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"Have you tried the arepas?" Lucas asked her. "These are stuffed with chicken, and those over there are beef."
She sighed, but allowed Lucas to put some arepas on her plate and explain how they were made.
Next, Jeremy suggested that we invite Cassandra and Aaron to join us, so we could all discuss a plan of action. I'd intended to propose this myself, but had been waiting for Elena and Clay to leave. I suspect Jeremy had been waiting for the same thing, knowing neither of them would be pleased at the prospect of working with Cassandra.
Jeremy also suggested that Jaime join us. This was a more difficult decision to make. Aaron and Cassandra already knew the werewolves; Jaime did not. The Pack had only rejoined the interracial council last year, after more than a century of cutting themselves off from the rest of the supernatural world. Elena might joke about her world being easier when it contained only werewolves, but there was a lot of truth in that. For the Pack, coming back to the council meant a trade-off between gaining allies and giving up the layer of protection that came with isolation.
Outside of the interracial council, few supernaturals could name the members of the Pack, and even fewer could put names to faces. Jeremy was happy to keep it that way, and I didn't blame him. In this case, though, he weighed the danger of identifying themselves to Jaime against the help she could provide with the portal, and decided she had to join us.
At six, Jaime phoned to say she had something, and was coming right over to explain it. Aaron hadn't returned our messages yet, likely having turned off his cell phone while they hunted for us, so we left another, giving him the hotel address, and told them to meet us here. Moments later Elena called. They'd hit a dead end and were heading back.
While we'd been waiting for Jaime's call, I'd talked to Jeremy about the case, hoping he might see some clue we'd overlooked. After about twenty minutes, I noticed Lucas had gone quiet, looked over, and found he was asleep. I suppose dying does take a lot out of a person. I'll admit, though, that on pretense of removing his glasses, I did surreptitiously check to make sure he was breathing. I'd probably be doing that for a while.
The Leader of the Pack
WHEN ELENA CALLED, JEREMY TOLD THEM TO SKIP THE food run on the way back. Savannah was getting restless, so he was taking her out to hunt down breakfast. They'd been gone about ten minutes when Jaime arrived.
"God, it's quiet in here," she said as I ushered her into the room. "I thought werewolves were supposed to be rowdy--" She saw Lucas asleep on the sofa. "Shit, I'm sorry."
I waved her out onto the balcony, then slid the patio door closed so we could talk. Of course, the first thing she wanted to know was what had happened to us. On the way to the hotel, Lucas and I had decided we'd tell the others the basics of our adventure, but keep the specifics secret. Ghosts are forbidden to reveal details of their world, so we assumed we were expected to do the same. Better to claim we didn't remember what had happened, as we had with Benicio.
"And then, here we were, back on this side. Spit out by the ghost world."
"Nan used to tell stories about things like that, portals opening and the living going through...or the ghosts coming out. I'll keep my mouth shut about this one, though. If people knew you guys had passed over and come back--" She leaned over the second-story railing. "Hey, is that your ward? Savannah?"
I glanced down and nodded.
"Then those must be the werewolves," Jaime said.
She leaned out farther for a better look. Elena and Clay had either met Jeremy and Savannah in the parking lot or picked them up on the street, because all four were now crossing the parking lot together. Jaime stared down at them, lips curved in the tiny smile of a woman who sees something she really likes...almost always something of the opposite sex.
"That'd be Clayton," I said.
"Ah," she said, tearing her gaze away after one last regret-filled look. "The one Cassandra tried to jump. Damn, can't even be original, can I?" She peered down at the quartet. "Huh. Now I'd have guessed the blonde would have been her choice. He looks a bit like Aaron, and I get the impression that's one ex Cass isn't completely over."
I looked at Clay. "I didn't notice it before, but I guess there is a slight resemblance. In the coloring at least, maybe the build. But that is Clayton. So who were you--" I followed her gaze. "You meant Jeremy?"
I should point out that there was nothing wrong with Jeremy Danvers. He wasn't what you'd call conventionally good-looking, but he was attractive enough, more striking than handsome, just over six feet tall, and lean, with black hair, high cheekbones, and a slight slant to his black eyes, which suggested Asian blood somewhere in his family tree. If I was surprised, it was because Jaime's choice was original. Put Jeremy next to blond-haired, blue-eyed Clayton, and it would be a rare woman who'd notice Clayton wasn't alone. To be honest, I wouldn't have guessed Jaime would be that woman.
"Jeremy Danvers?" Jaime said. "Isn't he the, uh, leader--oh, God, what's the word?"
"Alpha. The lead wolf in a pack is the Alpha. Werewolves use the same terminology."
"So that guy--the dark-haired one--We are talking about the dark-haired one, right?"
"The dark-haired one is Jeremy. He's the Alpha. The blonde is Clayton. He was Jeremy's adopted son; now he's the Pack muscle and Jeremy's self-appointed bodyguard. Elena is the woman, of course. She's Clay's partner and acts as Jeremy's representative outside the Pack. Clay and Elena are the beta wolves, though I don't think they use that terminology."
"Uh, right," Jaime said, gaze once again glued to Jeremy. I suspected she'd be asking me ten minutes from now to explain the relationships again, having not heard a word I'd said about Clayton or Elena. "So he's the leader? I thought the Alpha would be some old guy. He can't be much older than me." She squinted for a better look. "Shit, no, he could be younger than me. He isn't, is he?"
She turned from the view and rubbed her hands over her face. "Ack! Is it just me or was I suddenly channeling the ghost of a love-struck fifteen-year-old girl? Don't ask me where that came from." She inhaled and exhaled. "There, all better. So, uh, how old is he, anyway?"
I grinned. "Too old for someone who doesn't date men more than a decade her senior."
"Bullshit. I mean, that he's that old, not that I won't--it's not a hard-and-fast rule, so if he was that old...But he's not. Can't be."
"Werewolves get prolonged youth. He's fifty-three, I think. Maybe fifty-four."
"No way." She sighed. "Damn, everyone else gets cool powers, and I get hauntings. Doesn't seem fair. What the hell does a werewolf need a fountain of youth for, anyway?"
