Harvest Hunting
Page 24I let out a long huff, wanting to maul the freak some more, but then backed off and--this time slowly--changed back into myself. I stil had blood on my face and the taste of it in my mouth, but by now it was part of who I was. Though I stil got queasy when I thought of Menol y and how she drank blood, I was losing my squeamishness.
Staring down at the body, I cleared my throat. "He kil ed her. I know it. I felt it--in my Death Maiden aspect." And even though I said it to soothe myself, in my heart I knew it was true. "The stench of death was on his breath. He kil ed her, and he enjoyed it."
Camil e stared at me for a moment, then nodded. "Stand guard. I've cal ed Chase. I'l go back and wait with Mary Mae's body." She turned to go.
"How did you avoid the Wolf Briar?"
"Thanks to you, I managed to duck out of the way before the vapor caught me. You saved me. That big of a dose could have knocked me out for a good long time. I think I'm going to have to be very careful when we final y go up against this group." She shrugged. "Either that or be prepared to take the consequences. Maybe Wilbur knows of a vaccine or something."
As she headed back to the house, I could hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance.
Chase knelt by the dead shifter. "What do I need to know?" The question was pointed. He did not ask me what happened.
"He attacked Mary Mae. We know that much. Her blood's on his hands, and I'm pretty sure the murder weapon wil have his prints on it. He must have dropped it in the house. And then he attacked us with Wolf Briar when we went after him. He's a coyote shifter, Chase. He's not human."
"Any way to prove it?" Chase glanced up at me.
Ask Sharah to do a DNA screen. She'l prove it. I chased him, and he turned to put up a fight. I shifted into panther form and . . ." I paused, realizing I could be in real trouble here if we couldn't link him to the murder. I'd basical y mowed him down.
Just then, Yugi joined us in the al ey, holding up a paper bag. "I've got the murder weapon. Found it just outside the back door. Bloody prints on it. Looks like the guy was doing something with her blood when Camil e and Delilah interrupted him."
"Probably harvesting it for something." I let out a long sigh. "These coyote shifters . . . Chase, they aren't like other Weres. They aren't like Marion and her group. They're dangerous and they're deadly and they have no remorse. They don't give a flying fuck about anybody else, and they're power hungry."
"Why did he kil her, do you think? What was his motive?"
"We were coming over to talk to her about Paulo's disappearance. He must have found out and decided to kil her before she could talk to us. We think we know why they kidnapped Amber, and what they want."
I motioned for him to edge away from Yugi. Chase told the FH-CSI team to clean up the scene, and we headed back to the house. Along the way I told him about the Koyanni, shortening it, but keeping the gist.
"So why are they after Amber?"
"Crap. You mean a bunch of crazed coyote shifters possess one of the spirit seals? That's as bad as the demons getting hold of it." He leaned against the fence, sighing. "What the hel are we going to do?"
"We check out the magic shop. Meanwhile, you verify that this guy kil ed Mary Mae for me. I know he did . . . but I want your kind of proof."
"Al right. But tel me this: why is Amber stil alive if they got what they wanted?"
I shook my head. "That's as much your guess as mine. We have no idea. But we can't press our luck. We have to find her before they decide they don't need her anymore and kil her. And if the seal's truly stil around her neck, that means they can't use it right now. I hope."
As I trudged inside, avoiding the lingering traces of Wolf Briar in the air, Chase headed back to Yugi and his team.
Camil e was in the living room, sorting through papers on Mary's desk. She looked up as I entered the room and pointed to a large leather-bound book in her hand. "Paulo's Day-Timer. The dude had quite a busy schedule. Appears he was a handyman and kept al of his appointments in here. And he was organized; he checked them off one by one as he finished." She grinned and waited.
I frowned. "How does that help us?"
" He checked them off when he finished them --both work and recreation appointments." She waited again, then said, "Cripes . . . Delilah, we can trace back to the last appointment he completed and find out where he was headed next!"
