DARK ORIGINS (Scarlett of the wolves, Book 4)

5.

We arrived at the scene of the murder about fifteen minutes later.

Bow Butts was set back from downtown. The immense green expanse, located several tens of meters from the sea, swarmed with curious people hurrying to reach the closest point to the attraction. A crowd of Weres had already formed around a kiosk, a good distance away, exactly where the body had been found. Except they weren’t alone. This time, the police had been notified and were starting to seal off the area. We, therefore, remained in the background, to watch the scene from a distance as discreetly as possible. We mingled with several passers-by who had taken advantage of the good weather to stroll around. Now they were at the police line, marked with yellow tape. The bravest, at least, because the others were naturally driven away by the pestilential smell that hung in the air. The same as the one on campus the day before. A mixture of tar, rotten cabbage, and putrefaction. Grigore and I hadn’t talked about it once, but this smell was unusual. It was unlike anything I had ever known certainly the same was true for Grigore and most importantly, it was impossible to trace its origin. However, we could distinctly separate it from the musk that was exuding from the werewolf’s headless body. I would have bet that this stench wasn’t the result of his death, but the cause.

Grigore and I exchanged knowing looks.

Raising my nose to sniff the air, I tried to guess which direction the murderer had taken, counting that the scent must follow him everywhere. But it was wasted effort, there was too much wind to perceive anything accurately.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of John and his pack. They joined us.

“It happened in the night,” he informed us.

“And it has only been found now?” I wondered. 

He nodded.

“His body was hidden under a blanket; people would have mistaken him for homeless. The modus operandi is the same. The head is gone.”

I had a long shiver. I’d never get used to such a display of violence.

“Did he transform?” I inquired first. 

“He didn’t have time.”

And it was preferable. I couldn’t imagine what it would have taken to erase everyone’s memory.

“Why did you warn me?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Didn’t you want to stand out and prove your incredible usefulness?”  

He gave an enigmatic and irritating little smile.

“That’s what I ended up showing you, Scarlett,” he replied quietly.

He made me want to bite him, drag him to the beach and put his head in the water to wash off that smirk.

John continued confidently. 

“They ended up taking revenge because they believe that we’re responsible,” he announced as if this explanation was irrevocable.

“You’re wrong, John. The Dark Angel Council thinks the culprit may well be one of them.”

I surely shouldn’t have bothered to divulge this information to him, John was stubborn, but it seemed essential to me that he understood yet another confrontation between our two species had to be avoided at all costs. A drama like the one we had experienced two years earlier could happen again and it would be much bloodier.

John laughed cynically.

“A vigilante exploiter who cleans up his community himself? That’s a good one! That would be great, but unfortunately, it’s better not to dream wide awake! I’ll tell you what’s going on. You know very well by the way,” he accused me, pointing his index finger on my breastbone. “There was a settling of scores and your wonderful Rucker had something to do with it. Why, how? I don’t have the faintest idea. But he killed like a wolf would kill an exploiter to go unsuspected. Now this garbage of humanity wants revenge because we’re supposed to have slaughtered one of their brothers, you get it?”      

He looked proud of his prefabricated little tirade.

“You’re not close at all, John.”

“Do you think so? Then, it’s a coincidence that Rucker and that server had a meeting? Don’t make that face, I’m well informed. McCarthy isn’t particularly difficult to reason with.”   

“Let’s go take a closer look!” Grigore suddenly decided, chilled by John’s ridiculous performance. 

“Wait!” I barely held him back. 

He cast a surprised look at me.

“There are werewolves everywhere. It’s better that you stay behind.”

“Do you feel able to do this, kid?” he mocked me. 

“Of course, grandpa,” I retorted in the same tone.

He let out a hoarse laugh and, as invisible as a breath of wind, he rushed towards the square, ten meters away, without allowing a single human to spot him. Even though I knew his abilities, he left me in awe. He moved with grace and precision, totally in control of the space around him. He seemed lighter than a feather, even though he must have weighed at least twenty-five kilograms more than me.

