CHAPTER 11

I woke up early and lay in bed for a few minutes, looking at the ceiling, before my brain finally registered that there was a new chandelier on it. I must not have noticed it last night, when I finally fell into bed, exhausted and enraged. A glossy silver disk of about eighteen inches in diameter was attached directly to the ceiling. Long wavy crystal leaves patterned with ribs of varying textures cascaded from it, suspended by chains hidden within crystal beads. Thin tendrils of crystal, like the curved shoots of a grape vine, hung between the leaves, translucent with light, and between them, on longer gleaming chains, textured crystal spheres, frosted with silver, clinked gently in the light breeze from the open windows. It was beautifully romantic, yet modern, a kind of chandelier a twenty-first-century mermaid might have in her underwater cave or an Ice Queen from an Andersen fairy tale might hang in her palace of ice.

It was exactly the kind of chandelier I would’ve loved to have. Elegant, feminine, romantic, but without a trace of corny cuteness. And I wanted to rip it out of my ceiling. He made me so angry.

I pushed myself out of the bed. The fatigue still napped deep in my bones, but it was growing weaker. No nausea. No ache. My body must’ve won the war with snake venom. Now if I could only win the war with myself.

The magic was down and I was deeply grateful for not having to resort to the kerosene cooker. I went into the office, confiscated Raphael’s monitor, and hooked up Gloria’s tower at my kitchen table. While the computer booted up, I made myself two pieces of Texas toast—a slice of thick bread, buttered on both sides and fried a bit in the pan, and a small steak, barely seared on both sides. I needed the calories. I boiled some shockingly strong coffee in an ibrik, a little Turkish coffeepot Kate had given me as a gift, and sat down to my breakfast. Mmm, coffee, the breakfast of champions. Delicious and nutritious.

I was halfway through my first cup and knee-deep in Gloria’s files, when someone knocked on my door. The peephole revealed a scowling black man in his early thirties, dressed in black and looking like he wanted to bite someone’s head off. Jim. There were other people in the hallway behind him. What the hell?

I opened the door. Jim stood in my doorway. He was over six feet tall, with short hair, and the kind of muscular build that resulted when you fought for your life a lot. He looked like a thug, and he worked very hard to keep looking like that. Jim liked to be underestimated.

When I first came to Atlanta, I made it a point to read through the background files the Order kept on the shapeshifters. Before Jim’s father went to prison and died there, shanked by an inmate, Jim was taking advanced classes and skipping grades. Jim could’ve been anything he wanted. A doctor, like his father. A scientist. An engineer. But life got in his way. He was the alpha of Clan Cat now and he oversaw the entirety of the Pack’s security, which meant every day he got to spy, discover, and eliminate threats to the Pack. Jim loved his job.

Behind him eight people crowded into the landing: Sandra and Lucrezia from Clan Bouda, both combat operatives; Russell and Amanda from Clan Wolf; two guys I didn’t know; Derek, the third employee of Cutting Edge; and my lawyer, Barabas.

“If this is a lynch mob, you didn’t bring enough people,” I said.

“You don’t answer your phone,” Jim said. His voice was at odds with his face: his face said “bone-breaker,” but his voice said “romantic ballad singer.”

“I crushed it.”

“Why?” Barabas asked.

“I was having relationship issues,” I told him.

Derek grinned. He used to work with Jim before joining Cutting Edge. At nineteen, he had been almost arrestingly handsome, but then some monsters poured molten metal on his face. We had killed the fuckers, but Derek’s face never healed quite right. He wasn’t disfigured, but he was scarred, and he looked like the type of man you would not want to meet in a dark alley. I’ve seen him walk into a bar and stop the chatter with his face alone.

Jim, Derek, Barabas, and two combat boudas, not counting the other guys. Either they expected me to put up a hell of a fight, or something heavy was about to happen.

“Can we come in?” Jim asked.

And see Raphael’s handiwork? Unfortunately, telling the Pack’s chief of security to shove off would have been extremely unwise, not to mention counterproductive to my investigation. Great. The shapeshifters gossiped worse than bored church ladies. Before tonight the whole Pack would know about Raphael’s stunt. “Of course.”

