Chapter 13

Eve

I watched the memorial from my window, keeping my gaze on Lachlan the entire time. He mingled in the crowd, speaking to some people and watching others like a hawk. Occasionally, he sipped from the ever-present flask in his pocket.

It was all normal—exactly what one would expect in such a circumstance. Perhaps the memorial was happening a bit quickly, considering that the murder had been less than twelve hours ago, but that wasn't unheard of.

From the way Lachlan made the rounds, I had to assume he was looking for people who seemed suspicious. He was too clever and too driven not to be using this opportunity.

But he seemed…off. There was something about the set of his shoulders and the glint in his eyes. He was being weird. I didn't know him well, but that damned connection between us was impossible to ignore. There was something not quite right about him now.

When he grabbed a full whisky bottle and headed away from the crowd, I made my decision.

Carefully, I climbed out the window and crept along the roof. If someone looked for me, they'd see me, but it was better than being all flashy with my wings. Finally, I reached a quiet spot where I could fly down to the side of the tower. I hurried through the dark, headed to the old cemetery.

I found Lachlan sitting on a bench next to his brother's grave. He just sat there, staring into the distance, the whisky bottle held loosely in his hand.

He looked so…broken.

I stopped nearby, and he glanced at me.

"Doing all right?" I asked.

"Fine." He frowned. "What are you doing out of your room? It's dangerous."

"It seemed like it was time."

"I shouldn't be surprised you didn't stay put."

"Not really my style." I eyed the bottle. It was half empty, and I swore it had been full when I'd seen him take it. Yet he showed no sign of inebriation. "How much have you had?"

"A lot more than this." He took a swig. "Doesn't do much, though."

"Then why drink it?"

"I like the burn, and I need to kill some time." He looked back at me. "You need to be more careful and not wander around at night. What are you doing here, Eve?"

Checking on you. But I couldn't say that. It also wasn't the entire truth. "I want to know what's going on. Why are you killing time?"

"A band will start soon. Shifters can't resist a band. Once it starts, everyone will be distracted, and I'll be able to check my father's crypt without letting anyone know. If it's been desecrated, I don't want anyone seeing it."

His father's crypt.

No wonder he was drinking. Even if the booze didn't do much to him, I'd be drinking, too. "Why do you need to check his crypt?"

He drew in a low, tortured breath. "That claw was my father's. I buried him in wolf form. Intact."

Shit.

He was psyching himself up to check on the probably-desecrated grave of the father he'd had to kill. I drew in a shuddery breath. "How do you know?"

"The seer."

Of course. The shifters' seer was powerful.

"Do you know what happened to my father?" he asked.

"Not the whole story." There had to be more to it. A reason. A good one.

"The Dark Moon curse took him."

I frowned. "What's that?"

He stared up at the sky. "Something that haunts the wolves of various packs. Not just ours. Though we've been particularly unlucky to have lost an Alpha to it." He paused a moment, then continued. "Shifters feel emotions particularly strongly."

Don't I know it. "I've heard."

"Well, a few of us feel them so strongly that they eventually drive us mad. We lose control over our wolf form. Worse, we lose our loyalty to our pack. We become loose cannons, violent and unstable, and eventually go feral."

"Shit." No one had ever mentioned this to me when I was a kid. Wasn't exactly the stuff of bedtime stories. "And that's what happened to your father?"

He nodded. "When I was eighteen."

That's how old he'd been when we'd formally met. My own mother had died that same year. I'd thought no one could have a worse year than I'd had. I'd been wrong.

"And you had to kill him to save everyone else," I guessed.

"It's shifter law to put down those who've fallen to the curse." He gave a bitter laugh. "Anyway, it was the humane thing to do. For everyone." He held up the flask that sat next to him on the bench. "And this is supposed to keep me from feeling anything."

"It's not just whisky, then?"

"No, it's not. But it's not working anymore." He rose and approached me. "It stopped working when you appeared."

