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I grinned, and all but bounced down the stairs. “Hey,” I said, as I opened the door. “How’d things go?”
“As well as you can expect given we’ve two bodies in as many days.” He looked and sounded tired, but that wasn’t really so surprising given he wouldn’t have had much—if any—sleep last night. “Ciara’s doing the autopsy as we speak, but it could take a day or so to get the toxicology results back.”
I locked the door and led the way toward the rear stairs. “And Aron’s results?”
“His autopsy didn’t reveal a cause of death. She’s expecting bloods and toxicology back tomorrow.”
“Hopefully they’ll uncover why he died looking so peaceful, because I really don’t want to discover we’ve got a dark spirit capable of magic or hypnotism on the reservation.”
“Personally, I’d rather it not be a soul eater at all. Are we heading up to the inner sanctum?”
“Yes.” I flashed him a grin over my shoulder. “It’s a rare event, so I hope you feel honored.”
“Oh, I do.” His voice held a note of amusement. “Although I rather suspect the real reason is the brewing coffee I can smell.”
“You could be right.” I clattered up the stairs. “Would you like plain black or something more exotic?”
“Plain is fine, the stronger the better, as I’ve a council meeting to get to.”
I glanced over my shoulder again as disappointment slithered into my heart. “Do they often hold late night meetings?”
“No, but they wanted an update on the investigation.” His gaze went past me. “This place really is small, isn’t it?”
“Small but perfectly formed, as the saying goes. Grab a seat, and I’ll bring your coffee over.”
He touched my arm, holding me still as he brushed past, and sending a rush that was all desire through my veins. His nostrils flared and a smile tugged at his lips—both indications he’d scented that rush—but he said nothing as he walked over to the sofa. I made our coffees, sliced up some of the Jaffa cake we had sitting in an airtight container for emergency cravings, then picked up the tray and walked over.
“You know,” he said, his voice wry as he picked up a piece of cake, “it’s just as well a werewolf’s metabolic rate runs higher than that of humans, because otherwise, I would have gained several kilos over the last couple of weeks.”
“The wolf doesn’t have to eat the cake, you know.”
“Refusing cake is something no sane man who loves his food would ever do.”
“Which confirms the rumor that the best way into a werewolf’s good books is via his stomach.”
He laughed. “It isn’t the only way into our good books, but it’s a damn fine start.” His gaze fell on the pile of books. “Research?”
I nodded and sat down beside him. It was only a two-person sofa, so we were close enough that our thighs touched. It felt intimate even if it really wasn’t, and it had me hankering for a whole lot more. “We were curious as to what sort of soul eater we might be dealing with.”
“A statement that suggests there’s more than one type.”
“According to Belle’s guides, there is, but so far we’ve only found vague mentions.” I hesitated. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
He raised an eyebrow. “This sounds serious. Have you done the finances and decided you can’t afford to keep giving me free cake?”
“Idiot.” I nudged him with my shoulder. “It is serious, though—remember how I said that the source of the wild mag
ic was within the O’Connor compound?”
The amusement faded from his expression. “Yes.”
“I need you to take me there. Whether or not you believe a soul eater is behind these recent murders, they’ve only reinforced our need to protect the wellspring.”
He hesitated. “I’d normally have to seek formal permission from the pack elders, but I can circumvent that by saying it relates to our current investigation.”
I half smiled. “And here I was expecting an argument.”
“I may find it hard to believe that something like wild magic can spring up in the middle of nowhere—”
