Beast Coast (A Carus Novel Book 2) Read online

  Steve took a deep breath before turning to me with an expression very akin to a parent talking to their misbehaving four-year-old. Okay. One: even if you deny him, you’re Wick’s mate and will be treated as such until he removes his claim, which he hasn’t.

  My heart beat hard in my chest, the pressure on my bones undeniable and painful.

  Two: Clint isn’t harmless. He wanted you as a toy and he still does. If I can smell his lust, so can you. Don’t be stupid and don’t underestimate him.

  I shrugged. Clint’s sexual hunger resembled the foul-smelling gym bag in the car. After a while, I got used to it and only noticed Clint’s arousal when it spiked.

  When did that happen?

  And third. Steve mentally flicked up a third finger, counting down my questions. What do you think?

  Wick sent him here for me. The dominant Alpha would hate the idea of his mate, or the female he claimed as his mate, being dragged out of country with Lucien’s perverted human servant. I envisioned Wick pacing, making tracks through the plush throw rug in his living room.

  How is he? I asked, and then I cringed. I’d promised not to talk or ask about Wick.

  Devastated, he replied.

  The word stabbed my heart, over and over again as I replayed Steve’s voice in my head and heard the truth in his words. Devastated.

  The train came to a screeching halt, pitching my body forward into Clint’s lap. He looked down at me between his legs with my face an inch from his goods. The twinkle in his eye spoke more than any words he could say.

  “Ugh,” I grunted. “Get over yourself.” I pushed off his legs to straighten up.

  Clint’s head dipped back as he laughed out loud; his gorgeous shoulders shook.

  The sounds of people screaming stopped whatever response I planned to give.

  “What’s going on?” I brushed off my pants, feeling dirty.

  “I’ll check,” Steve shot over his shoulder before he slipped out the door.

  A rustle of clothing followed by the ring of swords unsheathing vibrated through the air a split second before the smell of anticipation and metal hit my nose. Sound traveled faster than smell.

  “Getting excited?” I asked Clint as I cast a look over my shoulder. He had both his blades out. They reflected light in the small room, but I focused on his predatory gaze.

  “You don’t live as long as I do without taking moments to enjoy the small things in life.”

  “And how long is that?”

  Clint remained silent.

  I turned back, needing to focus on the current threat, not the oddity of Clint. Time for that later.

  Steve flung open the door to the cabin and slipped inside. The smell of crayons and fog wafted across the room—excitement and confusion. “Trouble,” he said.

  “What kind of trouble?” I asked.

  “There’s fifteen to twenty humans going ape shit crazy in the train car three down from us. They’re heading this way.”

  Clint chuckled and sheathed his swords.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  Clint cracked his knuckles. “Norms are nothing.”

  The sounds of angry yelling flowed down the corridor and into our compartment. A craggy old woman’s voice hollered, “Mind your manners, young man!” Something padded like a purse thumped against somebody. I smiled and stretched my arm muscles.

  “Doesn’t sound like they’re hurting anyone. Not exactly trouble in my books,” I said.

  Steve shook his head. “They’re well accessorized and look determined.”

  “What do you mean determined?” Clint’s tone mocked Steve’s at the same time I asked, “What do you mean well accessorized?”

  The yelling and cursing got louder—they would enter our section of the train soon. Steve checked the hallway before saying, “Their eyes glow like they’re possessed, and they have knives. A few have guns.”

  Clint swore and unsheathed his swords again.

  “Dude!” I exclaimed. “Next time lead with that!”

  Steve shrugged at my accusatory glare and turned to the open door of our private cabin, revealing an empty hallway. I didn’t want to think how he knew what possessed looked like. Or how I knew what he meant.

  The door at the end of our train car slammed open.

  Chapter Five

  “It’s too bad that stupidity isn’t painful.”

