Fair Game (28 page)

“Bed,” she said. “Or you’re going to be married to a zombie.”

He’d intended to talk with her, he remembered, to tell her about his ghosts. But neither of them was in shape for talk.

Charles looked at her and said in his most serious voice, “I don’t think werewolves can become zombies.”

“Trust me,” she said in a passable zombie voice. “Another ten minutes and I will eat your brains.”

He pulled her down onto his lap. “I think I’ll chance it.”

She sighed as if annoyed, though his nose told him she liked being in his embrace. “So,
can
you do this without an audience? Is that what’s been bothering you these past few months? All I needed to do was invite the pack into our bedroom? You should have told me.”

He laughed.
She
made him laugh. “I don’t know. Let’s find out.”

A RATHER LONG
while later, Anna stretched and then flopped comfortably next to him. “Urr, brains,” she said.

“Go to sleep,” Charles growled, pulling her closer.

“I warned you,” she said. “You didn’t let me sleep.” She yawned widely and said regretfully, “And now I have no choice but to eat your brains.”

“Obviously,” he said. “
You need more exercise before you go to sleep.” He rolled onto his back. “I suppose I’ll just have to be a good mate and help you with that.”

She crawled on top of him, naked and warm and soft, smelling like a miracle that had saved him from a lifetime of aloneness.

“I wouldn’t want you to strain anything,” Anna told him. “Why don’t you just lie back and think of England.”

His mouth caught the nearest of her body parts—the soft inside of her elbow—and gave it a light nip. “England is the furthest thing from my mind.”

She settled down on top of him, taking him inside her, and he quit talking altogether. Her eyes were blue, her wolf’s eyes, when she came for him for the second time that night.

Flushed and joyous, Anna bent down and nipped his ear. “No audience necessary, I see.”

“Move,” Charles told her.

She laughed again, her eyes still moonlit azure—but she moved.

THEY SLEPT IN
.

Charles woke up first and watched her face in the late-morning light. It was peaceful and pleased Brother Wolf even though the moon was waxing nearly full and the urge to hunt always ran strong in his bones at that time. Contentment was still something new for Charles, something he’d never experienced in all his long life before he’d met Anna.

“I’ve been thinking about the killers,” Anna said without opening her eyes. “Three people is a pack.”

Charles waited for her to continue.

She sat up with a snap. In a voice filled with hushed excitement she said, “The fae—he’s the soldier, the bottom of the pecking order. Doing as he’s told, when he’s told to do it. The old guy, he’s
the one who started this. He’s the Alpha.”

“Mmm,” Charles said, when it appeared she needed his agreement. The hunting moon might not be stirring Brother Wolf, as long as he had Anna in his bed, but apparently Anna was feeling it pretty strongly.

“Who is the second young one?” she asked. “Do you think he’s the obedient second? Loyal, dedicated? Or is he the Alpha in training, waiting until the old man is too old to control the pack so he can kill him and take over?”

“Neither of us is a trained profiler,” he felt obliged to point out.

She bounced in the bed, her brown eyes glittering with excitement. “Now that Lizzie is rescued, all we have to do is solve the rest.”

“As they have been trying to do for longer than you’ve been alive,” he told her dryly.

“Yes,” she said, “but they didn’t have you and me on the case.”

They had a TV now, and satellite—mostly so Anna could watch her detective shows. She was enjoying this. Charles…He supposed he was enjoying it, too. More now that the innocents were safe, in the hospital or the morgue.

“Motive,” she said in the same voice he imagined Archimedes might have said, “Eureka!” in his bath all those years ago.

“Doesn’t work the same way in serial-killer cases as it does in most murders,” he said. “Serial killers are addicted to the hunt and they aren’t capable of stopping, most of them. Their lives are controlled by the kill.”

“He’s tagging his victims,” Anna said. “What does that say?”

“These are less than human,” said Charles, repeating what they both knew. “Animals I have killed.”

“Right. Animals that he has killed. He’s claiming the kill with that tag.” She frowned. “Aren’t serial killers supposed to try to step into the investigation? To watch
people struggle and fail to solve the case—or to control the case better?”

“I’ve heard that,” Charles agreed. “For some kinds of killers.”

She grinned at him.

