“You think Caitlin might be working with demons?” Levi asked.
“The Ouroboros Mirror is a tool for possession. In my experience, when people have control of an artifact like that, they use it.”
Levi rested his elbows on the table before nodding. “All right. I’ll make the call to the PCB. You can report to the deputy assistant SAIC about your idea to impersonate a human servant. If something bad comes from that, Maricela is going to be pissed if Legal is caught flat-footed.”
Spencer hid his wince behind his coffee cup because that wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. “Sure thing.”
He’d get to it.
Eventually.
* * *
To no one’s surprise, the PCB dragged its feet over sharing information if the SOA wasn’t formally taking over the case. Spencer supposed that’s what came of a federal agency with a shitty reputation caused by the Dominion Sect infiltrating it.
They still needed answers though. While Levi went to make face time with the Seattle PCB’s assistant chief of Preternatural Crimes to smooth things over after the initial phone call, Spencer found himself driving toward the official territory held by the Seattle god pack for a meeting not on anyone’s schedule. Levi hadn’t been happy with his decision to reach out to the god pack, but Spencer was of the mind they couldn’t waste time waiting for the PCB to be helpful. Besides, out of everyone on the investigative team, Spencer had the most experience when it came to dealing with god packs threatened by demons.
He took State Route 99 north from downtown, bypassing the Space Needle along the way. Fatima hopped into the back seat at that point so she could press her nose to the window and stare at the famous spire. It was still daylight, the afternoon sun hanging lower in the sky, which meant the Space Needle wasn’t lit up yet.
Spencer kept driving north, following the GPS on his phone, which took him to a block of houses in the Queen Anne neighborhood, situated on the western side of David Rogers Park. Spencer had to park one street over because that was the nearest spot he could find. It gave him time to stretch his legs and get a feel for the area as he headed toward the god pack territory.
For the most part, werecreatures tended to form packs and claimed territory by word of mouth if they didn’t have the god strain of the werevirus running through their veins. Territory was measured in city blocks and street names in urban areas, miles and road signs in rural parts of the country. People never knew they were living in a pack’s territory unless a fight erupted on their doorstep or they had a mortgage a stone’s throw away from a god pack’s home.
For Seattle, that meant a block of houses all neatly painted, yards well-kept, and wards running the length of the property lines. The wards, when Spencer brushed his awareness up against them, were meant to keep threats out. The command trigger was carved somewhere inside each home, the wards worth the money the god pack had paid for them. Werecreatures were never magic users, the werevirus long known to be incompatible with magic, but there were magic users out there who refused to discriminate when it came to taking on clients.
Fatima had no trouble trotting across the wards on her way to the front door. Spencer kept his magic locked down tight as he stepped forward. When the wards didn’t react, he kept walking, aware of the person staring at him through the side window. The door opened before he even reached the porch, a young woman filling the doorway and staring at him with wolf-bright amber eyes.
“Are you lost?” she drawled.
Spencer shook his head as he pulled his badge out of his back pocket and held it up. “Nope. I’m Special Agent Spencer Bailey with the SOA. I was hoping to talk to the god pack alphas. Are they around?”
The woman went rigid, eyes narrowing. Between one breath and the next, she was joined by two other werecreatures, both men, and all of them stared at Spencer with wary distrust. They didn’t so much as glance at Fatima, which told Spencer she was choosing to go unseen by them for now.
“Got a warrant or subpoena?” the woman asked.
“No, but I’m not here to arrest anyone.”
She smiled meanly at him. “No warrant or subpoena, no chat.”
Then she slammed the door shut in his face.
Rude, Fatima said.
“You’re telling me.” He knocked on the door, not bothering to raise his voice because werecreatures all had preternatural hearing and never kept their ears to themselves. “Look, I know your alphas went to the PCB and were asked to identify two werecreatures who attacked people at the gala Friday night. Your alphas need to know those two were possessed by demons.”
The door was yanked open before his knuckles could meet it on the next knock, and he nearly rapped the woman on the forehead. He pulled his fist back at the last second, blinking at her.
“What did you say?” she hissed.
“Not anything that should be discussed outside. Can I come in?” Fatima yowled from between his feet, causing the woman to startle, gaze snapping down to her. “Sorry, canwecome in?”
The woman’s nose wrinkled as she drew in a harsh breath, taking in their scents. “That’s not a werecreature.”
“She doesn’t mean anyone harm. Neither do I.” He knew werecreatures could smell truth from a lie, and he hoped whatever she was getting off him was the truth.
“Let him in,” a deep voice said.
The trio of werecreatures immediately moved away from the door. Spencer stared at the broad-shouldered man about his height, face young-looking, with close-cut dark curly hair and brown eyes. The T-shirt he wore was sleeveless, and the collar was torn into a V around his throat, revealing a geometric tattoo covering his entire left arm and pectoral. The black ink stood out on his brown skin, drawing attention as much as his wolf-bright amber eyes did.
