He frowned, his gaze searching the darkening hills. The blonde was in trouble. The desire—no, the need —to go to her aid pounded through his blood and itched at his feet. Yet she was nothing to him, just a luscious stranger he wouldn't have minded spending some time with had the moment been right.
So why did his heart freeze at the thought of not helping her?
He shook the old man, hard. "I don't care if the wind or the wolves howl for blood. I have other business to attend to. What's your name?"
"Kinnard." The old man regarded him for a second, then added, "And this is something I didn't expect."
"What? Being caught?"
Amusement flitted through the old man's eyes. "Oh, there's more than one of us caught right now, but only one of us realizes it."
"Enough with the riddles, Kinnard. What do you know of a man named Dunleavy?"
"I know he lives in this town."
" Where in this town?"
The old man gave him a strange smile. "Everywhere and nowhere." Michael shook him again. "No riddles, remember."
A strange sound that might have been a laugh, or might have been a gasp for air, rumbled up Kinnard's throat. "I cannot help you in your quest, vampire, because I do not know. But, I can tell you that what you seek is right under your nose."
And he laughed, a high, cackling sound that edged insanity. Michael tossed him away in disgust. "Do not let me find you raiding this house again," he warned flatly.
The old man picked himself up, dusted off his clothes and sniffed. His expression was an odd mix of disdain and madness. "There are many forces at work in this small town, vampire. Until you are aware of the value of all the players, I suggest you do not waste lives needlessly."
"Then I suggest you take my advice and stay away from this house." Kinnard snorted softly and walked away. Michael watched until he'd disappeared around the corner of the whorehouse, then he picked up the undergarments and tossed them back through the window. The wind that stirred his hair and caressed his face was full of the scent of wolves. He frowned and glanced toward the hills. As much as he wanted to continue his search for Dunleavy, he simply couldn't leave the blonde in trouble. Especially if she was the prey the wolves hunted. He sighed and ran toward the distant howling.
He wasn't all that surprised to find both the wolves and the blonde at the mill. What did surprise him was the fact that she was standing quite calmly in the middle of the snarling pack. He stopped ten feet away from the tableau and crossed his arms. The wolf closest to him looked over his shoulder and gave him an almost human once over. Shapeshifter, he thought, and glanced at the other four. Three were normal wolves, while the fourth was another shifter. Interesting. Shifters didn't often mix with their animal counterparts.