said, to break the testosterone fest before it could really get going. "Who goes first?"
Charles looked at Beauclaire. "Do the fae know that there's been someone hunting them since the eighties?"
"We are here to share information," Beauclaire said, spreading his hand magnanimously. "I am happy to begin. Yes, of course we knew. But he's only been hunting the nobodies, the half-bloods, the solitary fae. No one with family to protect them. No one of real power." His voice was cool.
"No one worth putting themselves at risk for," said Charles.
Beauclaire gave Charles a polite look that was as clear as any adolescent raising his middle finger. "We are not pack. We are not all good friends. Mostly we are polite enemies. When a fae dies, if it is not one of power - who are valuable to us, just because there are so few left - if it is not someone who has family or allies with power, mostly other fae look upon that death with a sigh of relief. First, it was not they who died. Second, it didn't cause anyone else harm, and that fae is no longer free to make alliances with someone who might be an enemy." His voice deepened just a little on the last sentence.
"It bothers you," said Leslie.
Anna liked competent people. Not many humans were as good at reading others as the wolves were. Leslie was very good to be able to read Beauclaire so well.
Beauclaire looked at the agent, started to say something, hesitated, then said, "Yes, Agent Fisher, it bothers me that a killer was allowed to continue picking off those he chose for nearly half a century. Had I known of it, I would have done something - which was probably why I was not informed. A mistake I have taken steps to correct. What should have been is, in this case, superseded by what is: a killer who tortures his victims before he kills them has my daughter."
"Do you know who or what we are hunting, Mr. Beauclaire?" asked Goldstein. "Is it a fae?"
"Yes. I know what kind of fae could get into a building without leaving a scent trail that a werewolf could follow, and could hide so that people who walked past him could not discern that he was there."
"It is unusual," said Anna. "Most glamour doesn't work on scent."
"You can't hide what you don't perceive," agreed Beauclaire. "Most of the fae who could follow a scent as well as a werewolf were beast-minded - like the giant in 'Jack and the Beanstalk.' Those fae couldn't hide themselves from the cold-iron-carrying Christians who drove us from our homes - so they perished, most of them. But there are a few left who would be capable of perceiving and hiding their scents. Among those who have these abilities, the only one who would also be strong enough to carry my daughter out of her home in a satchel and be mistaken for someone carrying laundry is a horned lord."
Goldstein narrowed his eyes. "The old term for a man who was cuckolded? That's not what you mean."
"Horned," said Charles. "You mean antlered."
Beauclaire nodded. "Yes."
"Herne the Hunter," suggested Charles.
"Like Herne," agreed Beauclaire. "There were never many of them, less than a handful that I'm aware of. The last one on this side of the Atlantic was killed in 1981, hit by a car in Vermont. The driver thought he killed a very large deer, but the accident was witnessed by one of us who could see the fae inside the deer's skin. When no one was looking, we stole the body away."
"You think there is another one?" Leslie asked.
The fae nodded. "That is what the evidence suggests."
"If the killer is fae, then why didn't he start hunting fae victims before the fae came out?" Anna asked.
That the UNSUB was fae would explain why he was still active after so many years, why he could take down a werewolf without anyone noticing. But it didn't explain why he began targeting fae only after they admitted their existence.
"I am not the killer to know his motivations, Ms. Smith," said Beauclaire. He bit off the "Smith" to show that he knew what their last name really was - still jockeying for top dog in the room. "Coincidences do happen."
"Call me Anna," she told him in a friendly voice. "Most people do."
He stared at her a moment. Charles growled and the fae jerked his eyes off of hers, then frowned in irritation at losing the