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The room grew as we shrank to wolf height. The colours dulled and muted and the smells intensified, momentarily overwhelming us with their stench. People often defecate during their death throes and Mark had been no exception. The room reeked of his urine and faeces. I could smell his panicked sweat that had dried hours before; it was stale and heavy.
I heard the steady thrum of Steve’s heart but no sounds emanated from Mark. It was chilling. Death steals everything from us.
Underneath the putrid smell of death was another tantalising scent – vanilla? Cinnamon and sandalwood? Something else – lavender, maybe? Something spicy? It clung to the air rather than Mark’s body. I scented around the room and my delicate olfactory sense led me to a candle that had not long been extinguished. There was a hint of smoke in the air. I dismissed it. Perhaps Mark liked wanking with his paper magazines in some flattering candlelight. Shadows make everything look bigger.
We scented around the room a bit more. The bed smelled of stale sex, but we couldn’t distinguish individual scents on the floor. After Mark’s death, half the pack had been coming and going like it was Grand Central Station. I grimaced. For all our explorations, we had found next to nothing. Mark liked candles and sex. Hurrah, I’ve solved the case.
Patience,Esme chided gently.We will find the killer. I am an excellent hunter.
I let her certainty reassure me, even though hunting rabbits and murderers is somewhat different. I nudged her and she willingly gave the reins to me. Disgruntled with our findings, I changed back to human form and dressed quickly.
‘Anything?’ Steve asked.
I shook my head. ‘Nothing that helps. Way too many people have been in and out of this room. The bed smells of sex.’
‘Well, that’s something. Find out who he’s shagging. A lot of investigating a crime is about investigating the victim.’
Great. I had a feeling I was about to get to know Mark more intimately than I’d ever wanted to. I straightened my shoulders. He was my pack, my responsibility, and I’d find out who killed him – even if it killed me.
Chapter 7
Ileft.Theforensictypes were lingering in the hall, waiting for us to finish. They didn’t seem to find it odd that I was in the crime scene with Steve, so either they were Other or they’d worked with him often enough not to call him out on his eccentricities.
I took advantage of the empty corridor and speed-dialled Jess for some advice. She answered on the second ring, her voice jubilant. ‘Lucy! How are you getting on?’
‘I’m up shit creek without a paddle. The paddle didn’t even make it into the boat. In fact, thereisno boat and I’m swimming in shit.’
‘That doesn’t sound very hygienic.’
‘I’mcoveredin shit.’
‘Literally or figuratively? Because if it’s the former, hang up and grab a shower.’
That made me smile. ‘Figuratively. One of my pack mates is dead.’
‘And you didn’t kill him?’ Jess’s voice held no censure. Her morality had undergone quite a shift since her introduction to the Other.
‘No. It would probably be better if he’d challenged me to mortal combat or something. Instead he’s been circling me like an insidious snake, waiting for his chance to strike. And now he’s dead.’
‘And you’re upset about it?’
‘I’m not pleased. Someone marched into the mansion and killed him in his room.’
‘Crap. The pack is not going to like that.’
‘No shit.’
‘How is Archie?’ Jess asked. ‘Is he helping you?’
‘He’s not actively obstructing me, which I’m counting as a win. After all, I did kill his father.’
‘After his father started to die! At worst, it was euthanasia. And Wilf asked you to kill him so the pack wouldn’t fall into Rain’s paws.’
‘Yeah,’ I muttered. ‘So why do I feel like the bad guy?’
‘You’re not the bad guy, you’re the kick-ass heroine. You just need to realise it.’
Her faith made me smile and steadied something in me that had been in danger of breaking. I hadn’t admitted to myself how fragile I was feeling. It wasn’t like me – but neither was having a wolf in my head.
