tackle. He’s hurt. There’s blood. I need you to tell me whose blood this belongs to.”

  The phone line went dead.

  We were about fifteen minutes outside of Ordinary. Rossi lived toward the south end of town. In a car it might take him twenty minutes to reach us.

  But he didn’t need a car.

  Less than a minute passed before Rossi came striding up through the trees, his dark hair loose around his face, eyes red with anger.

  He paused, just the slightest hesitation, before he was within arm distance, his black boots not quite touching the puddle of blood and rainwater surrounding Jame.

  “Whose blood is it?” I asked.

  “Ben’s.”

  The word was growled so low, I almost didn’t hear it. But Jame heard it. He whined again, his hand spasming as he tried to move.

  Rossi’s head jerked once, eyes going wide, then narrow as he took in the symbols.

  “It’s the same as Sven, isn’t it?” I asked.

  He knelt next to me, long fingers surprisingly gentle as he removed my hand from the cloth at Jame’s neck.

  His nostrils flared as he stared at the bite there.

  “Is that bite from Ben?” I was afraid of his answer but needed to hear it.

  “No.”

  Hell. “What happens when a vampire bites someone else’s boyfriend?”

  “War.”

  The thin wail of an approaching ambulance filled the air, and just behind it, around it, punching through it like needles through thick cloth, was the howling of wolves.

  Jame’s family, his clan, his pack, all the Wolfes in Ordinary were coming, calling, howling for their own.

  Chapter 17

  It was controlled chaos. The Wolfes had arrived just before the ambulance, my sisters, and about a dozen of the Rossi clan.

  Jean had quickly told Dave, the owner of the bait shop, that he needed to be closed for the day, promised an update as soon as she had it, and sent him home in his truck.

  Dave hadn’t had a chance to see Jame, since the ambulance, Jean’s truck, and Myra’s cruiser were strategically parked to block anyone’s view.

  Myra had cordoned off the scene of the crime, stringing yellow police tape like a particularly industrious spider.

  My job was to try to keep the werewolves and vampires from killing each other.

  Rossi and Granny both held tight to their human forms, so much so that I almost didn’t notice Rossi’s red or Granny’s hot silver eyes.

  When the wolves had arrived, in wolf form, a wall of gray and black and mottled brown, heavily furred, some big, some lean, but all of them killers, defenders, brothers/sisters/pack, I’d let them surround Jame.

  Yes, it meant there was probably going to be a loss of evidence with the wolves walking through the blood and gravel.

  But I’d dare anyone to stand in the way of a pack that wanted to get to their fallen brother.

  I just hoped Ryder’s pictures would give us what we needed to find the bastard who had done this. br />
  Rossi had had the sense to back off a little ways while the wolves circled Jame, whining, growling, trying to lick, but wincing from the taste of the blood while snarling with ears flattened and tails tucked.

  Granny Wolfe wasn’t the biggest wolf of the pack, but there was no doubt she was the alpha. Her fur was black with streaks of gray, and she sniffed around Jame, bared her huge teeth, then paced over to Rossi and stopped in front of him.

  She shifted from wolf to human so quickly, it looked fluid and painless, like her bones and body hadn’t just gone from one state to another in a painfully fast three seconds.

  Then she was standing there, naked, in front of Rossi, fury on her face, her hands at her sides in loose fists, like she was trying to keep her claws from popping out.

  Short, naked, and petite, Granny’s body didn’t show her age. She radiated power. Her body was lean and lightly muscled beneath tanned skin that seemed painted on over sinew and bone.

  Rossi’s eyes never left her face. He pulled off the loose sweatshirt he was wearing, revealing the plain black tank top beneath. His muscled arms were swoon-worthy if one was into ancient ex-soldier vampires. He held the sweatshirt out to her.

  She stared at him, never deviating her gaze to the proffered sweater.

  She crossed her arms, making it loud and clear that she’d rather stand there naked in the rain, than accept a piece of clothing offered by a vampire.

  Crap. The last thing I needed was the uncertain peace between the vamps and weres to turn into a certain war.

  “Granny?” Myra walked up to the pile of wolves and around them, giving enough room so they only followed her with their eyes instead of lunging toward her. “I brought you a blanket.”

  Granny took the blanket from her, not looking away from Rossi.

  “You dare think you can claim one of mine?” she snarled.

  The blanket hung from her hand, and every muscle in her body was bunching up. Twitching, coiling with the need to attack.

  “I have claimed no one.”

  A shift of shadows behind Rossi, and there were now twenty or so Rossis glaring at her and her pack with eyes that somehow managed to look hungry for blood, but bored that all they’d have to do to get it was kick werewolf butt.