Electric Moon (3 page)

“That’s not possible at the moment, and I’m needed at the
crime scene.” Though no one left her alone in the last few days, no one dared
get close to her, either, for fear she would rip out their throat.

She couldn’t say they were mistaken.

So they sat back and watched her like some toddler. “I’ll be
fine.”

Griffin’s brow furrowed over those brilliant eyes of his,
slowly crossing his arms. “Take him.”

Obstinate ass. As if he even got a say in what she did. The
suspicion in his eyes let her know she wasn’t going to get away with a pat
answer. She understood. If anything happened to her, his meal ticket was gone. Taggert
looked willing, but she couldn’t take the chance, not until the conclave got
their claws out of his hide.

Fiddling with the envelope, she blurted out the reason.
“He’s technically still a slave.”

She carefully tugged a small cord of energy teeming in the
walls of the house and twined it between her fingers. The energy doused the
desire that had been creeping over her. If Griffin so much as lifted a finger
against what was hers, she would rip away his consciousness and dump his
unattended body on the pack’s doorstep without a hint of remorse.

Griffin’s start of surprise showed on his face, the first
genuine emotion she saw since the hunt that nearly killed them. “But...” He
lifted a hand and let it drop. “The collar.”

Raven pulled more electricity from the house, the sting of
it welcome as the last drop of mounting desire washed out of her completely. “I
didn’t like it. It caused him pain, and it was my job to protect him.”

She didn’t blink as she waited for him to process the
information. When he just stared at her, all the energy she’d compiled slowly dissipated,
and her wolf trotted to the surface in response to the curiosity of his animal.
She nearly whimpered when the heat began to build under her skin again.

“He can’t leave the house, not until we face the conclave. I
can’t risk losing him without ever having claimed him.”

Not like she’d lost Jackson.

The scent of cedar intensified, drawing her attention back
to Griffin.

His scent.

Wildness poured off him, a wickedness that urged her not to
think, not to fight the demands of her animals. The temptation he presented was
a dangerous lure for someone like her, someone who held more than one beast. She
concentrated on suppressing her wolf as it fought to refuse her command.

That’s when she realized Griffin was doing something that
riled up her animals, and she didn’t know enough to find out what the hell kind
of game he was playing.

Her animals might be pesky, stubborn beyond belief, but they
were hers. She couldn’t allow Griffin to learn she held multiple strands of
shifter DNA. The information was too valuable. According to the pack, she was
an impossibility.

Well, she would be but for a little thing of being
engineered.

He could trade her secret to get his pack status back, and
she couldn’t allow that to happen.

The shadows at the center of her core shifted, and all the
animals vanished as coldness seeped into her chest. Her lungs felt weighted as
crystals formed, her breath freezing her throat. A creature lifted its head,
watching from the darkness, sensing something different about Griffin. Something
almost feral. She was pathetically grateful when the creature didn’t venture
any closer.

Silence rang loud in the hallway, both sets of male eyes
locked on her in an uncanny way that felt devouring.

“I’ll go with you.”

Raven blinked in surprise at Griffin’s offer, and the spell
woven around them snapped. “We already agreed that you should remain hidden.”  

The unwarranted offer only increased her suspicions. He was
up to something. She scrambled to think of ways to change his mind. She hated
that she had to rely on him and others for answers, not knowing if they had
their own agendas.

She resisted the need to retreat.

She would not allow her ignorance to weaken her.

“I lose everything if something happens to you.”

Something in his words didn’t ring true, but she couldn’t
place her finger on it.

“We’ll begin your lessons in the car.” He grabbed his
leather jacket and vanished out the door before she could protest. She had a
feeling she wouldn’t be able to pry him out of the car even if she tried.

She moved to follow when a large black wolf appeared on the
doorstep. She stopped short, disconcerted to find such a large beast all but
waiting to huff and puff her door down.

Then she saw the deep green eyes of her friend in the
animal’s face. The disorientation left her reeling. “Dominic?”

It had been three days since they’d spoken. She thought he’d
left. Or maybe she shouldn’t be surprised. Dominic was always one to take care
of those he considered his.

She reached out to sink her fingers into the massive fur encased
him, and his lips pealed up to flash his fangs. “Right. Not a pet.”

He prowled inside, seemingly satisfied with her response.
She glanced at Taggert and raised a brow.

Taggert shrugged as if having a wolf inside the house was an
everyday occurrence, his gaze still glued to the doorway where Griffin had
vanished. “Don’t trust that man. He won’t let anything happen to you, but you
can’t let him get close. He has his own schemes. Now that he knows some of what
you can do, he’ll be more dangerous.”

He meant the collar.

Raven agreed and that’s what terrified her. She couldn’t
afford to have anyone snoop into her past and search for answers. Especially
not when it was her small pack that would suffer. She stepped outside, not
feeling the sunshine as coldness crept through her gut.

Griffin thought himself safe here, but if it came down to choice,
she would do whatever necessary to protect her people.

 Chapter Three

AFTERNOON

“
T
he
conclave is a collection of five council members. Currently one magic user, a feline
shifter, one vampire and two wolves hold court.”

