The Wolven

More customers scrambled out of the store.



Banjo was about to dive into the plate of cookies with both hands, when Fiona suddenly appeared and grabbed him by the arm.



“Come on, sweetie. Let’s go into the office, and I’ll make you a sandwich.”



“No!” Banjo yelled. “Cookies, cookies. Gotta have ’em, want to have ’em. Cookies!” He wiggled, trying to pull out of Fiona’s grasp.



Caitlin slapped a hand to her forehead. “Fi, you’ve got to quit encouraging him like that. You keep feeding him, and he keeps coming back here.”



“Coming back, coming back!” Banjo mimicked, sounding like a hoarse parrot.



“You two go see about the customers,” Fiona said.



“I’ll—”



“What customers?” Caitlin said, frowning. “He’s run nearly everybody off.”



“Then see to the ones who are left,” Fiona said sternly. “I’ll take care of Banjo. Don’t worry, it’ll be okay.”



“Not okay—it’s not okay!” Banjo squawked. “No sandwich! I want a cookie. Cookie!”



Shauna picked up the plate of cookies, thinking out of sight, out of mind. The moment she turned away with the plate, Banjo let out a loud shriek.



“No, feed it! It’s all good—it’s good!”—hehehehehe, squawk-scritch-squawk.



There it was again. That nerve-grating, hair-raising laugh. It made Shauna’s teeth hurt.



Banjo plucked his arm from Fiona’s grasp and started hopping in place. Then he worked his way around Fiona, bouncing from left to right, so she couldn’t get hold of him.



Still bouncing, he made his way to Shauna. “Gimme cookie, give you secret.” An ugly grin spread over his face. “Cookie—secret, secret—cookie.”



Shauna wanted to punch his high wattage lights out. “Stop bouncing like that. You’re making me dizzy.”



That twittering laugh again.



“Look, just go with Fiona, Banjo,” Shauna ordered, hoping that food would calm him down at least a little.



“No, no. Got a secret. Gooood secret! One cookie, good secret. Two cookie, more secret!”



“What are you talking about? What secret?”



Banjo lifted his head, sniffed three or four times.



“Sixteen cookies. Got sixteen cookies on the plate. Sixteen!”



Puzzled, Shauna glanced down at the plate in her hand, did a quick count, and was astonished to find it held exactly sixteen cookies. “How did you know how many there were?”



“Smell it. Can’t you smell?”



“Come on, you,” Fiona said, finally latching on to Banjo’s arm.



“No, not come on!” He leaned way over to the left, closer to Shauna. “Give me a cookie, tell you a secret!”



“Go eat a sandwich or something, Banjo. You’re talking out of your head.”



He stopped bouncing and squinted at Shauna, as though sizing her up. Then he opened his eyes wide. “Got no teeth. Ain’t got no more teeth—no more big fingernails. Nope, none!”



Shauna froze. “What—who has no teeth or fingernails, Banjo?”



Hehehehe, squawk-scritch-squawk—“No teeth, gotta have teeth! Gotta.” He hooked a finger on either side of his upper lip and pulled it up over his teeth. Then he tapped a dirty fingernail against a tobacco stained incisor. “Gotta have the teeth.”



“Any idea what he’s talking about?” Fiona asked.



“I’m not sure,” Shauna said, then set the plate on the counter out of Banjo’s reach and took a cookie from the top of the heap. “But we’ll soon find out.” She dangled the chocolate chip cookie in front of him.



With a loud grunt, Banjo grabbed the cookie and stuffed all of it into his mouth in one fell swoop. He closed his eyes, a blissful expression on his face. When he opened his eyes again, he started hopping on one foot then the other.



“Okay, I gave you a cookie, now what’s the secret?”



Hehehehe, squawk…



Banjo broke free of Fiona again and took off running through the store. Fiona and Caitlin ran after him, but before either could corner him at the back of the stop, he’d spun around and was halfway back up the center aisle, heading toward Shauna.



The counter caught him at the waist this time, and for a moment, Shauna thought he would flip clean over to the other side.



“One more dead,” he hissed, glaring at her, fidgeting in place. “One, two—three. Three dead, no teeth. No big fingernails. Three dead, three dead!”



With her heart thudding in her ears, Shauna grabbed the back of his shirt and held tight. “What the hell are you talking about? Who’s dead?”



Banjo suddenly stopped fidgeting and pulled away from her. “Three blind mice,” he said, his voice low, robotic. “See how they run. Run with no teeth. So stupid. Three, stupid, blind—dead mice.”