  ~Anton LaVey

  There comes a point in a Shifter’s life when the itchy sensation of dried blood and various parts of internal organs splattered against skin no longer fazes them. I was well beyond that point. What disturbed me was how good Clint looked slicing his blades through possessed humans—the attraction, ridiculous, the allure like the people who wanted to pet tigers at the zoo. Clint turned to me, somehow transforming his roguish smile into a suggestive one, as if he sensed my fascination.

  Not happening.

  I could admire the biggest beast in the forest, but it didn’t mean I would dry hump it.

  Steve shifted from Werewolf form, his nude body streaked with blood like mine, making us look like morgue escapees. He cast the human servant a wary look.

  It’s always unnerving to see him fight, Steve said in my head.

  Agreed, I shot back.

  We came together and stared down at the pile of dead bodies.

  Clint joined us, stopping to wipe his blades on the clothing of the nearest norm. “A bit of a letdown,” he said.

  Steve grunted in agreement. I said nothing, but knew what they both meant. I felt silly for overreacting and shifting into my mountain lion. The humans posed no real threat to any of us despite their numbers and their military-grade accessories. They couldn’t fight or shoot straight. The ceiling took more of a beating than we did. But I didn’t share Clint’s disappointment; instead, heaviness descended upon my chest and limbs.

  “Maybe we could’ve saved them,” I grumbled. “This is a PR nightmare.”

  Steve shook his head. “They definitely targeted us.” Then, in my head, he spoke, There’s nothing we could’ve done, Andy. It was them or us.

  I know, I replied. And I did. Throw down or be thrown down. Survival of the fittest. It still didn’t feel good. I took down the bad guys, not helpless norms, possessed or not.

  “We have sufficient witnesses.” Clint pulled out his phone and punched in a number. I heard Lucien’s voice answer on the other end, and Clint walked away from us as he related the events on the train.

  Kneeling down next to one of the bodies, I flipped her over. A woman in her mid-thirties with brown hair. I peeled back one of her eyelids—hazel eyes, no longer glowing bright. Normally Demon possession turned eyes red, at least in my limited experience. I’d never encountered this before.

  “Ever seen eyes glow like that?” I asked Steve, who crouched beside me.

  “Nope.” He pulled back the woman’s lips to reveal uneven, but clean teeth.

  I pointed to her nice clothes. “None of these people appear down on their luck. Normally, the homeless are the most vulnerable to demonic attacks.”

  Steve nodded and moved to the next body. I did the same. After searching all seventeen, we came to the conclusion nothing significant existed about any of them—a range of ages, races, and tooth alignment. All norms. No supes.

  “Do you know what the summit is about?” I straightened up and watched as Steve tried to brush the drying blood off his chiseled abs with his bare hand.

  “Demons,” Clint’s voice cut in, having walked back to join us. He tucked his phone into his jacket pocket. “And the Vampire Council’s relationship with the demonic realm.”

  Pursing my lips, I glanced over my shoulder to find Clint staring at my ass. “A bit too coincidental, don’t you think?”

  Clint yawned. “Maybe. Maybe not. There’s nothing significant to vote on at this summit. It’s informative, and I’m not presenting. This—” he indicated the bodies strewn about with a twitch of his finger “—may not be what it seems.”

  “
They looked and acted possessed to me.”

  “Yet their eyes glowed their natural eye color instead of red, and they died like normal, unpossessed humans,” Clint said, expressing valid points. After they died, the bodies of possessed norms often kept moving as the Demon inside vainly tried to keep control. These ones crumbled like weak, mortal norms.

  “Then what do you think this…” I jerked my finger around, mocking Clint’s earlier actions, “is about?”

  Clint lifted his mountainous shoulders.

  “What type of relationship does the Vampire Council have with the demonic realm? I was under the impression there was none,” I said.

  “There isn’t.” Clint leaned in. “But the Vampires want one.”

  “An alliance?”

  Clint nodded.

  “That’s ridiculous.” I stalked back into our private room and pulled down my bag, fully aware the men followed and received a full, jiggling view of my very bare booty. “Vampires are powerful enough as it is.”