I watched them file into my apartment. The two boudas nodded at me in passing. This was interesting.

The eight shapeshifters spread through my living room and kitchen and suddenly my apartment seemed too small.

“I thought Raphael had moved out,” Barabas said.

Remain calm. “Actually, we never lived together in my place. I lived at his,” I said. I would not bite Barabas. It wouldn’t be right.

“He was back here last night while she was out,” Jim said. “Him, and a large moving truck.”

“Oh.” Barabas thought about it. His eyes lit up. “Oh!”

Slapping my lawyer was not in my best interests either. I turned to Jim. “You put a detail on my apartment?”

“The second you became a target,” he said.

Well, that just took the cake. I tilted my head. “So good of you to let me know, cat. I’d hate to mistake my babysitter for a threat and accidentally shoot him.”

Jim blinked. Ha! I had managed to surprise the spy master.

“So these are new furnishings?” Barabas said, his face pure innocence.

“Don’t tempt me, Barabas.”

The two bouda women made big eyes at the portrait of Aunt B on my shelf.

“Lovely decorations,” Sandra offered and bit her lip, obviously straining not to laugh.

“Yes, the way the light here plays on Aunt B’s face is very nice,” Lucrezia added.

“Fuck you, Lucrezia,” I told her.

Sandra groaned and the laughter burst out of her mouth. She doubled over. Lucrezia dissolved into giggles.

By tonight, not just the Pack, but the shapeshifters in Canada would know what Raphael had done to my apartment. I would murder him.

I crossed my arms on my chest and turned to Jim. “Is there a reason for all of you coming here?”

“Yes,” Jim said. “Why do you have your computer on the kitchen table?”

“This is a long conversation.”

“I have time.”

We sat down at the kitchen table and I briefed him on last night while Derek made more coffee for everyone. I explained Anapa in broad terms, the Bone Staff, the volhv, and the knife. At the end, Jim nodded at the computer. “Kyle, see what you can do with that?”

A beefy guy who looked like he bent steel rods for a living sat down at the computer, opened a small briefcase, hooked up some box with blinking lights to the tower, and his fingers started flying over the keyboard. He winked at me, still typing without looking at the keyboard.

“Gloria has no fingerprints on file,” Jim said. “No driver’s license, no city permit for her shop, nothing. She just showed up one day and set up her trinket bazaar.”

“And nobody cared because it was White Street?” How did he know all this?

Jim nodded. “How can I make your life easier?”

If we didn’t have an audience, I might have hugged him. “Gloria and her friends likely murdered Raphael’s people. First, I need to canvas White Street and the Warren and shake some information out. How often was she at the shop, who came to visit her, when did she leave, what did she drive, where she went, and so on. Basic legwork. Second, I need to establish Anapa’s whereabouts.”

“You still like him for this?” Jim asked.

“There’s something weird about him. I have a gut feeling that he is up to his ass in this mess, but he probably wasn’t working with Gloria. Third, I need a ritual knife expert. I left a message for Kate, so that should be taken care of if I can tear her away from Curran’s side for five minutes.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Jim said. “I’ll check in with you as soon as we know something.”

Someone knocked. This was my day for visitors apparently.

“Hold on,” Jim said and nodded at the door.

Derek walked to my door. I heard it open and then Derek’s voice said, “Come in, Detectives.”

Barabas hid behind the wall in the kitchen.

Collins and Tsoi entered my living room. Two uniformed officers followed and Derek brought up the rear. The cops stared at the shapeshifters. Jim and Company stared back.

“What are all of you doing here?” Collins finally asked.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Jim kept his voice calm.

“We need to speak to Nash,” Tsoi said.

“By all means,” Jim said. “We won’t be in the way.”

“We’d rather do this down at the station,” Collins said.

“Is my client under arrest?” Barabas said, stepping out in plain view.

Collins grimaced. Tsoi rolled her eyes.

“You didn’t have to jump out like a jack-in-the-box,” Collins said.

“But I know how much the two of you love surprises. I’d like to see the warrant, please,” Barabas said.

Collins locked the muscles on his jaw.

“No warrant?” Barabas smiled.