“All of which the FBI knows better than we do,” he said. “We’ve probably helped the case as much as we can until someone else is taken.”

Anna sobered. “It’s too bad we weren’t able to hurt the horned lord worse than we did. He was mostly healed by the time he hit the top of the stairs—did you notice? The police don’t have a chance against him.”

“We’ll stay here for a while. Leslie and Goldstein seemed to be sensible people. They’ll call us in if they need us.”

She tilted her head and asked, “What does Brother Wolf say about all of this?”

“That these hunters didn’t get what they want; we stole their prey. They’re going to be hungry and even more dangerous. On the other hand, I, Charles, say that we ought to eat something, as it is long past morning and we missed breakfast and are in danger of missing lunch—and Brother Wolf is pleased to concur.”

“You are always trying to feed me,” she accused him without heat as she got out of bed.

“No, that’s Brother Wolf.” Charles smiled. “I’ll cook.”

CHARLES HAD MEANT
to talk to her about his ghosts over breakfast, because he’d been tired last night, and then he’d been distracted. But something she had said nagged at him.

“Charles?” Anna asked patiently.

“Sorry,” he told her. “Thinking.”

“Do you want some more bacon, or should I put it in the fridge for later?”

There were four pieces left. He took two and ate them. Then he took the other two and held them up to her mouth. “You need more protein.”

She rolled her eyes, but ate them anyway.

“I need to look something up on the Internet,” he said. “Can you get the dishes?”

“You cooked; I’ll clean,” she said.

He took his laptop into the spare bedroom where there was a small writing desk. It was slower than his desktop at home and the screen was too small to let him pull up as many images at a time as he liked to—and the Internet connection here was not too fast, either. He growled in frustration as his fingers flew over the keyboard, as if by moving faster he could coax the machine to greater effort.

He started out with the legitimate things he had access to—Goldstein had sent him a file on the case, as he had promised—and then dug deeper. These killers, these UNSUBS, they had money—had power. Anna was right: they would not be able to stay out of the investigation.

At some point Anna brought him a pizza—though he hadn’t noticed her ordering it. A little later she came in to tap him on the shoulder.

“You, Isaac, and I have been invited to a celebration for Lizzie’s safe return,” she told him.

“I’m waiting for two phone calls,” Charles said.

“This would be an excellent time for some PR with the Boston Police Department—which is important for the Olde Towne Pack. Isaac told me they’ve had some issues this year.”

He rolled his seat back from the desk and looked at his mate. She looked a little antsy and her brown eyes glowed slightly, highlighted with her wolf’s light blue.

It was dark outside, which meant she’d been cooped up in here for
hours with nothing to do but watch TV. And it was close to the full moon. It wasn’t fair to make her sit around any longer.

“This may be a wild-goose chase, but I’m on to something and I’d like to finish it up,” he told her. “Would you agree to letting Isaac be your escort?” Brother Wolf didn’t like it, but Charles didn’t want to smother her. He might be finished in five minutes—or twelve hours. And Isaac was a good fighter; Charles had seen it last night. He’d been outmatched in sheer size and strength and hampered by not being able to see their opponent, but he’d fought smart.

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” said Anna, not fooled for a moment by Charles calling Isaac an escort, but Charles hadn’t expected to get away with it. “We’re going somewhere that will be filled with cops and FBI agents and werewolves. It should be pretty safe. And isn’t an Alpha above being a bodyguard?”

“Humor me,” said Charles.

She sighed heavily—then ruined it with a sly grin. “I told Isaac to come pick me up—and that you were going to make him responsible for my health and well-being.”

“If you knew what I was going to say, why did you come in here and bother me?” He growled with mock annoyance.

Anna laughed. “I’m going to go change.”

“Let me know when you leave,” he said, already caught up in his work again. Where had he been before she interrupted him?

When he next emerged, she was gone.

“HE LETS YOU
out alone?” Isaac, without Charles to put him on edge, was more relaxed than Anna had thought, but also more pushy.

“I’m with you. Besides, werewolf here,” she told him with a thumb to her chest. “Not exactly a frail princess in need of rescuing.”

