“It’s the evil you know versus the evil you don’t,” I translated.
“More or less. At any rate, I’ve been . . .” She hesitated, wincing a little. “Well, I hate to use the word ‘grooming’ . . .”
Oh. I felt like an idiot. “That’s why you’ve been letting them in the state. They’re getting to know their future territory.”
Maven nodded. “Of course, the entire state is too big for a single pack, but my goal was to get Dunn and his people in quickly and establish them as my allies. That would at least give pause to any other packs planning to rush in.”
For a moment, I felt a great swell of pity for Maven. Most leaders had to think about the big picture, but she was also a vampire, capable of living forever. She had to think about the big picture and the long game simultaneously.
“In other words, killing Dunn and two of his wolves doesn’t just trash their pack or your reputation,” Quinn said, thinking out loud. “It trashes your plan for the future.”
“Exactly.” She frowned. “I suppose it’s still possible that this was a squabble within the pack, but it’s more likely that someone is trying to cut my feet out from under me.” Maven gave a little headshake, like she was trying to fling something off her. “What troubles me most, however, is that this doesn’t feel like a werewolf move.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, wary.
She looked at me blankly for a moment, then nodded. “I keep forgetting that you’ve had very few interactions with the wolves. Both of you,” she added, glancing at Quinn. “Werewolves always feel the prickle of their magic, like an itch under the skin. As a result, they’re usually irritable, angry—impulsive. I can see a werewolf shooting the Ventimiglias out of anger, or spontaneously running Dunn off the road . . . but this was a careful plan, with multiple steps and risks. It was cold.”
“Like a vampire plan,” Quinn said softly.
“That makes no sense,” I told both of them. “We’ve had no other signs that another vampire is involved in this mess.”
“True,” Maven allowed. “I suppose the bottom line is that I need to know who killed Dunn.”
“So do I,” I told them. Both of them.
“Hold on a moment.” Maven got up and went into her office. While she was gone, I didn’t look at Quinn, though I could feel him looking at me. Anything we said would be overheard by Maven and any other vampires in the building.
Maven returned with a small stack of files. “I had them investigated,” she said. “I wanted to know who I might be getting into bed with. As werewolf packs go, this one seems—seemed—fairly stable and self-reliant. They had nine members, now down to six.”
“Who will be alpha now that Dunn is dead?” I asked abruptly.
“That is the question, isn’t it? Werewolf packs are usually led by a mated pair, sort of like parents in a large family.”
“Wait. Did Dunn have a . . .” I waved a hand, not sure of the terminology. “An alpha partner?”
“Not yet. He had a human wife, who died a few years ago.” She shook her head. “Ordinarily the beta wolf would step into the alpha role, but Matt Ventimiglia was the beta, and he’s gone.”
“Leaving a power vacuum,” Quinn put in.
“Exactly.” She handed me the top two files on her stack. “My best guess is that one of these two will try to take over.”
The top file was Mary’s, which surprised me a little. She didn’t really project leadership qualities. Then I felt a stab of guilt. Mary was holed up at my house, and I hadn’t even called her to tell her about Dunn yet. I may have been fuming the whole way home, but I still recognized that Maven needed to know first.
I lifted the cover of the second file, which was for a man named Finn Barlow. The name meant nothing to me. “Not Jamie?” I asked, referring to the blond, surfer-looking werewolf who’d helped us fight the sandworm, along with Dunn and Mary.
Maven shook her head. “He moved back to Australia last year.”
“So what do you want us to do?” Quinn asked Maven. “Head up to Cheyenne?”
I let the file close and looked up at her. Maven’s eyes went distant for a moment, the only indication she was weighing a difficult problem. “Ordinarily, yes, but we need to move as quickly as possible, and Mary Hollis is still in Boulder.” She glanced at me.
Trying not to squirm, I said, “If they set one werewolf trap, there could be more. I thought it was better to be unpredictable.” And I was damned sure not going to lose Mary too.
Maven nodded. “At any rate, I want Quinn to go up to Cheyenne and assess the situation. Do not attack the werewolves,” she told him, with a note of warning. “But I’d like to know how they’re reacting, what they’re doing. And take a close look at this Barlow.”
She turned her attention to me. “Lex, speak to Mary Hollis. Try to find out if she was involved in Dunn’s death.” She handed me the stack of files. “Then look through the rest of these and see if anything jumps out at you.” She paused just for an instant, and added, “You have silver ammunition for your weapons, right?”
“Yes, but . . . I just can’t see Mary being involved. She was really upset about Matt and Cammie, and even more worried about Dunn. She thinks it was the witches. Or you,” I added.