I stiffened and looked up at him, my heart racing. His dark eyes burned into me, tracing over my face. Over my lips. Tension sparked the air between us, and I had the most insane urge to press my hands to his chest. To pull him down to me so that I could kiss him.

"What is it about you?" he whispered, his voice rough. "Why has everything changed? You're fae—you shouldn't be able to do this to me."

Something like hurt pierced me through the heart. Was it because I was pretty now? We'd always had the mate bond—according to fate, at least—but he shouldn't be able to feel it as long as I wore my enchanted necklace. So was it because I'd grown out of my ugly duckling state?

As much as I wanted him now, I couldn't forget the words he'd once hurled at me. We'd both been young, but the wound had been real. And I didn't want to be suckered into being his mate, especially when it could end with my death. No guy was worth dying over.

I stepped back, my mind racing. "It's timing, that's all. Stressful with the murders. It's your imagination."

Shadows flickered across his eyes, and he nodded. I was sixty-five percent sure he didn't believe me, but there was nothing else I could say.

Fortunately, the band chose that moment to start playing.

Lachlan's smile turned grim. "I can go check my father's crypt now."

I nodded. "I'm coming with you."

He gave me a long look, and it was clear as day that he wanted to say no. Instead, he gave a sharp nod.

I followed him through the cemetery, heading toward the mausoleums at the back. There was one for each previous Alpha, the most impressive buildings in the cemetery. As we walked, wind rustled through the trees, and the moonlight scattered on the ground at our feet. The tombstones almost glowed beneath the light, beautiful and solemn. The whole place was lovely, almost, which was strange to say about a cemetery on the same day that a packmate had died. An owl hooted, and it sounded like an admonishment.

As we walked, I asked, "Bill, the victim. Were there any clues?"

His gaze flashed over to mine. "How do you know his name?"

"I had a friend do a little recon."

He frowned, anger flashing in his eyes.

"Not a person," I said hurriedly, knowing he wouldn't like the idea of my friends sneaking around his tower. Guilds infiltrating each other's towers was very frowned upon. "A raccoon."

"A raccoon? They shouldn't even live in London."

"I know. Doesn't stop Ralph, though. But I don't want to talk about him. I want to talk about finding the killer." I gripped his arm, and he stiffened.

I'd forgot how opposed to touch he was. He'd cut himself off from it for so long, according to the cook I'd spoken to.

He pulled away, his breathing sharp.

I flexed my hand, feeling the burn of his flesh still imprinted into my palm. My words were rough as they escaped my throat. "What about Bill?"

He seemed to exert a conscious effort to rein himself in. "The dark eyes that the apothecary mentioned are a sign of the Dark Moon curse. Whoever is killing my pack has it."

Shit. "The poisoning took planning. But if the killer is going mad, changing weapons makes sense. He no longer has the control he once had."

"That's my thought."

"And it could be a shifter from any pack?"

He nodded. "I'm putting out word to the other packs, asking if they've lost anyone to it recently. Why they'd target us, I don't know."

"We'll figure it out." If his father's grave really had been disturbed, that could be a big clue.

We'd reached the mausoleum at the back of the cemetery, right at the base of the looming city wall. Moonlight gleamed on it like a spotlight, almost as if the fates knew exactly where we were headed.

We're going to find something here.

The thought was so eerie that it sent a shiver across my skin. I ignored it and focused on the scene, trying to pick up any clues. It was an impressive structure, about three meters by four, if I had to guess. Carved with ornate swirls and inset with marble, it was definitely the nicest one here.

Had it been Lachlan who'd done that? In guilt over his father's death?

He stopped about two meters from the entrance and knelt to inspect the ground. "No tracks. No recent scent."

"May I approach the door?" I asked.

He nodded and stood, following me.

The huge stone slab that acted as a door seemed to be slightly off kilter, like it had been moved aside and put back in a rush.

"Someone has been here," he said.

