Chapter 6

Ch. 6: Dane

Every Wolf has a favorite place to run. Fortunately, mine is right outside my front door.

Stepping outside dressed only in my jeans, I let the cool air wash over my bare skin. A soft bark tells me Ingrid is out here already, waiting for me off in the meadow somewhere, impatient to get moving.

I shed the last of my clothes beneath the shadow of the covered porch, leaving them folded beside the door. Then, with a deep breath, I summon my inner Wolf and let it subsume my mind and my human form. With a familiar, excruciating, and yet welcome agony, my bones and joints crack and reform while my muscles mold themselves to a new frame.

A moment later, I stand on all fours, panting to catch my breath, tongue hanging from between sharp teeth.

My mind is different as a wolf, my thoughts made more of images than of words, and I embrace the peace and freedom that comes from putting human concerns aside for a time.

In the meadow, Ingrid barks again, summoning me, and I trot out into the darkness to join her. She emerges from the shadows with her head lowered and her tail wagging so hard her whole body shakes. I huff a wolf-laugh at her puppylike enthusiasm and nip playfully at her ear. Then, at some unspoken signal, we're off, racing across the meadow at top speed.

I'd almost forgotten what a joy it is to run with other wolves and revel in the pleasure of showing her my range. It's not my 'territory,' just yet, but if all goes well, it will be soon. I can already feel it calling to me as the Wild sings in my blood. Ingrid wants to see all of it and keeps trying to lead me up the ridgeline away from the meadows, but I don't want to stray so far from Julian just yet.

My overbearing caution is rewarded when, as we return from a last lap of the meadow, I hear him scream.

With a burst of speed, I shoot off across the grassy plain, my heart pumping fast as my feet fly over the ground. Ingrid and I had raced back and forth several times, and I'd almost let her win once or twice; now I leave her in the dust, unleashing my full strength and speed as I hurtle back towards home.

Ingrid's sharp yip tells me she's got my back, and I bark a breathless reply.

I'd left the door unlocked, and work it open with my paws and teeth almost as fast as I could have opened it as a man, then bolt through the house to the bedroom. I launch myself on the bed with a feral growl, ready to protect my mate to the last drop of my blood, and Julian falls back into the pillows with a cry of fright.

With a few quick sniffs and a scan of the room, I'm reassured. There's no threat, and no sign of recent disturbances. Julian's fright is real enough, though, and jumping on him in wolf-form hadn't helped.

Whining an apology, I soften my stance, lower my ears, and lick his face.

"I'm okay, Dane," he says, taking a few rapid gulps of air. "I'm fine. I just had a..." He glances at something on the bed. "...a bad dream."

I follow the direction of his gaze and see a little book lying open on the coverlet. The human part of my mind recognizes it, and my wolf-self responds with a growl.

Julian wraps his arms around my neck and buries his face in my fur.

"Dane. I'm okay," he says. "Stop it, now."

With another whine, I let my human consciousness surface once again, and my wolf-self surrenders as I rise. Julian shuts his eyes as, with another rending crack of bones, I Shift once more.

A moment later, I kneel before him as a man, and take his face in my hands.

"Julian?"

He opens his eyes and leans towards me, wrapping me in his arms.

He's no weakling—there's a good layer of muscle on his graceful frame, but he always feels too insubstantial in my arms, and I take care not to hold him too tightly or too hard.

"I heard you scream."

"I'm fine. I just..." He draws a breath and releases it. "I was having a look at my dad's book."

I draw away from him. "Why?"

He bites his lip. "Because... Well, look."

He reaches for the books and opens it, showing me the rune-covered pages.

I shake my head. "What?"

"These don't look familiar?" He runs his finger down the page.

"Should they?"

He taps a spot and holds the page closer to my face. "Look at the symbol. Imagine it drawn in a different hand, inscribed in a circle."

"It looks like the mark on Wong's wall," I say as a chill runs up my spine.

He nods and continues to turn the pages one by one. "I thought it looked familiar—the one at Lagrange's as well. And..."

He bites his lip again, worrying it between his teeth lightly as he does when there's something he doesn't want to say.

"What?"

With a flash of amethyst, he glances up and me and then back down.

"After I touched the symbol in Wong's shop, while you talked to Coleridge, I... fell asleep for a minute or two. I dreamed of my dad. I dreamed of him again just now."

"And?" I press, knowing there's more to it than that.

"And..." He shuts his eyes. "I saw the night he died. I was standing with him on top of the dam. It was freezing cold. He... He said to 'have faith,' and then he pushed me. That's why I screamed."

I sit back on my heels and run my hands over my hair. "Why didn't you tell me this before? About the symbols, I mean."

He glances at the little book and speaks in a soft, uncharacteristically demure tone. "You have to ask?"

I frown. It's true I've made it clear I want nothing to do with Fae shit, but I hadn't thought he'd take that to include anything to do with himself.

"Did you get anything else?" I ask, trying to convey an open interest in my voice.

He shakes his head. "No. I'm sorry for scaring you."

I take a breath and rest my hand on his back. "Julian—let's work together on this. Communication's not among my strengths, but I'm trying, here. Help me out, okay?"

He nods. "Okay."

I wait, and after a moment, he looks up at me, purple eyes bright in the dark.

"I think the symbols are Fae," he says. "I don't know what they mean, but regardless... I'm thinking of taking Noah up on his offer to translate the rest of my dad's book."

I bite back my gut reaction (an emphatic no) and take another breath before answering. "I'm no expert, but you may be right. Either way, it's the strongest lead we have so far, and a good idea."

His face lights with surprise and pleasure. "You really think so?"

"I said so, didn't I?"

