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Fingertips teased the hair from my neck. Zakar’s voice, a honey-sweet purr, tickled my ear. “Best to seek shelter in a lightning storm.”
I whipped around, but the man had vanished.
chapter 21
SHEEP
Zakar had the right of the situation; if I could've melted into a wall, I would've. Neither of the two men had any interest in helping me feel along the fabric-covered walls for a hidden door. They didn’t even appear to have noticed the shaman’s departure, preoccupied with staring each other down over a candlelit altar covered in amulets and premixed spell kits.
Caelan's brother broke the standstill. "Heard you’re closing on my prey," he said with a pull and a twang from the deep south. “That ain’t fair.”
“I’ve always had the better nose.”
“And duller teeth.”
“That’s what happens when you use them.”
“The prey has left the building,” I announced loudly, popping open the hidden door. A dark hallway loomed large beside me.
All three looked over. Confusion touched his brother’s eyes, then he whooped and grinned. “Well, looky here, Winnie! My brother’s done caught a sheep in wolf’s clothing.”
He came forward. Wary, I moved myself between the table and him, careful to keep an eye on the stern-faced woman at the door as well. Her arms were crossed, her hand on a gun at her hip.
“Calling her a sheep won’t make her grow wool.” Caelan intercepted his brother with a polite smile and a hand on his shoulder. “Heard you had a chance to nab Hayes in Port Sulfur. What happened?”
“Dead end.”
Forcing myself to act a wolf, I wedged my shoulder between the two brothers, set my hand on my partner, then steered him toward the exit. “Zakar won’t be reemerging any time soon, but that doesn’t mean he’s wearing earplugs.”
We'd crossed into the parking lot when Caelan's brother, a couple years older and a few inches taller, caught up to us and took my hand.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked, pulling my hand back.
With an easy tug he pulled me against him, lifting my hand to his mouth and offering the roguish smile a girl would want to see somewhere dark and romantic. “Sorry, hun. Can't expect a brute to remember his manners. Sheriff Augustin La Motte, Louisiana. This here is Winona, an actual deputy.”
Winona stared through me, passing off a monotone, “Hey.”
“One of the investigators at Stag Hill texted me a pic while Harlowe was barking.” Her sheriff pulled a strand of my hair through his fingers. “Red’s your color.”
“Careful now,” Caelan called. “She bites.”
As I stood frozen, unsure what to do, Winona wrenched away August’s hand (and a bit of my hair). “Paws off. We don’t play with someone else's food.”
“upposin’ you’re right, Winnie.” August flashed his teeth at me. “The meat is much less tender when you scare it.”
“I'm not scared,” I replied, taking small comfort in the weight of grandma's gun pressed to my lower back.
August and Winona wore the smiles of wolves who’d encountered a newborn fawn. His deputy prodded my leg with her boot.
“These calves,” she scoffed. “You'll be scared when these legs fail you.”
“Marcy’s a bright young woman.” Caelan displayed no keenness to intrude; nor should he have; I couldn't earn respect relying on him, but I was grateful for his support. “She knows her limits and plans accordingly, which works in our favor, considering the suspect wants—”
“—this little lamb all for himself, yeah, yeah. I read your report.” August slapped the side of his truck. “Got thirty feet of cordage in the bed. Bet if we string her up, he'll crawl out from whatever rock he’s hiding under before her feet stop kicking.”
“We can’t know that.” I forced a cheery smile. “But we do know he likes dead werewolves. August, why don't you volunteer to lead us to him?”
The Louisiana sheriff froze.