I shivered, imagining them prying the heavy door off to reach the body inside.

Carefully, Lachlan gripped either side of the door and lifted it, moving it to the left. The thing had to weigh two or three hundred kilograms, but he picked it up like it was nothing.

"Whoever broke in had to be strong," I said, as he gently leaned the slab against the wall.

He just grunted.

The interior of the mausoleum was pitch black, so I withdrew my mobile and turned on the torch. When I shone it inside, I gasped.

The place was a mess. The stone sarcophagus inside had been smashed to bits, and bones were scattered through the room. I couldn't even tell if his father had been buried as a wolf or a man.

Anger vibrated in Lachlan's voice. "The killer didn't just take the claw."

I shivered as I stared at the scene. Rage seemed to permeate the space, as if the shattered stone and scattered bones told a story of unimaginable anger.

"Oh, no," I breathed.

Slowly, he walked inside, careful to avoid any of the disturbed interior. "I can't smell whoever was here, and it doesn't look like anything was left behind."

I followed him in, sticking close to the wall near the door. I didn't want to destroy any of the evidence, even though I wasn't sure what I was looking for.

A business card with his name and address on it, ideally.

But there was nothing unusual in the place besides the destruction and the weird feeling in the air. There was no scent remaining, but I swore I could feel the attacker's rage. It turned my stomach.

I looked at Lachlan, catching sight of the shadows in his eyes. His jaw was tight with anger, but his eyes…they looked sad. My heart twisted.

"Come on," I said. "We need to make a plan. It's clear there's nothing to find in here right now, so we need to determine what to do next."

He nodded, and I could see the anger in the tightness of his jaw and the sharpness of the gesture. His sadness was being swallowed by his rage.

I waited as he carefully replaced the door, and we retreated to a tree a dozen meters away. Lachlan walked quickly, as if he didn't want to stand too close to his father's desecrated body. We stopped beneath the thick, leafy branches that cut out the moonlight, lingering in the shadows.

He took another swig from his flask as I stared at the mausoleum, my mind racing. "When I was at a party thrown by the Witches' Guild, they mentioned a sorceress who could recreate scenes of the past, as long as they happened in a cemetery. Something about the spirits of the dead providing enough energy for her to rewind time."

"Mariketta." Lachlan nodded. "I know her."

"Let's get her here. She can recreate the moment the crypt was broken into. Maybe we'll see our guy. Or girl."

He nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "That's good. We'll do that."

"I can get her contact info."

But he was already reaching for his mobile and dialing. I watched, breath held, as he spoke to someone on the other end of the line. It didn't take long for him to hang up and look at me. "I need to go speak with her. You're coming with me. I don't want you out of my sight."

I nodded, my heart thumping.

I needed to get the hell out of his sight. For my own good, as well as for his. But that wouldn't be happening right now. And anyway, I wanted to know what this sorceress found. "Where is she? Her guild tower?"

"No. She's at the Orpheus Theater and refuses to leave. We need to meet her there."

"The theater?" I frowned, looking down at my apparel. "Will they even let me in, looking like this?"

"We'll manage."

We left the cemetery in silence, exiting via the side instead of the front in order to avoid the crowd of shifters still mourning Bill and Danny. I could hear people dancing and singing, and shouts of "Bill!" as we passed.

Lachlan led the way expertly through the quiet city streets, and we reached the theater about ten minutes later. Sparkling lights over the door advertised that Cirque was in town. Maybe if this all went south for me, I could join up and travel the world with them. Not that I had any fire breathing or acrobat skills, but I'd manage.

The usher at the door gave me a disdainful look as we approached, but he wiped it from his face as soon as Lachlan glared at him. The Alpha wasn't properly attired, either, but that apparently didn't matter.

"Welcome." The usher bowed and opened the door.

Lachlan inclined his head and strode inside. I followed, eyes on the ground. Generally, I respected dress codes, especially for fancy places, since it was the easiest way to blend in.

