“Mr. Arnou,” it was Sedgewick’s voice, sounding clipped and impatient. “It’s merely a faint. She’ll come around in a moment.”
Sebastian paused to draw a breath. And when he started speaking again, his voice had gone low and smooth and dangerous. “For all your vaunted knowledge of our anatomy, Doctor, it appears there are a few things you do not yet understand about Weres.”
“And that would be?” Sedgewick had obviously dropped the charm act, because his voice was almost nasty.
“A Were who has lost a mate can turn feral, knowing nothing, seeing nothing, except revenge. I have witnessed a small female of our kind carve her way through five strong Were guards to reach the one who had taken her mate. And then kill him, before dying herself.” His grip tightened enough to hurt. “I do not wish to see it again.”
I came around completely with a grunt of pain, to find myself draped across Sebastian’s lap. We were in Sedgewick’s tiny office, sitting on his ugly plaid couch. The doc was behind his overflowing desk while Hargrove hovered in the doorway. “But Lia isn’t a Were,” Sedgewick said testily. “Therefore, whatever questionable—”
“Colin,” Hargrove began warningly.
“—methods your people use for revenge don’t concern—”
“Colin!” Hargrove’s tone snapped like a whip. “With me.”
Sedgewick started to protest, but Hargrove somehow got him out the door without a major incident. I didn’t see them go because Sebastian had bent over me, his eyes searching mine as if he expected me to go berserk at any moment. I didn’t feel berserk; I felt sick. I really hoped I wasn’t about to yak all over royalty.
“It isn’t him, Lia,” Sebastian repeated, low and distinct. “It isn’t Cyrus.”
“Then who?” I croaked, struggling to sit up.
“Grayshadow,” Sebastian said, his face expressionless. “At least, that was his Were name. In the human world he was known as Alan Thompkins.”
“But the phone—”
“It’s Cyrus’s, yes, but the body isn’t.”
“How could you tell?” I asked thickly.
“Scent.” His mouth twisted in a wry half-smile. “Those archaic chemoreceptors. And if you noticed, the body was missing part of the right front paw. Grayshadow was missing three fingers on his right hand, a relic of an old duel.”
I swallowed. “I didn’t really look that close.”
My head was pounding and my throat felt like a desert. I spied a small fridge sitting at the end of the sofa, wedged in between an overstuffed filing cabinet and the wall. Its sole contents turned out to be a six-pack of mineral water and a beer. The beer was warm. I drank it anyway.
“If you already knew who he was, why let Sedgewick examine him?” I asked, after a minute.
“I was hoping he would tell me that the skin was removed after death, and that something else had killed him.”
“Yeah, because that would be so much better!”
“Yes. It would.”
The strain in his voice surprised me. While Cyrus was considered mad, bad and dangerous to know, Sebastian’s reputation matched what I’d seen so far—elegant, composed and levelheaded. Only he wasn’t sounding so much like that now.
“Don’t you think it’s time you told me what’s going on?” I demanded.
Sebastian wordlessly pulled a manila folder from under his suit coat and handed it to me. It contained photos, big glossy ones in full color that might have been taken from the exam room down the hall. Only the backgrounds differed. Instead of brushed steel, these bodies lay on red, rocky soil, cracked asphalt and scrub brush. Three bodies, three different places of death, but the same gruesome method.
“Grayshadow was the fourth—that we know of,” he said, when I looked up. “The first was a week ago. Forest Walker of Maccon. Then White Sun of Arnou and Night Dancer of Tamaska.”
“And Grayshadow belonged to which clan?”
“Arnou.”
“So two out of four were Arnou.” Sebastian nodded. “But why were they all…like that?”
“Our pelts are prized possessions in many circles. If taken at the moment of transformation, they retain much of the magic needed for the Change.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, that it took me a second to get it. “Wait. You think someone killed them for their skins?” I stared at him in horror.
“So it would seem.” His voice was as smooth and untroubled as if that earlier lapse had never happened. But his eyes were clouded when they met mine. “It appears that we have a Hunter.”
I looked down at the too-colorful photos. My nausea was back, big-time. “But how? Weres change so quickly—”
“A spell is required to strip the skin from the body before the change can be completed.”
“You think a mage did this?”
“They are one of the few predators to which we are vulnerable.”
My head was spinning, a combination of numb stick, shock and warm beer. It felt like I was simultaneously getting too much information, and not enough. “Okay,” I said slowly, trying to sort out my jumbled thoughts. “Right now, I’m not interested in this Hunter, mage or not. I’m interested in why Cyrus’s phone was found under a dead body, and one that had no clothes to hold it. Was it planted to make us think it was Cyrus? Because any Were would immediately know that it wasn’t.”
Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “It was, I think, a message to me.”
“What? Some kind of challenge?”
“More likely a warning not to interfere in this creature’s affairs.”
I frowned. “And you would need a warning because?”
“White Sun was my Second, my right hand. When I learned of his death, I asked Cyrus to check with his contacts in the underworld, to get me a lead on this creature. A name, a location, anything.”
“And did he?”
“I didn’t want to discuss this over the telephone,” he said, not answering me. “And as you know, Cyrus and I cannot meet.”
I nodded. Sebastian had recently been elected wartime chief, which was what bardric actually meant, of the North American Were clans. In order to get the votes of those leaders who were more impressed by brawn than brains (in other words, most of them), he’d asked Cyrus to challenge him for the right to lead their clan—a dispute that could be resolved only by combat.
As they’d planned, Sebastian won the fight and the election, but losing made Cyrus vargulf— an outcast—in Were society. The brothers intended to reveal the truth after the war was over, allowing Cyrus to reclaim his position. In the meantime, he was using his disreputable reputation to spy on the Were underworld for his brother.
“So how were you getting information?” I asked, and immediately knew I’d hit pay dirt. Because Sebastian licked his lips. Full-grown Weres, especially High Clan, don’t show nervousness. It’s viewed as a weakness and is drilled out of them early. So that little gesture was the equivalent of a human throwing a hissy fit.
“I didn’t like the idea of Cyrus chasing this thing alone,” Sebastian finally said. “And I knew he could cover more ground if he had help. I therefore sent Grayshadow to act as a go-between—”
“Wait.” I stared at the gory photos and, suddenly, my brain didn’t seem to be working at all. “That man in there…who ended up like that…You’re telling me he was working with Cyrus?”
“Yes. He was supposed to bring me a report this morning, but he missed the meeting. And shortly thereafter, we received the call from Central.”
“Then where is Cyrus?”
Sebastian met my eyes, and I knew the answer before he said it. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? And we’ve just been sitting here for the past twenty minutes?” I leapt up and started for the door, but Sebastian got there first. I tried to push past, but he wasn’t budging. I could have moved him; hell, the way I felt I could have moved the wall. But that was likely to bring security running and I didn’t have time for that.