Tsoi was looking around the room, doing the math. Ten shapeshifters vs. four cops. Suddenly everyone’s face turned grim.

“All this would go away if you cooperated,” Collins said.

“We’re willing to cooperate, if we get full disclosure on the antique dealer case with access to evidence,” Jim said.

“Not happening,” Tsoi said.

“Your call.” Jim shrugged.

Collins turned and walked out.

“This isn’t over,” Tsoi said and left, the two uniforms in tow.

Nobody said anything until Sandra at the window announced, “They are getting into their cars.”

“I told you,” Jim said to Barabas. “I know Collins, he’s a reasonable man.”

Barabas sighed. “But I was looking forward to a fight.”

Suddenly things made sense: somehow Jim had discovered the cops were coming to pick me up, and he’d brought his posse over to keep them from taking me off.

“How did you know they were coming?” I asked Jim.

“I have my ways.”

“You bugged the PAD station.” Sonovabitch. If he got caught, there would be hell to pay.

Jim smiled without showing his teeth. “Something like that.”

“They are under heavy-duty pressure from above to solve the case,” Barabas said. “People with snake fangs made somebody in the mayor’s office really nervous. Almost makes me wonder if they know something that we don’t and they want to put a lid on this whole thing as fast as they can. The plan was to pick you up and sweat you a little for information. We can’t let them do that—you have things to do and there is no reason you should be wasting time in their interrogation room. Since your phone was out, we decided to show up before they did.”

“We take care of our own,” Lucrezia said.

But I wasn’t their own. Well, not officially. And yet they had come here to back me up. I looked from face to face and realized they would do it again and I would do the same. In their heads, I already belonged.

Wow.

For once in my life I didn’t have to hide who I was. They had my back and that was that.

Half an hour later everyone filed out of my apartment. Kyle took the computer with him. On the way out, Sandra stopped by me. “Aunt B wants a word. Today at ten at Highland Bakery. She said not to be late.”

The gentle paw of the Bouda alpha. “I’ll be there.”

Jim was the last to exit. He paused at the door. “I’ve got the legwork. My people will do the background and they’ll dig up whatever dirt Anapa has.”

“Aha.”

“I know Collins. He is competent and thorough. When you leave your apartment, you’ll have a tail. I need you to do nothing for twenty-four hours or so. You know how the game is played: you’re the lightning rod. Lead them around, don’t lose them, go have lunch with Aunt B, visit a market or something. Be anywhere but near Anapa or White Street. Let the cops concentrate on you, so my people can work in peace. You can use a day off anyway. You look like hell.”

“You’ll spend your life a bachelor, Jim.”

“Stay away from White Street.”

“Fine, I got it.”

I hustled him out the door and locked it. I had phone calls to make.

At eleven o’clock I walked through the door of Highland Bakery wearing black pants, a black shirt, my steel-toed combat boots, and crimson lipstick. It matched the new me much better. My clandestine police escort conveniently parked right across the street.

Located on Highland Avenue, the low brick building that housed Highland Bakery had survived magic’s jaws mostly intact. This area was called the Old Fourth Ward. Before the magic took Atlanta apart, the Fourth Ward was a happening place with historic buildings from the beginning of the previous century, defunct factories converted to loft apartments, and renovated shotgun shacks—long, narrow, rectangular structures, once reminders of poverty transformed into trendy housing. Supposedly the name came from the structure of the house: if you fired a shotgun through the front door, the pellets would fly through the whole house and out the back door.

The Old Fourth Ward was home to the Boulevard—a place where more drugs passed hands than in most other areas of the city combined—and Edgewood Avenue—where dozens of bars and restaurants had offered drinks, music, and other pleasures of the nocturnal variety.

Now with Downtown in ruins to the west and Midtown equally ravaged, the Old Fourth Ward had quieted down. The bars and restaurants were still there, but they catered to working-class patrons. It was a place where carpenters, masons, and city employees came for lunch, and Highland Bakery was the place where they stopped on the way home when a craving for sweets struck them.

