Stacy pulled a sock from inside the bosom of her dress. It had faint brown stains on the white surface and a terrible odor of sweat and dirt drifted off its cloth. "We have to sniff this," she told me.
My mouth dropped open. "Um, why?"
"Because Cal is very good at keeping his picture out of everything, so we have to track him via his scent," she replied.
Luke raised an eyebrow. "How did you get that?" he wondered.
A sly smile slipped onto Stacy's lips. "I have my ways, but let's just say we have the same cleaning lady." She held out the sock. "Now sniff."
Everyone hesitated. Baker looked between the sock and the holder. "Will that really help us find Callean in a large ball?"
"If you don't find him you'll find one of his two bodyguards. They're around him so much they smell just like him," she assured him.
With no other choice we each in turn took a sniff of the sock. I was last and stood before the smelly thing with my face twisted in disbelief and disgust. "Two months ago if somebody told me I was going to be standing in a period costume sniffing an old sock to find a gang lord I would have told them they were nuts," I commented.
Stacy shrugged. "It's no fun being sane," she returned.
I sighed and took a quick sniff of the sock. It smelled as bad as it looked and I had to fight the bile rising in my throat. "And it's not much fun being a werewolf," I muttered.
"But the dirty part of the job is done, so let's go," Stacy commanded.
We grabbed a taxi and, after a lot of tight squeezing, drove through the crummy districts into the high-society ones. The houses on those large, manicured blocks were even more grand than where Stevens lived. These were towering towers of homes built of stone with expansive lawns hidden behind tall walls made of the same stone. Black steel gates kept the curious and the solicitors from walking up the paved driveways to the grand entrances of these imperious homes.
Our destination was one of the grander of these fine old homes. It was as large as a small high school with four floors and a full basement. Wide, tall paned windows looked out on a bustling lawn filled with people dressed in costume and masks, and served by servants impeccably attired in penguin suits. The gates were open to long, black cars that drove up to the circular entrance, dropped off their handsome fair, and left through the exit gates.
Our taxi stuck out like a sore thumb, but we looked great as we dumped out of the yellow cab like clowns from a toy car. After that tight fit our poofy dresses and suits sprang back to life, and Stacy led us up to the double doors that opened to a grand entrance hall filled with masked guests. A short man with a clipboard stood to one side and greeted everyone with a smile. Stacy walked up to him and tapped him on the head. He whipped his head up and glared at her until he recognized her smiling face.
"Miss Stevens, what a pleasant surprise. We were told you weren't coming," he greeted her. We didn't have to ask to guess it was Cranston who told them that.
"I changed my mind at the last moment." She waved her hand toward the full room. "Is there any space left in there for my friends and I?"
He chuckled. "Always, Miss Stevens. The ballroom is hardly filled and I'm sure with such lovely gentlemen with you you will want to dance to the orchestra."
"Is my father here yet?" she asked him.
The short man shook his head. "No, Miss Stevens. He said he wasn't coming, either, and has sent hi secretary, instead."
She bowed her head. "Thank you." She brushed past him and we followed her into the crowded entrance hall. A grand staircase led up to the second-floor balcony, and on the left and right were open double doors. The left led to a long dining hall, the right to the ballroom.
Luke slipped up beside her with me on her other side, and Baker and Alistair behind us. "Any idea where Callean might be?" he asked her.
She shrugged. "Anywhere. He likes to dance and I know he likes food," she replied.
Luke glanced back at the two men. "You two checking the dining hall while we search the ballroom."
Baker frowned and pulled at his frilly collar. The costume had worsened his usually sour mood. "I don't take orders from another lord," he growled.
"There's a first time for everything, and we need to split up if we hope to find him before Cranston does," Luke countered.
Alistair stepped up and swept his hand toward the dining hall. "I would be honored to assist you in the search." Baker, while not one for servants, wasn't entirely immune to flattery. He nodded his head and the pair strode off for the hunt.
Luke nodded toward the ballroom. "Let's hope one of us has luck finding him before it's too late."
"And let's hope he's on his best behavior tonight," Stacy added.
