Fool Moon (Page 59)

"Yes," Tera said. "Georgia."

One of the wolves, a leggy, lanky, pale-brown beast shuddered and paced in a circle, making small, whimpering sounds. A moment later, there was a whisper of power. The she-wolf shivered, and went still, her head bowed. And then she shook herself, and all that pale-brown hair faded from paler skin, leaving me staring at the lanky, dark-blonde girl I had seen in the department store a few days ago, sans all the black leather. Georgia rose to her feet and said, "I’ll have her bring the van around on the next street. Can you get them to it?" Her expression was tense, her eyes a little wide.

"Yes," Tera said. "Everyone, come back to yourselves." The other two ambulant wolves began to pace in a slow circle, gathered their own power, and their own transformations commenced, until they stood before me as a pair of naked young men – one of them the short, stout boy who had been arguing against Georgia – Billy – and the other a face I recognized but couldn’t name.

Tera took charge of the situation while I held Harris’s gun and kept watch down the alley. She and the two young men made a litter for one of the wolves out of Harris’s jacket, and the other Tera simply picked up with a flexion of wire-tight muscle and carried, though it must have weighed a hundred and fifty pounds. The wounded wolves yelped piteously, and Tera and the two young men cast dark glances at the downed Harris while they headed down the alley, and over toward the beach, leaving me alone with the kid.

I hunkered down beside him and slapped his face until his eyes rolled open. He blinked once and then jerked, as though he was about to sit up. I stuck the barrel of the semiautomatic in the hollow of his throat and said, in a calm voice, "Hold still."

He froze, staring up at me with wide eyes.

"I’m going to ask some questions, kid. I think I’ve got the answers already, but you’re going to talk to me, quietly and honestly. Or I demonstrate point-blank bullet impact for you right here and now. Got it?"

Harris’s mouth twitched a few times before he managed to speak. "If you kill me," he said, "Denton won’t stop until you’re dead."

"Give me a break, Roger," I said back in a reasonable tone. "Denton wants me dead anyway. I could kill you now and it wouldn’t make any difference in what he has to do."

Roger licked his lips and rolled his eyes about without moving his head, as though hoping for rescue. "How did you know? About the belt."

"I saw Denton’s inside. And I saw that before you all changed, you had to reach inside your jackets for something. I figure that first night, Agent Benn was reaching into her jacket to touch the belt and tear Murphy’s head off, when she got mad. But she managed to remember not to do it in time and drew her gun instead. Right?"

Harris’s head twitched in a slight nod.

"The bargain," I said. "You’re Hexenwulfen, so you’ve made a bargain with someone to get the power to change, to get the belts. Who is it?"

"I don’t know," Harris said, and his eyes widened. "God, I don’t know. Denton handled all of it."

I narrowed my eyes at him and drew back the hammer on the gun.

"Please," he squealed, breathless. "I don’t know. I swear to God, Denton handled all of that. He just came to us, asked us if we wanted to back him, if we wanted to nail some of the scum that kept getting away from the law, and I told him I did. Jesus, I didn’t know it was going to lead to this."

"Lead to what, Roger?" I asked, my tone frosty. "Start from the beginning, and make it quick."

"Marcone," he said, eyes on the gun. "It was all about Marcone. Denton wanted to take him down."

"You mean kill him."

His eyes flickered up to me. "He told us there was no other way to get to him. That he was doing more to poison this city than anyone alive. And he was right. Marcone’s bought enough influence in this town to stay clear of city police forever, and he carries weight on the national level, too. The bureau has had more than one investigation on him called off. He’s untouchable."

"So you planned to use the belts to kill him."

He nodded. "But there would be evidence. No one would believe he’d just been mauled by wild dogs. There would be a full investigation, forensics, the works."

I understood and nodded. "So you needed someone to make it a neat package. Let me guess: the Streetwolves."

Harris showed his teeth. "A gang of felons and troublemakers with a wolf motif. Murder of a criminal figure by persons with a wolf motif. No one would bother to check the figures on that one. It’s obvious. And we get one more dangerous group off the street."

"Yeah, Roger, except that they’d be innocent of that particular crime. Did you think of that? Innocent like those other people who died the nights around the full moon last month. You killed them. You and the rest of Denton’s team."

He closed his eyes, his face going pale, and he shuddered. "The change. When … when you’re changed, when you’re a beast, it’s so incredible. So much speed, power. Your body just sings with it. I tried coke once, in college, and it was nothing compared to this. The blood …" His tongue flicked out again over his bloodstained lips, a thirsty motion this time, rather than a nervous one.

"I think I’m starting to see. Denton didn’t tell you about that part. About how your thoughts are influenced. He probably didn’t know himself. And when you’ve done it once …"

Harris nodded emphatically. "You just can’t stop, man. It gets to where you’re pacing the room at night. And it’s better than sleep, when you get finished hunting, you feel so alive." He opened his eyes again, staring up at me, pleading. "I didn’t mean to kill those people. We started off with criminals. Some gangsters dealing drugs. We were just going to scare them, but it was too much. They screamed and ran and we were after them, and … We killed them. And my God, Dresden, it was beautiful."

"And it happened again," I said. "A couple of times. Innocent people. Just poor schmucks in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Harris turned his head away from me and nodded. "Denton said that we could salvage it. He said that we could pin those killings on the Streetwolves as well. Make everyone think they had done it. And we just went along with him."

I shook my head. "That doesn’t explain why you dragged MacFinn into this."

"Denton," the kid said. "It was all him. He said there was someone else we could also set up to take the blame, to be certain we’d be in the clear. That he had the man for it. We broke into MacFinn’s house, and there was all this occult stuff. We messed up some of it and left. And … the next night, more people were dead. And more, the next night. That’s when we went after that slime Marcone’s business partner, and wasted the bastard and his goon."