Harvest Hunting (Page 21)

Shaking my head to clear away unwanted thoughts, I motioned to the others, and we headed up the walk after Chase. He motioned for us to stay back--

he had the badge, after al --and then knocked at the door. Nothing. He rang the bel . Nothing. After a few minutes, he ordered one of his men to bust it open, and they broke in, Chase holding a special revolver that I recognized as bearing silver bul ets--the only kind that worked al too wel against werewolves.

After a moment, a light went on, and Yugi motioned for us to enter. We trooped through and stopped in the middle of the foyer. The dingy little apartment would be nondescript except that a struggle had obviously taken place.

Books were scattered on the floor, chairs knocked over, an end table smashed. Blood had dried against one wal and was splattered on the floor. The room was thoroughly trashed, and I blinked as a sudden wash of scent rol ed over me. Immediately, I turned tail and raced outside.

"What's wrong?" Chase poked his head through the door.

"You can't smel it?" I winced, my head hurting. "Wolf Briar. The place reeks with it. Whoever took Saz, used Wolf Briar. And I don't think it's been two ful weeks--because that crap would have dissipated by now."

As I stared at the open door, a sick feeling raced through my stomach. Someone was picking off beta wolves in the area, and al the evidence pointed toward murder. Before I could react, the stress of the day flattened me like a steamrol er, and I turned to the side and vomited over the edge of the landing.

CHAPTER 12

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. The FH-CSI team made an excruciatingly thorough pass through Saz's house, but this time they hit pay dirt, discovering a number and address for his sister. I waited on the periphery, watching them comb the carpets for evidence, take blood scrapings, dust for fingerprints, and do whatever magical procedures it was they did. I knew they were working on a method for tracing magical signatures, but it hadn't been ful y developed yet.

Menol y and I leaned against one of the wal s, while Vanzir took a turn outside, looking for anything he might be able to find. Two of the officers were conducting a door-to-door, questioning residents for any information they could glean.

"What do you think is going on?" Menol y asked me.

I shook my head. "Want to make a bet somebody's making Wolf Briar and needs beta wolves to pump up on steroids? I have a bad feeing we aren't going to find Saz or Paulo or Doug. At least not alive and in one piece."

"Delilah?" Chase came over, holding a piece of paper. "I was wondering if you would go with me to talk to his sister. It would probably help to have another woman along, and you'l get your info right now instead of relying on what my men and I bring in."

I nodded. "Yeah, but we'l al come. Menol y and Vanzir can stay in the car." I didn't want to ride in his car, alone with him. Not right now.

He nodded. "Here's the address. Let's go. My men can finish up here."

Saz's sister lived in a slightly better section of the city. The lights in her house were on, though we were pushing nine P.M. by now. As I slipped out of the car and joined Chase on the sidewalk, I thought this had to be one of the worst parts of his job.

"You ready?" He straightened his tie and cleared his throat, popping a Listerine strip into his mouth. He handed me one. "When delivering bad news, have good breath. It's bad enough to be associated with bad news. Hygiene counts."

I popped the strip in my mouth, wincing. The taste was too strong, though I liked it, and after a moment as it melted on my tongue, I asked for another.

He snorted and handed me the pack.

We headed up the path, climbing the steps to the cottage house, where Chase pressed the doorbel . A moment later, a woman in a pair of sweats answered the door. She had a baby propped on one hip, and in the background, we could hear the sound of shrieking children. They were either having a lot of fun or were pissed as hel .

"I'm Detective Johnson, ma'am." Chase flashed his badge. "Are you Madge Renault?"

She nodded, looking suspiciously at the badge. "Yeah, what is it?"

"Do you have a brother named Saz Star Walker?"

The irritation on her face gave way to fear, and she opened her mouth in an O as she stepped back and motioned us in with a nod. "Is he . . . is Saz in some kind of trouble, Detective?"

We fol owed her into a tiny living room overflowing with toys. A large dog sniffed at my ankles and let out a sharp yip then ran off to play with three very messy but happy-looking children, who al appeared to be under the age of three. But their looks could be deceptive--Weres aged slower than humans, though for the first fifteen or twenty years they grew at what appeared to be a normal rate. Then the aging process slowed drastical y.