Luke turned to her with a frown. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked her.
She smiled and shrugged. "Oh, he just has a reputation for being a womanizer. Even taking other wolves' mates and never letting them go because he's insanely jealous. Just that sort of thing."
Luke's eyes twitched and he opened his mouth to begin a tirade, but the flow of the crowd shifted. Everyone decided to go into the ballroom, and we were swept into the tide of dresses and frilly shirts. All of us were swept apart and into the ballroom and into a lot of trouble.
22
We twisted and tumbled our way through the crowd and into the ballroom. It was a large, long room the size of half a football field with tables and chairs at our end and the other dominated by a dance floor complete with a small orchestra on a stage. The wall opposite the entrance doors was a long line of large windows with thick, heavy curtains that dragged the floor. This room was almost as crowded as the entrance hall, and with the steady flow in a few minutes it would be. My dress constantly pressed against somebody's pant leg or another dress, and I was given my fair share of glares and raised eyebrows.
Stacy slipped into the high-society crowd like old pros. She was greeted with warm smiles and hearty hugs, and even Luke found himself recognized by some of the more world-wise guests. He tried to fight the flow of party-goers to get to me, but was stopped in conversation by ladies and gentlemen eager to rub elbows with a lord. I was a nobody, so I was pushed to the far edges of the crowd and spat out like an unwanted playmate. Luke stood on his tiptoes over the heads of the crowd to watch me, and I smiled and shrugged. We'd waste half the night getting to teach other, so I gave him up for lost, at least for now.
Besides, since I was a nobody I had the best chance at finding Callean. Unfortunately, that's also when I realized I had no idea how to use the sock scent to track the guy. The smell was still in my nose, but so were a bunch of other smells. That meant I could only go off my eyes. The only resemblance I had was from his mother, so I was forced to put her wizened face into my mind as I squished through the crowds looking for him. I went north while my companions were bogged down near the tables. The orchestra played a soft, sweet tune and the dance floor was occupied by a few couples. I hoped I could get onto the stage and catch a glimpse of someone wearing gold clothing.
A tall man with unruly black hair and a dark complexion stood at the edge of the dance floor idly swishing a glass of wine. When I came close to the floor his dark eyes swept over me, and he sauntered over. "May I have this dance?" he briskly asked me.
"I-I can't really-" He didn't wait for me to finish before he wrapped his arm around me and whisked me onto the dance floor. I blushed and tried to pull from his grasp, but he held me with all the strength of an alpha werewolf. That didn't stop me from growling at him. "Do you mind?"
"No, do you?" he teasingly wondered. There was something familiar, and irritating, about this guy.
I clenched my teeth so hard the noise could have been heard through the noisy crowd to the south of us. "Yes, now let me go or-"
"A little quieter or they'll hear you," he warned me.
I frowned and glanced around. There was a crowd growing on the outskirts of the dance floor, but I didn't see anyone suspicious among the masked people. "Who will h
ear me?" I asked him.
"The spies from the patrols," he whispered. I whipped my head up to him and my mouth fell open. He smirked. "Don't be surprised. I keep tabs on all the criminals in my city."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I questioned him.
He chuckled and leaned down so his lips brushed against my ear. "It means I know you're Rebecca Laughton." I felt the color drain from my face. "You don't have to worry about me. The trouble you've been making hasn't affected my interests."
I pulled back and scowled at him. "I'm not a criminal," I protested.
He smirked and shrugged. "That's not what the rumors in my city have told me," he countered.
"What makes you think this is your city?" I snapped at him.
"Owe, just some investments here, there, and everywhere in-between," he replied. His eyes swept over me, but I wasn't flattered. "I might want to invest in other places, too," he hinted. The man chuckled at his own joke until I stabbed my heels into his toes. He winced, but didn't release me. "Do you have two left feet?" he asked me.
"And a lead heel," I added. "Besides, I tried to tell you I couldn't dance."
He smirked. "Oh, you're not doing too bad a job. I know I'm enjoying myself."
