Master of Valor by Angela Knight

Author:Angela Knight [Knight, Angela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: BIN 008617-02784
Publisher: Changeling Press LLC
Published: 2018-11-02T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

It didn’t look like a werewolf’s kitchen, not that Duncan had any idea what a werewolf’s kitchen was supposed to look like. The cabinetry was white, with dark green marble countertops, potted plants sitting here and there between stainless steel appliances.

A woman sat on a barstool at the kitchen island, looking stunned as the dimensional gate vanished behind them. Her hazel eyes were so red and swollen from crying, they clashed with the bright copper of the long hair she wore in a messy knot on top of her head. She wasn’t particularly tall, but her body looked lean in black leggings and a long, sky-blue tunic. Duncan thought she’d probably be pretty if she didn’t look so devastated.

“Good of you to come,” Walker said, giving them a nod from the opposite side of the island. “I’ve got a feeling we’re going to need all the help we can get. We found a key piece of evidence, but I wanted to brief you before you take a look.”

“We’re glad to help,” Masara told him. “The last thing we want is for someone else to die.”

The woman rose from her chair, moving like someone who’d taken a beating. Walker turned to her with a compassionate smile. “This is Masara Okeye and her partner Duncan Carpenter of the Magekind. Folks, Amy Harrington. She needs some help with her parents.”

Masara extended a hand, sympathy softening her gaze. “I’m so sorry. I can only imagine how painful this must be for you.”

“Yes.” Amy’s voice cracked, and she visibly fought grief. “Dad’s not like this! He’d never hurt anyone, especially not my mother…” She choked back a sob.

Duncan’s heart seemed to contract in his chest. He’d seen that dazed expression too many times overseas on those who’d just watched family members die. Cut adrift, flailing in a world plunged into chaos and blood.

“I understand,” Masara said, laying a hand on the woman’s shoulder.

“He’s never been violent to my mom. He’s just not like this. I don’t understand. Something’s wrong here!” She stared up and Masara, her gaze pleading for understanding, for belief, for some explanation for what had happened to her family.

Masara sat down at the island, facing Amy, so their knees brushed. Duncan and Walker exchanged a silent glance and eased backward to lean against the kitchen wall, giving the Maja room to work.

Duncan’s gaze fell on the bay window beyond them. It was a glorious fall night, the trees awash with moonlight. A huge cedar play set dominated the yard, an elaborate cedar structure with swings, a slide, and a rock-climbing wall, topped with a sturdy fort. Oh great. She’s got kids. Kids whose grandparents have been murdering people.

“What can you tell us?” Masara asked softly.

Amy looked blindly around. Walker straightened, lifted a box of tissues off the countertop, and handed it to her. She took a Kleenex and blew her nose. “Tom and I are celebrating our fifteenth anniversary this week. We were supposed to fly to New York tomorrow night.

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