Squeezing hard, Danyon dug his fingers into Andy’s arms. “I—need—you—to—focus,” he enunciated, his own voice low and hard. “Hold it together. I command it! Do you understand?”

Andy snarled, snapping at him again.

Pressing his fingers deeper into Andy’s arms, Danyon let out a deep guttural growl. A warning that his own transformation was imminent. “Do you understand me?”

Evidently recognizing the voice of his alpha, Andy’s eyes suddenly cleared, and his incisors withdrew. He immediately lowered his head.

“I want you to go and sit in the SUV,” Danyon commanded. “Wait for me there. When I’m finished looking over the body, I’ll wrap it in the tarp, then you’ll help me load it into the SUV. Until then, you’re to stay in the driver’s seat until I call for you. Is that clear?”

Andy gave one quick nod, then quietly hurried away as ordered.

Danyon breathed a silent sigh of relief. He hadn’t feared Andy’s transformation for himself. He’d feared it for Shauna. As angry as Andy had become, there might have been no controlling who or what he attacked. Chances were good that he would have taken on the feral madness of a vengeful wolven, its mind lost to understanding anything but destruction.

Danyon turned to Shauna, saw an expression on her face he couldn’t quite define.

Fear? Awe? Possibly both.

“That’s just another reason why you should have stayed away,” he said. “You’re lucky. No telling what might have happened if I hadn’t stopped his transformation.”

She looked at him steadily. “I’m his Keeper,” she said calmly. “He wouldn’t have harmed me.”

He looked at her standing there—tall, slender, delicate wrists and arms, long, beautiful neck—and knew Andy would have snapped her like a twig. Danyon might have laughed at the absurdity of her statement had it not been for the way she said it. Not haughty, like someone acting too big for her britches. It sounded confident, like the voice of experience. That puzzled him. When had she ever been up against a raging were? He shook off the question. Now wasn’t the time to contemplate the matter. He had more serious issues to contend with.

He headed back to Simon’s body. “I’ll need more light over here.”

Shauna hurried over, directed the flashlights as he indicated. As light flooded over Simon’s body, she let out another, smaller gasp.

Danyon chose to ignore it. No time for emotional females. It was already late, and they still had Nicole to see to. He scrounged through the duffle bag again, and grabbed wire cutters and a pair of pliers. He snipped the silver wire wrapped around Simon’s ankles with the cutters, then, using the pliers, he carefully wiggled the wire free from the trench it had formed in the bone.

With that task complete, Danyon reached for the hacksaw and went to work on the remaining cables, the ones wrapped around Simon’s neck and chest.

It was a long and tedious process, sawing at awkward angles, blade slipping again and again until he managed to cut a thin rut in the cable. Sweat ran into his eyes, soaked the back of his shirt.

By the time Danyon had removed the cables and the additional silver wire he’d found beneath them, two hours had vanished. It dawned on him, too, that throughout that entire time, Shauna had not said one word.

He looked up to check on her and was surprised to find her sitting back on her haunches beside him.

She handed him a pair of latex gloves. “Thought you might be ready for these.”

He studied her face, saw no trace of fear. Only profound sadness.

“Thanks,” he said, and took the gloves from her. After slipping them on, he sank his fingers into the fur on Simon’s right leg, then worked them slowly upward, feeling for wounds.

“I don’t think this was done by a human,” Shauna said.

“I agree.” He kept his fingers moving. “The minute that silver touched him, he would’ve mutated instantly from the pain, then slaughtered anyone in sight. And if by chance he was in were-state before they used the silver…they never would have gotten close enough to wrap it around any part of his body.”

“What about a group of humans?”

Danyon shook his head. “Not even an army of three-hundred-pound men. Once a wolven is at full power, even a young one like Simon, all they have to do is backhand a man, and the strength of that blow would crush his face. One swipe from his claws, and the man’s chest is ripped open, his heart pierced. And even if it had been a hundred men, all attacking at the same time, Simon wasn’t stupid. At the first hint he was being overpowered, he would have fled, and a wolven’s too fast and agile for any human to catch him.”

“What about shifters, then?”

“I don’t think so.”

“But if shifters mentally paired with a wolven, then became wolven themselves, couldn’t they have overpowered Simon? Or—”

“Not the shifters from here. They can transform into any being through molecular mapping, but only in appearance. They wouldn’t possess the full power of a wolven. Maybe three quarters at best.”