"I don't know what the hell you're thinking, but I'm already taken," I growled. I glanced at the growing crowds around the dance floor, but didn't spot my missing mate. More and more couples joined in the dance and soon we couldn't twirl without brushing against another pairing.
"I know, Lord Laughton has you, but I can't resist a pretty face," he cooed. He lifted his mask just slightly and showed off the face of a dashing man a little older than Luke. "And I'm sure you can't resist me."
My face fell and my tone became so dry my mouth felt like a desert. "I bet I can," I challenged him.
The man's face twisted into surprise. "Don't you know me?" he asked me.
I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. "No, should I?"
"Yes, but you won't recognize him for long," a voice spoke up. Luke sprang from the crowd of dancers and slammed his fist into the side of my partner's face. The man flew back a yard and slid along the floor a few more, colliding with a half dozen pairings and causing a chain reaction of collapsing dresses and puffy suits.
Luke wrapped his arm around my waist and pressed me against his side. His lips curled back and he growled at the man as the stranger struggled to his feet. The guy wasn't happy, at least judging by his balled fists and quivering shoulders. "I don't care if you are a lord, nobody touches me and doesn't get as good as he gave!" the man roared.
The man dove at us, but Stacy stepped between us with a masked, wizened old lady at her side. Stacy crossed her arms and the man skidded to a stop in front of them. "That's enough, Cal," she scolded him. My eyes widened, and I whipped my head between Luke and the stranger. I'd just stomped on the fee of Frederick Callean, the richest and most powerful man in the city.
Callean opened his mouth, but the masked old lady took a threatening step forward. I realized then that it was Leonor, and she wasn't happy. He clacked his teeth shut and glared over their heads at Luke. "You're not worth the trouble you're causing around here, Laughton," he snapped.
"That's enough, Cal," Stacy warned. She slid up to him and looped her arm through his. Stacy turned to the gaping crowds and smiled at them. "You all know how Cal is. He always like to be the life of the party," she joked.
A laugh rippled through the crowd and Stacy led Cal off the floor. She wound her way through the crowd with Leonor in tow and us close behind. Luke looked like he'd rather walk us both off a cliff rather than follow Cal anywhere, but we had more important things to do than a lover's suicide. Stacy guided our group into the entrance hall, and from there she took a right down a hall beneath the right side of the grand staircase.
The hallway was narrow with wood panels and doors on either side of us. Stacy walked forward until we were at the back of the house where stood an exit out onto the wonderful gardens. The sun had set and outside was a veil of darkness wrapped in a chilly wind with clouds to top off the cool night. Stacy opened the door to her right and shoved Cal ahead of her. Stacy and Leonor were in front of Luke and me, and I peeked around them to see the room was an old-fashioned study. Bookshelves lined every wall and at the far back was a large, paneled window looking out on the grounds. In front of the window was a large wooden desk with a cushioned chair with its back facing us.
Cal swung around and glared at the four of us. His eyes flashed with anger and his hands were clenched at his sides. "Is this some kind of conspiracy?" he growled.
Stacy strode into the room and took a seat on the corner of the desk. "Yes, but we're not in on it," she replied. The rest of us stepped inside and Luke shut the door behind us.
"Mind making sense?" he demanded.
Leonor stomped up to her son and looked him in the chest. He was a lot taller than her. "Don't you dare talk to Stazia that way!" she growled. She growled just like her son, and vice versa. Emphasis on the vice. Callean rolled his eyes, and she tore off her mask to show off her angered wrinkles. "And don't you dare roll your eyes at your mother," she snapped.
Cal threw up his arms and took on a less genteel accent. He sounded like a rough gangster just off the streets. "What are you even doing here, Ma? Didn't you tell me you were going to stay home and wash your eyes of newt?" he quipped.
"And let Stazia get herself into trouble alone? Not likely," she huffed. Luke and I glanced at each other. We wouldn't have called ourselves non-company.
Stacy removed her mask and showed she had a troubled expression on her face. "Cal's in a lot more trouble than we are. Isn't that what your note told us?" she asked the old woman.