I had checked the outdoor area, but Aunt B wasn’t at any of the black wrought-iron tables, so I went inside, past the counter filled with confections of chocolate, berry, and cream, through the narrow room with a bench to the back. The restaurant was near empty—lunch was a good hour away. Aunt B sat in the corner, with her back to the wall. She looked to be in her early fifties, slightly plump, with a kind face and chestnut hair she put up in a bun. She wore a nice green blouse and khaki capris and looked just like a grandmother about to serve you some cookies.

Looks were deceiving. Most people were terrified of Aunt B. Hell, I was terrified of Aunt B. Even other alphas steered clear, including my best friend, the Beast Lord’s Consort. Whenever Aunt B was mentioned, Kate got this odd look on her face. Not alarm exactly, but definite concern.

On her right sat Lika, her beta. Tall, well built, Lika had short dark hair and a harsh face, the kind you would expect from a female soldier who spent too much time on active duty. Clan Bouda had a few women who were older, more experienced, and could take Lika out, but none of them wanted the hassle of the beta job. Betas had busy lives and a lot of responsibility. Alphas made decisions, betas saw them implemented.

Here was my chance. I would join Clan Bouda, just like everyone wanted. But I would do it on my terms.

I paused before the table and stared at Lika. “You’re in my seat.”

Aunt B’s face remained perfectly placid.

“Is that so?” Lika’s eyebrows came together.

“Move,” I told her.

“Move me,” she said.

I looked at Aunt B. Normally public challenges were to the death, but there were only three of us here.

“To submission,” she said. “I don’t want to lose either of you. There aren’t many of us.”

Lika got up from behind the table. She had about six inches on me and maybe forty pounds, all of it lean, hard muscle. But she had never seen me fight, while I knew her moves.

I pushed the nearest table back, clearing some space. Lika did the same.

Lika rolled her head to the left, cracking her neck, then again to the right. I rolled my eyes and pretended to look bored.

She lunged. It was a fast, deadly lunge. Her right fist snapped out like a hammer.

I ducked low under the lunge, smashed my shoulder under her rib cage, grabbed her legs a couple of inches under her butt, and heaved. My lunge had knocked her off her center of gravity and she had nowhere to go but up. I flipped her in the air and drove her down with all my strength, crouching to control her fall. Lika’s back hit the floor—boom! Before she had a chance to catch her breath, I drew a line with my fingers across her throat and stepped back.

Lika took two seconds to shrug off the daze and rolled to her feet. “Again?”

I looked at Aunt B, like a good little bouda. I knew about the chain of command. In fact, the chain of command made me feel secure and comfy.

Aunt B nodded.

Lika shifted her stance and rocked back and forth on her toes. Okay. I tensed, as if to advance. She took a step with her left foot and kicked out with her right in a roundhouse, aiming for my ribs with her shin. It was a hell of a kick. Had I stayed still, it would’ve shattered my ribs, crippling me. Can’t do much with shattered ribs, except bend over to one side and moan.

I caught her leg just under the knee, wrapping it with my left arm, took a step forward, pushing Lika back and off balance, and swept her other leg from under her. She went down hard. I crouched long enough to pretend-slice her side—marking her internal organs as my target. If I had claws, I could’ve shoved my hand into her, under and into the rib cage, and ripped her heart out. I took a few steps back.

Lika rolled to her feet. Her lip trembled in the beginnings of a snarl.

“No fur,” Aunt B said. “Ladies, in a public place, we wear our public face.”

“Again?” I asked and looked at Aunt B.

She nodded.

Lika charged. Her hands closed over my arms. A grappling move. She was banking on her superior strength. But no amount of strength could change simple physics.

I clamped my hands on her forearms, planted my left foot in the middle of her stomach, and rolled back. She didn’t expect it and the momentum pulled her down. I rocked forward, slamming my ankle onto her throat and forcing her back, and rolled up into a sitting position with both legs across Lika’s chest and her arm clenched to me. Before she had a chance to get her bearings, I leaned back, stretching her arm across my body. With my thighs as an anchor, all I had to do was pull a little and her elbow would be toast.

“Dislocate,” Aunt B said.

I pulled the elbow. The joint popped with a dry crunch.

Lika growled through her clenched teeth.

“There will be no rematch,” Aunt B said. “She has better technique and more education. She’s also faster than you are. Are we clear, dear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lika squeezed out.

