Dead Heat (Alpha & Omega #4)(58)

“You’re going to look for the missing girl, right?” asked Kage. But not like he was sure of it.

Anna nodded. “Charles and I stopped in at her house. The only real connection to the day care was the fetch. If we’re going to find the fae who took the girl, our best trail should be Amethyst’s. But she was taken so long ago. Charles says that from the faintness of her scent in her room, it’s been months. We also took a walk around several blocks near her house, but neither of us caught scent of a fae.”

“So what’s next?” asked Wade.

“The FBI, Cantrip, and a number of unlucky police officers spend the next few days sorting through police incident reports until they come up with something,” said Anna. “Leslie is going to call us if they need our help.”

“That sounds—”

“Like they are taking over the investigation and throwing us out of it,” growled Wade.

It was the pack’s hunt, as he would see it—as Charles saw it, for that matter. The entrance of the human organizations, useful as they were, annoyed him as well. He understood the necessity, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

“They have access to information we don’t have,” Anna soothed, articulating the reason Bran had decided to bring them in. “Let them do the legwork. Besides, we’re trying to keep the pack out of it. It’s likely there’ll be some publicity when this is all over—one way or another. I know the FBI agent and, better, she knows us. She’ll call for help when they have anything we can be useful for.”

“Cantrip? Call on a werewolf?” Wade looked like he wanted to spit on the floor.

“I know, right?” Anna nodded sympathetically. “But Special Agent Fisher, of the FBI, will call us in whether Cantrip wants us or not. Not many humans are really equipped to deal with a fae who has decided to prey openly upon humans. And, though Leeds is half-fae, I’m not sure they have anyone who can detect a fetch.” She tapped her nose.

“And because the humans want the werewolves at their back if the fae decide that this is war,” Charles said, getting up and scraping his plate before putting it into the dishwasher.

There was a little pause and Wade said, “Are we? Are we at war?”

“My father spent weeks in negotiations to ensure that we were not brought in on either side.” Charles paused, not wanting to criticize his father in public.

Bran saw humans as “other.” He was so far from his own days of being human that Charles doubted he could remember them without effort.

Charles, who had never been human, had nevertheless grown up surrounded by his mother’s family. The uncles and grandfather who helped raise him, aunts and grandmother who clothed him and indulged him. He understood, in a way that was a gift of his grandfather’s view of the world, that werewolves, humans, and fae were all a part of a greater community.

If a war broke out, everyone would lose. The fae were not fond of humans, and worse, they were contemptuous of them. That meant that war with humans scared only the more perceptive and less arrogant fae—which meant not many.

But the werewolves, the werewolves were respected. Not many fae would want to declare war if it meant fighting werewolves, too. So Charles forcing his father’s hand might have some unexpected benefits.

Charles sighed. “Look at us here in this room, in this house. We are human and werewolf, waiting to go deal with a fae who attacked the great-grandchildren of a werewolf. Most of us are connected to the human community with ties of love and loyalty that no treaty will stand up to. There is no question we’ll be drawn into any conflict. We cannot be separated from those we love because they are human—as in most ways are we.”

Kage smiled a predator’s smile. “Fair enough. As long as whatever hurt my Chelsea is made harmless, I don’t care if it’s us, werewolves, or Canadian Mounties. Though I’d like to have a hand in it.”

He put food back in the fridge and said, “This isn’t an attack on Hosteen or his pack, though. It sounds like Chelsea was a random victim. Or if she wasn’t, it was because of her witch heritage and nothing to do with werewolves.”

“Chelsea is Hosteen’s granddaughter by marriage,” growled Wade. “It is an attack on the pack whatever the motive of the fae.”

Charles nodded. “Agreed.”

“And,” said Anna, “if we had been aware of any child stolen by the fairies, we’d be out looking. Human child, witch child, or werewolf child.”

He heard the bone-deep protective instinct that drove her—instincts that had nothing to do with being a werewolf. She would, he acknowledged wistfully, be a wonderful mother.

Wade grinned at her fierceness. “You tell it like it is. Count me in.”

“At any rate,” Charles told Kage, “I think that the attack on Chelsea was directed at Mackie, not at the pack. A matter of opportunity and necessity rather than planning. However, the fae are notoriously persistent. I would not count your family safe until we find the perpetrator.”

Kage grunted. “I’ll keep the kids here, where Hosteen can keep an eye on them.” He paused. “When he gets over his snit and comes back, anyway. Chelsea…” His voice trailed off.

“Our pack will watch over Chelsea,” said Wade. He smiled at Kage’s carefully neutral grunt. “Hosteen occasionally ties himself up in knots, but I’ve known him a long time. He’ll get his head out of his—” He glanced at Anna and rephrased. “He’ll come through. He always does.”