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Clay moved beside me, squinting to see out. "Bold bastard, wasn't he?"
I rubbed my gloved hands over my arms, pushing down the goose bumps. Black wolves weren't that unusual. Green eyes were, but I'd only seen their reflection against the light, and that often made animal eyes glint green. Besides, I could still see the gray wolves at the forest's edge and they'd never let a werewolf run past them like that.
"You okay?" Clay asked.
"He just spooked me."
Clay drew the drapes again. I walked as far as possible from the bloodstain in the middle of the cabin and got down on my hands and knees. A piercing wail sent me scrambling up.
"Wind in the chimney," Clay said.
I gave a shaky laugh. "A little jumpy tonight, aren't I?"
"With good reason."
He moved up behind me and rubbed my shoulders. When I tried to step away, he held me.
"Take a minute," he murmured. "It's only me."
I took a deep breath. It wasn't easy, being a woman in a werewolf's world, worrying that they're watching you for signs of weakness. It meant a lot to have someone in my life who didn't care if wolves at the door spooked me. If I became Alpha--his Alpha--would that change?
I leaned back against Clay and turned my head, cheek against his shoulder, inhaling. When my nerves were calm and the specter of Dennis Stillwell faded, I got back to work.
I didn't need to sniff around for long before saying, "I've got werewolf. And not just Dennis."
Clay nodded. No surprise there.
Another few minutes of sniffing. "It's the same two from the museum--the ones who attacked Reese."
Again, he nodded.
"I'm getting a third scent," I said.
"Werewolf?"
"Yep." I followed it, untangling the trail from the others. "He's related to one of the others--father, son, brother. That's why I wasn't sure I detected an older third trail in that clearing. Similar scents."
"Makes sense."
He meant both my explanation and the family relationship. It was unusual to find three werewolves together, but far more likely if at least two shared a family connection.
Clay had found a toolbox in the closet and was sanding the rough wooden floor. He couldn't buff out all the blood, but it would fade the stain, making it look like an old spill. As he did that, I walked to the dinette. The table was covered with papers and books.
"What did Dennis do for a living?" I asked.
"Electrician, I think. I remember Jeremy had him fix up the old wiring at Stonehaven."
I looked at the handwritten notes. They definitely weren't electrical diagrams.
"Hobbies?" I asked.
Clay shrugged. "Couldn't say. Jeremy would know. Why?"
I picked up a book in my gloved hand. "He seems to have been researching folklore and mythology. That must have been what he was doing at the museum."
Clay brought a lantern over and picked up a notebook as I thumbed through a sheaf of photocopied pages.
"Yeenaaldlooshii, Nagual, Wendigo..." I said. "Shape-shifter myths, particularly Native American. I'm surprised he didn't contact you."
