“The thing to remember is that it can only absorb spells given to it voluntarily by the spell caster. Means a wolf gave them the shadows spell and the Look-Not-At-Me.”
“Confirming Anna’s theory,” Charles said. He was pacing. There were many things he did not like about cell phones-but not tangling himself up in cords was a definite benefit.
“Is Anna all right?”
“She’ll be fine as soon as a few more chunks of lead fester out, and I get some locks picked so she doesn’t have to explain her interesting choice in jewelry.”
Arthur was leaning against the door frame of his treasure room, making no effort to pretend he wasn’t listening.
“Good.” Angus cleared his throat. “You did good, son.”
The “son” made Charles smile. He was older than Angus by a few decades. “I think so. She’s-she completes me.”
“Tell her that,” Angus advised humorously. “Women like to hear their men get all tongue-tied.”
“I’ll do that.”
He shut the phone.
“Cleanup crew?” asked Arthur.
And Charles realized that there was a lot Arthur didn’t know. “Chastel was killed last night in a particularly bloody fashion that required some quick action.”
“Was it you who killed him?”
“No. Vampires.”
“Ah.” Arthur looked away. “Chastel. Odd to think of him being dead at last. It couldn’t have happened to a better person.” He looked back and gave Charles a broken smile. “And I guess it did, didn’t it? Poor Sunny.” He rubbed his face, hiding it for a minute. “Sorry. Sorry. So Chastel required a cleanup crew?”
Charles considered offering sympathy-and decided it wouldn’t help. “Anna suggested that the murder was so bloody-especially given it was vampires who’d done it-”
“The vampires killed Chastel? You are sure?”
Charles nodded. “Ironic, considering how many wolves I know who would have loved to kill him.”
“Who called the police? The vampires?”
Charles shrugged. “The timing is off. The police were meant to find the scene in all its glory.” Maybe to keep his father from bringing the werewolves out. Maybe to keep the wolves away from the scene so whoever had tried to frame Charles for it would have an easier time. Without access to the murder site, the werewolves might never have determined how Charles’s scent appeared in a place he’d never been. “But they gave us too much time. The police won’t find anything now.”
“I suppose not. Angus is remarkably efficient.”
“And, I believe, his second’s daytime job is with the police. Tom knows what they are looking for and how to keep them from finding it.” Charles paused.
It occurred to him that he could see Arthur hiring someone to do his killing for him. But he dismissed his suspicion. Sunny had been killed. A wolf would never kill his own mate.
Even so, Charles gave in to his impulse to throw out some bait. “Whoever called the police did it hours too late. It might have worked if he’d called right after the job was done.” He shook his head. “That’s what’s been bothering me, I think. The incompetence of it all. Most wolves are better hunters. The vampires made a try for Anna-right before we came over here for dinner, as a matter of fact. They failed-and lost two of their pack doing so. Michel, one of the French werewolves, was with Chastel when he was killed. And they left him for dead. He’ll survive, and in a few days he’ll tell us exactly what the vampires said when they attacked. Maybe they told him who hired them.”
“Hired?”
“They’re pros. Hired to come to Seattle to do at least three things.” Charles ticked them off on his fingers. “Kidnap Anna. Kill Sunny. And kill Chastel-making his death horrible and bloody, something that screamed ‘Monster’ to the police.”
Charles hummed thoughtfully to himself. “It wasn’t the vampires who were incompetent. If they had known what they were facing when they tried to kidnap Anna the first time, they would have succeeded. Someone underestimated the escort I sent out with Anna. Thought that the only one who would be a problem was Angus’s second, Tom. Chastel’s death was… masterful. Any humans who’d walked in, who’d seen pictures of it, would remember it for the rest of their lives. But the person who was supposed to call the police was too slow.”
Charles had been watching Arthur out of the corner of his eye. The wolf’s face showed nothing but polite interest. His body, on the other hand, had been tightening with anger throughout Charles’s whole speech.
“Incompetent,” he said again. And watched Arthur’s fist clench.
Arthur.
His father had been suspicious of the death of an Alpha who’d recently been killed in London. Tough man and very dominant-decapitated in a car accident. Could have been deliberately arranged.
Charles resumed pacing, ignoring Arthur as if he weren’t there at all. So Arthur didn’t realize he’d given himself away.
Taking out Chastel made sense. Chastel was a threat to Arthur. Kept Arthur from expanding into Europe. His death left a huge power vacuum-and Arthur would have stood no chance in a fair fight against Chastel. He couldn’t have just assassinated him and left the murder open, though-if anyone knew Arthur had taken the coward’s way of killing Chastel, they would never have followed him. Arthur was not Bran, he wasn’t strong enough to rule a continent based on his own power-he’d need them to be willing subjects. He’d need to pin Chastel’s death on someone else.
Charles didn’t think Arthur cared one way or the other about the werewolves’ coming out. He was precisely the charismatic kind of wolf that Bran planned on introducing the public to first. But making Chastel’s murder look as though it was designed to attract human attention was a way to send suspicion elsewhere. There were a lot of wolves who were unhappy about his father’s plans. Bran would not believe Charles had killed Chastel, after all-so Arthur needed a nameless villain for Bran to blame. Someone who hired the vampires, then conveniently disappeared.
That whole butcher thing… was Arthur making an observation. Chastel was a barbarian-Arthur clearly his superior. He wouldn’t see the similarities. In his mind, a brute who killed for pleasure was uncivilized. Arthur didn’t kill for pleasure.
Chastel ruled by killing all who challenged his place-and by terrifying the rest. Arthur… had started out killing the Alphas in Great Britain, then stopped. Or found a better way to dispose of the wolves who would challenge him. Bran could figure it out from here. As far as Charles was concerned, Arthur and Chastel were just two sides of the same coin-all the need for power and none of the need to take care of what was theirs. Arthur wouldn’t see it that way, though perhaps he needed to make that more clear with the brutal method used to dispose of Chastel’s body.
Sunny.
If the reason for hiring the vampires was that it would have been difficult for a werewolf to attack an Omega, hiring them to kill your own mate, who was Omega, or nearly so, would have been imperative.
And suddenly the attempted kidnapping of Anna made so much more sense. Arthur wasn’t the only werewolf to have his own jet-but he did have one. And Anna was what Sunny could have been. Omega. Valued not so much because of who she was-but for who everyone else would think her to be. Prize possession. And, unlike Sunny, she would live forever. Sunny had been getting old, as humans did. Arthur’s pain at that knowledge had been genuine. So he’d had her killed to spare himself the suffering. From his reactions at the warehouse, Charles rather thought Arthur had underestimated the pain of her death. He hoped so.
Casually, he pulled his phone out and set it to text. “Forgot to update Da,” he said. “He’ll be eating breakfast about now and doesn’t like it interrupted. I’ll text him about the happenings of tonight, and he can call me about it at his leisure.” No lies for Arthur to hear. He kept the text message simple. IT IS ARTHUR.