Wolf at the Door

chapter Forty-eight


“It’s over, you know.”

Mrs. Cain sighed. “Yes. I know.”

“Even if you hadn’t called, I’d have come for you.”

“I know. I didn’t think it would really work. I told him that.”

Rachael’s head began to throb in time with her heartbeat. “But you did it anyway, Mrs. Cain. You did it anyway.”

The older woman’s head came up proudly. Rachael had never seen her in casual clothes: black jeans and an orange long-sleeved T-shirt. Athletic socks. Tennis shoes. “I was asked. They were family. What else could I have done?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe not committed multiple murders?”

“You should see the smug look on your face right now. Pretending if your precious Michael asked you to kill, pretending it’d turn out any different.”

I am dealing with a crazy person. “If that’s what you want to think.”

“It isn’t what I want to think,” Rachael flashed. She’d crossed her small living room in half a blink, more than a little annoyed she’d allowed this person into her den. “It’s what is. I didn’t call you to sit in judgment.”

“Then why did you?” The time. She had to be careful of the time. Edward would miss her soon. Worse: the queen might. She did not want the queen of the vampires anywhere near Pack business. Bad enough that Cain had pointed fingers that led vampires this far . . . and hopefully no further.

“I must know. I felt I—we—had been careful.”

“He wasn’t careful at all. And you knew that.” She tilted her head, studying the other woman. “What an odd time to start lying.”

“I was never much good at it.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she said dryly. “You covered pretty well before . . . half-truths got you through it. If you were tense about the murders, you saw me when you could explain how you were tense about something else.” The new ad campaign. Deadlines. An old Pack trick, but a good one—scents can’t lie, but you can misrepresent their source.

“It was the only thing I could think to do.”

“When you were pissed I was going to see the vampire queen, you discussed it when I would assume you were pissed over a possible scuffle for territory. You were mad; I knew you were. But you were mad because trying to make friends with the vampires was not the plan. If your goal was to sow mistrust, the last thing you wanted was open communication between their people and ours.”

“You have a reputation for being standoffish,” Mrs. Cain said sharply. “Frankly, it never occurred to me that you would be so sociable.”

“I’m thrilled to disappoint you.”

Cain muttered something that sounded like itch. (It probably wasn’t itch.)

“You knew I’d smell a lie on you . . . so each time you had to lie, you made sure you had an explanation.”

Cain just looked at her for a long moment. Annoyance. Shame. Irritation. “Yes, which brings me back to my question . . . how did you know I was involved?”

“Who else would it have been, Cain? I’ve been in town less than two weeks, and besides my landlords and Edward, you’re the only one I know here.”

“Except for the vampires,” she snapped.

The time. Keep an eye on the time. “The pool of suspects was quite shallow.” Murder mysteries are never like this. There’s usually more than one suspect. Ah, now I’m sounding like Edward . . . clearly, I fell for the hype. If the whole murderous mess hadn’t been so wasteful and tragic, she would have been amused. “You created a list of people for me to meet. Then you helped your man kill his way through the list. Then you dumped them in the Summit Avenue area . . . what a Pack member would consider vampire territory. Even better, what a vampire would consider vampire territory.

“You knew I’d be right in the middle of it all, keeping an eye on the vampires and unwittingly keeping things stirred up. When the queen looked into the murders happening so near, she’d wonder what had changed. I was the change. A Pack member, set right in the dead center of her territory. And with things between our people and hers still in a bit of an uproar . . . well. It wouldn’t have taken much to set off those fireworks. And I’d be gone . . . killed by a vamp, maybe. Or arrested by a human... which would bring my name to their attention. Word would also get back to Michael. And there’d be a mess. A big fat mess in the last place any of us wanted it.

“And once the hurricane whipped through our lives, you’d have what you wanted.”

“Yes.”

“Except you couldn’t. Because you killed him. Didn’t you?”

A long silence, finally broken by her sigh. “Yes. I had to. He’d shamed the family. He’d endangered the Pack.”

She’s gone insane. Absolutely flipped her lid. I should feel worse for her than I do. What a waste! All of it, pure waste! Oh God, God, what was it all FOR?

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

That was so absurd, Rachael had no idea what to say. There’s something very wrong with this woman. And then, of course, she realized what it was. I should feel sorry for you. I don’t, though. I guess . . . I’m a bad person after all.

“I didn’t,” she repeated.

“You did, actually. And you’re not even a bad guy.”

She actually smiled at that. “No?”

“No, Cain, you’re not a bad guy.” Rachael spoke gently, with what little pity she could manage. “You’re the worst kind of bad guy. You think you’re the good guy. So in your mind, every terrible deed is justified for the greater good. It’s why you’re so dangerous. It’s why my cousin will most likely kill you.”

