Page 36 of Wolf Bane (Marked #3)
Chapter Fifteen
T he Clemens’ house was far enough out of town that it was practically in Dallas.
It was far enough for me to have an entire conversation with Ethan while I drove, the rumble of the tires over rutted blacktop road making it hard to hear him even with the volume turned all the way up and the sound coming through the speakers thanks to the Bluetooth thingy.
“Did you say Benoit called?”
“I called him ,” Ethan corrected, raising his voice just a little. “Keeping him peripherally in the loop. His right-hand guy, Daniel?—”
“I remember,” I muttered. “That asshole.”
“Well. He’s gone back to working in Dallas for the rest of the month, and apparently that started a huge to-do between the two of ‘em. Rambled a good twenty minutes about duties to the clan, how could he fuck off while this is going on. By the time I dragged him back to the point, he was in a lather. Benoit’s pissed about your plan still, but there’s not much he can do about that. ”
“He’ll live,” I muttered, flipping on my turn signal for the oddly out of place neighborhood, a sprawling old VA home development that, if it had a name, had long since been lost to county paperwork and the memories of the original inhabitants now long gone.
It had mid-century charm, and I’d looked at buying there when I first moved back to Belmarais, but it was inconveniently located in the middle of acres upon acres of defunct farmland that had never really picked back up after the Depression.
Sometime in the fifties, someone had a vision of a suburb and this neighborhood was going to be the centerpiece.
Now, it was a mix of seniors and families, a dusty-looking bus stop at the end of the main drag for the kids who couldn’t or wouldn’t ride their bikes the six miles to the local public school complex.
A gas station that still had posters in the window for some movie that came out six years ago held anchor across the street from the entrance, giving off very strong serial killers work here vibes.
“Well, Benoit’s a problem,” Ethan said with more than a hint of irritation.
“Thanks to him, I have some new duties for the council. Instead of going to Minnesota at the end of the week and meeting with the Rooker clan, I’m batting cleanup on this whole situation with Lugaru.
They rejected council oversight a few years ago, but I think they’re not gonna have a choice right now.
They’re starting to get attention from the human communities. ”
I braked yards away from the buckshot-pocked stop sign, stomach twitching anxiously. “How much attention?”
“The usual rumors, the shit you hear about rural enclaves. Cult activity, militias, that sort of thing, but there’s been a few humans reporting sightings.
” He sighed. “Benoit was hesitant to admit anything, but last week, one of their afflicted reached the uncontrolled shifting stage and got loose, terrorized someone’s fish camp. They reported it as feral dog but…”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Shit.”
“So far, it’s just a lot of talk, but the council wants to get ahead of it.
Hell, I want to get ahead of it. Even if I weren’t working for them, this is something I’d be throwing myself at as a clan leader.
As someone who wants to keep us safe.” Ethan blew out a harsh breath through his nose and shifted, the rustle of fabric making me wonder if he was stretched out on the bed, trying to snatch a nap while he could.
It’d been foolish to think we’d get a few hours for ourselves—we’d be busy till doomsday, I was pretty sure.
Because this was something that never seemed to end.
Anger, hot and greasy, spread through my chest and down my abdomen.
It was aimless, encompassing, and nauseating, driving me to rest my head on the steering wheel for a moment and catch my breath.
Not at Ethan, or even the council. Just life , the way things were spooling out.
The way choices had been taken from all of us.
And how someone was now moving around in the dark, poisoning weres and shifters.
Aiming at the most vulnerable of an already small population.
Someone behind me honked and I glanced up to see a scowling woman in a champagne-colored SUV jabbing her finger at me through her windshield. Go, go, go !
Wordlessly, Ethan still breathing down the line, I took my foot off the brake and moved forward. “If this ever ends,” I said, turning left onto Dogwood Petal Lane, the street I’d wanted to begin with, “let’s take a long vacation somewhere there’s no weres or shifters.”
“If we’re there, there’d be weres.”
