Chapter 19 The Detective at Your Doorstep
Wynn
I slowly blink my eyes open in the morning. With the thick curtains covering the window, it's hard to tell the time, but morning is a good guess. I'm alone in bed, though Marlow can't have wandered far.
Something warm weighs down my chest. Oh, not alone after all. Iggy’s curled there like a tiny stone cat, his wings tucked close against his body. The little gargoyle is fast asleep. I freeze and settle back into the bed, not wanting to disturb him.
That's when I notice Marlow perched on the bed’s edge, watching us with the softest expression I've ever seen on his face. Whatever he was doing, he's stopped to watch me tangled in the sheets with his gargoyle companion snoozing on me.
Our gazes lock. For once, there's no smirk, no playful challenge dancing in those pretty blue eyes. Instead, something warmer rests there, something that makes my heart skip.
If I didn't know better, I'd swear he looks fond.
“Where were you?” I ask quietly.
“Kitchen, looking for some breakfast.”
“Bane didn’t skewer you for that?”
“Didn’t catch me. And look what I brought back.” He produces a silver-wrapped square and presents it to me. "There were no snickerdoodles, but I snagged the last helping of cinnamon Pop-Tarts."
Marlow remembered my preference for cinnamon-flavored treats and risked Bane's wrath to snag this for me. A simple, thoughtful gesture, no big deal… except my heart and sleepy brain insist it's a huge deal and the most romantic thing in the universe. I try to tamp down the sappy emotion… I fail.
A dopey smile spreads across my face. "You got these for me?"
Marlow waves a dismissive hand. "No big deal."
"You slipped down to the kitchen at great personal risk to yourself," I point out. "What if Bane had caught you?"
"He won't really kill me," he answers sensibly. "Josh would throw a fit if he got blood all over their nice apartment."
"Okay, but he still could have annoyed you to death," I counter. Marlow's face goes a little green, apparently not having considered that particular horror.
"Well, when you put it that way, I suppose I am something of a hero," he says, a hint of his usual playful swagger returning. He comes closer on the bed, and I can't resist the urge to press my lips to his in a grateful kiss.
"My hero," I murmur against his mouth.
Hiding out and being on the run is incredibly stressful, but somehow, an unexpected calm descends while we stay with my cousin and his mate. It's almost peaceful here. Over the next few days, we lie low and work out our next move.
There are a few dicey moments—living in close quarters with four grown men presents its own set of challenges—especially when three of us are werewolves and one is a demon who delights in ruffling the fur of the biggest wolf among us.
Marlow and I spend a lot of time holed up in the guest bedroom.
Yes, we often end up tangled together in the sheets. But we also spend hours just talking, which surprises me. It's been the two of us, and Iggy, hiding out in close quarters with no one else around. Haven't we already talked about everything we need to?
Turns out we hadn't even scratched the surface.
He shares stories of growing up in another reality—a place that sounds as enchanting as it is dangerous—and I tell him about living in a city full of magic. We talk about my family and friends and about the buddies he summons.
I'm getting to know him all over again or maybe I’m getting to know the guy underneath all the charm and come-ons for the first time.
When we’re allowed out in the living room, we're usually huddled around Josh's coffee table discussing our magical options.
“I’ve been doing so much research it feels like a full-time job,” he fills us in. “Like, you may have to start paying me. I’ll make a time card and everything, that’s how much effort goes into what you’re asking for.”
“Have you found anything?” I ask while making a mental note to buy more cutesy oven mitts for him as a thank you.
“A plan is slowly coming together. Very slowly. Hiding you from multiple wolves and their senses for an extended period of time is tricky enough. But concealing you in their own den and then cutting through all the magical mess in Concordia and tracking someone down… I’ve put one successful locator charm on Bane’s watch, but I’m his mate and wanted to be found.
This evil killer guy definitely doesn’t want us blowing up his spot and we don’t even know him or his name. ”
“We have something that belongs to the killer.” Marlow holds up the pick. “Can’t you use this?”
“Sure, possessions are great for locator spells. Outside of Concordia.” Josh rolls his eyes. “Can you use this?” he mimics. “Honestly, leave magic to the professionals.”
“If you figure it out, we’ll make you employee of the month,” Marlow encourages.
“We really appreciate this,” I add.
