“Sam, I need a list of the last two, no, make it three, groups of Lost Boys, with pictures if you can make it happen. Off the record. I also want something with Zeb’s scent on it. Dirty socks. Underwear. Anything that the mamas might have overlooked since he left. And a description of the clothes he was wearing when he disappeared.”
“Why? You putting tracker dogs on him?”
“It’s possible that Zebulun has the potential to become a devil dog if he gets in a fight.” I didn’t want my brother to start thinking too much so I plunged on. “I’ll get people in town to start looking for him and them. We’ll capture Zeb if we can.” I remembered the hair—devil dog hair—found on the bodies. “And you should know. It’s possible the Lost Boys were already taken by some bad vampires. So yes, brother mine. I need a scent item.”
My brother took in a slow whistling breath. “Zeb spent the night here after he had a fight with Daddy. I don’t think Sara has washed the sheets on that bed. I’ll check and bring them to your truck right away. And, Nellie? I can’t imagine killing my half brother. But we’ll be watching. If one of them things comes to the church land, it won’t make it off.”
“Any of the young men sent out of the compound might be in danger of changing.”
“So we could have a pack of ’em attacking here?”
Or on my land.“Don’t start a panic. This ain’t contagious. Just let the menfolk know and to be aware. And get that scent item to Occam.”
“On the way with it now.”
Back inside, I said, “I thank family. I’m honored to havebeen trusted with the women’s stories. I need to get back to work.”
My cell started to ping as Sam sent pictures and descriptions of Zebulun and the latest batch of Lost Boys. As I stood, helpless and full of pins, the mamas took final measurements and began to unpin me enough to get out of the gorgeous dress.
* * *
Occam’s cell was propped on a cell phone holder so he could use both hands to drive. Even with chains on the tires we were sliding on the ice. The streets should have been deserted, but they weren’t. Restaurants were doing a booming business, gas stations were well lit, beer sales were high, and takeaway food trucks were open; the city, which should have been shut down, was partying—which meant the streets were full of yahoos doing ice donuts, tailgating-style beer parties had been set up in parking lots, and bonfires were blazing in backyards.
I had just gotten off the phone with FireWind, LaFleur, and Kent, letting them know that my underage half brother, who had been friends with Arial, was missing and now might be a prisoner of Torquemada’s band of blood-servants. Sam had sent me names and photographs, and I had forwarded them to HQ comms.
I asked JoJo the one question that had been burning in my heart. “Will you check the testing and see if there were devil dog hairs on the clothes found at the house where Cai died?”
There was a click and the ambient noise changed. Jo had taken me off the official line. “I don’t have to check, Country Hick Chick. There were. You okay?”
The cold shaft of fear I had felt with the mamas solidified. “No. Not really. Okay. Thanks.”
I disconnected and made a call to Brother Thaddeus Rankin of Rankin Replacements and Repairs, and his son, Deus. The two had kept my house in good shape and repair when I was a widder-woman, and they also belonged to a church that helped the homeless, including, as needed, any church boys dropped off in the night. They hadn’t seen any church boys lately, which was unusual, but they promised to keep an ear to the ground and put out some feelers.
I also studied the description of the clothes Zebulun hadbeen wearing when he disappeared, wondering if they matched any found at the abandoned house where Cai was found.
While I talked with HQ, Occam had been waiting on a return call from the Montana Bighorn pack’s leader.
As we skidded toward HQ, Occam’s call was returned. He pulled the cell from the holder, pressed it against his ear, and said, “Thank you for taking my call, sir. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. I know, sir. Yes, sir.” Followed by a short silence. I glared at Occam because he could have put the leader on speaker, but I had a feeling that he had things to hear that he didn’t want me to know. “How are they integrating, sir?”
He shot me the side-eye and pulled off the road into the parking lot of an empty storefront, a lot that had no tailgate party, and idled the engine. “That’s…unfortunate, sir. Were the two permanently incapacitated?”
I turned in my seat, pulling a knee up and tucking a foot under the other leg. And glared at my cat-man.
“Yes, sir. I understand, sir. There is a concern that we have more in Knoxville on the loose. Yes, sir. That makes sense. I’ll run the ideas by Regional Director FireWind and let you know what he says about sending one of the portable null rooms to you on the next military flight out. Yes, sir. Regardless of whether we ask you to take more of thegwyllgi. My pleasure, sir. Yes, sir. And to yours.”
The call ended. He looked at me, shrugged with one shoulder at what he saw on my face. “Let me tell this to FireWind so I don’t have to say it twice.”
I nodded. How did Occam even have the contact number of the alpha of the Montana pack? I knew that Soul had helped save Occam when he was first released from the silver cage the traveling carnival had kept him in for two decades. Had Soul taken him to the Montana pack? I had never asked him about his past, knowing that some things were too painful to be poked and prodded, and had to be offered. So far, his offerings had been only the highlights of his salvation, not the full truth, just like I never talked to him much about John and what happened in my life with him. Details were often painful and unnecessary at first. And sometimes forever.
“FireWind,” Occam said when the boss answered. We were on speaker this time. “Occam reporting. I just got off the phonewith the leader of the Montana Bighorn pack. They’ve had an incident with several of the juvenilegwyllgiwe sent. They were found this morning partially drained of blood, in a bunkhouse used as a holding pen forgwyllgiwho can’t control their shifting and are unable to remain in human form. It’s a safe house of sorts, but to protect others from the dogs rather than the other way around, and before you ask, yes, it sounds like a prison, though a nice one, with wide-screen TVs, video games, human food, teachers, and counselors.
“The teenagers were drained by a vampire who disabled the guards and got inside. This morning, the pack tracked her and killed her, but she may not be alone.
“Two of the juveniles have received transfusions and no one sustained lasting damage, but the pack wants a portable null room. I know the Nashville coven had one ready for Kent to take to the Arizona PsyLED office, but I think consideration should be made to the Montana Bighorn pack, especially if we end up needing to send them more devil dog kids.”
“I think that’s wise,” FireWind said. “I’ll see how fast I can get a portable null room there, and how fast Kent can be ready to go. However, with the weather, flights will be undependable at best.”
“Also, sir, he offered two werewolves to track the vampires here.”