“Please, Banjo,” Shauna said, keeping her voice low. “Tell me who you’re talking about. Who’s dead?”



Without warning, he sparked back to life. “Cookie, cookie!” he yelled, then shrieked with laughter and ran out of the store.



Shauna’s heart was beating so hard it made her nauseous. Banjo knew about the weres. She was sure of it. But he said there were three.



Nicole, Simon…who else?



Had another were been killed?



And the teeth. How did Banjo know about the teeth and claws?



Shauna felt an uneasiness rising in her gut. An intuitive whisper. And she remembered Banjo and Mattie fighting in front of the store—how Mattie had dented the light pole with her fist.



Too much strength for such a small woman…



And Banjo, who claimed to have smelled the cookies from across the street. With so many tourists clogging the streets, that would have been…should have been…impossible.



August had said that whomever ingested the claws and fangs of a were would take on the traits of a were. Everything but transformation.



Had Banjo and Mattie ingested either? Both?



Fear crept up Shauna’s spin.



Three down—no more to go.



It was time to get Jagger and Ryder involved—time to bring in the leaders of the other races—time to enlist reinforcements.



Whether Danyon liked it or not.



Chapter 11



A Little Bit of Magic was so packed with customers that Danyon had to literally squeeze into the shop sideways. Any other time, and he would have backtracked out of there, refusing to be part of the throng. He hated crowds. The collective energy of too many people in a limited space scrambled his thoughts and made him anxious.



There was only one reason he allowed this exception. Shauna. He had to talk to her.



As soon as the West Bank was a dot in his rearview mirror, Danyon had hurried back to the Quarter to find her. That in and of itself had made him feel strange. He had never hurried back to anyone for anything before.



Since their time together last night, Shauna had burrowed into his core, and there was no getting rid of her. He wouldn’t have wanted to if he could. His intellect kept telling him that the intimacy they shared had been a mistake. A human and a wolven didn’t belong together. Their worlds were too different. It would never work.



His emotions countered, however, telling his brain it was full of crap. He needed to enjoy and treasure the remarkable gift that she was.



Danyon couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this alive. And, if the truth be told, it had little to do with the sex they’d had—although to him it scored a thousand on a scale of one to ten. Danyon had had more than his fair share of intimacy with other women, but not once had he left their beds with a total sense of contentment.



Shauna had been different. Being with her had caused a floodgate to open inside him.



The contentment he had felt had been absolute, filling him, yet emptying him at the same time.



Danyon not only wanted to share her bed, he wanted to share her heart and share his with her. He had never felt more emotionally raw, vulnerable or befuddled in his life.



Shauna was the Keeper of the weres, so she had a right to know about the death of Kara’s were. That’s what he kept telling himself. But it was only half the truth and mostly an excuse. He simply wanted, needed to see her again.



Danyon moved slowly through the crowd, making his way to the front counter. If Shauna wasn’t there, working the register, he knew one of her sisters would be. And they’d know where to find her.



When he finally made it to the register, he saw Caitlin pounding away at the keys. A long line of customers waited their turn. He stood off to one side, waiting for a break in the action so he could talk to her. Caitlin must have sensed him watching her because she glanced over and gave him a hesitant smile.



A moment later, she peered over at him again. But the fifth or sixth time she looked his way, her brow was deeply furrowed. Either curiosity was getting to her or she was worried that she might have a stalker on her hands.



It didn’t take long before she gave in and turned to face Danyon. “May I help you?” A middle-aged man, who had been next in line, let out an exasperated sigh.



Evidently hearing the customer’s distress, Caitlin quickly turned back to the man and offered her apologies. “Thanks so much for your patience. I’ll only be a couple more seconds.”



With that, Caitlin faced Danyon again. “Is there a reason you’re just standing there staring? Do I know you from somewhere?”



“I don’t believe we’ve met before. My name’s Danyon Stone. I’m looking for Shauna.” There were too many people around for him to identify himself as the alpha of the East Bank pack.



Caitlin’s frown deepened. “What do you want with my sister?”



“I’m a friend of hers,” he offered.



At first, his answer seemed to puzzle Caitlin all the more, then a twinkle lit up her eyes and she smiled.



“So you’re the infamous Mr. Stone,” she said.



Wondering what Shauna might have told her sisters about him, Danyon cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I am, yes.” He smiled. “Is Shauna here?”