Leonor raised an eyebrow. "Note? What note?"
Stacy's voice held a hint of panic. "The note about Cal going to be assassinated by Cranston."
The old woman wrinkled her nose. "Cranston? Your father's secretary? What's he got to do with this?" she wondered.
Stacy's eyes widened and she whipped her eyes over to Luke. "Then the note-"
"Was a fake?" a voice asked. The chair swiveled around to reveal Cranston seated in it with his fingers intertwined on his lap. He didn't have a scent on him which explained how none of us knew he was there.
Luke grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the door, but it slammed open and a half dozen patrols swept into the room. All of them wore a red armband. They grabbed us and pinned our arms behind our backs, then turned us toward Cranston still seated in the chair. "I'm afraid I can't let you leave. You see, you're very important to my plan tonight."
"To kill Cal?" Stacy guessed.
Cranston wrinkled his nose. "Oh, not just kill. Kill is such a base word," he argued.
"Then it fits you," I quipped.
He chuckled. "How very entertaining, but I prefer the term assassination. That's why it was in the note I sent you."
Luke frowned. "Another fake note?" he guessed.
Cranston gave a nod. "Yes, and you fell for it just as easily as the first one. Didn't you ever stop to think that if we knew Miss Stevens' secret messaging to you then we could easily find her connections and repeat the ruse?"
"I'll have to remember that the next time I receive a message," Luke replied.
Cranston clucked his tongue and stood. "I'm afraid there won't be a next time. Well, unless the message is from your attorney, that is."
Luke frowned. "Attorney?"
"Yes, that's right," Cranston replied as he sauntered around the side of the desk. "You see, I could have my men kill you right now, but that would make you a martyr for the green cause, and we can't have that. You see, I, and your brother Lance, have something much better planned for you."
My mouth dropped open and I whipped my head over to Luke. "Brother?" I repeated. Luke closed his eyes and turned away.
Cranston stopped in front of us with a sly, oily smirk on his face. "I see you haven't told her much about your family, but you'll have plenty of time once you'r
e convicted."
"Convicted of what?" Stacy questioned him.
"What the hell is going on?" Cal spoke up. He pulled against his guard, but the patrolman held fast. Cal glared at Cranston. "What's going on, Cranston? I haven't bothered your boss, so you don't bother me. That was the deal we made."
Cranston turned his attention to Cal and strode over so they were face-to-face. "I'm afraid the deal's off and you're stuck with the consequences," he told Cal.
Cal's lips curled back in disgust. "And the consequences are my death. Am I right?" he guessed.
Cranston smiled and nodded his head. "Precisely right."
Leonor gasped and struggled with her guard. She twisted and turned to bite the hands that held her, but the guard wrenched her arms back and she winced. Leonor looked to Cranston with eyes full of hate. "Don't you dare touch a hair on my son's head," she growled.
The cold man shrugged. "It can't be helped. We need a murder to pin on these fine people here." He gestured to Luke and me. "The first frame up didn't work out as expected, so we decided to go with a bigger fish this time. One who's death wouldn't go unnoticed."
Luke narrowed his eyes. "You're going to murder Callean and pin his death on us," he surmised.
"Yes, and all this talking is wasting valuable time." Cranston pulled a gun with a suppressor from inside his suit and pointed it at Callean's head. "Nothing personal."
He didn't have a chance to pull off his impersonal murder. The door swung open and this time it was the good guys swarming into the room. Alistair and Baker were in the lead of two rough-looking suited men, and they knocked out our guards. Cal ducked and Cranston's bullet sped into the brain of his own man who dropped to the floor dead. Leonor roared with rage, pulled from her guard and dove at Cranston.
The secretary aimed his gun at her, but Cal grabbed Cranston's gun hand and pointed the barrel harmlessly toward the ceiling. The pair of them wrestled while the remaining conscious and living guards grappled with us. They were quickly dispatched and lay at our feet, and Cal knocked Cranston toward the desk and window. Cranston turned his venomous eyes on us and his elongated teeth snarled. "Damn you all," he growled.