"I just don't like the idea of you going out and confronting gangsters, honey," Gretchen Blackwood said.
The smell of baking bread filled the Collective's sprawling cabin. In the background; Beth Volkov, Jake's wife, was starting lunch while their little daughter Diana scampered about on unsteady legs. It was as comfortable, and as safe, a place as Etta had ever known. She'd lived here for several years, sorting herself out, before moving in with Demarco.
Etta was grateful beyond words that Jake and Beth and the rest of the Collective had opened their home to her mother, giving her a place to sort herself out too.
"We won't really be confronting them, mom," Etta said reassuringly. "Just investigating. I'll be safe."
"I know," Gretchen said. "I just worry. I forget sometimes that you aren't a little girl anymore."
Which, Etta felt, was reasonable. Her mother had spent more than ten years under her father's spell - a literal spell. Etta's father, the warlock Dr. John Faust, had thought nothing of using his magic to twist his wife's mind in order to make her his obedient servant. Ever since Etta had broken her free, Gretchen had been slowly rebuilding herself. Occasional lapses of memory were expected.
"I'll take care of her," Demarco put in with a warm smile. "There will be no confronting gangsters without me there to keep her safe."
Thankfully, Etta thought, Demarco didn't add 'this time.' She still hadn't entirely forgiven Etta for going off to confront gangsters without her the last time.
"See, I'll be fine," Etta smiled.
"You don't... don't think your father is involved, do you?" Gretchen asked. The flash of sudden fear crossing her mother's face was like a punch to Etta's gut, sparking both pain and rage.
"You don't need to worry about him, mom," Etta said. "He can't hurt you anymore. You are safe here."
Even if the people of Moonwood Mill didn't have their own reasons to hate Dr. Faust, Etta knew they would all rally to protect a battered woman from her abusive husband. It was just a good community. Yes, Faust was a powerful warlock with centuries of experience but, apart from Etta and her mother, every person in and around the Collective cabin - from little Diana to kind old Lily outside tending her garden - and every member of the Wildfangs, was a werewolf.
"Nowhere safer," Demarco agreed.
"What if my father is involved," Etta fretted. Outside the sprawling cabin, with only Demarco to see, she let her confident mask slip. "He won't have given up his schemes of getting control of the Moonwood."
There was power in the Moonwood, an ancient and wild magic that lived in the earth, the air and the waters of the old forest. Even with her Powers stripped from her by the justice of the Witches' Council, Etta could almost hear the trees whispering to each other. A skilled witch in the fullness of her strength could use that magic to do great and terrible things, if she could touch it. The Moonwood did not give up its secrets easily.
"Well, your dad did almost beat us once, what with his forbidden magic and all," Demarco allowed.
"Not really making me feel better," Etta sighed.
"If it is him, we'll be ready for him this time... but I don't think it's him," Demarco said confidently. "I mean, sure, he's a powerful, evil warlock who's in league with vampires against his own people... but, real estate scams? Working with Cletus? I don't think even Faust would stoop that low."
Etta laughed. Demarco always managed to do that to her.
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"So, I guess this is it," Demarco said, looking at the house, large for this part of Evergreen Harbor.
Rory and Lou had made it a point to track down Cletus's place after the last time the local crime boss had tried to set up business in their territory. Even if they hadn't, Demarco was pretty sure she'd have been able to sniff out Cletus's particular stink of stale sweat and meth, even in the small city's general stench of people, cars, trash and rust.
How had she ever lived here, she wondered. How did the few Wolves who did live in the Harbor stand it?
"You got anything?" Etta asked, looking at the house.
"Not really," Demarco admitted after risking a deeper breath. "It's definitely Cletus's place, but it stinks so much of meth, booze and trash, he could having a dinner party in there and I wouldn't be able to sniff out specifics."
"I guess we do this the old fashioned way," Etta said with a reassuring smile.
Demarco crept toward the house, using every bit of woodscraft Rory had taught her to stay quiet. She'd seen her pack leader sneak up on a deer in the woods, making less sound than a gust of wind across the forest floor. Demarco always felt like an enthusiastic puppy crashing through dry leaves in comparison, but Rory insisted she was fine.
It didn't help her self-image that Etta moved behind her in total silence. If not for the scent of herbs, home-made soap and that particular odor that was just Etta, Demarco wouldn't have known she was there at all. Etta never talked much about how her father had trained her from childhood to become a spy and assassin, and Demarco didn't press. She just hated how often they asked Etta to use the skills the bastard had taught her.
"Hang back," Demarco whispered as she crept up to the window. She was the Wolf here, damn it. If anyone was going to take the risk of getting this close, it was going to be her.
Glancing through the partly open blinds, she could see Cletus and... who is this guy?