Duh me! I thunked my forehead. "Sorry, stil a little blood-crazed from taking down the shifter. Yes, that wil be a tremendous help. We can talk to his last contacts and fol ow the trail from there. Where was the last place he went?"
"Hmm . . . he finished up a job over on Elm Street . . . then . . ." She looked up. "He has an appointment to go jogging in Rodgers Park after that. It's not checked off. Hmm . . ." She picked up the phone and dialed a number. I started to ask who she was cal ing but after a moment, she said, "Katrina, this is Camil e. Do you know who Paulo used to go jogging with?" A pause. "Real y? Thanks."
Hanging up, she waited a second, then picked up the receiver and dialed again. "Hel o, is this Mrs. Davis? Hi, I'm with Franco Repair, and I'm just fol owing up to make sure that Paulo Franco made the appointment at your house . . . let's see . . . it would have been ten days ago . . . He did? Good, and was everything satisfactory? . . . Oh good. Now, I have one last question, and it may seem strange, but I assure you, I wouldn't ask if it weren't necessary.
Did Paulo seem odd in any way? . . . Wel , the reason I want to know is because he's missing, and we're trying to trace his steps after he left your house.
We know he returned home, but we were hoping he might have said something . . . You weren't? You didn't? Okay, wel , thank you for your time."
"Let me guess: he showed up, did the job, nothing unusual, and she real y wanted off the phone." I grinned. "Trust me, this is why you ambush people in person. They give a lot more clues to what might have happened if you can see their faces. But I think in this case, she was tel ing the truth. He wouldn't have checked off her appointment if something had interfered with him on the way home from there."
"I guess . . . we check Rodgers Park? I might be able to cast a trace spel from there." She gathered her things, and we headed out to the car, where I flipped open my netbook and pul ed up Google Earth.
By the time we hit the park, I was getting sick of chasing down leads only to find they were washouts. We stood on the edge of the green, staring at the forested land. How did we ever expect to find anything here? I shook my head, ready to turn and pack it in when Camil e held up her hand.
"Wait. I smel something. It's lingering in the air . . . almost like . . ." She took off at a run, and I fol owed her. As we headed around a bend in the road toward an opening in the tree line, I started to smel something myself, but for the life of me, couldn't figure out what it was. Like honey, or flowers, or something appealing. Definitely not Wolf Briar.
We slowed as we entered the copse, surrounded by cedar and maple, fir, and here and there an oak tree. The smel of flowers stil lingered, drawing us in, and while it wasn't a compulsion as in being charmed, the draw was there.
At another bend, a dirt path forked off to the left, away from the sidewalk, and I took over the lead, motioning to my wrist blade. Camil e nodded and slipped behind me.
The path wove through a smal glen and then, ahead, we saw an opening--though it didn't look big enough to be a bal field or any such man-made glade. As we came to the edge of the wood and peeked out, there, in the center of a smal opening, sat a huge boulder. And atop the boulder rested a creature who looked ethereal, and yet, an edge of danger clung to her.
Her hair was gold, shining in a shaft of cold sunlight that broke through the tree canopy, and she was wil owy, tal , and fragile-looking. Yet, when she raised her head and gazed at us with weeping eyes, I could see a cold light behind her stare, an icy, ruthless passion. But she merely motioned for us to enter the glade and pointed to a tree trunk.
We sat, waiting.
After a moment, she spoke. "You are not ful y human. You are from the Tribe Who Left?"
Camil e and I glanced at one another. That was one way to describe it. "Yes, we're from Otherworld," I said. "Our mother was human. Our father is of the Sidhe. And you are . . . ?"
"Dryad. Earthborn. Bound to this wood. Or what there is left of it." She heaved a great sigh and dried her eyes. "Every day I come here and mourn the loss of the land. And every day I guard what's left of this patch--this park, as they cal it. I observe."
