I let out a breath, and smiled at him. “Actually, I’m fucking”—I pointed to Nicky and he stepped forward —“and”—I pointed at Domino, who moved up to join Nicky. “I forget anyone?” I asked gazing down the line.
Most of them shook their heads, faces very serious. Bobby Lee just stared at Raborn; it was not a good look, or rather it was a very good look if your sense of self-preservation was low.
“See, Raborn, I’m only fucking two of them. Does that make you feel any better?”
He blushed, except the color spread past his hairline and didn’t stay red. He was turning a sort of purple. Either it was the darkest blush I’d ever seen, or he was just that angry. Either way, the reaction was sweet and insulting.
“Any other questions?” I asked him.
He glared at me, and then Clark’s voice came from behind us. I guess she’d finished her phone call and opened the door quietly enough that Raborn and I didn’t hear her. “Marshal Raborn, I need you to drive to Oregon for me, right now.”
He glanced back at her, and then moved so he could keep an eye on both her and us, which meant he wasn’t as stupid as he seemed. “We have a serial killer in Seattle and you’re sending me on some trumped-up errand?”
“As your superior I’m telling you that you are driving to the far side of Oregon today; if you question my orders again, I’ll find something for you to do on the far side of Alaska, is that clear?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m tired of your attitude and because I can. One more word and I promise you that you will be seeing so much real estate that by the time you drive back this case will be over.”
He closed his mouth tight, lips thinned with anger. The flush that had been fading began to darken again. If it was blood pressure, eventually he was going to stroke out if he didn’t learn to control himself. He just nodded.
She handed him a piece of paper. “This is where I want you to drive and what I want you to pick up for me.”
His eyes barely flickered over it before he turned on his heel and marched off. I think he didn’t trust himself to keep quiet if he stayed near us all.
Clark looked at me and Edward, but finally settled on me. “Bringing in lovers as deputies won’t help your reputation, Blake.”
I sighed. “I know, Marshal Clark, but neither of them is just a pretty package. They’ll be an asset to the case, or we wouldn’t have flown them in.”
“They better be more than a booty call, Blake. No offense, gentlemen.”
“None taken,” Nicky said.
Domino just looked at her.
It was her turn to sigh. “Prove to me that they’re more than just pretty, or muscle. Prove to me that they can help us catch these things.”
“Things?” I made it a question.
“Whatever is killing the weretigers isn’t human. Whatever injured Marshal Karlton wasn’t human either. What my marshals chased in the woods with you was sure as hell not human. We have a body in the morgue that is charred halfway between human and animal form. Nothing on this case is human, so until I have another word for them, they’re things, perps, monsters. Now get out there and do something useful.” She went back into her office, and we started moving down the hallway like we had a purpose.
“Raborn is going to be trouble,” Lisandro said.
“He’ll try,” I said.
“How do we stop him?” Domino asked.
Edward said, “Execute the warrant; be so good at the job that he can’t come back at Anita.”
“The job is to kill . . .” Ares hesitated, trying not to say
“Yep,” I said.
Ares smiled, a flash of teeth in his delicate face. “We’ll be good at the job.”
The rest of them just nodded. I realized in that moment we were a pack, a pride, we were a unit. We were —us. And for the first time since I understood that it was the Harlequin killing the weretigers, I felt . . . hopeful.
29
EDWARD WAS AT my right as we walked across the parking lot. Nicky came up on my left. His fingertips brushed mine. I had time to squeeze his fingers before Edward said, “We’ve got company.”
Nicky dropped back a step like a good bodyguard. I knew without looking that Domino was at my back; I could feel him like heat behind me. I was aware of the other men the way I was aware of my surroundings, or men in general, but not the way I was with the other two; they were mine in ways the others were not.
Marshal Newman was leaning against our rental car. He had a nice, noticeable bandage on his forehead. He looked a little pale in the sunlight, so that the few freckles he had stood out against his skin. I hadn’t noticed them last night, or was it two nights ago? I honestly didn’t know what day it was. Newman’s short brown hair looked as if he hadn’t bothered to comb it since he got out of the hospital. He leaned that tall, lanky body on the side of the rental and watched us.
When we were close enough, Edward called out, “How’s the head?” He was back to his happy Ted voice like a new person was walking around in his skin. I was used to it, but sometimes it still creeped me.
“Fine,” Newman said, pushing himself to his feet.
We let it go at that, but Edward and I both knew Newman wasn’t fine. He was functioning, he was well enough to work, but his head probably ached like a son of a bitch. We’d all have given the same answer. He was fine.
“But Karlton isn’t,” he said.
It took me a moment to realize that the last thing I’d heard about Laila Karlton had been waiting to hear back from the tests. “They told me she was going to pull through just fine,” I said.
Newman nodded. “Physically she’s well.”
“Ah,” I said, and I looked down for a moment gathering my thoughts. “So she’s positive for lycanthropy.”
“Yeah,” Newman said.
“What kind?” I asked.
He looked startled. “Does it matter?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
Some of the men around me said, “Oh, yeah . . . Very much.”
Newman looked around at the men. “So you guys really are all lycanthropes?”
“They are,” I said, and Newman looked back at me.
“I didn’t ask what kind of lycanthrope she’s going to be; I didn’t know it would matter that much.”
“It matters for a lot of reasons,” I said.
It was Socrates who stepped up and asked, “I heard about what happened to the marshal. How is she taking the news?”
Newman looked at the other man and just shook his head.
“How bad?” Socrates asked.
Newman’s hands clenched around the hat he was still carrying. “I think if her family weren’t here she’d eat her gun.”
“Shit,” I said. I looked at Edward. “What’s the plan now that we have backup?”
“We go back to the last place they attacked us and use one of your friends here to track them.”
“You mean use them like I got to use werewolves to track that one serial killer in St. Louis?” It had worked so well, I’d hoped that it would become more standard for police around the country. I mean, it was like having a tracking dog that could talk to you, but the prejudice against shapeshifters was too deeply ingrained. You could
