Page 21

CHAPTER 19

A rmand

Days pass. We do not get any more mature. I do not fire Volkov, because several members of the pack reach out to me telling me how useful they find him. He has built up quite a clientele among the inhabitants of the chateau.

I am mildly concerned that he might be attempting a coup. He’s getting the confidences of the pack and undermining my leadership. But I am not worried. If he does attempt something that stupid, he will find that I have a lot more loyalty at my disposal than he thinks. It is normal for pack members to question and doubt their alpha. It is simply a matter of staying steady and letting them see that things will turn out okay.

Things really are turning out okay. I’ve never felt so close to Beatrix before, and I have been thinking more and more about our wedding.

We are brushing our teeth when inspiration strikes.

I turn to her, toothbrush in mouth, and ask as romantically as I can.

“Beatrix, will you marry me?”

She gives me a sidelong glance that makes her look older than her eighteen years. “You are not proposing to me in the bathroom, Armand.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Do you want a big, fancy proposal in front of the whole pack?”

“I want a proposal that feels like a proposal.”

“Diva,” I tease.

“Tyrant,” she shoots back.

I am planning a proposal that will be worthy of her. The details are hidden in my office, a lot better than the file on her background was.

I am hard at work in my office, working on those very plans, when Daniel interrupts with a swift knock on the door.

“Tell me we can get flamingoes,” I say as he walks in.

He shakes his head curtly, and I notice that he is not alone. Two men walk in behind him. Simple human men, wearing simple human suits.

“These are detectives to see you, Ma?tre .”

To say that my entire body goes cold with that announcement is an understatement. I look at them, trying not to seem guilty. Fortunately, I have found that blank disinterest usually translates as authority.

One of them is younger than I am with a full head of dark hair and a mustache that is clearly an endeavor to make him look older. He is not too much of a threat, I do not think. The older one makes me feel far more concerned. He is in his early fifties and has the expression of a man who has seen even more than I have. He has not said much, but his head is on a swivel.

“Detective Gaulle and Detective Barbier,” the older detective says, indicating that his name is Barbier.

“How can we help you, gentlemen?”

“We are investigating a case of two missing detectives.” Barbier cuts right to the chase.

“Oh?”

Suddenly, I am aware that Beatrix is lurking in the doorway. I can practically see her ears pricked, her eyes focused on them with a keen expression.

“Yes. Two officers went missing while on routine patrol in Bordeaux. They were called to a disturbance outside a crypt, and from there they were not seen again. However, one of the gendarmes had a trackable tag activated in his pocket. His wife was convinced he was having an affair. That tag has been tracked to this chateau.”

“Do you think they came here?” I frown slightly, as if I am confused. “We have not had any law enforcement visits from the city…”

Detective Barbier produces a piece of paper with a judicial seal emblazoned at the bottom.

“We have a warrant to search these premises. The tag is not as accurate as we might like and…”

Beatrix has disappeared.

We’re caught. They’re going to find the bodies and there will be no way of explaining our way out of it. I decide to play along until such time as I can no longer play. This isn’t over yet, but it feels very close to the end of the game.

“Let me assist you. I can open anything that might be locked, and ensure that your search is as thorough as possible,” I say smoothly.

“Thank you, Monsieur de Lune.”

They begin their search inside the chateau with me by their side. I am doing my best to appear helpful, while not too obsequious. There are many locked doors, but that is because there are a lot of private rooms and offices. None of them contain missing gendarmes.

“We can’t go in there,” I say as they stop outside one of the study doors.

They immediately look at me with raised brows and a sort of excitement that I know means they think there’s something inside the room.

“We can go where we please, Monsieur de Lune.”

“I think you’ll find…”

Gaulle opens the door, flinging it open in a way that is guaranteed to make the whole situation that much worse.

Mr. Volkov surges up, noticeably annoyed. He stood the second he heard voices, I’d bet, and now he is blocking the door, preventing their entrance. He even goes so far as to walk out and shut the door behind him, forcing them to move back so as not to be walked into.

“Mr. Volkov, these are detectives,” I explain. “They’re here investigating some missing persons.”

“And they think these missing persons are likely to be in my therapy session?”

Mr. Volkov gives the detectives a fearsome look. For the first time, I am glad for the fact this man does not give a fuck about authority in any of its guises. He’s very annoyed at having his session interrupted, and he is not shy about showing it.

“We are searching the chateau for two gendarmes who went missing on the fourteenth,” the detective says. “Have you seen any…”

“There are no dead officers in my therapy room.”

The detective gives him a keen look, eyes narrowed, tone tense as he acts as though he’s just made a major breakthrough.

“Now, why would you say dead, monsieur ? They are merely missing.”

Oh, god. I feel that cold wave of sickness again. Mr. Volkov has just made himself a suspect. He’s not going to go down for us; he’s not even part of the pack. And I am pretty certain he hates me. We have not had a single positive interaction the entire time he’s been here.

But he doesn’t skip a beat.

“I assume if there were two missing living gendarmes running about the chateau I would have run into them from time to time,” Mr. Volkov says, smooth as silk. “I also assume that they don’t send search parties with warrants for people they assume are alive. And I hope that nothing short of dead men is a good enough reason to interrupt my session. I will be available in another twenty minutes if you’d like to ask any other obvious and pointless questions.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. The man is an asshole, but it’s really working for us right now.

I am so grateful, but I cannot express it, not even slightly. I am working overtime to not look like a man who has two dead gendarmes buried in his pack cemetery. As he turns away from the detectives, Volkov flickers a slight wink at me. It’s the first positive facial expression he’s ever given me, and I find myself stunned by the fact he didn’t drop me in it the first chance he got.

