Shifting Shadows: Stories from the World of Mercy Thompson(67)

There were real gangs in Chicago, raised in the eat-or-be-eaten world of the inner city. But these boys were imitators, probably out of school for the holidays and bored. So they decided to entertain themselves by scaring the adults who couldn’t differentiate between amateurs and the real deal. Not that a pack of boys couldn’t be dangerous under the wrong circumstances . . .

An old woman sitting next to them shrank back, and the smell of her fear washed away his tolerance.

Charles got to his feet, smiled, and watched their smugness evaporate at his confidence. “She’s foxy, all right,” he said. “But she belongs to me.”

“Hey, man,” said the boy just behind the one who had spoken. “No hard feelings, man.”

He let his smile widen and watched them shuffle backward. “It’s a nice day. I think that you should go sit in those empty seats up there where you see your way more clearly.”

They scuttled to the front of the car and, after they had all taken a seat, Charles sat back down next to Anna.

•   •   •

There was such satisfaction in his face when he sat down that Anna had to suppress a grin for fear that one of the boys would look back and think she was laughing at one of them.

“That was a prime example of testosterone poisoning,” she observed dryly. “Are you going to go after Girl Scouts next?”

Charles’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Now they know that they need to pick their prey more cautiously.”

Anna seldom traveled to the Loop anymore—everything she needed she could find closer to home. He evidently knew it better than she did, despite being a visitor. He chose the stop they got off at and took her directly to a little Greek place tucked in the shadow of the L train tracks, where they greeted him by name and took him to a private room with only one table.

He let her give her order and then doubled it, adding a few dishes on the side.

While they were waiting for their food, he took a small, worn-looking, leather-bound three-ring notebook from his jacket pocket. He popped the rings and took out a couple of sheets of lined paper and handed them to her with a pen.

“I’d like you to write down the names of the members of your pack. It would help if you list them from the most dominant and go to the least.”

She tried. She didn’t know everyone’s last name and, since everyone outranked her, she hadn’t paid strict attention to rank.

She handed the paper and pen back to him with a frown. “I’m forgetting people, and other than the top four or five wolves, I could be mistaken on rank.”

He set her pages down on the table and then took out a couple of sheets with writing already on them and compared the two lists, marking them up. Anna took her chair and scooted it around the table until she sat next to him and could see what he was doing.

He took his list and set it before her. “These are the people who should be in your pack. I’ve checked the names of the ones who don’t appear on your list.”

She scanned down it, then grabbed the pen back and marked out one of his checks. “He’s still here. I just forgot about him. And this one, too.”

He took the list back. “All the women are gone. Most of the rest who are missing are older wolves. Not old. But there’s not a wolf left who is older than Leo. There are a few younger wolves missing as well.” He tapped a finger on a couple of names. “These were young. Paul Lebshak, here, would have been only four years a werewolf. George not much older.”

“Do you know all the werewolves?”

He smiled. “I know the Alphas. We have yearly meetings with all of them. I know most of the seconds and thirds. One of the things we do at the meetings is update the pack memberships. The Alphas are supposed to keep the Marrok informed when people die, or when new wolves are Changed. If my father had known so many wolves were gone, he would have investigated. Though Leo’s lost a third of the pack membership, he’s done a fair job of replacing them.”

He gave back the list she’d written—a number of names, including hers, were also checked. “These are all new. From what you’ve told me, I’d guess that they are all forced Changes. The survival rate of random attack victims is very poor. Your Leo has killed a lot of people over the past few years in order to keep the number of his pack where it is. Enough that it should have attracted the attention of the authorities. How many of these people were made wolves after you?”

“None of them. The only new wolf I’ve seen was that poor boy.” She tapped the paper with her pen. “If they didn’t leave bodies and spread out the hunt, they could have easily hidden the disappearance of a hundred people in the greater Chicago area over a few years.”

He leaned back and closed his eyes, then he shook his head. “I don’t remember dates too well anymore. I haven’t met most of the missing wolves, and I don’t remember the last time I saw Leo’s old second except that it was within the last ten years. So whatever happened was after that.”

“Whatever happened to what?”

“To Leo, I’d guess. Something happened that made him kill all the women in his pack except Isabelle and most of his older wolves—the wolves who would have objected when he started attacking innocent people, or quit teaching new wolves the rules and rights that belong to them. I can see why he’d have to kill them—but why the women? And why didn’t the other Chicago Alpha say anything to my father when it happened?”