11
Callula had regained her calm by the time we returned to our room, and she had dredged up smiles that could pass as authentic for both of us. Her ability to mask her emotions was impressive, since I was certain she hadn’t magically become okay with what happened to her mother’s choker.
As much as I wished Asa could reassure her, he couldn’t explain the reason behind its disappearance without exposing the grimoire. And whatever abomination I created when the choker fused with the pendant concealing it.
“I’ve done what I came to do.” She embraced Asa and kissed his cheek. “I should return home.”
“Safe travels.” I stiffened when she hugged me too. “It was nice to meet you.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior next time.” She bussed my cheek. “I can’t wait to see what beautiful children you two make.” She hesitated at the door. “I hope the choker will lend you some protection, wherever it’s gone.”
“I hope so too.” I touched the fused chain. “Thank your mother for me.”
“She’s eager to make your acquaintance.” Callula exited the room. “Until next time, dears.”
After the door shut behind her, I slumped into the vacant task chair. “What is it with your family?”
“You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid.”
“Babies.” I stared up at him. “Can I meet someone who doesn’t want to see me knocked up?”
Too late, I realized I was digging at the same wound that Meg had chided me for, but Asa was grinning.
“Clay has always wanted to be an uncle to a passel of nieces and nephews.”
Ha. Ha.
No.
“Now you’re just being mean.” I hesitated. “How many is a passel anyway?”
A buzz in my pocket drew my attention to my phone, which flashed an unfamiliar number. “Hollis.”
“Meg passed along your intel,” a deep voice rumbled. “I’d like to offer you my services, free of charge.”
“We appreciate that, Mr.…?”
“You can call me Derry.”
“Okay, Derry.” I should have guessed he would be Meg’s choice of champion. “When can we meet?”
“Now.” He came off grim. “I was already on my way when Meg’s intermediary touched base with me.” A beeping noise filled his end of the line. “The local pack thought they had a rogue on their hands, but one of their elders recognized Old Man Fang and reached out to me.”
With their pack in regular contact with Meg, who provided legal services to anyone who could afford her advice, I could see why other wargs might think Derry would know how to handle a vengeful spirit.
Not that I would ever tell Meg I had just mentally lumped her in with those.
Oops.
“Tell us where you are, and we’ll meet you there in ten.” He rattled off an address I memorized then ended the call. “Derry is the current alpha of Meg’s pack.” I thumped the phone against my thigh. “He’s crossing state lines to help. That’s a big deal.”
Shifters, more than any other faction, carried the stigma of being mindless beasts when they turned and for being animalistic while in their human forms. For the most part, that wasn’t true. Four-legged predators were far less likely to be frivolous killers than the two-legged varieties. But people did enjoy their classic monsters.
Word of a feral warg killing humans, even a dead one raised for that purpose, could be a PR nightmare.
As we left our room, I noticed a light on in the maintenance office. I hesitated a step but walked on to the SUV. No one in their right mind kept an alpha waiting when he was willing to extend a hand—or a nose—to aid in an ongoing investigation. Particularly since he stood a better chance in a fight with Old Man Fang than we did, if we found him.
The GPS led us to a cemetery on the outskirts of town where a fit man in his midforties leaned against a truck parked off the shoulder of the road. His eyes gleamed gold in the shine of the headlights, confirming this was our alpha warg. His hair was cut short, red-gold, and his scruffy beard was styled with care.