Spencer stepped inside, Fatima right beside him, and he tried not to feel like he was cornered when the door shut behind him. The threshold was a heavy weight against his shields, and he resisted the urge to roll his shoulders as he raised his badge again. “SOA Special Agent Spencer Bailey.”
“I’m Makai Tetuanui, dire to the Seattle god pack.” One thick brow raised toward his hairline as he looked at Fatima. “She smells strange.”
“Psychopomp.”
Makai surprised him by inclining his head a little. “Spirit sister.”
Fatima looked less huffy when Spencer glanced at her, fur smoothed down all across her spine. “Are your alphas here?”
“They’re interviewing the packs the two deceased werecreatures belonged to. They’ll be a while.” Makai nodded in the direction of the credenza in the hallway and the pitcher of water and box of crackers sitting there. “You can wait if you take hospitality.”
“I’ll take hospitality.”
Makai poured him a glass of water and opened the box for him to take a couple of crackers. They were stale, but the water managed to wash away most of the dry paste they became on his tongue.
“Be welcome,” Makai said.
The threshold wrapped around the home snapped against Spencer’s shields before settling back into the foundations. The tension in the air from magic primed to protect dissipated. Hospitality meant he could do no harm to the occupants of the home without being forcibly banished from the premises by way of magic. Not like he had any desire to mess with a god pack.
“Do you know how long your alphas will be?”
Makai smiled, showing off white teeth that looked a little too sharp. “A while.”
Right. Spencer could play the hurry-up-and-wait game.
Makai led him to a room farther in the home, located on the first floor near the kitchen. It could’ve been a bedroom, but the god pack seemed to utilize it as a receiving room. The couches and armchairs all looked comfortable enough for a long meeting. Fatima trotted over to one of the armchairs and hopped onto the cushion, curling up in a ball and hiding her nose with her tail. Her lack of concern eased Spencer’s own, and he sat on the smaller love seat, pulling out his phone to catch up on his emails.
Makai posted a werecreature on duty with him in the room, the young woman taking a seat in the corner and staring at him as if he were a bomb about to go off. Spencer opted to ignore her, stretching out his legs and hoping his battery lasted.
The sunlight coming through the single window slowly crept over the floor, fading as the hours ticked by. If they thought Spencer would give up on waiting or get annoyed, they were sorely mistaken. While Fatima napped, he caught up on work using his phone and held his tongue on asking when the alphas would arrive. He knew what the answer would be.
When the sunlight was more deep afternoon edging on twilight and the werecreature charged with watching him had turned on the light, he heard a door shut loudly down the hall and a flurry of voices. Spencer looked up from his phone and focused on the doorway to the room. A minute later, Makai entered, followed by two people who could not be more different. Sliding his sight sideways for a second told Spencer their souls weren’t carrying any hitchhikers.
The woman was short and slim, her graying blonde hair a mess of frizzy curls brushing her shoulders. She wore no makeup, face carrying wrinkles along her mouth and at the corners of her eyes. Her clothes were subdued in color and practical over fashionable. She could’ve been someone’s mom and gone completely unnoticed save for her wolf-bright amber eyes denoting her status as a werecreature.
Her co-leader was a tall man of Indian descent, dark-haired and appearing tanned despite the rainy weather Seattle was known for. His amber eyes stood out in his face, drawing a person’s attention. He was dressed like the tech bros Spencer saw in San Francisco when he spent time in that city: casual jeans, T-shirt, and a hoodie.
Makai gestured at both of his alphas as he introduced them, eyes on Spencer. “Mallory Jones and Anil Laghari.”
Spencer stood and shoved his phone into his pocket, offering a polite nod instead of a handshake. “Alphas.”
“Why does the SOA believe demons possessed the werecreatures that died? The PCB didn’t mention anything about demons,” Mallory asked, skipping the awkward pleasantries altogether.
“The PCB has jurisdiction over the attack that happened at the gala. The SOA doesn’t have any plans to take that case over at this time.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question.”
The werecreature tasked with keeping an eye on Spencer left the room. Makai closed the door behind them while his alphas approached Spencer. It felt a little like being trapped. Spencer flexed his fingers but didn’t draw on his magic. He’d taken hospitality, and the alphas before him probably didn’t mean him any harm. It wouldn’t look good if a federal agent came to harm in their pack territory.
Fatima chose that moment to uncurl from her spot on the armchair, stretching out her paws and yawning wide to show off her sharp little fangs. Mallory and Anil didn’t seem surprised to see her there. Spencer curled his fingers at Fatima in a silent request, and she jumped off the armchair, padding over to him. She twined through his legs before choosing to sit on her haunches right in front of him, staring at the werecreatures with her unblinking eyes.
They are not possessed, she said.
“I know,” Spencer replied.
Anil narrowed his eyes. “She speaks to you?’
“She won’t speak to you, if that’s what you’re asking. Psychopomps have one companion, and that’s it.” The only exception he knew of to that communication rule lived on the East Coast, capable of eating everyone out of house and home.
