Page 18

Clive stood at the end of the bar, waiting. He showed no reaction to the new look, save for the raising of one eyebrow. He didn’t appear displeased, so I hoped I passed for a normal human being who knew how to dress properly. Actually, that probably gave me more credit than I deserved.

We made it out of the bar with little fuss. Everyone was pretending not to stare at us. I felt self-conscious about the holes in the back of my jeans, so I tried to get Clive to go first. Stupid, ingrained politeness meant he insisted I go ahead. I’m sure he got an eyeful of my ass as we climbed the stairs. Thankfully, his good manners extended to staying silent about my overly drafty jeans. I hoped it was too dark to see anything.

A sleek, dark roadster was parked at the top of the stairs. I guess no driver tonight. The car chirped as we approached. Before I could touch the handle, Clive pulled the door open. I slid into a low, soft leather seat. It was the sports car he’d driven the night we’d visited the demon strip club. Clive got in, and the throaty engine growled to life.

“Have you learned anything from Ethan?”

Clive’s hands fisted on the wheel. “Yes. I’ve learned there’s something amiss in my nocturne.” He sounded so angry I wasn’t sure if I should ask, but I did anyway.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I either have a traitor in my nocturne or a spell was able to make it past my protections.” He glanced at me as he stopped at a light. “Ethan is dead. William stood guard outside the door. When I went back to deal with him after dropping you off, I found his body on the floor.”

“A locked-door murder mystery. It doesn’t sound too tricky, though. Have you considered William is your murderer?”

Clive shook his head as he turned the corner. “William. That never occurred to me.”

I threw up my hands. “Fine. Who do you think it is?”

“If I knew, I’d be dealing with them right now.” He made a sound of annoyance. “I questioned William. He is not able to lie to me. No one went in or out, but still the wolf is dead.”

“Sounds like whoever was controlling him pulled the plug.”

“Yes, it does.”

I was sick of contemplating death. “Where to?”

“The Crypt. The wolves have just checked in.”

Clive parked a block from a nightclub that had a line around the corner.

“Are you cold?” Clive held my door as I climbed out.

I shook my head.

“Good. Are you wearing the bracelet Coco gave you?”

Pulling up the sleeve of my jacket, I showed off the hammered copper cuff. “Never leave home without it.”

Nodding, he led the way to the door of the nightclub. The bouncer moved the people waiting in line, so Clive and I could breeze past. Once in, Clive took an immediate right down a short hall ending in a door with a ‘no admittance’ sign. He knocked once. The door was opened immediately by a woman in black leather pants and a white silk collared shirt. It was the nightclub equivalent of the vampire uniform.

“Master.” She gave Clive a quick bow, before moving out of our way.

“Eve. Are our guests still with us?” Clive moved to the wall of screens, each running the feed from a different in-house camera.

Eve pointed to the screen on the far right. “They’re in the back booth, Sire. Just as you requested.”

“Thank you. I know Hollis and his second Andre. Do we know anything about the others in his party?”

“We’re investigating now, Sire.”

Clive nodded. “Tell me when you know.” He turned his attention to me. “You can leave your jacket in here, if you’d like.”

“Sure.” I unzipped and shrugged out of the leather bomber, handing it to Clive.

He hung it on a coat rack in the corner, and then led me out of the office and into the nightclub proper.

True to the club’s name, the interior looked like a crypt. The walls appeared to be aged stone. There were booths along the outside of the room. Each booth was in its own crypt. The walls between the booths displayed row after row of bones and skulls, floor to ceiling, like the Capuchin Crypt in Italy. There were screens around the periphery with colorful images writhing in time with the music, like stained glass windows come to life. The center of the room was a teeming dance floor. The bar, to the right of the entrance, was crowded with black-clad patrons.

Dark, sensual music pounded through the sound system. Clive led the way through the crowd, before Russell stepped in front of us.

“Liege, Ms. Quinn, the Bodega Bay wolves are seated in the booth at the end of the room. If you will allow me, I’ll make the introductions.” He inclined his head in a show of respect to Clive and then led the way to the far corner of the nightclub.

