Anna remembered something that the Marrok had said. “Maybe the killer doesn’t want to take Chastel’s place in the European hierarchy. They’d expect that, wouldn’t they? That a werewolf who killed Chastel would have to step in and take over-become the Marrok of Europe? Even if it wasn’t a proper challenge.”

Charles smiled a little-which was not right, not in that room-but he’d been a werewolf for a very long time and likely didn’t have her still-human responses to the gore. “You saved me from a worse fate than you knew when you stopped me from killing him earlier. I have no desire to do my father’s job.”

“I have one more question,” Anna said, taking a last look around the room. She needed to get out of there. Maybe if she were wolf at that moment, it wouldn’t bother her so much, but her eyes kept looking at Chastel’s head-and his dead eyes looked right back at her.

“Yes?”

“Why did they leave Michel alive?”

“I don’t think they meant to,” said Angus. “I think they thought he was dead. He’s in very bad shape-but he’s smart and used to pretending he’s hurt more than he is.”

Anna knew all about that one. If they thought they’d broken bones the first time, sometimes they didn’t hit you a second time.

“That’s it,” she said, moving blindly out of the room. “That’s all I can do.” And she sprinted for the bathroom they’d passed on the way in. The coffee hadn’t been in her stomach long enough to taste too bad. At least she hadn’t had breakfast.

She grabbed a clean towel and got it wet with cold water. When she was finished, she cleaned the bottoms of her shoes. They were leather and only a couple of weeks old, and the blood hadn’t been on them long. Mostly they wiped clean.

MICHEL was bad. Almost-dead bad. And he wasn’t going to be telling anyone anything anytime soon. Alan had him on a hospital bed-in a cage in the basement of his house twenty minutes away. The cage was necessary because seriously injured werewolves, when not attended by more dominant wolves, tended to be violent.

It was probably not useful to go talk to him until he’d had a day or so to heal, Charles decided. Tomorrow then, he’d take one of the other French wolves with him to talk to Michel.

Anna looked sick and tired-sickened, he corrected himself. She had been right. The horror of the scene was lost on him, and probably Angus as well. If the carving had been done while Chastel was still alive… maybe it would have bothered him more. If it had been someone he cared about, or someone he was supposed to protect-it would have been different.

But Anna was young, and despite her rough first years as a werewolf, there was a lot she hadn’t seen-or maybe it was just that she could look at the murder site and not think about breakfast.

“Angus, we’re going back to the hotel to get a few more hours of sleep. Would you call me when the cleanup is done?”

Angus-on the phone again-waved his agreement, and Charles touched Anna on the shoulder to get her moving.

“I thought we were going to talk to Michel?” Anna said.

“Not tonight. Let’s give him some time to recover. I’m satisfied that this was done by the vampires. It wasn’t me. I don’t see that Michel could have done it. Even if he could have taken a wounded Chastel, which I don’t really think is a possibility, there is no way a badly wounded man could take the time and effort necessary to paint such a picture. This was done coldly, professionally: vampires.”

She stopped. “Why did the room smell like you?”

He pushed her forward again. “I have no idea. Angus, check it out please?”

Angus nodded without pausing in his conversation.

She took a step and stopped again. “And who won the hunt?”

“Is it important?”

“Maybe. If Chastel had the ruby ring-and Dana had access to it. The fae can put spells on objects, right?”

Charles looked over and saw that Angus was still listening to them.

“Hold a minute,” Angus told whoever he was speaking to. “Valentin won it. The German wolf.”

Anna said, “Shoot.”

He’d never heard anyone use that word with such feeling before.

She gave him a tired grin. “Valentin snatched that bag from us. We almost got it.”

“He took it from you and the Italians?” Charles asked appreciatively. “That will please Valentin-a bit of getting his own back after the Omega decided to stay with Isaac’s pack.”

“So no fae-magicked gem involved,” Anna said.

“Seems not.” Charles guided Anna through the front door and out into the cool night… or early morning anyway.

Ian gave them a salute with his beer can as they came out and Charles stuffed Anna into the passenger seat.

She was tired enough that it took her a few blocks before she said, “Hey. How come you are driving?”

“Because you’re so tired you’re slurring,” he told her. “Close your eyes, and I’ll get us back.”

“HOW long can we sleep?” asked Anna, shedding her clothes before he got the hotel door fully closed behind them.

“Until we have to get up,” Charles told her. He was tired, too-but he picked up her clothes and tossed them on top of a suitcase before dealing with his own in a similar fashion. He left his underwear on, as he usually did now: it seemed to make things a little easier on Anna.

He joined her on the bed, lying flat on his face and all but groaning with the pleasure of relaxation. Four in the morning, but with the curtains drawn they might see four or five hours of sleep-as long as Angus didn’t have anything new to report.

She was on the far side, leaving two cold feet of mattress between them. He knew that she’d fall asleep like that… and then gradually move over until she was plastered against him. Then he could go to sleep, too.

“Charles?” she said.

“Hmm?”

She moved, but with his head down he couldn’t tell if she’d turned away or toward him. There was a tentative-ness in her voice, and Brother Wolf, the canny old hunter, told him to keep his head down and his body relaxed while their prey came to them.

“Does it bother you?” she was whispering.

He considered all the things that might be bothering him, but couldn’t come up with one appropriate to this situation. “Does what bother me?”

“Tonight.” Pause. “Me. My wolf.” And then she didn’t say anything more.

It was enough. She was talking about their earlier lovemaking. How to answer? I’ll take you any way you come to me-how about now-didn’t seem quite the right response.

“Does it bother you?” Charles asked.

A soft thump, thump, thump, and subtle vibration told him that she was tapping her fingers on the bed. Then the bed bounced as she sat up. He turned his head so he could open one eye and look at her.

She was naked. Some of the movement had been her pulling off the last of her clothes. As he watched, she reached out with her hand, leaned forward, and touched his bare back. She just held her hand there. As she sat there, her pulse rate picked up until he could see it beat in her neck-and it wasn’t passion.

“Bad thoughts?” he asked.

She nodded. “It’s over. Done. Has been for a long time. Why does it still have such power?” The hand on his skin fisted, pulled away, then landed back where it had been, fingers widespread.

Words. He wasn’t good with them. But he’d try. “It’s not over in your head. And that’s all right, Anna. Don’t expect it to be over and done so fast. It’s like… like the silver left in my wound. It needs to fester out-and sometimes it’ll feel worse than the original wound did.”

“If I let the wolf in,” she said a little bitterly, “it’s not a struggle at all.”

“Wolf is emotion: needs and now,” he agreed. “She doesn’t care about the past as long as it doesn’t affect now.”

“She knows you won’t hurt us,” Anna said, sounding frustrated. “I know, too, but it doesn’t help. She can reach out and take what she wants.”