“Humor me.”
“I’ll start looking up plane tickets.”
“Love you.” I sighed, letting Ethan end the call as I pulled parallel to the Clemens’ house, parking at the curb.
Like all of the houses in the neighborhood, they had an expansive front yard with old trees shading the front walk and making islands of shade in the grass.
Some children’s toys dappled the expanse, sun bleached plastic trikes and more than a few foam dart guns.
A beat-up Datsun truck older than me sat near the two-car garage, not on blocks but definitely giving off the vibe that it should be.
Unlike the other houses in the street, the Clemens’ house was showing signs of wear and tear.
A torn window screen beside the front door, a pile of dirty aluminum cans near the garage.
The front door badly needed repainting, the screen door open and canted at an angle that told me it wouldn’t close again without divine intervention.
One of the houses on either side belonged to Mr. Robards. Either the tidy green and white one or the blue and white ranch style with the military-neat azaleas lining the front and the brutally short grass.
I decided it must be the blue one; the green and white one showed signs of people coming and going while the blue and white one had mail hanging out of the box near the door. Robards hadn’t been home in days, so that made sense.
The champagne SUV pulled into the driveway next door.
A petite woman in a pink jacket and dark jeans got out, shooting me a glare as she hustled into the neat little green and white house with the striped metal awning and scalloped trim, shutting the front door not with a slam but with a definite firm thump.
I turned to look back at the Clemens’ house in time to see Melly, the little biter, zooming around the front porch and disappearing into the side yard.
Awesome.
The sentry spotted me.
Vinnie Clemens opened the front door when I was halfway up the walk. “No,” he said, low voice carrying easily across the distance. “Ain’t no humans allowed here.”
“You sure did pick a strange place to live if that’s your stance,” I said, stopping in my tracks, hands out at my sides to show I meant no harm.
As if Vinnie would believe that anyway.
Keenly aware that, despite the quietness of the street, we weren’t in private, I said conversationally, “I’m just doing some house calls while we get the temporary clinic up and running. There was an incident over the weekend.”
“I heard.” He smirked. “ Mongrel .”
“I don’t suppose you heard who did it then?”
“Is that why you’re here? Blaming us for some shit like that?” He stepped out, letting the door bang shut behind him as he stalked down the steps. “Bad enough you’re helping tear apart our community, making us weak. Now you want to come on my property and?—”
“Vincent.” Celestine’s clear, thin voice rang out from the window beside the front door. “You’re making a scene,” she said. “Come inside. Both of you.”
Vinnie stood, glaring at me for a long moment.
I knew there was some arcane protocol I should be following—ducking my head, averting my eyes, something, but all I could do was hold still.
My scared rabbit mode. But under that, something new.
Well, not so much new as something stronger.
Something I’d been learning to manage, slowly but surely.
The were in me growled, confusing that scared prey part of my brain, making my heart rate kick up, my body waver between fight and flight. Vinnie grinned as if he could tell, as if he knew this moment of indecision was going to get me killed one day and he’d love to see it.
“Vincent.” Celestine’s voice was sharp now. “Come inside before I come out there.”
Vinnie stepped back and gestured me towards the door mockingly. “Be my guest.”
Next door, the front door creaked, and Miss Champagne SUV peered out at us. I smiled at her then nodded at Vinnie.
“Of course. Why don’t you get the kids inside, too? I have some quick questions about a bug that’s been going around some of the kids at the school.”
* * *
Celestine Clemens held court in a comfortable living room that did not at all match my mental picture of the place.
Instead of fussy grandma furniture covered in plastic, everything was mid-range, nice, and comfortable.
No torn upholstery from rambunctious kids, toys neatly put in open-front storage cubbies along one wall, a gaming console tucked on a TV stand with the controllers neatly beside it.
Everything was in shades of mint and rose except for the heavy black trunk serving as a coffee table, the brass fittings polished to a shine.
“Tea?” she asked politely, pale brows arching in question. “Or some water?”