“What if they morphed into something bigger than a wolven? Wouldn’t size alone give them power?”

“Maybe, but in order for them to transform into anything, they have to see it, mentally map it.” Danyon arched a brow. “Have you ever seen anything in New Orleans—hell, in the entire state of Louisiana, that was bigger than a full grown wolven?”

Shauna pursed her lips and shook her head.

“Me either. That’s why I think the scenerio’s doubtful.”

“Okay…vampires? I don’t think one could’ve done it alone. But two or three might have, if they glamoured Simon before he turned were, then restrained him with silver and cable and lifted the glamour. You said Simon would have morphed from the pain caused by the silver, right? Well, once he turned were, all they had to do was…what was done to him.”

Through with the examination, Danyon stripped off the gloves and tossed them onto the tarp. He’d found no other wounds that might have caused Simon’s death. He could only assume it was as August had said—Simon’s heart had burst. Unfortunately, an autopsy couldn’t be performed to confirm it. Not with Simon still in were-state.

“What do you think?” Shauna asked.

Danyon got to his feet and began gathering tools. “It’s possible, but I don’t think it’s probable. Nicole and Simon were found during the day and judging by the condition of their bodies, they’d probably only been dead about four or five hours. That means the murders took place during the day, as well. The local vampires can move about in daylight, but they’re considerably weaker than they are at night.” He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know what the answer is, Shauna. I just don’t know.”

“Well, if it wasn’t humans, shape-shifters or vampires, that leaves us with…other weres. Other wolven.”

He looked away.

“Is that possible?” she pressed.

Danyon glanced over at Simon’s body. He didn’t want to entertain the idea that the murderer was a wolven. Of course wolven fought, sometimes to the death, but they didn’t purposely torture their own.

“Danyon, I think we need to get the leaders from the other races involved in this—”

“No.”

Shauna got to her feet. “Isn’t it better to swallow a little pride than lose more weres?”

“It’s not about pride,” he said angrily. “We can’t afford to have the three biggest subcultures in New Orleans pointing fingers at one another again. It’s like you said earlier about the cemetery murders and the walk-ins. You were right. Every group blamed every other group. Even though both cases have been solved, that wire between all three groups is still taut. Getting the other leaders involved would mean their people would find out, and you know it. Fingers would start pointing again, only this time, that wire might very well snap.”

“I don’t think—”

Danyon held up a hand. “Look, I know two heads are better than one, three better than two, yada, yada, yada.

But Simon and Nicole were my responsibility. They died on my watch. I have to find their murderer.”

“And all the weres—including the wolven—are my responsibility. We have to do what’s right for the entire community.”

Danyon knew she was right, but there was something in him that simply refused to admit it at that moment. Call it pride, determination, the word didn’t matter. Nicole and Simon shouldn’t have died. He should have been there to protect them. He needed to find who—or what—had murdered them.

“Twelve hours,” he said. “At least give me that. If I don’t come up with something by then, we’ll call in the others, okay?”

Shauna studied him for a long while, then said, “All right. Twelve hours.” With that, she turned and headed toward the SUV.

Danyon watched her walk away, suspecting she feared she’d made a mistake in allowing him the time he’d asked for.

He understood.

Because in that moment, he feared the exact same thing.

Chapter 7

Lightning ripped a jagged tear through the night sky, and the thunderclap that followed shook the ground beneath Shauna’s feet. She felt the first few spatters of rain on her head, her shoulders. Fat, wet drops that promised many more.

Shauna glanced up at the sky, wishing for it to burst open and wash her, bath her in luxurious warmth and take away the spatters of blood on her clothes, the dirt on her hands, the emotional weight on her heart.

She’d never felt more exhausted in her life. It wasn’t that she’d tackled anything physically laborious, but being so close to Simon and Nicole while Danyon examined them, watching as his fingers worked through bloody fur, had taken a greater toll on her than she’d thought.

The entire time she’d held the flashlight, Shauna wondered why both weres had to suffer such horrible deaths. She thought of their families and the pain and sorrow awaiting them. So many whys, too many questions. Who was she supposed to go to for answers? How could anyone explain the unfairness of the universe when it presented life this way?