“Let her go.”

I released Lika’s arm, rose, and offered her my hand. The bouda looked at it for a second, sighed, and gripped my fingers with her uninjured hand. I pulled her up. “Good fight.”

“Whatever.” Her voice didn’t hold any real hostility. “I was tired of being a beta anyway. You can have all the hassle.”

Lika looked at her limp arm. “I’m going to the bathroom to fix this.”

“Don’t be too long,” Aunt B said. “I’m ordering your favorite red velvet cupcakes.”

“Yes, Alpha.” Lika walked away toward the bathroom.

Aunt B turned to me and smiled. I could’ve sworn there was pride in it. It couldn’t be. I was deluding myself.

“Sit down, dear,” Aunt B said. “Love the lipstick, by the way.”

“Thank you.” I took Lika’s spot and waited until the bathroom door closed behind her. “Why hurt her?”

“If you gave her half a chance, we would be here till sundown.” Aunt B shrugged. “Lika is stubborn. Nothing short of a decisive victory would stop her. Remember that. You’ll deal with her as my beta and she does prove troublesome on occasion.”

Aunt B looked at me from across the table. Her irises flashed a bright, ruby red. The weight of the alpha stare pressed on me. I held it for a moment too long and forced myself to look down at the table. “Welcome to the family,” Aunt B said.

I was in. For better or worse, I was now a member of Clan Bouda and Aunt B’s second.

A waitress came in with a tray of cupcakes, a pot of tea, and three cups.

“You haven’t lived until you’ve had their red velvet cupcakes.” Aunt B pushed a plump cupcake toward me. “Have one.”

My new alpha was offering me food. Another show of loyalty and submission. Breaking elbows wasn’t enough, apparently. I bit the cupcake and licked the creamy icing. Mmm, cream cheese. Fighting made me hungry.

The waitress departed.

“You do know what the beta job entails?” Aunt B asked.

Of course. “Enforcer, gatekeeper, errand girl, bouda nagger.”

Aunt B cut a small cupcake in half and bit off a piece. “You forgot babysitter.”

“I’m sorry. How silly of me.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?” B asked.

“Two things. First, Jim came to visit me this morning. He brought eight people with him. They occupied my apartment and when some cops showed up trying to take me in, they were met with firm resistance.”

“And?”

“And I realized that if I was in trouble, the Pack would back me up and I would back up the Pack. All my friends are in the Pack. I like to belong. I need it, need the structure.” I licked the icing. “I’m tired of starting over. I’m not likely to stop being a shapeshifter, so I might as well make the best of it. I will be the best bouda I can be.”

“Better than me?” B arched her eyebrows.

“Yep. I plan to eclipse your fame.”

Aunt B smiled. “Aiming high.”

“Always.” I sipped my tea.

“And the second thing?” Aunt B asked.

“I spoke to Martina and realized that to take the clan away from you, I need to earn their loyalty first.”

“Oh, so you plan to take over?”

I licked the icing off my lips. “In a few years. Once I am sure they will follow me.”

Aunt B leaned back and laughed.

“You’ve done such a good job for such a long time,” I said. “Don’t you feel you deserve a nice retirement?”

Aunt B kept laughing. “Very well. I will speak to Curran. In light of the investigation, I’m sure the lion will grant us an extension on having you officially admitted into the ranks. As long as it is known that you and I have an understanding and an application has been made, you won’t encounter problems.”

Lika returned from the bathroom, rubbing her arm, plopped at the seat next to me and waited until B waved her toward the food. Lika snagged a red velvet cupcake. “Yummy.”

“I need you to go to Milton County,” B said.

Uh-oh. The sheriff of Milton County and I didn’t have the best relationship. He was the one who had locked us up after the hot tub incident.

“Where to?” I asked and sipped my tea. Earl Grey. Tasty.

“To the Milton County Sheriff’s office,” Aunt B said.

I choked a little on my tea.

“Some of our people got arrested last night,” Lika said. “Including your boy.”

My boy? Oh. “What did Ascanio do this time? Last I saw him, he was with his mother.”

