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“The killer’s name, I’m certain I can pry from the sheriff. Stephen’s pelt, however–why not wait for the investigation to conclude?”
Passing me a refilled glass of chardonnay, she turned the chair beside me around to face the patio. “People are capable of great and terrible actions when their lives and livelihood is on the line. Certain choices have put me at odds with Harlowe. I fear he’ll hold my brother hostage out of spite.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Oh, no reason.” She flipped her hand through her hair. “Prior and current to his stint in Connecticut, I may have filed several complaints in an attempt to get him removed from service.”
“Why would you—”
She touched my knee.“Harlowe’s ancestors were the first werewolves. His bloodline is mean enough to someday be the last. ‘Sheriff’ is the human term, Marcy. We of the Otherworld know his kind as reapers. Most of them are vicious, nasty monsters that do a fine job protecting those within their state from other vicious, nasty monsters. But Harlowe, the Society sends on special command. Rumor has it they might make his residence here permanent. I don’t know what he’s after, but I do not want the King of Graves stationed two towns over once he’s killed whatever it is. Whose door will he knock on when bored between hunts?”
“He got smacked around by a single werewolf,” I pointed out. “And was useless after taking a silvered bullet to the shoulder.”
“He’s upset,” she said dismissively. “And his handler will have given him an earful. Don’t expect him to slip again. Everything that’s squared up against him is rotting. You’ll be rotting soon, too, if you don’t run.”
The sheriff had suggested similar. “And if I choose to run with him?”
“No one can, for long.” She sipped her wine. “Ever meet someone and find yourself glad they’ve got a job or hobby to distract them, because if it weren’t for an outlet, they’d be insane?”
“I consider myself one cat short of crazy.”
She smiled. “Sheriffs are paid well for a rough job, but cash isn’t king for that which existed before coins. The Otherworld sees a reaper’s needs satisfied with certain bonuses, including the handling of invitations.”
“How so?”
“Ask the question, consider the answer—those are the politics nowadays—but the Society allows reapers to override your choice.”
Caelan told me he’d been banned from that part of the job. I wondered if Cal, who clearly had a bone to pick with him, knew that and was attempting to paint him in a bad light. “Is encouraging me to flee part of the game?”
The woman dragged herself from her chair. “Hang on, hun.”
She returned, a pen and fresh glass of wine in hand, with a manilla folder tucked under her arm. She pushed it across the table. I reached out, but she stopped my hand, dark eyes fixed on mine.
“I’m prepared to offer two options,” she explained.
“Go on,” I said slowly.
“For a reaper, Harlowe’s not unnecessarily cruel; Stephen invited him deer hunting whenever he was in the area. I’ve only ever seen him make swift, efficient kills. Problem is, and I’ll admit Harlowe’s right in this one, tiny instance: you need to run. Not a single invitee of his has successfully entered the Otherworld, none that my people have been able to locate, anyway.”
I glanced in the direction of my house. “So I help you, you make me disappear?”
She nodded.
“What if I stay or for some reason am unable to leave?”
“When my brother’s killer has been brought to justice, Harlowe will pop the question in his handsome, husky voice. He'll have you alone, comfortable and outside everything you've ever known." Her voice lowered. Her hand trailed back and forth across my knee. “It's gonna be you or him who walks away. That's how it always goes. That's how it always is. Unless you’re already a member of the Otherworld. You’d have to be a monster or a dire threat indeed for him to come after a pack member. Harlowe warned you an invitation was coming; you haven’t formally been invited. We could beat him to the bite, so to speak.”
“How so?”
“There’s an alternate process reserved for circumstances such as adoption or marriage, a vetted Society member can request a human be brought into the fold. It’s a tedious interview process and background check, and reapers make house visits to observe prospects before, during and after the transition, however, the process is primarily overseen by our Health and Safety department. They aren’t out to kill anyone; we welcome the genetic diversity and happy society members are less likely to cause issues down the road. I could sponsor you. We’ve been neighbors nearly our entire lives. I could file the paperwork tonight.”
“It’s in his notes we’re neighbors, not friends,” I said, reconsidering another sip of wine. “Besides, someone’s probably attempted this stunt before. What makes you think we’d succeed?”
“We may not.” She frowned. “But his invitations are usually reserved for humans like you who’ve been attacked, turned, or witnessed something they shouldn’t have, rather than say a werewolf whose kept the secret from her human boyfriend for six years and knows he’s about to propose. He doesn’t interfere with Health and Safety’s recommendations.”
“You know a lot about him,” I prompted.
“Talon is the largest pack in the state. When you have the network of members we do, encounters with law enforcement become commonplace. It’s best to know who you’re dealing with. Gannon, our last sheriff, was as crooked a man as they come. Harlowe won’t even accept a charitable donation. Worse, he was one of my brother’s dearest friends. He convinced Stephen money won’t solve our problems.” Disgust drew her lips back. “He turned my brother into an activist.”