I scented wolf as we got close. There were six of them lounging in the large booth in the back corner of the club. The last time I’d been around this many wolves, I’d been human—or at least I assumed I’d been—and unaware that werewolves were real. My skin was crawling.

“May I present Hollis Rawlins, Alpha of the Bodega Bay Pack and his second, Andre.” Russell stepped back, so Clive could take over.

Shaking Hollis’s hand, Clive said, “It’s good to see you. This,” he gestured to me, “is Samantha Quinn, a friend.”

Two vampires appeared out of nowhere, each with ornate chairs in hand. They placed the chairs next to Clive and me.

“May we join you for a moment?”

“Your club,” Hollis said, wariness in his eyes. He was big and imposing, even while seated. He looked like two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle. He had dark hair, light brown eyes, and a scar running down his darkly tanned face, from the side of his eye down his cheek and neck, disappearing under the collar of a black t-shirt. He sat in the back of the large booth, his presence commanding. Alpha.

“It is, yes. We were hoping you’d be able to share some information with us.”

Hollis made a sound somewhere between a grumble and a sigh, which Clive seemed to take for assent.

“First, I should ask. Do you know Sam?”

Hollis’s gaze traveled over me slowly before returning to Clive with a quick shake of his head.

“I didn’t think so. Sam is our lone San Francisco wolf.” Hollis’s expression said he didn’t much care. Clive continued, “She’s the daughter of Michael Quinn, niece of Marcus, granddaughter of Alexander.”

The eyes of every wolf at the table snapped to me. There were four men, all equally burly, and two women. The women, though, were interesting. One was wearing a tank top, arm muscles toned and flexed as she leaned in, ready to jump. The other woman was soft and bunnyish.

“I see that means something to you. Were you aware Michael had a daughter?”

Hollis shook his head, studying me, probably looking for signs to confirm or negate Clive’s claims. “I never heard he had young.”

“I found two women in the ocean in front of my bookstore, two female wolves who were tortured and killed. Their bodies were dumped. One woman was a member of the Santa Cruz Mountains Pack. I didn’t recognize the other. I—we—wondered if one of your wolves had gone missing.”

Hollis glanced at Clive and then back to me. “We lost Charla about a year ago. She washed up on the beach. They thought she’d been bashed against the rocks, but that didn’t feel right to me. I believed then, and still believe, that she was killed.” He took a gulp of beer. “I haven’t heard about anyone missing now.” He raised his eyebrows at Andre who gave a quick shake of his head. Andre did, however, pull out his phone and start texting.

“Do you have a suspect?” The Alpha seemed only mildly curious, but I knew if we gave him a name, someone would be dead by tomorrow. Which maybe wasn’t such a bad thing.

Derailing that thought, I asked, “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary around the time Charla died? Or since?”

Hollis stared though me, deciding what to share. “Yeah. Someone’s been doing black magic in our territory. We noticed…” Hollis’s gaze swung back to Andre, who had put his phone away and was following our conversation closely. “Maybe six or eight months ago.”

Andre nodded, confirming Hollis’s guess.

“I didn’t feel anything like that around Charla, but she’d been in the ocean a while.” Shrugging, he added. “I don’t have a wicche on retainer. Don’t trust ‘em.” He glanced around the room and then focused on Clive. “That was actually part of the reason we came into the city tonight. I was hoping to talk to you. When we’ve gone running recently, we’ve found spelled areas. It’s pack territory. No fucking wicches, black or white, should be using our land!” His fist slammed down on the table. In the noisy nightclub, no one noticed or cared.

“One of our young almost died last week. Do you—” He stopped, clearly uncomfortable having to ask for help, especially from a vampire. “Do you have anyone who can clean the spells out? It’s pack land, has been for almost two hundred years.” His gaze traveled between Clive and Russell. “I thought someone was working with a wicche to take me out, steal the pack…but no one’s made a move against me.”