“To come kill me? Here?” She laughed, a grating and ugly noise. “What, and leave his precious Cape Cod and his precious monkey wife—”

“Cain!” Rachael’s usually mild temperament left her; her shout was part growl, part roar. Monkey was a vicious pejorative to describe their brothers who had evolved on the far side of the world. It was just about the worst slur a werewolf could use. “Watch your filthy mouth!”

“Oh. I see.” Cain’s upper lip was curling and lifting, curling and lifting, showing Rachael quick flashes of sharp, white teeth. It was unconscious but spoke volumes. Anger. Anger. Anger. Anger. “You’ve met one. You’re f*cking one. I can smell him on you.”

“I doubt it. Most likely you’re smelling yourself. When was the last time you showered?”

“Traitor.”

“You’re not going to do the sad and stupid our-bloodlinemust-be-kept-pure nonsense, right? First off, it’s not true, and second, it’s just so pathetic. Please, please . . . if you’ve got a gun, shoot me in the face.” Not as nasty as monkey, but a sly shot all the same. Using anything but teeth and claws to kill was considered lazy and contemptible. “Shoot me in the face, the knee, throw me under your car and then back up a few times, whatever, just don’t start with the race-traitor crap. Because I can’t think of anything sillier to discuss.”

“Well, you are one! You’re the one running around banging monkeys.”

“More than that, even,” she said, staying calm. This woman is insane. You know why. You know what’s wrong with her. It doesn’t excuse anything . . . but it bears keeping in mind. Don’t rise again. Don’t. “I’m taking him for a mate.”

“Other than trying to induce me to vomit in your wastebasket, why would you ever tell me that?” Lift. Curl. Lift. Curl.

“So I can see your face when I explain that he’s ten times the person you’ll ever be, Cain. He wouldn’t set up an innocent for murder. He wouldn’t sit back while bystanders were targeted and killed because he got homesick. And he’d never turn on family . . . he wouldn’t kill the killer.”

“Oh, yes, please tell me more. It’s so fascinating to me. The monkeys are so civilized.”

“Only compared to some. But what I’d really like to know, Cain, the reason I bothered to come back here at all . . .” The reason I sent Edward and the queen on a wild monkey chase . . . “Why? You must tell me, because that’s what eats at me (so to speak). Your motive. You’ve never done anything like this before, correct? And that’s what troubles me. Settled middle-aged office employees don’t just suddenly plan, aid, and abet felony murder. So what happened? Why now?”

Anger. Shame. Anger. Anger. Anger.

“Because they’re my cousins,” Cain said, her expression making clear she thought it was a stupid question. “They’re family.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “I was afraid it was something like that. Cousins.”

“Their business is their life. It’s everything to them.”

“And I was in the way.”

“You were in the way.”

“You didn’t need me to be convicted, or even tried. Just inconvenienced enough to muddy the waters.” Over an audit? Of all the stupid, pointless . . .

“It was working. You were out there, like a goat staked for bait. You weren’t—you shouldn’t have—”

Made allies of the people who were supposed to condemn her. Yes, I can see how that would really screw up your plan.

“Aren’t you ashamed?” She could hear how plaintive she sounded. It was the sort of question a child asked, but Rachael couldn’t help it. When she thought of the wasted lives, she wanted to weep. “All this mess, and for what? For nothing, in the end.”

“For everything. For my family.”

When Cain went for her, Rachael was ready. Almost relieved, really. Not that one could ever really be ready for a fight to the death, but Rachael had walked through the door knowing there was a 94.62 percent chance she would have to fight for her life if she ever wanted to leave her den under her own power, rather than hitching a ride in a body bag.

So Cain dived across the desk, the small quaint rolltop desk that had seen more action in the last seven days than in the last seven years, and Rachael managed to avoid the woman’s grasping, clawing hands. She was more than a little relieved. She was an accountant, not a warrior, and it was good to see the woman was much slower than she was.

Cain recovered quickly and slashed at Rachael, forcing her back. “Can’t you try to have some dignity here at the end?”

“What”—grope, slash—“do you think”—claw, grab—“this is?”

“Pathetic. That’s what I think this is.” But Rachael was relieved, too. She hadn’t really wanted to fight to the death. She was fine with merely overpowering the woman and turning her over to either the envoy of Michael’s choice or the local police, who would—

—be delighted to find the murder weapon. Which Cain had brought with her to Rachael’s hobbit hole. Shamed, yes, but not nearly enough. Should have foreseen that, yes you should have, and you’ll pay for your arrogance now, won’t you, you silly bitch?

“You brought the gun?” Cain’s hands had gone to the small of her back and now, yes, now Rachael could smell gun oil, now that Cain was lifting her shirt and bringing the weapon out to bear, now she could smell it, but now was going to be too late, and she had no one to blame but herself. “You brought a gun into my den? You actually brought one of those things into my den, you faithless bitch?”

She would be too slow, and her only consolation was that she’d kept Edward out of it. Edward was safe. Yes, he was—

There.

“No!” she screamed. “Oh, no, don’t, don’t, don’t come in, don’t you dare come in!”

But he did dare.