He watched the information sink in. He saw her swallow as she squared her shoulders. And then suddenly, her brows narrowed. “Neither is the Hong Kong B virus, but I handled that just fine, thank you very much.” Her expression shifted into a grin. “Surprised you, didn’t I?”
Yes.
“You thought you could spout some B movie lines and I’d be all aflutter.”
“Most people would be on the floor drooling after what you saw last night.”
Her face paled and he regretted reminding her of the uglier parts of last night.
“Well, I’m not most people,” she said.
No kidding.
“And besides, this is an answer to my prayer, so I can hardly look a gift horse in the mouth, can I?”
He frowned. “I have no idea what that means.”
She blew out a breath. “For the last three days I’ve been praying—actually praying—for a clue. Some way to get a handle on the Detroit Flu. And then, bam, you kidnap me and suddenly I’ve got more clues than I can follow. So, I’ve set this down to divine intervention. You want me to handle werewolves with care? You got it. You want to be my big scary bodyguard? Whatever floats your boat. But if you keep me from following any one of my divinely given clues, then I will find a way to…to pinch you in a way that hurts. A lot.”
A laugh burst out of him. A single, wild bark of sound that he hadn’t made in years. Not since being forced into the Griz and becoming the muscle for Nanook, the asshole that Simon defeated a very short two days ago. And now suddenly, this little spitfire threatens to pinch him, and he was choking back humor.
Balance.
Well, hell. There it was. That balance point of calm that he’d lost last night. He felt as if all the world had settled, which allowed him to smile at her and nod.
“If you stay behind me while the wolves are here, then you can pursue any clue you want.”
She snorted. “The wolves are the clue, but for the moment I’ll bow to your greater wisdom. I’ll just think of you like protective gloves or a fume hood.”
Not images he liked, but he’d take it. Especially as he heard the wolves enter with heavy tread and that very particular dog scent. Pissed-off canine. Gah.
“Just remember, they’re touchy, aggressive, and don’t like insults to their manhood. Treat them like unstable TNT. With fangs.”
He saw her eyes widen at that. Secure that she had gotten his message, he started down the stairs. The scene spread out before him as quickly as the smell. Five werewolves in their human form had come in the front door. Three others stood as wolves outside the broken window looking in. Simon stood next to Mother, facing them. It was her house, so he allowed her to stand beside him, but Hank could see that the alpha was in position to protect her if needed. And way back behind all three dead bodies—one werewolf, two hybrids—stood Alyssa with tablet in one hand, gun in another. Sammy was probably still sound asleep downstairs.
Hank should be beside his alpha, acting as protection and support. Simon hadn’t called for it, but it was Hank’s place and he itched to go there. But his job was to protect Cecilia. No one had said that, but his bear was adamant on this point. It was what happened with bonded males, and so he accepted it with a grim sense of fate.
At least he could get to a compromise location. He gestured Cecilia to stand with Alyssa as he moved to a halfway point in the room. And he waited while everyone pretended to like each other. The wolf alpha started. He looked to be a man in his fifties with pale silver eyes, distinguished in his expensive suit.
“Mother, we’ve come for our dead.”
“Where’s Miriam? She okay?”
“She’s resting. It’s been a long night of corralling hallucinating normals. Antwone was our only casualty.”
“And them.” She gestured to the hybrids. “Do you know who they were?”
The man barely gave them a glance. “They’re gone now.” His eyes narrowed on Simon. “But you have a hybrid beta. How did you manage to control him?”
“Vic controls himself,” Simon responded. “How many hybrids in your territory? Have you told everyone not to drink the water?”
“We have control, but you are well out of your territory.”
It was like watching two men play completely different video games while in the same room. It looked like they were talking to each other, but neither seemed to be interested in the same thing. And even Mother’s interest was somewhere else. For her, each of the three dead shifters used to be a person. Someone’s child, someone’s friend. She wanted to know if the families had been notified, if those who grieved had been comforted. It was why she was able to stay so neutral while sitting on the bad side of the wolf lands.
Sadly, everyone ignored her.
“I’m here for Sammy,” Simon said. “She matured last night.”