“I wasn’t wrong about you,” John blurted out, his irises glittering with gold, he was so furious.

I looked up at him determinedly.

“And me about you. Without Elgin, you’re worth nothing.”

 I ended with a forced smile and decided to imitate Grigore under the bewildered looks of pack number two. Because if my new nature had given me speed and agility, my way of moving remained that which Rucker had taught me and had nothing to do with the technique of my counterparts. Most of the time, the Weres would move from point A to point B without stopping, whereas the dark angels made stops to analyse the environment. Which is what I did. Perfectly invisible to human eyes.

A few meters further, I crossed the security tape, machine-gunned by the disapproving gaze of those of my kind who, unlike the others, clearly recognised me. I didn’t even bother to count how many there were, but I estimated at least ten.

I went to the kiosk like a shadow and stealthily moved from point to point to observe what was going on.

In one corner, a man and a woman huddled together, answering a police officer’s questions. I assumed they must have discovered the body. Regularly, they glanced horrified at the corpse. Two forensic scientists and a police officer were leaning over the victim to try to find some clues. The agent, a blond man in his forties, huge and athletic, looked up at me. He was not only a fellow human being but also a Were of the same species as me. He stood up slowly, about to ask me to leave. I pretended I hadn’t seen him and, without stopping, I took the opportunity to record as much information as possible.

At first glance, what struck me was that the victim hadn’t changed, certainly because, attacked by surprise, he hadn’t had time to defend himself.

I hadn’t had the opportunity to see the body of the dead dark angel in college, but on the werewolf, I noticed that a frothy, translucent material covered part of his neck, as well as his chest. Unless I’m mistaken, I would have sworn it was very much like drool. And during an attack, a Were was perfectly capable of producing it. Grigore’s theory was seriously starting to falter, as it was unlikely that a dark angel would have salivary glands as developed as in a wolf.

The victim’s body was ravaged by deep, bloody gashes, leaving his entrails barely hidden by the shreds of clothing. Disgusted by what I was seeing, I didn’t realize I had stopped running. I felt my head spin and I had to force myself not to bring up the contents of my stomach.

“What are you doing here?” the Lupus policeman sternly shouted as he stood in front of me. 

“I… I” stuttered, embarrassed. “Nothing, I... I was just passing and...”

“Go away before I have you arrested for obstructing a police investigation, miss.”

Without needing to be asked again, I ran about ten meters from the area, my heart at the edge of my lips.

“How are you?” Grigore asked, joining me. 

With my back to him, he put a soothing hand on my shoulder.

“Not really. It’s a Were, Grigore...”

I couldn’t hold back a spasm of disgust.

“I know, kid,” he sympathizes softly.

I turned, a burning flame twinkling in his eyes.

“No, you don’t understand! The culprit is a werewolf! All that drool...”  

He stared into the green of my irises and imperceptibly shook his head.

“I’m afraid not, Scarlett...”

Sirens sounded in the distance, announcing a forensic ambulance.

“You don’t know what I just saw!” I replied. 

“This way,” he urged me, grabbing me by the elbow. Let’s go to a quieter place, I have to show you something.”

My brow furrowed, I hastily followed him. As we left Bow Butts, I took the time to recover from my emotions.

“Better?” he wanted to reassure himself. 

I nodded.

He then grabbed his phone and left a message for Simon and Rufus.

“Meet me in a quarter of an hour, if you can.”

“Are we going to your place?” I wondered. 

He nodded briefly.

I remained silent about it. He’d never invited me there. He even seemed to be fiercely opposed to it, so much so that I had liked to imagine that he lived in a mausoleum in a cemetery and that taking me there would have forced him to suffer my taunts.

We moved so quickly that we crossed the city centre in less than ten minutes. Grigore stopped before a tour operator’s window and opened a thick, blue wooden door. I looked up to admire the facade.