"We smel ed your perfume," I said gently. "We didn't mean to intrude on your mourning."
"You smel ed my fragrance? Then we have a connection. Only those who connect with me in some way can smel my violets and freshly mown grass.
What is it you seek?" She delicately wrapped one leg beneath her, folding her knee and pul ing it to her chest as she balanced on the granite rock.
I knew better than to ask her name. Dryads, like floraeds, were dangerous and unpredictable. They could also be immensely helpful if they chose to be.
"We're seeking information on a man who may have come through this park a fortnight ago. He was a werewolf. He never returned home, and this was the last place he was expected to be. He never checked his appointment off the calendar, so we're wondering if he made it here."
"Coyote shifter?" The dryad's eyes grew narrow. "You mingle with those scum? Then get the hel out of my garden, or I'l hurt you." As she jumped to her feet, standing atop the rock, a great thorny vine came lunging out of the foliage behind her, aiming right toward us. It looked nasty and dangerous, and the thorns were a good four inches long.
"Wait! Please!" We scrambled off the trunk, and I pushed Camil e behind me. "We just want information. We aren't friends of the dark shifters!"
The vine stopped, hesitating. The dryad tapped her foot on the stone. "You say he was a werewolf?"
"Yes," I said, edging back yet another step. The hovering vine made me nervous, and I didn't trust the dryad not to send it whaling away on us. "He was a beta wolf . . . he would have been easy prey for those wielding Wolf Briar."
The vine began to retreat, but only to the edge of the wood. We could stil see it. The dryad squatted on the rock, wrapping her arms around her knees. I wondered, briefly, how her flimsy gossamer dress--so sheer it was see-through--could keep her warm in this weather, but she didn't seem bothered by the chil , and I didn't want to chance insulting her with another question.
"Wolf Briar." Her voice was low. "Someone is using Wolf Briar. I smel ed it--close to the time you are talking about. It stank up my trees, and I remember trying to hunt down whoever left the trail, but they were quick and not easy to trace. I stopped when I came to the edge of the wood."
"We think the coyote shifters used it to attack our friend. He had a pregnant fiancee. We found her dead today, before she could talk to us. We know the coyote shifters--the Koyanni--kil ed her to shut her up. They didn't want her to tel us anything that might endanger their plans." I decided to take the chance. "Wil you help us? Wil you show us where you smel ed the Wolf Briar being used?"
She stared at us, unspeaking, for a moment. Then, with a single nod, she jumped off the boulder and motioned for us to fol ow her as the thick undergrowth next to her parted, revealing a hidden path.
The dryad led us through a winding trail until we came to a smal field with a track in the center of it. She pointed. "He was there. I was watching him because he seemed odd, not human, and I watch al who wander the paths. He was alone, by the way. No friend came with him."
"Nobody?"
She shook her head. "None. I was about to leave him be when a group of shifters came off that path across the way." Gesturing, she pointed to one of the sidewalks. "They raced over to him, and I heard a noise and smel ed the Wolf Briar. I hid, so I didn't see what happened. When I returned some time later, there was no sign of the werewolf nor the shifters. The Wolf Briar was stil drifting on the breeze."
Camil e and I headed over to the track. It didn't look wel -used, most likely due to the fact that we'd had rain for most of the past two weeks and the track was dirt. Most joggers seemed to prefer the city streets or park sidewalks when they ran in the rain, and Seattle joggers didn't let rainstorms stop them from getting out on the streets.
As we circled the quarter-mile path, I stopped and pointed off to the side nearest the walkway that the dryad had pointed out. Something shiny lay in the grass. We headed over and knelt beside whatever it was.
"A watch," Camil e said, lifting it up. She turned it over. "It's inexpensive, but look--an inscription. To Paulo, the love of my life." She paled. "This was Paulo's watch." Standing up, she shaded her eyes and looked to the opposite tree line. I fol owed suit. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">