She tried to clear off one end of the sofa, and I quickly stepped forward to help. Giving me a grateful smile, Madge retreated to a wooden rocking chair and shifted the baby to her breast, where the child began to feed.

"I'm sorry--but my husband works evenings, and with five kids . . . it's hard to keep things clean." She brushed back a strand of hair from her face, and I caught a look in her eyes that worried me. Madge Renault was reaching a breaking point. I made a note to send out someone from the Supe Community Council to see if there was anything we could do to take the burden off--if only a little. We had been discussing setting up a sliding-scale day care for Weres in the area, and it was about time we fol owed through.

"Mrs. Renault, I need to ask you some questions about your brother."

The apprehension returned to her face. "Yes. What's wrong? He's okay, isn't he? Saz is a good kid; he doesn't get into much trouble."

Chase shook his head. "As far as I know, he hasn't gotten himself into trouble with the law, Mrs. Renault. The problem is that he seems to be missing, and we found signs of a struggle at his apartment. We're trying to pinpoint the last time anyone talked to him and find out if he said anything that might give us a clue where to find him."

Her face paled, and she motioned for the little girl tugging on her arm to back off. "Saz, missing? No, that can't be. He was just here . . ." she motioned for her purse, and her daughter brought it over to her. Madge pul ed out a day planner and flipped it open. "Hel , it's been over a week since I've seen him.

Time just gets away from me these days." Lifting her head, she asked, "What do you think has happened to him?"

I forced myself not to flinch. What we thought happened to him was far too gruesome to speculate on. Luckily, Chase saw it the same way.

"We're not sure. Do you know if your brother had any enemies? Anyone out to get him for any reason?"

She slowly shook her head. "Not that I know of . . . oh, he had his run-ins, but so does every hot-blooded werewolf his age. I don't know . . . our parents are out of state right now on vacation. I hate to worry them until we know for sure that something happened."

"Do you by chance know his blood type?" While Weres' blood was of a different makeup than humans, we stil could cross match and classify the types.

"That I can help you with," she said softly. "He was type U-7. Same as me. I needed a transfusion during the birth of my triplets, and he was the only match around." Tears flickered in her eyes. "Find him, please. He's a good boy. He's never been high ranking in the Pack, but he's worked hard for what little he's got. I love him."

Chase nodded. "We'l do our best. Do you know where he likes to hang out, by any chance?"

"The Loco Lobo Lounge--it's a Pack-only joint. And let's see . . . the bowling al ey. He bowls a mean game. I don't have time to check out every place my little brother frequents."

"Thank you, then. We'l be in touch with you as soon as we find out anything. Meanwhile, you might want to go over to your brother's apartment. It's . . ."

Chase's voice dropped. "I won't lie to you. There's blood, and the place has been trashed."

Madge wavered. "Do you think he's alive?"

Chase glanced at me. I cleared my throat. "We don't know. We hope so, Mrs. Renault. If he is alive, we'l do our best to find him and bring him home."

As we walked away, leaving her with tears trailing down her face, I felt like we'd just piled one more unbearable burden on the woman's shoulders.

"How do you do this?" I asked. "How do you go to them, tel them that their life is about to fal apart? How do you handle it?

He was silent for a moment. Then, "I figure that if I do it, at least somebody compassionate wil be tel ing them the bad news. They won't get a cal ous attitude from me."

It was my turn to be silent. As I climbed back in the Jeep, deep in thought, Chase took off for the FH-CSI headquarters, and I glanced back at Menol y and Vanzir. "Life fucking sucks sometimes," I whispered.

"Yeah, I kind of know that." Menol y smiled, her fangs descending. "I get to remember that every night and every morning, when the sunset cal s, when the daylight chases me into sleep."

Vanzir pointed at his neck. "This creature beneath my skin . . . he kind of underscores your thought, too."

I looked at both of them. "Yeah. I get it. Okay, let's head home for the night. Menol y, you want me to drop you off at the bar?"