Grigore resided in the building next to the medieval west gate of St Andrews. I had been here dozens of times without knowing it. The place was charming and typical of the architecture of the old town. It’s with a discreet smile at the corner of my lips that I had to admit, deep down inside, that with its corner turret, his duplex apartment looked like a fairy tale castle.

“Welcome,” he said solemnly, as I entered his home.

I held my breath as I stepped into the entrance hall.

On the wall in front of me, more than a meter and a half high stood a sublime icon on wood depicting Madonna and Child of Byzantine inspiration. The crackled and sparkling gold background contrasted with the pale skin of the figures and the crimson red of the robes.

“Theophanes the Greek,” Grigore whispered behind my back.

I turned to him; my mouth wide open.

“Are you kidding?” 

“Not at all.”

“But no paintings have been preserved!”  

“I know…”

He gave an enigmatic little smile, took off his coat to throw it on the coat rack and invited me to follow him into the living room.

I knew so little about Grigore’s daily life that I took the time to observe everything. If Rucker’s interior was rather uncluttered or expertly designed in an English style, Grigore’s was reminiscent of an antique store. On a pedestal table near a brown leather club chair, piles of dusty parchment scrolls threatened to crumble. A collection of Roman oil lamps sat on the mantelpiece, amid mother goddesses from the same period. On one side of the room, the shelves of a huge bookcase bent under the weight of the books and seemed to be in danger of collapsing.

“Please, sit down,” he suggested, gesturing to the sofa with the flat of his hand.

I looked at the couch warily, I barely knew where to put my butt.

I removed my duffle coat, settled down, and looked at the coffee table.

A series of bronze animal brooches were neatly arranged on a tray.

“You restore them?” I asked when I saw that some of them were in pieces and laid out as if they were about to be reassembled. 

He nodded and gently took one of them and placed it in the palm of my hand.

“It’s a peacock…,” I said quietly, admiring the delicate representation and the finesse of the details. “It’s beautiful, Grigore.”

“This is a Gallo-Roman piece. The belly was covered with bluish enamel. I had a hard time fixing it up.”

“What do you do with them?” 

“I return them to their owners. This one belongs to the collections of the Museum of National Antiquities of Saint-Germain-en-Laye. In France,” he said solemnly.

I giggled softly.

“I know where Saint-Ger is. I’m French.”

He smiles too.

“I sometimes tend to forget it. I even often have the feeling that you’ve always been a part of my life.”

I looked up, surprised. Our eyes locked for a few seconds, heavy and silent, where I wondered what he had just said could mean.

The intercom’s doorbell brought us out of this strange silence. Rufus and Simon had just arrived. Grigore stood up without a word and went to open the door for them.

Rufus entered first.

“What’s going on? We heard that a Were was found dead at Bow Butts under the same conditions as the Red’s server.” 

“Come in,” Grigore invited them.

“Hello, Scarlett,” they greeted me as they entered the living room.

I answered them with a nod.

They took their seats and waited for Grigore to explain what was going on. He returned with an object rolled up in a handkerchief which he placed on the table.

“What is it? I asked. 

He gently unfolded the cloth and revealed a long, bloodstained claw that I would have recognized among a thousand. One day, I was provided with them myself.

“A dark angel claw?” 

“Right, Scarlett. I picked it up near Bow Butts Square earlier.”

Simon and Rufus looked up at him at the same time.

“This is further proof that the killer is one of us.”

No one dared to add anything.

“Oh, my!” I exclaimed at their awkward silence. “Okay, I admit this could well be about a dark angel. But I know what you’re thinking and you’re completely wrong! Rucker would never have done such a thing!”   

Simon frowned and eyed me with unsettling intensity. With a single glance, he almost seemed to accuse me of questioning their faith in Rucker.

“But we’re sure, Scarlett.”

