Dead Spots (Scarlett Bernard #1)(15)

“Eli used to be a paramedic,” Will replied easily. This was news to me, though I’d never really considered Eli’s life before he changed. “He says he’ll be fine.”

Was this Eli’s suggestion? Did Will already know about Eli and me? Maybe. Will didn’t miss much. But he might have just not cared, or maybe he was playing a deeper game here, trying to get me to actively participate in the search for nulls. Crafty Will. He looks like a church deacon, but I’ve long suspected he could be ruthless if he needed to. I was definitely going to have to get to the bottom of who had put Eli’s hat in the ring, but that could wait. For now I just had to suck it up.

“Sounds good,” I managed, and the mood in the courtyard relaxed just a little.

The meeting broke up, and everybody started to leave. I was about to head back to the van and Cruz, who I’d almost forgotten about, but I had an idea. I pulled Will aside—not that it mattered, because everyone on the property who was ten feet away could hear like a bat, with the exception of Cruz and me—and asked him if he had any pictures of the wolves in human form.

“Pictures?” he asked blankly, tilting his head to one side. “Maybe we do. Why do you ask?”

I told him about the bodies, the wolf in the clearing, and the cop. I didn’t mention that he was out in my van at the moment, because Will might feel obligated to inform Dashiell. “I never saw the guy properly, but I think Cruz did. If I could show him some pictures, we could figure out who it was, see if he saw or smelled anything there.”

I could see Will’s metaphorical hackles going up. “Are you suggesting that one of my wolves may be responsible for this?”

I shook my head. “No. Definitely not. Or at least, not this wolf. If one of the wolves did kill those people, he’d have no reason to leave and then come back to the scene. I honestly think that this wolf was just running in the park, smelled the bodies, and came to see what it was. I just want to ask if there’s anything else he noticed.”

“But you’re also pretty much asking to out this wolf to a police officer,” Will objected. “And me along with him.”

“Will, you didn’t see what happened. It was...It was awful. And a lot of things depend on finding out who did it.”

He sighed, relenting. “I think I have some pictures at the bar from the Fourth of July picnic. You can bring your cop by to look at them.”

“Can we do it tonight? Now?”

Will checked his watch and gave me a weary, indulgent smile. “Fine. I’ll meet you over there.”

I thanked him and tried to head out, but just as I closed the front door behind me, it opened again and Eli stepped out. It felt strange to have people keep popping in and out of my radius, but I’d grown used to it.

“What happened to you?” he asked bluntly. I knew what he meant.

I hugged my arms around me. The September heat wave had broken sometime that day, and the fall night had grown chilly. “I got a call. I had to work.”

“You couldn’t have woken me up? Left a note?” His face was hard, and he was fidgeting.

“Look, Eli—” I began, but he cut me off.

“I get it. You don’t have to do the whole ‘just friends’ talk.”

I didn’t say anything.

“And I want you to know, none of this”—he gestured toward the house, to the meeting we’d just left—“was my idea.”

There was a long, awkward pause, and then he suddenly burst into an earsplitting grin.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry, I just always forget how nice it feels to be around you. How...restful.”

I rolled my eyes. This is exactly why Eli and I will never go anywhere. The remnants of the very powerful magic—the Original magic that led to conduits evolving into shape-shifters and shape-shifters evolving into werewolves—just never leaves the wolves. As I understand it, werewolves constantly have to fight to keep their control, like an itchy humming that’s always in the back of their minds. (Ironically, real wolves have a similar problem—what was once described to me as “genetically coded predatory behavior.”) They can’t help themselves; the magic makes them feel a continuous pressure to be hunting, killing, feeding. Maybe that’s why the shifters chose to become werewolves, I thought suddenly. Huh.

Some wolves have a harder time than others, and Eli really struggles with his inner animal. When he’s around me, though, he is a de facto human again, and all that goes away. If he were an alcoholic, I would be the thing that made him never want another drink. Or maybe I’d be the thing that let him stay permanently drunk.

Some girls would probably get off on that kind of thing, but whenever this happened, with any of the wolves or the vampires, I just felt vaguely used. I didn’t mind when it was Molly because I was getting paid for my services, and because she’s sort of become my friend. But I didn’t want the guy I was...seeing...to be in it for those kinds of perks.

“Listen,” I said brusquely, “you’re working for me now—for me, not for Will or Dashiell. You’re not a spy or a partner; you’re my apprentice, at least temporarily. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good. Keep your phone on. The next time I get a call might be later tonight, or tomorrow during the day, or not for another week. But when I call, you need to answer, wherever you are.”