“That’s not what I heard about you,” Isaac said. “I asked about you. Omega.
I was informed by my second that we should be honored that you were visiting our city. We should bring you gifts and see if we can get you to abandon your pack and join ours. When I pointed out that that meant Charles would come, too—and displace me—I was told that the blessing of having an Omega in the pack would outweigh even putting up with Charles.”

Anna laughed. “Old wolves. Think they know everything.”

“And then he wonders why I don’t ask him more questions,” Isaac agreed. “So do it.”

Anna looked at him just as a raindrop hit her nose. The clouds had been threatening and the air smelled wet, but that was the first drop. “Do what?”

“‘That voodoo that you do,’” Isaac said. At her expression he turned to walk backward so she could get the full effect of his eye roll and comic exaggeration. “What? You don’t know Adam Ant?”

“‘A thrill a day keeps the chill away,’” she sang, then said dryly, “Not his best song. You want me to what? Zap you with my awesome cosmic super Omega powers?”

“That’s what I said.” Isaac turned so he was walking beside her once more. “Only my request sounded cool, and yours sounds like it belongs on Saturday morning cartoons.”

“They are more of an anti-superpower,” Anna explained as the first few drops of water became a more steady rainfall. “If I were in a comic book,
I’d
be the lone stupid girl in a team of awesome, powerfully charged males. Like Sue, Invisible Girl—who was invisible in so many ways—in the Fantastic Four. Which should have been called the Fantastic Three and the Cute and Clueless Girl Who Runs Around Getting into Trouble and Being Rescued.”

Isaac grinned, his expression lighter, that edge that Alphas always carried with them softened. “Not even Jessica Alba could save Sue from being wimpy.”

Anna sighed in a misery-shared way. “I
like
superhero movies. Still, it was better than
Catwoman
—and
Catwoman
had much better material to draw from.”

“So are you going to whammy me?” Isaac asked again.

She waved and did something fluttery with her fingers in her best stage magician manner, though she’d already hit him while he was quoting from “That Voodoo.” She contorted her face and made funny gobbling sounds, then said, in the perfectly serious voice she’d picked up from Charles, “Consider yourself whammied.”

They strode along companionably for a block. “I don’t feel whammied,” he said.

“What do you feel?” she asked.

Isaac took three more steps before he stiffened and stopped. “I haven’t been drunk since I was changed,” he whispered. “What did you do to me?”

“You aren’t drunk. Not impaired physically or mentally,” Anna told him.

He bowed his head, working his hands; then he turned and started walking backward again, facing her. Anna followed, keeping a sharp eye out for things he might back into or over. She wondered if Isaac did this all the time—and, if so, how he avoided getting photos in the paper with captions like “Local Alpha Trips over Child” or “Wolf Versus Street Sign, Street Sign Wins.”

“I’m myself again,” he said, his face almost slack with wonder. “It’s just me in here.” He tapped his forehead. “One night before the full moon and I don’t want to hunt or sink my teeth into anything.” He blinked rapidly and turned back around again so she couldn’t see his face anymore. After a moment he said, “It’s like the wolf is gone.” There was a hint of worry in his voice.

“No,” Anna answered. “Just…at peace. You could start changing right now if you wanted to.”

“Before
God, it is no wonder my second was salivating at the thought of you,” Isaac said. “Do you worry about being kidnapped?” His voice altered just a little. “I heard that Charles rescued you from an abusive situation.” He glanced over at her, his eyes glowing light yellow. The other effect of being Omega was that dominant wolves tended to be overly protective of her.

She nodded her head. “Charles saved me. My first pack turned me and kept me under their thumb. One of their old ones was crazy and her mate thought I could keep her sane. When Charles got through dealing with them, he taught me how to rescue myself.” Charles had helped her regain confidence in herself. But no matter how competent she was at protecting herself, Anna knew what ultimately kept her safe from wolf packs who wanted an Omega of their own. “If someone tries to kidnap me, Charles will hunt them down. Do you know very many wolves who would be willing to face that?”

“The Marrok’s bogeyman?” asked Isaac with a snort. “No.” He paused a moment. “Especially if they’ve ever seen him fight. Hally told me that he wouldn’t be able to see that fae—just know when he was around. But Charles fought like he could, like he knew exactly where it was. And I’ve never seen anyone—not werewolf, not vampire, not anyone—move that fast.”