massive two-million-square-foot monster. It now housed faculty, students, libraries, laboratories, research facilities . . . If anybody could keep a building standing, four hundred mages ought to be it.
The presence of mages - and mage students who, like all college students, were rather impulsive in their purchases - had revived Ponce de Leon. It was a bustling street now, full of shops, stalls, and eateries.
Dead Cat Street was a sorry narrow affair by comparison. It wound its way between the newly rebuilt two- and three-story apartment buildings to a small plaza containing a convenience store and a grocery. Curran and I stood on the edge of the narrow sidewalk, looking at Dead Cat Street, as the horse carts and passersby traversed Ponce de Leon to our right. The body had been found a couple dozen yards from the corner. The scene was clean. No smudges of blood on the pavement. No signs of struggle. No nothing. If I hadn't come through here last night, I wouldn't have known anything untoward had taken place.
Curran stood very still, breathing deeply. Minutes stretched into the past. Suddenly his upper lip rose, baring his teeth. A precursor of a growl shivered just beneath his teeth. His eyes flashed with gold.
"Curran?"
A lion glared at me though gray human eyes and vanished, replaced by Curran's neutral face.
"Nice, thorough job."
I arched my eyebrows at him.
"They salted the scene with wolfsbane. The stems are dried out, ground into powder, and mixed with some base. Dry detergent works well. Borax. Baking soda. Not as effective as a wolfsbane paste, but enough of it will overwhelm the scent trail. Jim's crew dumped about a gallon of it here."
I filed that tidbit away for future reference. "So the sniff test is a bust?"
Curran smiled. "You can't salt the air. Even here, with all the traffic and draft, the scents linger above the ground. Tell me what you saw and we'll compare notes."
I hesitated. Talking to Curran was like walking through a minefield. You never knew when something would set him off, and Jim, screwed-up asshole though he might be, was my former partner. "Why don't you ask Jim instead? He would probably want a chance to tell you himself."
Curran shook his head. His face was grim. "When one of ours dies, I get a call. No matter the hour. I was in the Keep last night and didn't get one. I saw Jim this morning and he said nothing to me about this."
"He must have a compelling reason for withholding the information."
"Kate, did you extend an offer of cooperation to the Pack on behalf of the Order?"
Oh, bite me. "Yes, I did. It was declined."
"As Beast Lord, I now accept your offer."
Damn it. The Mutual Aid Agreement bound me to disclose all knowledge of the incident.
I stared at him helplessly. "How do you always do that? How do you always maneuver me into doing something I don't want to do?"
Curran's face lightened a little. "I've had a lot of practice. The Pack contains thirty-two species in seven tribes, each with their own hang-up. Jackals and coyotes pick fights with wolves, because they have an inferiority complex and think they've got something to prove.
Wolves believe themselves to be superior, marry the wrong people, and then refuse to divorce them because they cling to their 'mating for life' idiocy. Hyenas listen to nobody, screw everything, and break out in berserk rages at some perceived slight against one of their own.
Cats randomly refuse to follow orders to prove they can. That's my life. I've been at this for fifteen years now. You're easy by comparison."
And here I thought I was a challenge. "Pardon me while my ego recovers."
He grinned. "It's a benefit of having principles. Boxed into a corner, you will always strive to do what you think is right, especially when you don't like it. Like right now."
"I suppose you have me all figured out."
"I understand why you do things, Kate. It's how you do them that occasionally pisses me off."
Occasionally? "I want to assure you, Your Majesty, that I spend long nights lying awake in my bed worrying about your feelings."
"As well you should." A half-laugh, half-growl reverberated in his throat. "Provoking me won't work. Tell me what you saw. Or should I make a formal request in writing?"
This was apparently a "let's teach Kate humility" day. He had me by the throat.
I thought back to the scene, reconstructing it in my head. "I came in by mule from Ponce de