The Case Of The Wicked Wolf (End Street Detective Agency) by Kell Amber & Scott RJ

Author:Kell, Amber & Scott, RJ [Kell, Amber]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Total-E-Bound Publishing
Published: 2013-04-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Hart pocketed his cell phone and immediately turned back to the car.

“Sam has a lead on the warehouse,” he announced.

Danjal nodded that he’d heard. So far their two warehouses had been a bust. The first was being renovated into luxury flats overlooking the water and close inspection revealed no evidence of anything to do with missing children. One of the workers there had showed a little too much interest in Hart, though. And hadn’t that been an interesting thing to see. The slim, elvish fae had evidently decided she wanted the big bad wolfie to warm her bed. Danjal couldn’t believe how much he’d given away when he’d stepped between them in an overt show of possession. She’d backed off and Hart had been way too focused on finding Shelby to probably care. Still, it was revealing to Danjal that he had done that.

“Where are we going?” Danjal asked as they peeled out of the parking lot.

“The north side. Sam said we should look out for humans and sirens.”

Danjal sighed. He really hated sirens. They smelt wrong, and they were always at the root of every nasty thing that happened in this town. They were so keen on taking over land like they lorded it over the sea. He rummaged in his pocket but came up empty.

“Stop the car at the next corner,” he said as inspiration hit him.

“No. I’m not stopping the car, Dan. You want out then I’ll drop you at the warehouse and you make your own way home—”

“Shut up, Hart. Let me get into the trunk. I need my bag.”

“Why?”

“Siren protection. One sound and you’ll be on your back and unconscious. I need some sage and eucalyptus and I can cast something that will muffle the sounds.”

“Sam says we’re not just up against sirens, but humans as well,” Hart said.

“You’re joking?”

“I wish I was,” Hart said

“Why are humans in bed with sirens?” Danjal couldn’t imagine a worse scenario than this. Sirens with all their plans to dominate other paranormals, or humans with their weird ideas about segregation and species superiority. The two together didn’t bode well.

“Sam didn’t say how he knew, just that we need to get there. I’m not stopping the car. I’ll take my chances with the siren song.”

“Stupid,” Danjal huffed. He unbuckled himself as they turned into a side street and the motion forced him into Hart.

“What the fuck, Dan?”

“Keep driving.” He scrambled into the back and yanked at the partitioned seat to pull down the middle. Channelling a little extra strength with a tiny amount of magic, he yanked the bag through the opening in the backseat. Finally back in the passenger seat, he pulled the belt across him then opened the bag. The familiar scents of sage and rosemary, and the underlying note of brimstone, comforted him.

“What the hell have you got in there?” Hart asked as he slowed to check a blind junction.

“Just some stuff. Concentrate on driving.” Hart had never really got his head around the whole brimstone thing, but it held powerful magic that Danjal could get to with very little effort.

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