"You were given specific instructions, Mr. Harris," the grey-haired man said in a cool, dispassionate voice. "A specific list of properties whose owners you were to... persuade... to sell. You deviated from that list."
"You knows and I knows that you need Lumber Jackson's land just as much as them others," Cletus snapped back. "I knows he weren't gonna sell without a little persuadin'. So I decided to git a jump on it. If Jackson sells, them others up 'round the Mill will be more like to fall in line."
"But you didn't persuade Mr. Jackson, did you?" the grey-haired man replied.
"If that damned bitch Rory hadn't stuck her nose in," Cletus began.
"But she did," the grey-haired man cut him off without raising his voice. "An outcome which should have been entirely obvious even to you, Mr. Harris. The investors are aware of the challenges posed by Ms. Oaklow and her associates. We had intended to avoid involving her, or Mr. Volkov, until we were properly positioned to deal with them. Instead, you have forced the issue."
"Well maybe if you'd done told me about that little plan, I woulda knew it," Cletus snapped. "You know, Mr. Grey, I'm thinkin' I oughta be meeting with these in-vest-tors of yours myself. Maybe that'd clear up some o' this."
"All in good time, Mr. Harris," the grey-haired man replied smoothly.
"I think maybe this is a good time," Cletus snarled. "In fact, I think maybe my boy Jed here might insist on it."
"Oh, please do," the woman in black, who had stood silently behind the grey-haired man through all of this, purred menacingly.
"There will be no need for that, Malory," the grey-haired man said to her, not taking his eyes off Cletus. "In fact, I think Mr. Harris raises a good point. I will speak to the investors and arrange a meeting."
"There, that weren't so hard, was it?" Cletus grinned.
"I will be in touch, Mr. Harris," the grey-haired man nodded.
"It's true what they say," the grey-haired man said with mild amusement, as he stepped out onto Cletus's porch, the woman in black following like a shadow behind him. "Good help is hard to find."
Demarco and Etta, having slipped back out of sight, watched and listened intently.
"How do we proceed?" the woman in black asked.
"Go back to the hotel," the grey-haired man said. "I will see about speaking to the investors and arranging this meeting for Mr. Harris. If nothing else, it should be amusing. Clear out the hotel rooms and meet me at the train station."
"Come on," Demarco said quietly, setting off after the grey-haired man. "I want to see if we can get a look at these mysterious investors."
"Don't get too close," Etta said tensely. "I've got a bad feeling about this guy. What about the other one?"
"I've got her scent," Demarco said confidently. "We can find her again if we need to. I've got both their scents now. Come on. Keep up."
"Don't get too close, damn it," Etta repeated.
The Wolf inside Demarco snarled. The prey was only human. The Wolf would smell it if he was another Wolf, or a vampire, or even a witch. He was alone now and isolated. She could take him anytime she wanted.
With a deep breath, Demarco steadied herself the way Rory had taught her. The Fury of the Wolf was like the ocean, Rory always said. A Wildfang swims in that ocean, she doesn't drown in it. Breathe and ride the tides. Don't let them pull you under.
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"There he is," Demarco said later.
They'd followed the grey-haired man from Cletus's house, across the ratty neighborhood to a bus stop. At Etta's insistence they'd continued past him to the next stop, keeping him just in view. Boarding the same bus, they'd kept him in sight and ridden across the city, while trying not to call attention to themselves.
Only Etta's casual but firm grip on her hand had kept Demarco from stalking after him when the grey-haired man had finally gotten off at a stop near the old waterfront. By the time they reached the next stop, he'd been no where to be seen.
Fortunately, Demarco had his scent.
"I knew you could track him," Etta said gently. "Any idea where he's going?"
Demarco shook her head. Once, the waterfront had been a bustling port shipping stone from the quarries and timber from the mountain logging towns to build the city of San My. Those days were long gone. Now the port was all but closed, leaving a rundown and rusted industrial wasteland with a few businesses and fewer homes.
The grey-haired man seemed to be leading them toward the largest of those few local business.
"He's meeting someone," Etta pointed out.
"Is that Bess?" Demarco blinked, surprised.
"You know them?" Etta asked.
"I can't be sure without getting closer, but I think that's Bess Stirling," Demarco said. "Local entrepreneur. I don't really know her, know her, but I ran into her a few times back when I lived in the Harbor. She was kind of a nemesis of a friend of mine... that guy, Knox, I told you about. I always thought Bess was a little sketchy, but I never imagined her working with Cletus or someone like this guy."
"What now?" Etta asked. "It's too open for us to get closer without raising suspicion."
"I have an idea," Demarco smiled. "I caught a familiar scent a little ways back. Let's go see Beardy Bill. If anyone knows what's going on the waterfront, he will."