“Mr. Volkov takes his role as therapist very seriously,” I explain as the door is closed.

Detective Gaulle tries to deflect, having just been thoroughly shamed by the therapist. I know how it feels to come away from an interaction with Volkov feeling less than. Now I’m getting the backlash.

“What would you call this place? Not a family home, is it? Too many people living here?”

“This is the ancestral home of myself and other families. It’s now run as a going concern, so there are family members living here, and business associates.”

“So, a commune,” Detective Barbier says.

“Or a cult,” Detective Gaulle shoots back.

I don’t care what they think we are doing as long as they don’t find the dead men.

Unfortunately, inexorably, we are eventually required to go outside. They wander the gardens and then look toward the cemetery. I try my best to calm myself. There’s no reason for them to assume that the men are buried here.

The younger detective pulls out his phone. “Looks like we’re getting closer,” he murmurs.

They approach the cemetery and I wonder who the pack will decide to be the alpha next. In the absence of an heir, my father’s lineage will end. I have disappointed generations of ancestors, and I will likely end my days rotting in a cell on a charge of murder while God knows what happens to Beatrix.

“Well, well, what is this?” Detective Barbier snorts.

I steel myself for a terrible discovery.

When I look in the direction the detective is pointing, there are no bodies, but the graves are open, recently dug up as if by animals. I know immediately what has happened, and where Beatrix went.

I have no idea what she’s done with the bodies, or the tag. In the immediate moment, I don’t care.

“We have been having trouble with the local wolves. They’re running low on prey,” I explain. “They can turn to scavenging if we are not careful. The graves were fortunately dedicated to pets.”

They give me suspicious looks.

“Climate change,” I explain. “The deer have less forage, which in turn puts pressure on the…”

“Is that a train?” Detective Gaulle looks for anything to get him out of this conversation, and he finds it.

“It is a train,” I say, moving toward the little station at the side of the chateau. The train is looking good today, gleaming in the sun. I keep it spotlessly clean so there is no day it does not look good.

“Mind if we…”

“Of course not.”

The two men love the train almost as much as I do. It is an impressive piece of engineering and workmanship, and there is no limit to their admiration. I even begin to forget that they came to look for the police my mate killed and has now presumably dragged off somewhere.

“You must have a lot of money,” Detective Gaulle says.

“My family has been blessed in that regard.”

“It is steam?”

“A very refined version of steam, yes. It chugs and choos less than your average engine, but it does run on coal. Powered rails are a danger for wildlife and ramblers, so the decision was made to keep it old-fashioned.”

“ Monsieur , you are living the dream,” Detective Barbier says.

“If you call ahead next time, I can have my engineer ready it for departure, and we can enjoy a jaunt through the countryside if you like. In the meantime, I hope you find your comrades.”

“One probably ran off from his wife,” the older detective laughs. “And the other… there are rumors that the two of them were the reason she was jealous. It is possible they will turn up of their own accord, but we had to follow the tag, you understand?”

Men trust men who own trains. I do not entirely know why, but now that we are standing inside the cabin, these two detectives are looking at me as if I could never possibly have ever done anything wrong.

“Of course. You have my number. Please do call any time if I can be of further assistance. Would you like to come for lunch? The chef is preparing quite a spread for the household today.”

They look at one another, as if knowing they shouldn’t.

“It is a long drive back to the city, no? Fortify yourselves with us.”

The pack feasts every lunch, with the chef putting on a grand spread mostly for her own edification. She often requests additional budgets for experiments and such. We are lucky to have Madame Foisin.

I do not see Beatrix at lunch. This is likely for the best, though of course I am worried about her. I occupy the detectives with conversation about the train and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. I don’t think any of us actually do BJJ, but it is a safe subject for all men to discuss regardless.

“Did you know a gorilla can rip a man’s face off?”

“Did you know sharks are older than the moon?”

We entertain one another with such questions until finally they stumble, drunk, back to their vehicle. I would tell them not to drive, but I want them gone as soon as possible.

Their car drifts along the road, back and forth, barely staying in the proper lane. We should stop them. I think about sending an escort, someone to drive them back. I will do that as soon as I have found Beatrix.

“Where is Beatrix? Has anyone seen her?”

Nobody has. If anybody saw her digging up the graves, they’re not telling me. I suspect she went right there the moment she realized who the detectives were and what they wanted. I have no idea what she did after that, or where she has gone.

I am torn between going hunting for her myself, or bringing the whole pack out to hunt for her. When I take my form out by the cemetery, I do catch a faint scent of her, but most of it is masked by grave dirt and rot. There is no way to follow her.

“ Fuck! ”

I slide back into my human form and curse the wind. I curse the scent.

Mr. Volkov sees fit to make an appearance at this point. He is fully clothed and I am entirely naked and I am not in the mood for the power dynamic that ensues when this man shows up in all his psychological glory.

“My mate is missing, Volkov. If you have anything useful to tell me about her whereabouts, now would be the time.”

“She knows what she is doing. You can trust her.”

“She’s a teenage girl with two dead bodies and a tag. You often talk about her needing to be in school with a responsible adult. What are you talking about, man!”

“Yes. All of that is true. She’s also the most qualified person I know to be in the wind with two dead bodies and a tracking tag. I would imagine the tag is no longer in existence.”

“So you’re telling me to relax?”

“I’m telling you that whatever comes next, you should be prepared. Ready yourself.”

He’s a therapist, but he’s acting more like an advisor. I am tempted to listen to him. None of the others know what to do. Most of the others don’t actually know the entirety of what has gone on.

“Ready myself for what, exactly?”

He looks at me, deadpan. “The worst.”