She shook her head. "I need to get my Jag. You going to be okay?"

I smiled faintly. "Somehow I can't imagine not being okay anymore. I've got one of the Harvestmen guarding my back. Even if I die, I'm guaranteed a good job in the afterlife, you know?"

My laughter just a tad on the verge of hysterical, I pul ed out, and we headed for home.

By the time I got home, I was exhausted. I trudged in and dropped in a chair at the kitchen table. Menol y waved, grabbed her keys, and headed for the bar. Vanzir had stopped at the shed-turned-studio apartment where he, Roz, and Shamas shared quarters.

Iris took one look at me and put on the teakettle. Then, before I could say a word, she plopped Maggie--who was playing with her Barbie that had a replacement head in the form of Yoda--into my arms and began to forage in the cupboards. For once, she said nothing about my junk food habit, just set a bowl of Cheetos in front of me.

I buried my face in Maggie's soft, downy fur. The calico gargoyle was our child, our baby, our pet--al the innocence of the world rol ed up into one cute and destructive little package. But even she wouldn't stay that way, and she was--like cats and wolves--a predator at heart. But right now, she was just a baby, laughing and playing with her Yobie dol , as she cal ed it, and shrieking as she ran her fingers through my short spiky hair.

"Deeyaya! Ca-yee-ko!" She seemed delighted with my new style, and I suddenly realized that some of my colors matched her own fur.

"Yes, baby, that's right. Delilah's a calico now!" I laughed then, blowing on her bel y and tickling under her chin. We'd final y taught her not to bite, though she stil made mistakes at times, but she just shrieked again, laughing. Then, with a yawn so big I could have seen her tonsils--if she had any--she began to close her eyes. I handed her back to Iris.

"I think she's ready for bed."

"Yes, the cream drink puts her to sleep when it's late and she's tuckered out." Iris carried her into her room, where Maggie slept at night, and a few minutes later returned. "Maggie's already asleep. She had a hard day helping me weed the garden and clean house. Of course, her help was more hindrance, but I don't mind. And Tril ian and Morio took her out for a walk--they put her on a leash, which I don't think is necessary at this time--she can barely toddle--but it makes them feel more secure. Her leg muscles are starting to strengthen up some. Another year or two, and she'l be waddling around without a problem."

"When is she supposed to start flying?" I asked, picking up one of the Cheetos and blissful y closing my eyes at the tangy taste.

"Oh, not for another ten or twenty years. Her wings won't be big enough til then. In the wilds of Otherworld, the young ones are secluded for the first fifty or so years, and their parents bring them food. But she has to learn quicker than they would, although her body can't grow faster than it's normal y supposed to." Iris poured us both tea and sat down near me at the table.

"On one hand she seems to be growing so quickly, and yet . . ." I sighed, thinking of how we were going to deal with a teenaged gargoyle. But we'd have many, many years to worry about that. We just had to stay alive for the present.

"How are you faring tonight?" Iris sipped her tea, inhaling the steam. She motioned for me to do the same.

I lifted the cup, letting the minty smel envelop me. It soothed my headache that was brewing, though it couldn't cure the heaviness in my heart. "I'm probably better off than Camil e. I just lost a boyfriend. She lost a father. It's quiet in here, did she go to bed?"

"Aye. A few hours back. Her men made sure she was tucked in and asleep before ten P.M. They're a good lot, those boys are. They may be a handful at times, but they love her dearly. But you're right. Camil e worshiped her father--to have him pul this, it's a dark day for her." She shook her head.

"I'm so pissed at him. I can't even begin to express how mad I am. Menol y and I are going to have to confront him before long." As I sat there, contented to eat Cheetos and watch Iris as she made little snow etchings on the table with her magic--doodles, real y--I began to drift. The room grew hazy, and the next thing I knew, I was standing in a misty vapor.

"You're here." The voice and presence felt familiar. I turned but could only see shifting shadows skittering around me.

"I . . . I don't know. What am I doing here? Who are you?" Puzzled, I looked around. I was in the astral, that much was apparent.