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I wanted to ask how friendly – after all, it had been a two-hour round trip. I suspected the dark feeling I was trying to ignore was jealousy. I had thought it was Manners and me against the world, but when a woman had called him for a lift he’d left me vulnerable without a thought. Okay, I was being melodramatic: he’d left me with four fire elementals, and if they couldn’t protect me nothing could. But still, he’d left me and he’d lied to me about Mark being a threat to me.
I needed to get my head screwed on straight. Manners might be my second in command, but perhaps I was relying on him too much. At the end of the day, the only one I could rely on was myself – and Esme.
Chapter 4
Istrodeintotheportal and felt the world right itself. Esme reappeared in my mind, a solid presence in my body and my brain that I could rely on.We’ve got a problem. Mark is dead.
We will find who killed Mark and deal with him,Esme promised fiercely. Her anger surprised me because she had no reason to love Mark anymore than I did.
Maybe he died accidentally,I replied hopefully.
She snorted.He is wolf. We do not die accidentally.
I wanted to argue but I couldn’t. An accident didn’t seem likely, not with a panicked call from Liam at 6.10am. Maybe I could hope for a car accident or a raging allergy.
You need to eat. We will need our energy. We will be changing before the day is out.Esme’slogic was sound. Changing doesn’t seem to take much magical energy from us – we’ve yet to be expelled into the Common realm from accidental overuse of magic – but something in the shift makes us ravenously hungry. Usually we hunt whilst we’re in our wolf form and that helps take the edge off, but she was right: if Mark’s death was suspicious, we’d need to shift to see what we could find out.
I moseyed up to the café’s counter. The place was still closed but the smells from the kitchen were making my tummy rumble. They were already baking and prepping for the 7am rush.
I dinged the little service bell and Maxwell popped up from behind the counter, like he really was just a café owner. ‘Can I grab a cappuccino and sausage sandwich to go?’
‘Sure, I’ll pop it on the overnight invoice.’ Maxwell called the food order back to the kitchen. He poured some milk into a metal jug, held the jug for a minute, then briefly frothed the milk. Huh. I guess fire elemental powers are handy to heat things in a jiffy. Moments later he passed me my drink and a hot sandwich wrapped in a to-go packet.
Manners grabbed both of our duffels and we headed out into the heavy rain. He stowed our bags and slid into the driver’s seat. I sat in the passenger side, unwrapped my sandwich and dug in. Esme was right: we would need our energy. Besides, uncouth as it was to stuff my face, I was hungry.
Manners started the engine. ‘Are we okay?’ he asked finally.
No. ‘Sure.’ I sent him a bright smile and kept on eating. The rest of the drive was silent.
When we pulled up outside the mansion, our car wasn’t the only one on the drive; a police vehicle was already there. My hopes for an accidental death for Mark dwindled and died. I took one last pull of my cappuccino and put the empty cup in the cupholder. It didn’t seem right to stroll in casually sipping coffee like everything was normal. My flamingo shirt was bad enough.
I turned to Manners and handed him my unlocked phone. ‘I’ll need a name, address and a telephone number for this brethren lady you visited.’
Manners tapped in the details and passed it back to me.Mindy – Brethren. Mindy? What kind of a name was Mindy? Fucking Mindy.
I bet she is a terrible hunter,Esme murmured.
That made me smile. She was trying to make me feel better, her equivalent of telling me that Mindy’s boobs were probably fake.
Thanks.I sent her a mental hug, which she returned. It steadied me. I had Esme, and we’d sort out whatever had been done to Mark.
I slid out of the car, rang the doorbell and waited, thankful for the covered porch that protected me from the rain. Mrs Dawes opened the door but today her ever-present smile was missing. She’d clearly been crying; her eyes were red and her face was puffy.
As I stepped inside, I pulled her into a hug. She cried on my shoulder for a few moments before pulling herself together and dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘It’s still so raw.’
‘Of course. The police are here?’
‘Yes. Someone called them – I’m sorry, I’m not sure who. I know you might have preferred to investigate without the authorities being involved.’
I kept my face blank. I’m not an investigator, and I wouldn’t know the first thing about getting to the bottom of this. Hell, I didn’t even know whatthiswas. I’m an accountant for Christ’s sake. I know numbers, and the answer is always right or wrong. There is no grey line in maths; maths is comforting in that way. This was so far out of my comfort zone, I didn’t know where to begin. But I guessed whatever was going on fell under the remit of the alpha, and the presence of the police was a good thing. Right?
Once I knew what was going on, I’d ring Jess for advice. She’s a private investigator – she’d know what to do.
‘How did Mark die?’ I asked Mrs Dawes.
Her eyes filled with tears again. ‘Horribly,’ she whispered. ‘So horribly. Tortured – you’ll have to see.’
Ugh, I didn’t want to see a tortured body. I didn’t want to seeanykind of body. I’d seen far more than my fair share of corpses lately. I said nothing and followed her through the mansion to the pack wing where Mark had lived. When Mrs Dawes led me through into the communal living room, it fell silent apart from Marissa’s weeping.