  “Ah, but there’s always more power to be had.”

  I ignored Clint’s last comment and how much he sounded like Lucien. Disturbing how accurate he described vamp mentality with one sentence. I pulled out clean, non-bloody clothes, wanting to be fully dressed when the SRD authorities arrived to question us. For some reason, norms had a hard time questioning naked Shifters about murder, and I wanted to speed up the process.

  Too bad I couldn’t do anything about the blood caked to my skin.

  ****

  With flashing red and blue lights threatening to give me a seizure, an officer headed in our direction. Middle aged and balding, he held himself with authority and planted himself squarely in front of us with a wide stance. He placed his hands above his holster, close to his gun and squinted at us over his pointy nose. “I’m Officer Stevens from the VPD.”

  “What’s the Vancouver Police Department doing here?” Steve asked. “We crossed the border…didn’t we?”

  Officer Stevens nodded. “Partly. The other half of the train is still on the Canadian side, and since the train originated from Vancouver, we’re taking an active interest. That and—” He abruptly cut off whatever he planned to say next and took out his notepad. “Now, one of the first responders told me one of you is an SRD agent?”

  His hard gaze studied my face, but I didn’t answer right away—too distracted by the sight of his uneven teeth. They looked like they were all at a party and not on speaking terms.

  “That you?” He pointed his pen at me.

  This cop meant business. I liked it. Squashing the urge to salute, I took a slight step forward. “I’m Agent McNeilly.”

  He nodded again and clicked his pen. “Tell me what happened.”

  “About twenty minutes into the train ride, we abruptly stopped. We heard screaming and yelling farther down the train. Steve went to check and discovered a number of humans with knives and guns. They appeared possessed, with bright glowing eyes instead of red. When they reached our train car, and saw us, they became severely agitated and aggressive. They started shooting and we defended ourselves.”

  “Three against seventeen? You were extremely fortunate,” Officer Stevens said. Before he could question us further, his radio blared. After listening to the garbled message, he clicked it on and rattled off a bunch of numbers. When the voice responded on the other side, Officer Stevens’s eyebrows pinched together, and he swiveled around, giving us his back. He spoke cop jargon into the radio again. Another muffled reply. With heightened hearing, I heard the entire conversation, but I had no idea what a “five-thirty” was.

  The officer swore under his breath. He turned back toward us and pasted a thin smile on his face. “Seems the SRD will be taking over this investigation. Claiming jurisdiction due to exclusive supernatural elements.” He spat off to the side. “They can have it. You three—” he pointed to each of us in case we didn’t understand “—are to remain here until they’ve had a chance to question you. I’ll wait by my squad car to transfer chain of command when they get here.” He handed me a white card. “If you recall anything pertinent to this event, norm-wise, please let me know.”

  “What about the media?” I wiggled my index finger at the news vans parked outside the crime scene tape and the reporters circling like vultures.

  “I’ll make sure they’re aware an SRD agent is present and remind them of the confidentiality clause in the Canadian and U.S. governments’ laws stating they can’t release footage, names, or information revealing the identity of an agent.”

  “Well…”

  “No one has yet to risk the consequences. At least, not in my career. So don’t worry, your identity will be safe.” He glanced at Clint and Steve. “Can’t promise the same for you two.”

  The men exchanged a look and shrugged.

  Officer Stevens took in their reactions, grunted, and stalked away, leaving us to wait for the SRD.

  ****

  The bland white-boy appearance and norm scent might’ve made it difficult to recognize the man in front of me, but I pegged him instantly. His bright hazel eyes, expensive cologne, and the condescending expression mixed with hatred, made it easy.

  Agent Tucker.

  I groaned. The last time I’d seen him, I’d leaped across an interrogation desk to crush his neck with my hands. His fault. He’d asked about my feras, and he should’ve learned in Supernatural Beings 101 that was an off-limit question. Standing outside the train, Tucker’s pissy face made it clear he hadn’t learned his lesson.

