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“Where did you see her?”
“At her grave. Where Savannah buried her head.”
A tick in his jaw told me he wanted to say more about this, but apparently he had other questions instead. “And you said you could smell her?”
Now we were getting somewhere.
“Yes. It was her, Callum. Please believe me. I wouldn’t be telling you this if I wasn’t a thousand percent sure of what I saw.”
He sat back in his chair, his face thrown into shadow now that it was out of the lamplight. Scratching his chin he looked up to the ceiling as if to ask, “Why me?” and then leaned forward again.
“You understand why I think this is madness. Beheadings are permanent. They’re one of the only absolutely certain ways to kill any supernatural. Vampire, werewolf, fae. There’s no coming back from a beheading.”
“Tell that to your sister,” I countered.
“She wasn’t even buried with her body.”
“I know.” The rest of her remains had been disposed of at my grandmother’s farm in Manitoba, up in Canada. I never asked how Secret had disposed of the body, but I assumed a bonfire was involved. Fire, like beheading, was one of those reliable ways to get rid of pesky paranormal creatures.
“This isn’t possible,” Callum said.
“If you asked someone on the street five years ago if we were possible, they would say no, so let’s maybe no throw that word around like it really means something.”
He sighed.
Wilder cleared his throat. “Sir, for what it’s worth, I saw Genie when she came out of the woods, and I’ve never seen her that scared in my life. And we just exorcised a demon a couple of weeks ago, so that’s saying something. She doesn’t scare easily.”
“She’s a McQueen.” There was the faintest hint of pride in Callum’s tone, under all the annoyance.
“Please,” I begged, not even sure what I was asking for. Did I want him to deal with it? To go look for her? Or did I simply want him to believe what I was saying?
He pushed back his chair, and this time he didn’t sigh or make a show of it. Callum was a large, imposing man, and on his feet he dwarfed me, making me feel like the subordinate I was. Instinctively I bowed my head again. He just had that kind of effect on me. I glanced over and saw Wilder doing the same.
Wilder, who was naturally taller than me, had stooped down, making sure he didn’t challenge Callum for height.
My uncle pushed past us and opened the office door. It was then the smell of smoke hit me for the first time. It wasn’t the pleasant, campfire aroma that sometimes came from the back lot, but rather an acrid, unpleasant odor that made me wrinkle my nose.
Something wasn’t right.
Callum sensed it too, even before we heard the shouting.
The three of us took off running for the back, where a dozen or so pack members were creating bedlam. Two men, both in a state of panic, collided with each other at top speed, collapsing to the ground on top of one another.
Beyond them, was the source of the nightmare, and the smell.
The Den was burning.
It hadn’t been much more than a little wooden cabin to begin with, probably not to code, and most likely the highest order of fire trap, but I don’t think any of use had ever thought something like this would happen.
Callum, Wilder, and I stood dumbfounded, watching as the blazing hot tongues of flame climbed into the night sky, raining down ash over the whole scene.
And there, at the edge of the woods, barely visible through the haze of thick smoke, I saw my mother watching.
She smiled.
Chapter Three
The sun was already rising when we finally got the fire out.