“Nothing,” Aunt B said. “Wrong place, wrong time. There was some sort of bar brawl. I could go to Kate with this, but you see, she is spending all her time with Curran. Something to do with the Vikings, not sure what exactly.” Aunt B waved her spoon. “Involving her right now means involving the Beast Lord and I don’t feel like setting his tail on fire. He’ll growl and fuss and I’d rather avoid all that. So I need you to go down there and make this problem go away. I understand you and Beau Clayton have a special relationship.”

Yeah, he’d thrown my bikini-clad butt into a jail cell. “I can do that,” I said and stole a second cupcake.

“I’m so glad,” B told me.

We all drank some tea.

“I know you’ve spoken with my son,” B said to me.

“Yes. He seems to have gone insane.”

“The mating frenzy will do that,” Aunt B said. “And I’m not talking about the blonde. He has never been dumped before, dear. He has no idea how to handle it.”

Lika snickered.

“I told him we were through, and he broke into my place, scratched MINE into my table,” I told her. “And then he moved his things into my apartment.”

Lika stopped eating. “Seriously?”

I nodded.

Aunt B grinned. “He was always such a clever boy.”

There it was, the final proof that Raphael could do no wrong. I had just told her he had gone nuts, vandalized my furniture, and was guilty of breaking and entering, and she was bursting at the seams with pride.

“What would you do in my situation?” I asked.

Aunt B cut another slice off her cupcake. “I was never one to let a man get the better of me, dear. If someone dared to treat me in this manner, I would rub his nose in everything he had lost by his idiotic stunt. I would do something…spectacular. Something he would never forget. And I would make sure everyone knew what a fool he was.”

“If I spring the boudas out of jail, what are the chances of Raphael spending this evening away from his house?”

Aunt B smiled at me above the rim of her cup. “I would say those chances are very, very good.”

I got up. “I’d best get on with it, then.”

Aunt B’s eyes sparked with an amused ruby light. “Lika will fill you in on the details. Good luck, dear.”

I would need every drop of it, too.

“And Andrea?” Aunt B said. “You and I have made a deal today. I trust you to hold up your end of the bargain.”

It was like she had looked into my head and seen that inside I was still wobbling. I talked the talk and walked the walk, but somehow she had sensed my hesitation.

“If Curran sets the date for your admittance and you fail to show up, it would be truly disastrous.”

“No worries,” I told her. “I’ll be there.”

To say that Beau Clayton was a good old Southern Boy would be an understatement. The man kept a can of green boiled peanuts on his desk, for crying out loud. For some reason, it was half-filled with bullet casings.

Beau looked at me from behind his desk, which was organized to within an inch of its life. He was big as all hell and half of Texas, a massive bear of a man, with lineman’s shoulders and power-lifter’s arms that strained the sleeves of his crisply-ironed khaki uniform shirt. His dark brown, wide-brimmed sheriff’s hat rested on a hook on a wall, within easy reach. Above it a rapier hung, a beautiful sword with an ornate basket hilt. I was pretty sure I had seen it before, but for the life of me I couldn’t recall where.

“It’s always nice to see you, Ms. Nash,” Beau drawled.

I gave him my most dazzling smile. If he thought he could out-Southern me, he was in for a shock. “May I ask why you have bullet casings in that can, Sheriff?”

“Every time someone shoots at me, I put the casings into the can,” he said.

Alright then.

“So what brings you to the sunny skies of Milton county?” Beau asked.

“You have some of the Pack’s people in lockup.” And my first test as a beta was to get them out.

“We’re always glad to have guests in our jailhouse,” he said. “We almost never get lonely.”

I licked my lips, moistening them, and Beau’s gaze slid down. Well, how about that? Hehehe.

“I understand you have three of our boys,” I said. “How would I go about getting them released?”

Beau leaned against his chair. “Well, this is where we run into a problem. From what I understand, your boys caused a disturbance at the Steel Horse, assaulted two men, and damaged some property there.”

I crossed my legs. “As I recollect, the Steel Horse is in Fulton County.”

“You recollect correctly, but you see, your boys were out for a hell of a night. Not satisfied with that bit of fun in Fulton, they continued their brawl down Gawker Alley, which put them twenty feet inside Milton County when they were subsequently apprehended.”

Drat.

