Page 67 of Bitter Discord

Subira chuckled. “That’s my girl,” she said softly, nodding in pride.

“Yeah, well… the same werecat is dead now, so…” I sighed. “Murdered that night. He was related to someone involved in Mikkel’s plot and… It just looks bad. He had to have been targeted for that connection, but Zuri has interrogated all the werecats, and they’re innocent. I never told the werewolves here about the connection. And we have a missing werewolf boy.” I rubbed my eyes.

“Sweet child. Tell me everything from the beginning,” Subira said kindly.

So I did. I told her everything from the moment Zuri arrived, only leaving out certain pieces, like Dirk’s situation, ending with how I was feeling tonight—restless, uncertain, and lost. I was spinning in circles in my head, but I couldn’t go anywhere.

“Untraceable by scent…” Subira hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in her chair again. “If it were a moon cursed, like one of your werewolves theorized, then your killer has an exceptionally powerful Talent, much like the Alpha who could lie or your rogue Alpha. Or a spell from a powerful witch. I am also inclined to believe, as you do, that your missing werewolf boy is innocent, though being used as an easy object for rage and fear. This Mason wasn’t particularly old, but no werecat should be caught off guard by a child. Unless Arlo is a well-connected genius hiding in your midst, then… what is his goal? Makes little sense, but it puts everyone on edge.”

“Exactly. I have a werewolf pack desperate to find one of their youngest members, but they’re hamstrung because they have to play nice with the werecats and make sure they have no faults on that angle. Heath refused to look at the body or the murder scene because he didn’t want to give the werecats anything that might make the pack look… complicit or seem like an attempt to cover something up.” I groaned. “On the other end of things, I have a group of werecats who trusted me enough to come here, even knowing humans knew about me, and now one of them is dead. Then there are the humans, who were pulled in by—”

“The young werewolf.”

I nodded.

In the silence following, I watched as Subira twirled a finger, making things spin on the desk—notepads, pencils, pens, knickknacks, a bottle, even a couple of cell phones.

“What would you do?” I finally asked. “Zuri felt no magic at the crime scene. Neither of us caught any scent. The werewolves, who have even better noses, smelled nothing here. His trail just disappears.”

“Try a different method of hunting,” she said softly, staring at nothing, her eyes so distant, I wondered if she could see through time with them.

“What do you mean?”

“When Davor was a very young boy, his human parents died of disease,” she said, starting a story that I knew would lead somewhere. I didn’t know why it needed to be a story, but I rolled with it. She was clearly lost in her own thoughts, and I had to ride her train of thought. “He couldn’t have seen over six winters when they died. It wasn’t hard to figure out how he survived, that intelligent boy. He couldn’t run fast enough to catch prey. He wasn’t strong enough to use a bow powerful enough to bring down game.”

“He used traps,” I said softly. “Snares and things like that?”

“Yes. In fact, the traps he made were so effective, Hasan got his foot trapped in one. He waited two days for the young boy who set the trap to arrive. While Davor had done well to keep his scent off the trap for the local wildlife, Hasan could still catch traces of the child who had set it. He wanted to meet the young boy and make sure he was okay. He’d seen nothing like it, and when he met the young boy, Davor was quick to admit he could hunt no other way, but he still needed to eat. He was proud of himself, even in the face of a man like Hasan. I saw it later and found it delightful. I still use some of Davor’s traps to this day when I don’t have time to go hunting. I’ll set them and leave them be for a few days.” Subira smiled sadly. “He was a happier boy when he taught me those designs.” She shook off the sadness and focused her gaze back on me.

“Change your hunting method,” she said once again. “Work with the resources you have and make a trap. Lure the killer out, whether it’s the boy or someone more nefarious.”

I considered my resources. Zuri and I were in charge of this mess. I had a pack of werewolves, but they were blind without a trail to track. They could be useful once we drew out the killer, though. The angry werecats and the BSA were more difficult to manage.

Then the lightbulb turned on.

“Thank you for the story and advice,” I said, a risky plan taking shape.

“What are you considering?”

“Using werecats as bait with human agents tailing them,” I explained. “Rings. Werecat in the middle, human agents in the first circle, out of sight, maybe even using electronics instead of being too close. After that, the werewolves on standby. Once we get our eyes on the killer, the pack can go hunting. Werewolves group hunt and know how to herd a target into a better kill zone. Zuri on standby for any magic needs. Me coordinating because I can be in werecat form and communicate.” I smiled.

It could work. I just needed the werecats and the BSA to play ball. The pack wouldn’t question my logic. I was certain someone else would have considered setting some sort of trap eventually, but everything was still raw. I wanted this murderer before a second person was killed.

“That’s a lot of moving parts. Too many people,” she said, her worry clear. “Are you sure? I would cut either the pack or the human organization.”

“The werewolves will do it for Arlo and for me.” I grabbed a memo pad from my desk and started writing, trying to put my thoughts down, so they were clear when I had to take this idea to everyone else. “I would never get the werecats to agree to a werewolf tail. They would see it as a potential threat. Plus, the pack is limited in ways the BSA isn’t. There are a lot of human agents in the state of Texas, and they have resources we don’t. The BSA will stay out of the way because I won’t put them too close. They’ll be the observation team. They won’t get the killer in the end. We will. The BSA will do it because it gives them proximity to werecats and werewolves, keeping more trouble from blowing up in the city. They’ll get to report they helped me capture a killer and keep it from disrupting and endangering human life. They like being able to say they had a part in something. The only problem I see are the werecats, not including Zuri.” I tapped my pen on the pad. “But they’re the one group I can’t leave out.” Humming thoughtfully, I paced.

“If we can work together and catch the murderer without innocent lives being taken, I can prove to the other werecats not every werewolf is the enemy. They’ll see the benefit to the werewolves. Some will be okay with helping, I think. I don’t need all of them.” With a smile, I wrote another note. “If they don’t agree to be observed by the BSA for their own safety, they’ll have to remain on lockdown in the mansion in Dallas with Zuri. That way, we can limit who is running around. There won’t be any open targets. They won’t have to put their own lives at risk if they don’t want to, but they won’t jeopardize the plan, either.”

“You sound like you have this well in hand, then.” Subira stood.

“Thank you for talking it through with me,” I said quickly, putting my notes down. “I can’t believe I couldn’t figure out setting up a trap on my own.”

“You needed someone to give you a new direction, and I’m glad I could suggest one that might offer a solution. We all get stuck in our ways… human and supernatural alike. We forget there are other paths, other ways of doing things. Even I’m guilty of it.” She smiled warmly at the camera, giving me the sensation she could see straight into my soul, even over thousands of miles.

“You’re bold. It's one of the many things Iloveabout you. You run head-first into a problem, thinking on your feet and risking yourself to protect others and achieve your goals. The only problem you faced was this combination of circumstances made you feel stuck. Truly, it happens to the best of us.”

“What would make you feel stuck?” I asked, nearly laughing, then yawned, realizing my need to get any sort of sleep was finally catching up with me. Her words meant a lot, though. Her confidence in me, her grace at letting me down easy with my disappointment in myself.

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