“Then we have to keep her safe,” Maven concluded. “If this was Barlow, or any of the other wolves, Mary may be a target too.”
Maven told me to get some sleep after I talked to Mary; then Quinn and I were summarily dismissed.
Outside, I wrapped my arms around the files and stalked toward my car like I had blinders on. By the time I unlocked the door and dropped the files on the back seat, Quinn was there, catching my arm. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
I half turned, not meeting his eyes. I was still angry, and there was a chance that I might press him by mistake. Instead, I glared down at his arm until he let go of me. “Is this even our fight?” I said, mimicking his tone.
He gave a little shrug. “It wasn’t personal. I’m in charge of Maven’s security. I need to look at the big picture.”
I blew out a breath. “You’re just so . . . cold. People died. People we could have saved.”
“Werewolves,” he pointed out, still maddeningly calm. “Who live in another state and knew the risks.”
I clenched my fists, conflicted. In a way he was right, and I had no great love of werewolves anyway. I knew, at least intellectually, that I wasn’t responsible for these deaths.
But Ryan Dunn had been a leader looking for his people, and I’d given my word that I would help. Simple as that.
I had no idea how to express any of that to Quinn, though. Instead, I heard myself picking a fight. “You knew the Ventimiglias were going to be at the Dunes last night, didn’t you?”
I couldn’t help but look at him now, but I kept a grip on my magic. He blinked, taking the tiniest step back from me. “Does it matter? Everything would still have happened the same way if you’d known about it in advance.”
“It matters to me.”
“Then yes, I knew. Like I said, I’m in charge of Maven’s security. I needed to be aware in case any of the witches found out.”
“Who else knew?” Maven had always implied she was the only one who knew the details about the weekend passes, but obviously I couldn’t trust that.
“No one. Just Maven and myself.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
A look of slight confusion crossed his face. “Because there was no reason for you to know.”
I threw up my hands. “I’m supposed to be daytime security, aren’t I?”
Now he frowned. This was a lot of facial expressions for Quinn. “Lex. It should have been a completely routine weekend pass. You weren’t involved in the others.”
“Because I thought Maven was handling them herself!”
Understanding flooded his face. “So you’re upset because she told me and not you?”
“No! . . . Yes! I . . . argh!” I turned and slammed the back door, yanking open the driver’s side and climbing in without another word. After I turned the ignition, I felt, rather than saw, Quinn drift away from the car.
I sat there for a minute while the car warmed up, flexing and closing my fingers. I was fuming—and trying to figure out what the hell was going on with me. Quinn and I had had plenty of arguments, but this time I wasn’t even sure what we were fighting about.
I just felt so useless. Dunn had come to me for help, and I’d done exactly jack shit for him. If I’d known the werewolves were coming in advance . . .
No, Quinn was right. It probably wouldn’t have changed anything. I just hated that he was keeping things from me.
But you knew they weren’t telling you everything. It wasn’t Sam’s voice this time, just the taunting of my own subconscious. When I’d made my deal with Maven, pledging my service in exchange for Charlie’s safety and childhood, I’d made it clear that I wouldn’t kill anyone for her, and I wouldn’t hurt any innocents. Since then, I had killed several vampires, either in self-defense or to save someone else, but I had no issues with that.
Quinn, however, had a very different deal with our cardinal vampire. He was bound to her by magic oath, so if she told him to kill someone, he would have to. And he might decide he needed to spare me from knowing about it.
Uncomfortable as it was, I made myself consider the possibility that Quinn might have had something to do with the murders. Maven wasn’t above killing in cold blood, but no matter how I turned it around in my head, I couldn’t see any reason for her to allow three werewolves into Colorado, then kill them—or ask Quinn and me to look into the murders. If Maven had wanted Dunn or the Ventimiglias dead for any reason, she would have done it quietly, and they would have just disappeared.
And I would never have known about it.
That’s what’s bothering you, dummy, came Sam’s voice. Both Quinn and Maven are keeping things from you. You’re not all the way in or all the way out.
“That’s ridiculous,” I said out loud. “Of course I’m all the way in. Look at the things I’ve done in service to Maven.”
There was no answer from my dead sister. Of course. I sighed and turned the key in the ignition, a wave of exhaustion breaking over me. It was time to talk to Mary.
When I finally returned to the cabin, just after midnight, I found Mary fast asleep in the center of the couch with Dopey curled up on her stomach. The rest of the dogs were obviously locked up in the back bedroom again, either by her or my cousin Jake, whom I’d called that morning during the drive to the Dunes. Jake was a veterinarian, and he’d given me the animals to begin with; he didn’t mind stopping by on occasion when I needed help caring for them.