The woman had run toward Will and was clinging to him, her body shaking with sobs. Behind her, Will nodded at me, a complicated expression of relief and misery clouding his face.
Will walked the bloody woman over to a bar stool and propped her on it. Her upper body collapsed down onto the bar’s surface, and she stayed there, sobbing into her arms. Will moved his hands like he might try to comfort her, but then reversed direction, disappearing for a moment into his office through the back door. When he came back there was something in his hand, but I didn’t see the syringe until he’d stabbed it into the bloody woman’s upper arm.
I gasped. “Will—”
“It’s okay,” he said levelly. “It’s just a sedative.” A lot of that going around, I thought. The woman’s body went limp, and he picked her up from the bar stool and lifted her whole body onto the bar, which was much cleaner and safer looking than the floor at the moment. “She’s going into shock, but I need her to stay here until I can get some of Dashiell’s crew here to erase her memory. I just called him, from the office.”
“Is she going to change?”
He frowned. “I can’t tell. His teeth punctured her neck, but only slightly—I think the rest of the blood on her is from the glass and the other…the other…” Victims, I thought, but neither of us wanted to say it. “And you were here, which might have slowed the magic. I’m just not sure.” He shrugged. “We’ll erase her memory, but we’ll keep an eye on her.”
“What happened here?” I said bluntly, unable to keep it in. “Caroline…?”
Without answering, Will crunched across the glass toward the nearest body lying on the ground. It was a man I’d never seen before, around thirty, wearing one of those tacky bowler shirts under a lot of blood. I couldn’t see his actual injuries from where I was sitting, but Will checked for a pulse, checked for breathing, just as I had with Eli. Then he shook his head. “Dead,” he said briefly, and moved on to the next body. I looked away. Part of me felt like I should get up and help him, but I had no idea if leaving Eli would cause the wolfberry’s effects to start up again.
“It was cookies,” Will said matter-of-factly, and I looked up at him. He was answering my question. “Small businesses like ours, we exchange gifts with a lot of our vendors. Gourmet chocolate, nuts, microbrews, that kind of thing. We got a big tin of Christmas cookies delivered here a couple of hours ago. I was at the bar, but Caroline was in the office, and Eli was back there eating his dinner at my desk. They both had some.”
“Olivia.”
He nodded, bitterness on his face. He checked another pulse, shook his head again. “It hit Caroline first. She started screaming, and I saw the change take her. Usually I can control their wolves, help them stay in human form if they start to lose it before the full moon. But with the wolfberry…I was helpless.”
“And then Eli…” I prompted.
Will nodded. “And then Eli,” he said grimly. “He’s strong, and he fought it, harder than I’ve ever seen anyone who wasn’t an alpha. But in the end I think that made it worse.” He shook his head. “When he finally went, there was no sense to him. Just…madness.
“Caroline’s wolf knocked a bunch of shit off the walls, glasses off the bar. She bit a woman, but then she made for the exit. She wanted to get out, into the wild. I’d gotten my gun by then, but I was between the two of them.” He shrugged miserably. “I couldn’t let her leave, and I couldn’t follow her while Eli was here killing people. So I shot her.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t shoot Eli too,” I said without thinking.
His smile was wry and a little sheepish. “I tried to. I got off four shots. I think I grazed his pelt once. He’s so damned fast.” Will shook his head. “I had him cornered when you came in. That was going to be the killing shot.”
He looked down at the woman in front of him. “This one’s alive,” he said. She was small and Asian, with a vine tattoo snaking its way along the outside of one arm. She had been curled into a ball behind a couple of barstools, maybe trying to hide. Will bent to look closer at the woman’s face, and his shoulders relaxed a few inches. “She’s Anastasia’s girlfriend. I don’t remember her name, though.”
“Lydia,” I said.
“That’s right.” He looked down at her like he was memorizing her face. “At least she won’t be alone.”
“She’s going to change?”
Will nodded. “She’s the one that Caroline bit on her way to the door. Her wounds are closing fast. She’s starting the process.” There was a lot he wasn’t saying in those words. For some years now, the werewolves and vampires have had trouble reproducing. Sometimes the process still worked, but much more often the victim simply died. If Lydia’s wounds were closing, she was going to be one of the few new wolves who survived. That didn’t exactly make her lucky, though. It takes three excruciating days for a werewolf to fully transform. But, like Will had said, at least the girl wouldn’t be alone in it.
“The other three?” I asked, nodding at the other bodies. Will shook his head. Dead.
Will went to the door and called Anastasia to come in. She looked at her fallen girlfriend and burst into tears, dropping to her knees to cradle Lydia in her lap. I looked away. Will spoke softly to Ana for a few minutes, until they both stood up and Will lifted Lydia into his arms.
“I’m going to put them in the janitorial room to give them some privacy,” he told me in a low voice. He carried Lydia past me, not even shifting his grip when he lost his werewolf strength in my radius, and down the hall to the tiny room across from his office. I’d peeked in there once and knew the room held only cleaning supplies, a heavy-duty safe, and a single cot where Will let the werewolves camp out every now and then, when one of them needed a place.