“Are you telling me I was dating the werewolf equivalent of a mob boss?” I squeaked.
“Maybe,” he replied, all seriousness. “I can’t say for sure. There’s a supernatural grapevine, and nothing I’ve heard on it about them has been any good. Whenever I saw Chaz with you, he displayed perfectly good behavior, but it may have been a front. I hate to say this, but he was probably using you for something. You know I never trusted him during the time you were looking for the Focus. I wasn’t lying then; he probably sees you as a stepladder to something he wants. Maybe it’s a tie to Royce, or maybe it’s nothing at all. He might still try to play you somehow when he thinks you’ve cooled off.”
“Oh, that’s freaking fantastic. Just peachy keen,” I snarked, thinking once again about how Chaz had talked of his “needs.” Now that I had some perspective, there wasn’t much doubt in my mind that he’d been intending to talk me into being his next alpha bitch. That, or a broodmare for his kids. Either one would most likely have suited his purposes. “I’m going to kill the son of a bitch. One way or another.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” came the pointed reply. “Think long and hard about the consequences before you rush headlong into a fight. He’s got, what, fifty or sixty other werewolves at his back?”
“He couldn’t stop the cops. Not if he didn’t want a war on his hands. He’d be screwing things over for all the Weres, not just himself or his pack.”
“You don’t seem to get it. They might not care. If they have nothing to lose, why not fight it? And take you down with them.”
I paused. Considered and discarded any idea of discussing my violent train of thought with Arnold. The mage was far too cold in his calculations; right now, I needed someone with a temper that matched mine. Someone who would agree with what I was saying, back me up, and, best of all, not tell me to stop once I started down the path of revenge.
“Okay. You’re right. I won’t do anything about it for right now.” No, not right now. Later was another story.
“All right. Anything else I can do?”
“Not for the moment. Just keep quiet about everything, and let me know if you find a cure.”
“You got it.”
I had another task to see to before I could do what I was thinking about. The rolodex beside my monitor held all the numbers that had been in my cell phone. Luckily I’d gotten past my inability to keep my life organized and implemented the system of copying all the numbers in my phone as a security measure after losing my second-to-last cell phone to Max Carlyle.
Part of me still worried the crazy vampire had collected the contact info from it and might seek to use it against me some day. It had been a couple months, but that was no time at all to a creature who’s seen the passing of several millennia. He could strike at any time, which I’d done my very best to think about as little as possible. That didn’t mean I didn’t have the occasional niggling feeling of panic when something reminded me of the psycho vampire or what his plans for me had been. Plans that might not have changed, only been delayed.
As they say, you’re not paranoid if they really are out to get you.
Royce’s card held every number, address, and e-mail he’d ever given me, written in my cramped chicken-scratch so it would all fit. My usual hesitation to contact him had been replaced by a hesitation to tell him what had happened to me. Thankfully, that would most likely be put off for a while. It was only midafternoon. Though I’d seen him up and about during the day, chances were the vampire was resting. I’d leave him a message, and no doubt he’d return my call as soon as night fell.
As expected, his phone went immediately to voice mail. I waited for the beep, and then left a curt, perfunctory message with little more than my name, home number, and a semi-politely worded request for him to call me back as soon as he got the message.
After I hung up, I rose and headed to my bedroom. Tucked away in the bottom drawer of my dresser lay my hunting gear, arranged just as I’d left it. I ran my fingers over the handles