“One who just happens to be your father.” Raven struggled to
breathe in the confined space of the car, fighting off the claustrophobia
pressing on her chest, much like being held underwater. She rolled down the
window, trying not to be too obvious. The awful stench of exhaust had never
smelled sweeter as she drove through traffic.

Griffin grunted but otherwise ignored her clumsy probe for
more information. “One from each race. They pride themselves on being
purebreds. These men and women are not elected officials, they must earn their
spots. A seat opens if someone steps down or dies.”

The way he phrased the last part let her know which one
happened more often. She took the corner on a busy street, two blocks away from
the police station. “What else?”

“They hold court every month.”

“Always during the full moon?”

Griffin’s smile was more wolf-like than friendly. “Always.
It forces packs to come together when the mating heat is high and pack is at
their most vulnerable. The first two days are used for listening to petitions
or offer challenges that can’t be settled amongst themselves.

“The third day the council members are secluded to assess and
change the laws. It’s also a day of celebration. The day when new shifters
crest. The full moon helps the transition and reveals the strongest of the
budding pack. The last two days are used to answer petitions and claims.”

“If this is about shifters, why have magic users and
vampires on the council?”

Griffin gave her an assessing look, calculating if truth or
lies would work best. “To keep the peace. Shifters have been at war with both.
Witches had at one time ensnared shifters with their spells and used them as
familiars. Our animals can withstand the abuse if too much magic is cast and
the spell slingers can’t control the backlash.

“Let’s not forget the vampires. They claimed they created
shifters as their daytime protection. Shifters swear they were enslaved. Vampires
maintain a presence to show they are keeping with their part of the pact. The
conclave is also the only place where all paranormals meet in peace. It’s where
they can keep abreast of issues with their fellow predators. A few shifters
even hire themselves out to each group as mercenaries.”

“Why are you being so helpful?” She studied his dark head, a
devilish smile tipped his lips. She’d amused him.

“Payment for protecting us.”

He lied.

After he’d made himself at home in her house, she’d swear
that he had no intention of helping her, so why the spill of information? She’d
love to be able to read him with her gift, but with his wolf so closely
connected, she had no doubt he’d know what she was doing.

As the silence stretched, his smile faded. “You going in
front of the council will be like blood spilled in a shark tank. You say what’s
on your mind. You have secrets in your eyes. What will they get by helping
you?” He peered out the window, stricken, almost haunted as if he knew from
experience what her fate would be. “You’ll do anything to keep your pack.
They’ll use that against you.”

His brutal honesty stung. She’d had no problems hiding
herself until her friends had decided to make their stay in her life permanent.
In the past, she only had to keep her distance from others to keep them safe. To
become alpha and preserve the lifestyle of her people, she didn’t have the same
recourse.

She just needed to make the consequences of those who
thought to take advantage of her known, so others wouldn’t make the same
mistake.

“So it’s majority votes? I just have to sway three of the
five to my cause?” Too bad it sounded a lot simpler than it was.

“Don’t mistake them for puppets.” Griffin sounded grim.
“They twist the laws to suit themselves, changing things, tweaking petitions to
maneuver people around like soldiers in war. They each have their own agendas.
They work against each other to further themselves.”

“But it can be done.” She didn’t ask the question. She’d
find a way.

She parked the car, doing her best not to fidget under Griffin’s
steady stare. Then he gave a tiny nod. “Maybe for you.”

A knock on her window startled her. She yipped and whirled.
“Damn it, Scotts.” She rolled down the window for the big black man standing on
the sidewalk. “Don’t do that.”

He stooped and scrutinized the car, scanning the interior.
She wasn’t even sure he was aware of it, his actions done more out of habit.
There was nothing to find, the car was new. Her last one had been totaled in an
attempt to kill her and almost succeeding.

“You’re late.”

Without a word, she handed over the folder. Her fingers tightened
on the envelope before she let go. “Here.”

Scotts grunted, curled it up and shoved it in his pocket.
“Let’s go before they clean up the scene.”

He walked away without giving her a chance to say anything.

“Friendly guy.” Griffin cracked a small smile as they watched
Scotts head toward his unmarked cruiser. Even his stride was no nonsense.

“A regular barrel of laughs.” The tense set of Scotts’
shoulders revealed his combative attitude, but Raven was sure she hadn’t done
anything to set him off this time. Pulling out in traffic, she followed the cruiser,
stopping at the edge of town at a remote diner.

“Stay here.” Raven got out, the hot air instantly mugging
her. Only to find Griffin mimicking her. She eyed the branded rogue who stood
so calmly before her, a wolf kicked out of his pack, all but dead except for
the deed. “You being out in the open is not a wise move.”

In response or defiance, Griffin put his hands in his jacket
pocket to hide the symbol of his rogue status, which explained why he grabbed
it in the first place given the warm weather.

He was the only branded rogue she’d ever seen, probably for
the fact it was a death sentence that gave anyone permission to kill him on
site without those pesky things called consequences. Though she might detest
the rule, she had bigger battles to face in the next week.

