Flirting Under a Full Moon - By Ashlyn Chase Page 0,34
and let Brandee take care of herself when she wasn’t in any immediate danger. He didn’t want her to accuse him of smothering her again. It made him nervous that his mate was human and mortal. It would have been more convenient if he’d fallen for another werewolf, but he hadn’t. His heart and soul belonged to Brandee.
As long as she was dealing with mere humans or the paranormal patrons who believed in the peaceful goal of the bar, she’d be fine. So when Anthony came out to get him, Nick sent her a jaunty wave and followed his friend into his office. He closed the door behind himself and sat on the comfortable couch along the opposite wall.
“How’s it going?” Anthony asked as he seated himself behind his desk.
“Things have been kind of crazy, but I still want to find out what those goons who kidnapped us had to say when you mesmerized them.”
“You were right. They were doing someone else’s dirty work. But they couldn’t tell me who hired them. It was all arranged by phone. The thugs are from New York. They said they’re Yankees fans and didn’t much care what happened to Red Sox Nation. That’s all I know.”
Nick scratched his chin. “Didn’t care what happened to Boston…and they kidnapped a fire mage. That doesn’t bode well for the city.”
“But because of you, they didn’t get away with it.”
“I still want to know who hired them and exactly what he had planned. Did you kill the perps?”
“No. I just drained them a little bit and compelled them to go back to New York and never return.”
“Okay.” I guess that lead is a dead end. Damn. “There’s something else. I was wondering if you know anything about this building’s history.”
Anthony leaned back in his chair and interlocked his fingers behind his head. “I know it was built in the early nineteenth century.”
“Did anyone die in here?”
“Are you concerned about a spirit?”
“I wouldn’t say concerned—yet.”
“Sadie said something about feeling a presence. That was a few months ago. She didn’t mention anything malevolent, so I didn’t think much about it.”
“So, it’s possible.”
“In these two-hundred-year-old buildings, I’d say it’s almost probable. But why do you care?”
“Brandee said she hears strange noises sometimes. Some kind of howling or moaning that sounds more supernatural than human or animal.”
Anthony’s brow wrinkled. “I haven’t heard anything like that.”
“Did you ever live here?”
“When I first bought the place. I was probably the only being who could sleep through the renovations during the day—but that’s death-sleep for you.”
Nick chuckled. “I can see that. What about the Balogs? Didn’t they live here before you moved in and renovated?”
“Yeah, I inherited them with the building, and I didn’t have the heart to turn them out.”
“But you do charge them rent, don’t you?”
“Of course. In a way, they’re the perfect tenants. They pay their rent right on time, don’t want anything in their place updated, and show no signs of wanting to move.”
“How do they make their money?”
Anthony shrugged. “Don’t know. As long as they give me good checks and aren’t running a meth lab, I don’t especially care.”
Nick paused, unsure of his next question. “I can trust you to keep anything I say confidential, right?”
“Sure. What’s on your mind?”
“The Supernatural Council. Ever heard of it?”
“I’ve heard rumors about its existence, but that’s all. Some say it’s made up of gods and goddesses who punish paranormals who make them angry. I’ve never encountered anyone who has any firsthand knowledge.”
“Well, now you have.”
Anthony’s brows shot up. “You met them?”
“Yeah, but if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it. I’m not supposed to tell a soul.”
“Technically, I don’t have a soul.”
“Hey, that’s right. So I’m in the clear,” Nick said.
Anthony leaned forward. “Who are they? What are they like?”
Nick worried his upper lip. “You’ll think I’m ready for the funny farm.”
Anthony waved away his concern. “I know you, Nick. You’re one of the most rational werewolves around. Just tell me.”
Nick had to tell someone or he’d burst. Ordinarily he’d tell his twin, but in this case it might be better not to.
Anthony sighed. “If you’d rather not, I’ll understand, but I swear on my own grave I’ll never tell a soul—or the soulless, even.”
Okay, here goes. “The Council is run by Mother Nature, and she calls it GAIA. It stands for Gods And Immortals Association. They’re housed in a high rise on State Street. Now, this is where things are going to sound weird.”