forward on cue. “The local wolf rep to the Magic Council.”
“And the rest of them?”
“The Guardian, and the others are local weretigers.”
“Why are ya here?”
The wolf was suspicious, but Steffan had experience in diplomacy. Ari let him carry the conversation.
“The Guardian and I would like a few words with Mr. Molyneux. The tigers are here to make sure it stays peaceful.”
The wolf gave a derisive snort. “So what’s the deal? What’s this about? Can’t you come back later?”
Steffan shook his head. “Our business is only for Molyneux’s ears.”
The burly wolf blinked at them. “Wait.” He closed the door and left.
Steffan turned to Ari and shrugged. “So far, so good. We wait.”
The group cooled their heels for almost ten minutes before the door opened again. The big wolf was back with three sidekicks carrying guns. He motioned them in. “Stop right there.” He pointed to a side table. “Now, your weapons go here.” He grinned. “Or I can search you for them.” Ari shook her head. “This is a peaceful visit, but I’m not giving you our weapons.”
The wolf puffed out his chest and stepped toward her. A door behind him banged open, and an older wolf appeared. Forties, closely cropped reddish-brown hair, compact, powerfully built. His age showed in the small paunch at the waistline. Slightly rumpled, he looked as if he’d just gotten out of bed. Despite that, his dominance was obvious.
“What’s the delay?” he demanded. The wolves signaled their submission with dropped gazes. Louie Molyneux had arrived to deal with the intruders directly.
“Weapons,” the big wolf said. “The woman refuses to be searched.”
Molyneux’s nostrils flared. He leered at her body, finally gave a dismissive jerk of his head. “These two only,” he ordered, pointing to Steffan and Ari. “The others stay here.”
Molyneux led them into the back of the house. Ari and Steffan followed, urged on by the three guys with the guns.
Ari wasn’t happy about leaving their backup behind. She was surrounded by an unseen number of hostile wolves. She opened her senses and immediately felt the Otherworld magic and smelled the wolves behind the closed doors. Memory surfaced, a rancid scent Ari recognized from the park. The teens’ attacker was on the premises. Somewhere very near.
Walking beside her, Steffan sniffed the air. He must have smelled the hidden wolves. So far nothing they hadn’t expected, although proof the Goshen Park attacker was in the house was an added bonus.
Molyneux opened a set of doors, and they entered a large library. Shelves of dusty books, a paisley rug, roll-top desk, wooden chairs. Shiny computer equipment covered the library table. He hitched his pants and dropped into a desk chair. Two wolves stood behind him; the others remained in the hall.
Once Molyneux was settled, he pointed toward the other chairs. “Have a seat.”
Steffan lounged against the door frame without speaking.
“No thanks,” Ari said. “This won’t take long.”
“Suit yourself.” Molyneux lit a cigar, took two slow puffs, and leaned back. “So what’s this all about? You said you wanna talk, so talk.” He put his feet on the desk and crossed them at the ankles. His small beady eyes bore into Ari’s. He puffed away. Ari decided he’d watched way too many American gangster movies. It sounded even funnier in a French accent.
Figuring he’d been told who they were, she dispensed with the formalities. “I understand you were at the Second Chance Saloon Sunday night.”
“Is that why you’re here? Heard it got crazy as hell after we left. The bloodsuckers killed somebody. Damn shame.” He puffed again.
Smoke began to fill the room and irritated her nose. Ari fought off a sneeze. “You talked with the vamps before the fight. Any idea what set them off?”
“Nope. Not a clue. Can’t help you.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Don’t rightly remember. Typical bar talk, I guess. Women, sports, beer.”
Ari prodded him about the fights at the bar and at the Were Fest, but Molyneux continued to profess his ignorance. When she pushed to know what happened just before the outbreak at the festival, Molyneux answered with increasing annoyance.
“Look, sister, I can’t tell you what I don’t know. Who the hell can predict what vamps will do?”
“How about telling me what you do know? About a drug called Fantasy. I hear you’re peddling the stuff all over town.” Ari had to give him credit. His reaction was almost invisible. Almost—but not quite. Molyneux’s eyes flickered for a fraction of a second.
“That’s crazy. You don’t know what yer talkin’ about. And I don’t have time