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‘One of ours was set upon by five vampyrs. They were only playing or they’d have killed him, but Amber had to be called.’ ‘Playing’ seemed like a poor word for assault, especially if it was bad enough to call a healer rather than relying on a wolf’s natural restorative powers.
‘Which wolf was attacked?’
‘Noah.’
‘And the names of the vampyrs?’
She snorted. ‘They didn’t exchange names and telephone numbers. It was anattack.’Her lack of respect was grating on Esme, and I was working hard to stop us from lunging across and slamming Cassie’s snarky little head onto the coffee table.
She’s grieving,I calmed Esme.Cut her some slack.
I have. She’s not bleeding.
Yet.
Cassie must have caught some of the wolf lurking in my eyes because she looked down and away again, put her hands in her lap and hunched down, making herself smaller.
I cleared my throat and made sure my tone was even. ‘And the pipers?’
‘Same issue as always.’ Her voice was softer now and she was still looking down. Esme gave a little sound of contentment; finally, Cassie was taking us seriously.
‘The upstart little piper shits used us in a prank, a rite of adulthood for the younger ones. “See if you can pipe a wolf, I bet you can’t”,’ she said in a sing-song voice. ‘There’s been a spate of attempted pipings on our more vulnerable pups. Mark had words with the local pipers – in his human form,’ she hastened to add.
‘Words?’ Manners asked.
She smirked. ‘Lord Samuel always insisted on coming down quite hard on that kind of thing. Mark will have told them that if the piping didn’t stop, he’d rip the little pipers to shreds when they were next in Common. Mark didn’t need his claws in order to be lethal.’
I had a fair amount of experience when it came to pipers. I’d been dog-sitting Gato, Jess’s hellhound, when a local piper had lured him away. It turned out that Gato had deliberately allowed himself to be lured, but the initial distrust of pipers had triggered something in my mind. It was unfortunate that I was now a piper – a closely guarded secret that I wouldn’t be spilling any time soon – because it made me nervous about talking to them. What if they could tell somehow that I was one of them?
Like most things Other, I still didn’t know my ass from my elbow. In piper terms, I barely had my training wheels off. I hadn’t refined my skills; at the moment I needed to be physically touching an animal I wanted to speak to.
Lisette, Emory’s ex-girlfriend, had grudgingly shown me the basics. I’d used my skills a time or two, notably once on a giant ouroboros, but apart from that my ability to talk to animals was something I hid away. Sooner or later, being both a piper and a werewolf would put me on a headlong collision course with conflict. I hoped it would be later.
Chapter 9
QuestioningCassieendedabruptlyas the scene of crime officers wheeled out Mark’s body in a black body bag. I glared at them. They could have checked the way was clear before rolling the corpse through the house.
Cassie dissolved into sobs. Liam looked away. Was he uncomfortable – or guilty? I met Marissa’s eyes and nodded towards Cassie. Marissa’s mouth twisted in a moue of distaste, but she obligingly shuffled closer and embraced her. There seemed to be no great affection between the two, and for some reason that comforted me. Mine wasn’t the only rift in the pack.
Mrs Dawes bustled in, a frown lining her face. She went into the hallway and moments later we heard her giving Steve and the remainder of the SOCO team a dressing down. She used the word ‘decorum’ a lot.
She marched back in, and her eyes softened as she took in Cassie. ‘Come on, love,’ she murmured. ‘Let’s get you some cake.’
Marissa happily relinquished her hold on the grieving widow but also followed Mrs Dawes out to the kitchen. I guess she needed cake, too. I didn’t blame her: I was craving some sugar. Maybe I could snaffle some ice cream later.
Liam rose and went out to the dormitory corridor, presumably to his bedroom. I let him go for now. The living room was comfortable, but it wasn’t one of ‘my’ areas.
I stood up and gestured for Manners to follow me. We wound our way through the mansion to what was Lord Samuel’s old office. It is mine now. It’s still decidedly masculine, all leather and beiges, but I’ve put in some brightly coloured cushions and plants and I feel like I’ve put my stamp on the room. It would probably be crass to roll out the paint just yet; I should wait a few more weeks before painting it a calming sage or a nice duck-egg blue. Interior design is important to me, and I’m itching to do some renovations on the mansion. All in good time.
I sat behind the expansive mahogany desk. Manners lifted the heavy chair opposite and turned it so he was sitting at an angle and could see me, the windows and the door. He was never off duty. He studied me carefully. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
Was he concerned about me? That was nice – surprising, but nice. ‘Right as rain,’ I responded flippantly.
What is right about rain?Esme complained.It makes you wet and cold and smell bad. No one likes rain.
Farmers like rain,I countered.
Esme snorted.They plant things in mud.Her tone suggested they were deranged.