I clicked my tongue, annoyed. I felt like I had been screaming this certainty over and over for two days as if I was the only one who trusted our friend. Which was wrong, of course. I was claiming his innocence because I was desperate to have an explanation. Who? Why? How? No one had an answer for me which plunged me into almost permanent anxiety, although I did my best to show nothing.   

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” I sighed, sliding brutally against the backrest. “That bloodied claw didn’t end up there by chance, but all that drool was from a Were, I’m sure.”

Because Simon and Rufus didn’t understand what I was talking about, Grigore briefly explained to them what I had told him myself.

“Couldn’t he have secreted all that saliva himself?” Simon suggested, shrugging his shoulders. “While he was disembowelled, for example?”  

I closed my eyes for a few seconds, breathing in and out loudly.

“Maybe… Couldn’t there have been both?” 

“A Were and a dark angel in collaboration?” Rufus doubted, staring at me as if I’d said some monstrous nonsense. 

“As if that had never happened!” I said, indicating the four of us with the flat of my hand. “And that odour? Did you smell it, Grigore? The same as the one at college. What could be so foul-smelling? I can say what it reminds me of, but I’m unable to pinpoint the source.”        

“Let’s find out if the Were had a connection to Rucker,” Simon offered.

“But it’s not him!” I got even angrier. 

“Scarlett, we’re sure!” Simon says. “But we must understand why, and quickly! The situation could escalate. What species was the Were?”   

I turned my head sharply towards Grigore and Rufus, surprised. The musk the victim gave off was so familiar to me that I hadn’t even thought about it once. Not that I knew him personally, but because he was lupus. It could have been any of my friends. The idea was unbearable to me.

“Lupus,” Grigore answered for me.

“Can you try to find out who he was, Scarlett?” Rufus asked. 

Very disturbed, I began to stammer, my eyes shifty, wedging one hand between my thighs, while with the other, I rubbed my forehead.

“I… I… yes… I…”

Gently, Grigore put his icy fingers on my wrist.

“We’ll fix this situation eventually.”

“Can you tell me… What do you plan to do about the claw? Are you going to warn the Council?” 

Grigore gently nodded his head.

“It’s preferable. That way, they’ll have a reason to calm things down in our community. Most importantly, Scarlett, no one in the pack is to be told. Neither the new nor the old. Nobody. The Garou shouldn’t think that an open war between our two clans has just started.”

“Not even Elgin?” 

“Could I stop you?” he gave me the impression of joking. 

“No,” I replied very seriously.

He half smiles.

“What about what we discussed earlier? Are you going to inform the Circle of your leads?” I asked, referring to Pitt. 

He turned to his friends to look at them one by one.

“Rufus and Simon. The others will be side-lined.”

I wanted to ask why, but if there were tensions within the pack, the Circle was probably experiencing the same inconvenience. Perhaps it was better to be discreet to avoid leaks.

“What is it?” Rufus asked. 

“I’ll tell you more about it,” Grigore assured them.

I looked at the time on the clock, classes would start soon, I had to leave. I stood up, mechanically dusting my pants.

“I must leave you.”

Politely, the boys imitated me.

‘Very well,’ agreed Grigore, ‘I’ll let you know as soon as I know more.”

I slowly closed and opened my eyelids to say yes.

“Are you staying at Rucker’s place tonight?” Simon asked me. 

“Yes, until he comes back. Morel and Corwin don’t want to be alone. I’ll go home to pick up some things and go there after school.”

With a smile, he made me understand that he appreciated it.

“If they need anything, you can contact me.”

He reached into his coat pocket and handed me a business card.

Among the dark angels, everyone had affection for Rucker’s brothers. They were the only children in their community.

“Thank you, Simon, I won’t hesitate.”

I walked out of the room to the entrance hall, Grigore following me.

He grabbed the duffle coat I was holding in my hands to help me put it on, then put his fingers firmly on my shoulders so that I looked at him.

“Watch out for yourself, Scarlett,” he whispered.

With a nod of my head, I left the apartment.