Page 20 of The Sacred Wolf

It was chaos, but a hubbub of life that I had come to love—from my tower window anyway—and it helped to distract me from the darkness of my thoughts, of what we were going to investigate. I took deep breaths to clear my mind and heard little more of what Kenzo said, or anything, until Sebastian’s voice broke through my trance.

“Elyse? Are you with us? We’re here, c’mon.”

I startled and glanced over to him, standing by the open door. His head was poked in, and his brows were nearly knitting a sweater until his eyes found mine. Whatever he saw there made him stop. His brow softened, and he held out a hand.

“Here, let me help you out.”

With a gentle but firm grip, he guided me out of my encasement in the back of the vehicle, and I landed on the sidewalk, steps away from a mass of cops and caution tape. Washington Square Park was one of the verdant islands-within-the-island that made Manhattan sing. Plush lawns, bubbling fountains, and rows of benches were open invitations to the hurried citizens of the city that never sleeps to sit and stay awhile.

At least, it would be on any other day. Today it was a ghost town, surrounded by an army of whirling blue and red lights.

A breeze snapped at the yellow tape, making the loose ends flutter. The waft took the heat from my body as it whistled through my hair and sweat-soaked clothes. I shivered. My stomach felt like a kettle ball, and my legs seemed to have committed to mutiny rather than moving forward, but somehow, with Sebastian’s help, I kicked one foot out, then the other, until they were back on board with being attached to my body.

I let go of his hand, noticing for a split second that we’d each had to be each other’s support today, if only momentarily, and I was grateful.

With lips pressed into a thin white line and hair whipping in the breeze, Sebastian made his way to the police and had a quiet discussion before waving us over. I moved when the wind changed direction, bringing a reeking scent of pennies and offal to my nose, and I reeled, stopping as my wolf bristled, her senses zinging, her muscles rippling in anticipation beneath my skin.

There may still be danger.

Not with Sebastian and Kenzo here.

I’m keeping watch anyway.

Good.

I continued on shaky legs to join Kenzo and Sebastian on the other side of the tape, noting the reporters snapping pictures to our left. Mateo would have to take care of those images for us, seeing as how “civvies” who could see the bodies would raise too many questions. Especially if their pictures made it to the tabloids.

My attention fell on the sad tableau of untimely death before me. If I could keep from smelling it, I might convince myself that I was just watching an episode of Animalis Alma Mater being filmed. The four bodies were lying in theatrical piles, as if they’d gone boneless the moment they died and simply dropped where they’d stood. Two men and two women. All covered in blood, with lakes of it drying in wind-whipped streaks around them from the gashes to their necks.

My mind stuttered, showing me blood pouring from a head wearing a perfect pink bow, the russet staining the matching prim dress and auburn locks. My heart beat like a bird banging itself against a window, failing to understand that it was glass. A shudder began in my core, at my diaphragm, where it jittered my breath and shot outward to vibrate my fingertips.

The body was lying on the filthy floor of a subway car. That wasn’t right. It shouldn’t have been like that. All that pretty pinkness deserved satin and softness. It shouldn’t have been—

“Elyse?” Sebastian squeezed my elbow gently. “Are you okay?”

My thoughts exactly.

Sebastian’s eyes searched mine, and I nodded, hoping he couldn’t feel the vibrations that shook my insides like an unbalanced washing machine.

“Fine,” I squeaked, swallowing, forcing myself to look at the bodies again. These were not my Charlie. She was already gone. These bodies were new, a bunch of helpless human kids just a few years younger than me, and if I wanted to help stop this from happening again, I needed to get ahold of myself. “What do you guys think?”

“I don’t think they were killed by shifters,” Sebastian whispered, kneeling beside one male and pointing. “This wound… it’s as if someone made it look like a bite, with the puncture pattern and everything, but the tearing is all wrong.”

I crouched beside him and clenched my jaw to hold back my personal emotions. There were what looked like four holes in the boy’s next, not unlike the marks I’d left on Evan’s shoulder, except there was so much tearing that it was hard to tell unless you were looking for it. What made little sense was the messiness of the tears. Our fangs would have made a cleaner slice.

“I see what you mean.” I turned my head, gagging and blushing for doing so.

Kenzo came over from examining one of the female bodies and folded his arms over his barrel chest. “If this wasn’t shifters, it sure was made to look like us. I swear there are bits of fur planted on the bodies over there.”

“Do you think it’s anti-shifter vigilantes trying to frame us?” Sebastian stood, brushing his hands together with distaste. “They’ve been out of control since the subway, and they were certainly looking for violence then.”

“Must be,” Kenzo concluded. “Who else would do something like this?”

At the mention of the subway, the vibration that I’d suppressed to a small degree roared back to life, and I backed away from the bodies, trying to find air that didn’t carry their scent to draw into my lungs. I fought off tears, angry that my body wouldn’t stop being so damned weak, that my brain wouldn’t stop feeding it terror and heartache to feast upon.

It could still be Damien.

What?

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