He leans into my embrace, and—with some perplexity—I return it, enjoying the soft, safe warmth of his body against mine.

I don't know what I did right this time, but I'm not complaining.

***

Ingrid has her first meeting with the orchestra in the morning and is so nervous she makes Julian and me nervous by proximity. We drive her into town, stopping at Julian's favorite café for breakfast, before dropping her off at the local junior college, where the orchestra practices.

She'll be there for the next four hours, so Julian and I run some errands, and I take nearly as much pleasure in shopping for groceries with the man I love as do in running as a Wolf. I laugh softly at this reflection as we stand in line at the deli counter, and he squeezes my hand.

"What are you so happy about?" he asks. "The roast beef's not even on sale."

"Just happy to be with you," I say, and squeeze his hand in return as a smile flickers at the corners of his mouth. We draw some stares, as we always do when we're out together, but none are hostile. At least, until we get out to the parking lot and find a certain red-headed ex-coworker of mine standing beside my car and gleefully writing me a ticket. A young woman in uniform stands beside him—a rookie getting trained in how to be a grade-A asshole.

Erickson puts the last touches on the ticket with a flourish, like an artist signing off on a masterpiece, and slaps it on my windshield.

"Erickson! What the fuck?" I call, grocery bags in hand as I stalk towards him. Julian jogs to catch up, hissing a curse under his breath.

"Parked over the line," Erickson says smugly, indicating my back tire.

I approach for a closer look. I'd parked next to a handicap spot, and my back tire just barely touches the blue stripe.

"That's not over the line," I say.

"It is in my interpretation. You can always contest it in court. But who you think the judge will believe: the guy tryna get out of a ticket, or the cop just tryna keep the parking lot 'equitable?'"

He chews out the last word like it tastes bad.

"I'll take pictures," I say evenly.

Erickson grins. "Won't help. You know how it goes."

I do, unfortunately. Some people can get out of a ticket just by showing up. Others have the deck stacked against them from the start. Being an ex-cop myself might help, but it's no guarantee.

"This is low, Derek," I say, using his first name to show that I am absolutely taking this personally, as he intends. "Even for you."

"Hey, I'm just doing my job." He shrugs. "You got a problem with that, you can take it up with the court."

"Actually, I'll take it up with your boss," I say, pulling out my phone. "You really want another mark on your record?"

"You know, my sister plays the violin," he says offhandedly. "She's pretty good—even sits with the local orchestra. She tells me she made a new friend recently. From her description, I wonder if you might know her."

Cold rage washes through me as his words sink in and I realize what he's implying. A growl rumbles in my chest and my voice comes out rough and low.

"Erickson, I swear to God if you hassle my sister—if you so much as look at my sister—I'll make you sorry you were born."

His smile stays in place and takes on a sharper edge. "Is that a threat? Because threatening an officer will get you more than a ticket, you know. What do you think, Jacobs?" He turns to his trainee. "Did that sound like a threat to you?"

"Um..." The young rookie looks decidedly uncomfortable and glances between us with wide eyes.

Julian, who's been standing at my side, bristles and steps in front of me.

"Listen, you prick," he hisses, poking Erickson in the chest. "You wanna arrest someone, you can arrest me. But you and I have a few acquaintances in common, too, remember. In the next town over, for example."

Erickson visibly pales, though with what emotion is hard to tell. The Next Town Over is a gay bar. It's not Julian's scene, but it wouldn't surprise me if it were Erickson's; and while I know Julian would never out someone, for revenge or otherwise, Erickson doesn't know him so well.

He takes a step back, his smug expression replaced by a neutral mask. "I think we're done here," he says, and tips an imaginary hat at me. "Be seeing you 'round, Hunter."

"You better hope you don't," Julian snaps and turns to the rookie at this side. "Do yourself a favor and ask for a different mentor. Your career will thank me later."

Almost imperceptibly, the woman nods, and follows Erickson towards an unmarked car.

When they're gone, Julian snatches the ticket off the windshield, and I pluck it from his fingers before he can tear it to shreds.

"Don't. I'll show it to Coleridge," I say. "She'll have it dismissed."

"She better," Julian grumbles. "It's bullshit. God, I hate that guy."

"He didn't used to be so bad," I muse, letting my emotions settle as I load groceries into the car. "I wonder what's up with him."

"'What's up with him?' Are you seriously being sympathetic to that asshole?" Julian gripes.

"No. But he was really pushing it just now—asking for trouble with a witness at his side. In my experience, that's a sign there's something else going on."

Julian snorts. "Why do you care?"

"About Erickson? I don't. I still care about the force, though."

His expression softens, and he smiles as we get in the car. "You're a good man, Dane Hunter," he says. "Too good, sometimes."

"Yeah, don't be so sure," I mumble, and start the engine.

Erickson was right: I was definitely threatening him, and I'd meant every word. Fucking with an alpha werewolf is one thing; fucking with an alpha's family is another, and we're both lucky Julian was there to intervene.

Hours later, after we pick up Ingrid from practice and return home, and I'm busy preparing steak and vegetables for dinner, I get a call. It's Coleridge, and I answer it with a frown, glad that Julian is over at Grace and Chloe's, visiting the horses with Ingrid.

"Chief?"

"Hunter. Are you busy?" Her voice is tense and low, and I set the potato I was peeling aside and give her my full attention.

"Just making dinner."

"I'd like you to come down to the station as soon as you can. Hart, too."

I swear silently. "Is this about Erickson?"

"Erickson?" She sounds surprised. "No. This is about Lagrange."

"The dead guy? What about him?"

She pauses, like she's about to say something she doesn't want to admit.

"His body," she says. "It's gone."