Beau’s eyes sparkled a bit. “Eyewitness accounts indicate a female was involved.”

I smiled at him. “A female is always involved. So how does your version go?”

Beau clicked the recorder on his desk. A young man’s voice filled the room. “So we were just sitting there and then there was a girl and she was looking at Chad and me.”

Slurring his words a bit. Not quite sober. Not by a long shot.

“And Chad said, ‘Hey, pretty, come hang with us,’ and the big black dude said, ‘Shut your mouth, white boy.’”

I arched my eyebrows at Beau. The big black dude would be Kamal, who had never said a nasty word to anyone in his entire life.

“And he said, ‘Shut your mouth,’ and I said, ‘We just talking’ and the other black guy said, ‘We gonna beat your ass if you keep running your mouth.’ And then he made one of those hand signs. You know, one of those gang things.”

Oh, this was just getting better and better. Beau was making a valiant effort to remain stoic, but his face betrayed the long-suffering look of someone who had to listen to something patently idiotic.

“What happened next?” an older female voice asked.

“We got up to leave, and the girl wanted to come with us, and the first black guy, he, like, got up and he was all, ‘You’re not leaving!’ and we were all like, ‘Yes we are,’ and then I threw some chicken at them so they’d know we meant business, and the white kid who was with them, he picked up Chad and threw him through the window.”

Drunk knights in shining armor, protecting the hapless female from the clutches of scary black guys. Give me a break.

“Then what happened?” the older female asked.

“Then they left and went up the street. And Chad was like, ‘We can’t let them get away with this shit,’ so we followed them. And I said, ‘Hey! What do you think you’re doing with that throwing people through windows and shit.’ And the white guy said, ‘You must like going through windows.’ And I told him ‘Fuck you’ in a polite voice and he threw me through the window.”

Beau clicked the recorder off.

“It’s good that he used his polite voice,” I said. “Otherwise no telling what would’ve happened.”

Beau grimaced. “They aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed and booze didn’t improve their IQ any.”

“And what do the Big Scary Black Guys say?” I asked.

“They say that the kids were drunk and kept hitting on the girl who was with them. One of them wandered over, and threw some buffalo wings at them, and got thrown through the window. The girl took off and they decided to leave. The two geniuses followed them and got thrown through the front window of Chuck’s Hardware.”

“Tossing chicken at people constitutes an assault,” I said. “By their own admission, they threw the first punch.”

“In the instance of the situation at the Steel Horse, correct. However, your people are not being held for the incident at the Steel Horse; they are being held because during a verbal altercation in Gawker Alley, they took it upon themselves to put two people through Chuck’s window.”

He had me there. “With all due respect, that’s a continuation of the same incident.”

“I can see why you might think that, but it took Mike and Chad ten minutes to stagger their drunken way up Gawker. It’s two different incidents and you know it.”

Argh. “I beg to differ.”

“I respect your right to differ, but that doesn’t change reality. I cannot have people thrown through windows willy-nilly in my county.”

We stared at each other. The level of politeness had risen to dangerous levels.

“We would be delighted to pay restitution to Chuck’s Hardware and to restore his window,” I said. “We are happy to set it right. Would he be willing to drop charges?”

“He’s a reasonable man,” Beau said. “It will cost you.”

I shrugged. “Boys will be boys, Sheriff. You know how it is, they have fun and we pay the bills.”

“You also have Jeff Cooper to deal with,” Beau said. “Mike’s dad. He’s in my front lobby fuming and making an ass of himself. He wants assault charges to be brought up.”

I pulled a small plastic case from my pocket and showed him the disk inside it.

“What’s this?”

“Surveillance footage.”

“The Steel Horse has surveillance cameras?” Beau came to life like a hungry wolf sighting a juicy, crippled rabbit.

“The owner installed them after that scare they had with the pandemic.” A pandemic Kate had stopped before it could kill him and his wife. The Steel Horse welcomed Pack members with open arms, which was why they did nothing to help law enforcement when the Pack kids got in trouble. “He doesn’t advertise this fact. Besides, they only work half of the time, when the tech is up.” I flipped the disk between my fingers. “Shall we?”