“Had I been informed of any such plot against you or your pack, I would have contacted you.” Clive’s words settled the Alpha. The tension in his shoulders eased.

“Well, hell. If you and your people don’t know anything about it, I’m not sure who would.” Hollis downed the rest of his beer.

Watching the two other men Hollis brought with him was fascinating. They refused to look either Clive or Russell in the eye, but neither would they appear weak by not looking at them. Both seemed to have perfected the forehead stare.

“As for whether or not we can help with spelled pack lands…” Clive nodded to Russell. “We’ll send out someone who may be able to track the spell to the source. At the least, they should be able to clear your land for you.”

I turned sharply toward Clive. If he had people who could do that, why were we here? Why didn’t he have that person track the spells against me? He didn’t appear to acknowledged my unspoken rebuke, but his hand found my knee under the table. A quick pat to let me know we’d talk later.

“Appreciate it,” Hollis said.

“If we might ask in return, you said you didn’t know Michael Quinn had a child. Had you heard anything about Michael or his wife?” Clive sat back in his chair, relaxed, surveying the group of wolves. As we all had supernaturally sensitive hearing, our voices had remained low and unnoticed by the loud, dancing throng around us.

“I don’t know much. Michael disappeared a long time ago—twenty, twenty-five years ago. Marcus took over as the Santa Cruz Alpha when Alexander passed.”

“Do you know what happened to either of them?”

Hollis shook his head. “Never heard for sure, just rumors.”

I leaned forward. “What did you hear?”

He watched me for a minute and then seemed to decide. “Heard the son got married to someone daddy didn’t like. Heard there was a big family blow up. Marcus backed Alexander and ended up with the pack after his father mysteriously fell to his death.” Hollis’s eyes found mine again. “I don’t know if any of this is true. I heard his body was found at the bottom of a deep ravine. His neck snapped. He could have fallen and died. It’s possible. Just really fucking unlikely.”

“Was this before or after my father disappeared?”

Another shrug. “Can’t be sure. It was all around the same time. Your grandpa found out your dad was married, they fought, your dad went missing, grandpa died, and your uncle took over the pack. All within maybe six months. I knew your dad a little. Liked him. Marcus, now, that’s a different story.”

“What do you mean?” Had my mother been right about Marcus all along?

“Only met Marcus once or twice. He was a weak sister. Your dad inherited all the power. He was the rightful heir to Alexander Quinn. I have no idea who Michael married or why she was so unfit. I assumed, though, after it all went down, that Marcus had bided his time, looking to collect the prize at the end. He never could have challenged either his father or his brother.” He spun his empty beer bottle in his hand. “I wish I could give you more, but I just don’t know.”

I tapped the table near his hand. “Thank you for sharing what you know.”

“What about the new Alpha, Randy. Have you heard anything about him?” Clive leaned to the side as Eve bent down to whisper in his ear. He nodded, as she placed a drink in front of him.

The female with the crazy eyes had snapped to attention when Clive mentioned Randy. Wasn’t that interesting?

“That pack is a fucking mess. Marcus was too weak to lead. Wolves who should have been put down weren’t. The pack’s dominant wolves left in disgust, and Marcus just kept posturing like he had it all under control.” Hollis waved down a passing waitress, holding up his empty beer bottle. “I told my people to steer clear of that pack.”

I had a feeling at least one of his pack had ignored that order.

“I don’t know anything about that Randy kid other than he’s been with Marcus since he was young, younger than kids normally survive the turning. Maybe the kid’s tough. Don’t know. Marcus’s son Mick was dead, so… Probably why Randy ended up as Alpha. The kid’s like twenty.” He shook his head. “Marcus must have driven off all the dominants who were left in the pack after Alexander died. Otherwise, I don’t know how a kid like that could have taken over the pack.” He glanced over at the dance floor. “So, we done with the questions?”

Clive and I exchanged a look and nodded.

Hollis grinned, pinning me with his eyes. “Wanna dance?”