  “Andrea McNeilly.” His voice scraped against my skin, despite its smooth undertones.

  I made a point of staring at his fancy Rolex watch, a gift from dear old Daddy, before speaking. “That’s Agent McNeilly, to you.”

  Tucker scrunched his lips and did a one-shoulder shrug, as if my correction was inconsequential. “Let’s try to be civil. If you answer my questions truthfully, we can make this fast.”

  “I don’t believe you’ll be an impartial party. I’d like to request another investigator.”

  “Request denied.”

  “Then I’d like my request noted on the report.”

  “Just answer my questions, McNeilly.”

  About to ask how he’d distinguish the truth from lies without his shiny lie detector machine, I shut my mouth when he nodded over his shoulder. A large black man in a business suit stepped forward.

  “This is Agent Nagato.”

  A Shifter. Agent Nagato’s scent hinted at something feline. Bobcat, maybe? His fera probably hid somewhere out of sight. I, unlike Agent Tucker, knew better than to ask where it was. Regardless, the Shifter would act as a walking, talking lie detector. The body gave off a distinct oily scent when a person told a lie, and with our heightened senses, all Shifters and Weres could smell it.

  Tucker took Steve aside to one of the train cars first and spoke, low and hushed. Even if I weren’t able to follow along, Steve gave me a mind speech play by play—straightforward questions regarding the incident. Tucker’s main focus centered on whether we knew or had any connections with the humans.

  Amateur. He might not know I could mind speak with Steve, but he had to know separate interrogations were pointless. It took him well over an hour to arrive at the crime scene, and while we waited for him to grace us with his presence, we’d had plenty of time to get our stories straight. No one had separated us. Even with his lie-detecting Shifter, there were ways of evading the truth without directly lying. Not that we had anything to hide.

  Unless he could read us. Maybe he looked for deviations in our mannerisms, unique ticks to tell him more than we intended. He might be purposely using inflammatory questions and insulting comments to get us to snap or say something we didn’t intend.

  The daddy’s boy pranced back with Steve. No. He didn’t possess those abilities. I’d bet my government paycheck he got his job due to connections, not skill. Besides, the three of us had enough control not to rise to any bait he set.

  H
e took Clint next. The interview with him went the same, except Clint claimed to be a normal human. Tucker sounded unconvinced and asked where he knew him from. Clint did a surprisingly good job sounding ignorant without lying.

  When Agent Tucker stepped out of the train after Clint, his eyes riveted to mine. His expression of excitement and anticipation didn’t inspire me to jump up and down, saying, “Oh goody, my turn!” He smelled hungry, and that rang as all kinds of wrong.

  Agent Nagato walked out and stood beside him. His nose scrunched up and he frowned. When he followed his boss’s stare, his gaze met mine briefly before cutting away.

  The courtesy of a private interrogation didn’t extend to me. Tucker stopped and folded his arms, right before demanding, “Agent, recount all the events that took place on the train in a clear, factual manner.”

  I did.

  Tucker tapped his foot and kept glancing up. He’d heard this story twice before. When I let my voice trail off after describing how we came to be in the current situation, the same hungry scent swirled around me.

  “What were you doing on the train?” Tucker’s nauseating voice interrupted my thoughts.

  “None of your business.”

  “Truth,” Agent Nagato’s voice carried a deep rumbling, like the train we stood beside.

  Tucker turned to the other Shifter. “Nagato, you don’t need to respond to those types of statements.”

  Nagato remained silent, but the look he cast at the back of Tucker’s head indicated he liked Tucker about as much as I did.

  Tucker’s gaze circled back to me. “As an SRD agent, it’s imperative we know the nature of this trip. Business or pleasure?”

  I bit my tongue. Fuck, which category would this debacle fall under? “Neither.”

  “Truth.”

  “That makes no sense,” he murmured. “Are you currently on an SRD assignment?”

  “You have access to my files, don’t you? Why not look it up?”

  “Answer me.”