Beau took the disk out of its case and slid it into the computer on a small desk in the corner. Black-and-white images filled the screen. Three shapeshifters sitting at a table, with the girl next to Kamal. Two young guys at a table nearby with a collection of empty beer bottles said something. The shapeshifters ignored them. More taunts, this time with the waving of arms. The shorter of the two human teens picked up a basket of chicken bones and dumped it on Kamal’s head. Ascanio got up, picked the guy up, and hurled him through the window. Kamal smacked him upside the head. Ascanio shrugged. The third shapeshifter, Ian, dropped some bills on the table and the group left.

“If Mr. Cooper chooses to press charges, we will do the same,” I said. “Please feel free to retain the disk. I’ve made copies. I do have to ask you to release the boys. I’d be in your debt and they aren’t a flight risk. You know where to find us: the big stone fortress just a few miles outside of town.”

Beau walked to the door and stuck his head out. “Rifsky, get our shapeshifter guests processed out for me, will you? Also, Ms. Nash here is going to leave her information with you for Chuck’s to get his window squared away.”

I suddenly remembered where I had seen the sword. It used to hang in Kate’s apartment. It was her guardian’s sword. Pieces of the puzzle clicked together in my head. She’d used it to get me out of jail. I felt ashamed.

Beau turned to me. “Don’t leave town and all that, Ms. Nash.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Now I owed Beau a favor. Wonderful.

Ten minutes later three guilty-looking shapeshifters met me on the steps. Kamal saw me and did a double take. “I thought Lika was coming.”

I gave him my thousand-yard stare. He shifted uncomfortably in place.

“Let’s try this again, from the beginning. You say, ‘Hello, Beta. Thank you for coming all the way here and subjecting yourself and the Clan to public embarrassment because of my stupidity.’ And I don’t break your arms off.”

“Thank you, Beta,” Kamal and Ian chorused.

I looked at Ascanio. He dropped his gaze to the stairs. “I’m sorry.”

“Yes, you are.” I started down the street to the parking lot. The three boudas followed me.

A man shoved the door open behind us. Beefy, in his late forties. His face had a lovely red color that probably meant he was about to blow his gasket. “Hey! Hey, you! I want to talk to you!”

I kept walking. “You threw two humans through two different store windows. Enlighten me, what happens when a shapeshifter goes through a sheet of glass?”

“Nothing,” Ian volunteered.

“Stop,” the man snarled. “Stop, God damn it.”

“What happens when a human goes through a sheet of glass?”

Nobody wanted to answer.

“I’ll enlighten you, then: they get bruises, possible broken bones, and multiple lacerations. And because they don’t have the benefit of Lyc-V, their broken bones will take weeks to heal and the lacerations can kill them if the broken glass happens to slice them at the right place. You almost killed them over a bucket of chicken. What in the world were you thinking?”

We turned the corner, hidden from the building by the stone wall.

“We just wanted to intimidate them,” Ascanio said.

The man behind us took the corner at high speed. “You fucking bitch, I said stop!”

The beastkin-crazy Andrea was about to surface. I could feel it.

I looked at him. “Jeff Cooper, I presume?”

“That’s right. You degenerates think you can just come here and push people around.” He stabbed his finger into my chest.

The three boudas went from chastised to baring their teeth in a blink.

“Don’t put your hand on me again,” I said.

He poked his finger into my chest again. “Well, I have something to tell you: don’t let the sun set on you in this county, because…”

I grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward, tripping him with my foot. He went down back first and I caught him by his throat, three feet above the ground, lifted him up a bit and bent down to his face. My eyes glowed with murderous red. My voice turned rough with an animal growl. “Listen well, because I won’t be repeating myself, you racist prick. If you make any trouble for me or my people, I’ll hunt you down like the pig you are and carve a second mouth across your gut. They’ll find you hanging by your own intestines. The next time you hear something laugh and howl in the night, hug your family, because you won’t see the sunrise.”

I opened my fingers. He crashed on the ground, his face white as a sheet. He scrambled backward, rolled to his feet, and took off.

The three shapeshifters stared at me, openmouthed.

“That’s how you intimidate people. No witnesses and not a mark on him. Get your asses to the car.”