The main lobby, all done up in red velvet and bright gilt, was empty, but the roar of the crowd could be heard from behind the lobby wall.

"Do you know where she sits" I asked.

"Box 215."

I nodded. All of the boxes should be on the upper level.

Together, we approached the massive staircase. A velvet rope blocked our path, but we ducked underneath the barrier to ascend. Only the cream of Guild City's society got a box at the top of the theater. Lachlan would have qualified due to his wealth and power. I didn't qualify in any kind of way.

We climbed the red-carpeted stairs silently and quickly. At the top, a simple, wide hallway stretched behind the boxes—empty, thank fates.

Lachlan turned right, following the tiny signs on the walls, and I hurried to keep up. We were approximately halfway to her box when Lachlan hesitated, tilting his head slightly.

"Do you hear something?" I asked.

"Torin, leader of the fae guild." He veered a sharp right toward a tiny door set in the back wall, and I followed. "I can smell the bastard from a mile away, and he's about to turn that corner in front of us. We have bad blood, and you're not in his guild, when you very likely should be. We can't afford a scene right now."

He was right about that. Torin loved a scene, and these boxes were ticketed only. Not to mention that I'd pissed Torin off when I'd chosen to join the Shadow Guild instead of the Fae Guild. He might not start anything, but we didn't have time to waste.

Lachlan gripped the handle of a little door next to where we stood, but it didn't budge. He yanked hard, breaking the lock. We slipped inside the tiny, dark closet, and he shut it behind us.

Immediately, his scent wrapped around me, woodsy and clean. I tried to breathe shallowly to keep my chest from pressing against his, but it was no use. The damned place was so tiny that we brushed against each other from chest to knee. Heat burned into me, making my head spin. This was only the third time we'd made contact, and the feel of it was intoxicating. Every inch of me vibrated.

Hiding in this closet no longer felt like an easy way to avoid a delay. Instead, it had turned into a high-stakes game of seven minutes in heaven.

Silly. There was no way he'd kiss me.

When I heard him inhale slightly, clearly scenting me, surprise flashed through me. That was very lupine.

I looked up at him, unable to help myself.

I could barely see him through the dark, and it wrapped us in a cocoon.

When he spoke, his voice was rough. "What is it about you?"

My breath caught in my throat. "You already asked me that."

But it didn't sound the same that time. There was desire thick in his voice. I felt it wrap around me, supernaturally strong, and pull me toward him. My head went woozy with it, and suddenly, it was hard to breathe.

He raised a hand to my face, cupping my jaw. His skin burned against mine, an electric heat that made my heart race and warmth flush through me.

When he dipped his head into the crook of my neck and inhaled, every inch of me felt alive.

I knew I should jerk away—I couldn't risk him discovering my true scent. It was hidden by the potion that anointed my necklace, but eventually, he would recognize that I was his mate.

A low groan reverberated from his throat. "You smell amazing."

Kiss me.

It was the only thought in my head. All my rational thought had fled, driven away by our proximity, and I wanted to throw myself at him.

When he leaned down to hover his lips over mine, I moaned slightly, shifting to lean up on my toes.

Before we made contact, I must have brushed something against the wall behind us. A broom fell on my head, shocking me out of my trance. Cold doused me, and I jerked back, bumping into a bucket.

He stiffened, and we managed to find a scant inch of space between us.

"Torin is gone," he said.

"Good." I pushed the door open and slipped out, grateful to see that no one was in the hall.

I turned away from Lachlan, pressing my hands to my hot cheeks to drive back the chilly fear.

What had just happened?

I'd wanted to kiss him, sure, but that had been an otherworldly kind of desire. Not normal. I looked back at him, catching sight of the heat in his eyes and the confusion on his face.

I swallowed hard and looked forward. Something had definitely changed between us, as if touching that much had unlocked something inside our subconsciousness.

No.It couldn't be possible.