"Using magic to enhance your ability to sense this guy is our best bet, but it’s going to take a while since I have zero experience casting for demons," he warns. "My plan is to use potions for everything. It’s not my craft, but it is my mom’s, so I’m somewhat familiar with the mechanics and she won’t suspect anything if I ask a million ‘hypothetical’ questions about brewing methods.
I'm still tracking down some rare ingredients, and it’s going to take some experimenting to get everything right since I can’t rely on help from other witches or covens. "
"Can we help? Is there anything you need from us?"
Josh looks from me to Marlow, who is picking up different crystals from the coffee table and putting them against his wrist and seeing if anything happens.
"Uh, thanks for offering, but I've got it." He's fighting a smile, likely thinking we'll be most helpful by staying out of his way. Neither of us has an aptitude for magic. "I know waiting around isn't the most fun but surely you can occupy yourselves somehow."
"Whatever will we do to keep ourselves busy?" Marlow asks with exaggerated cluelessness.
I have a few ideas, and judging by the heated look in his eyes, he does too.
"Wow, walked right into that one," Josh mutters.
Before we can say anything else, the doorbell rings. We all freeze, shooting each other nervous glances.
Josh gets up and edges to the window, cracking the curtain open. I cross my fingers, hoping it's just the mailman or something simple.
The doorbell rings again, and Josh winces at what he sees. When he turns around, he presses a finger to his lips, signaling for us to be quiet. "Bane, you better get down here. We have company."
He grabs the Cloak of Cloaking hanging by the door and quickly ushers us into the kitchen.
Marlow doesn’t even complain about the thing being ugly as hell.
Sharing a one-person cloak isn't ideal, and for good measure Josh mutters an incantation to help shield us.
He mouths “be quiet” and then dashes to the door as his mate joins him.
The door opens and I hear them talking distantly, two familiar voices with a neutral, deep-voiced man joining in.
“A detective?” Josh echoes. “What brings you to our doorstep?”
His name is Ethan Harper and he says something about asking a few questions, but I tune out the rest, too focused on what my senses are screaming at me.
My nose recognizes another shifter easily enough, but an instinct has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.
The man hunting for Marlow is an Alpha werewolf.
Everything inside me is on high alert, zeroing in on the potential threat.
My cousin has reached the same conclusion, his voice tight. "From Brighton, right? You're here for the escaped prisoner."
"Word gets around, huh?" the detective remarks.
"No, Adelaide's keeping it pretty quiet, but I heard it directly from my sister." Adelaide isn’t broadcasting news about the escaped prisoner with the general public, but the authorities in Brighton obviously found out when they showed up to apprehend a man who wasn’t there.
This detective is supposed to find Marlow.
"Well, would you two mind speaking to me?"
"Sure, though I doubt we can be much help,” Josh says as they lead the detective into the living room. “We go into Iron territory occasionally, but we weren't there when any of this happened, and we never met the prisoner."
The detective claims the chair opposite the couch, giving us a clear view of the large man with dark blond hair in his professional, boring suit.
The fabric strains against his imposing frame, doing nothing to hide the quiet confidence of an apex predator.
Those golden eyes sweep the room, cataloging every detail.
"Maybe you could tell me something about Wynn Blackwood."
Right to the point, this detective. Josh and Bane freeze mid-motion, hovering over the couch. They exchange a quick glance before sitting down. Not exactly subtle, but hopefully not damning either. Anyone would startle when a detective knocks on their door asking questions about family.
Especially when the detective is also a very large werewolf.
"What does my cousin have to do with any of this?" Bane wonders. The lamp on the coffee table blocks my view of his face, but even his legs are tense and stiff. It can’t feel entirely comfortable to let an unknown wolf into his home.
"Wynn captured the fugitive and even brought him a few meals. It would be helpful to speak to him directly," the detective answers.
"Too bad he's on vacation right now," Josh says, his hands fidgeting against his pants.
Does the detective notice how nervous he is? Hopefully he's too caught up in the little staring contest he's having with Bane.
"Do you, can I get you something?” Josh asks. “Do people do that? It seems right for a visitor, but you're also a detective. What do people get detectives when they drop by?"
"I'm fine." The man refuses to look away from my cousin.
"Oh, okay then..."
The detective's gaze finally shifts to the left, piercing eyes settling on the smaller man. "You seem nervous."