 “You being in danger is even less.” Those eerie eyes of his
didn’t give anything away, but she doubted her safety motivated him in the
least. Stubble already darkened his jaw. The leather jacket, the thick black
hair and broad shoulders said more outlaw than lawman.

She opened her mouth to protest when Scotts yelled. “Over
here.”

She clamped her jaw shut, and narrowed her eyes on Griffin.
The slight smile he flashed poked at her danger radar. “Cause trouble and I’ll
kick your ass.”

He sent her a ‘who me?’ look that she didn’t buy for a
second. With more than a bit of trepidation, Raven followed Griffin back, behind
the diner.

The old building was run down, the red and white motif a throwback
from the past. Noise whizzed by from the passing traffic. Burnt coffee and hot
grease clogged the air. The clean windows were sandblasted by age and debris
from the highway, but you could still see the cracked vinyl seats and tarnished
metal napkin dispensers through them, completing the picture of a fifties
roadside diner.

Then the smell hit her.

Raw flesh.

As she rounded the corner to the back of the building, she
saw the body...or what was left of it, anyway. Every surface in a ten-foot
radius was plastered with remains. A particularly juicy section dripped down
the wall to land in a splotch near one of the technicians. The splatters on his
clothes said it wasn’t the first time that’d happened. He grimaced and scraped
it into a tub at his elbow. His muttered curse carried on the breeze along with
a whiff of decay as decomposition encroached.

Her feet scuffled along loose gravel of the broken concrete
as she adroitly avoided the rotten food overflowing from the dumpster. Wooden
crates rested against the wall, offering them a tiny bit of privacy. The back
door had three heavy metal locks. No one would enter or exit in a hurry.

“You called me for a bombing?”

Scotts didn’t answer directly. “Tell me what you see.”

Raven stepped closer to the scene, ignoring Griffin and Scotts
when they stopped behind her. No large pieces of the victim remained, not even
the skull.

The body had been pulverized.

The jeans and boots had contained some of the explosion, but
the trajectory was off. The impact blew outwards, the detonation coming from
inside the body.

Sliver of bones pierced the cowboy boots, the holes weeping
blood. Inside, a pool of liquid swirled with bits of gore, the mixture already
thickening as the blood clotted.

The concoction smelled darker, harsher than normal. Definitely
a shifter, maybe a rogue, but there was something wrong with the blood.

As she drew closer, she saw bone shrapnel pepper the ground,
the blast so powerful pieces had even pierced the cinder blocks of the building.
The force needed to take apart a body that way had to be enormous. She continued
to search, but she couldn’t locate anything but body parts and clothing. She
glanced at Scotts to find him staring at her.

“You see it, too.”

Raven nodded. “No detonator or trigger. Do we know what did
this?”

He ran a hand through his hair, obviously not for the first
time today. “Witnesses said he came out here by himself.” He pointed toward the
mangled camera dangling in the corner above the back door. “The footage only
shows him. No one approached. He appeared to have a seizure of some sort
immediately prior. There wasn’t just an explosion. The impact site was him. The
footage stopped after that.”

Hoping she was wrong, Raven turned to Griffin. “What do you
smell?”

He glanced at the mess and shrugged. “Meat.”

Raven crouched, absently waving away the comment. “Right.
That’s it. No ignition chemicals.” Recognition set in. Pictures similar to this
scene were documented in most medical journals. Though it happened
infrequently, she was surprised no one else had made the connection.

She’d seen the aftermath of a similar murder years ago in
the labs until they deemed the weapon too unstable.

She rose and strode toward the men. She’d seen enough. The
pattern of blood and gore would forever be etched on her mind.

“You know what happened.” It wasn’t a question. Resignation
lined Scotts’ face at her words.

“How did I know you were going to say that?” He turned away
and she followed his tobacco smell, Griffin at her back within eavesdropping
distance.

What confused her was Scotts acted like Griffin didn’t
exist, especially since he put up such a fuss the last time when Taggert and
Jackson had accompanied her.

Her hands curled into fists at the thought of Jackson, and
her inability to demand his return.

Stupid politics.

She blew out a breath and focused on what she could change
now. “Formaldehyde.”  

Griffin sputtered a laugh, but turned it into a cough when
they both glared at him. A smirk danced about his lips, but he kept his head
lowered, gazing at his feet. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Both stared at him blankly.

“The smell. Formaldehyde has a very distinct smell. We would
be able to scent it.”

“But a small dose—”

Raven shook her head at Scotts comment. “The quantity needed
for this extent of damage would be noticeable. He would have to be nearly
submerged.”

“But you’re not changing your mind.” Scotts slanted her a glance.
There was no doubt in him that her conclusion was correct. “How was this done?”

Despite the difficulties between them on their last case, he
believed her. “Formaldehyde creates a physical reaction when it comes into
contact with shifters, a bomb, though usually not this extreme. The chemicals
react long before they can infiltrate their whole system. It’s one reason why
shifters pick up their dead for burial or cremation.”