Season of the Witch (Claws Clause 2)

“Bumptown,” Colt corrected. Just because the derisive name bothered other Paras—Bumptown because that’s where things went “bump in the night”—it didn’t mean that he was going to let Diaz get away with calling it a ‘settlement’.

“Right,” agreed Diaz. To Colt’s surprise, the cop didn’t argue. “This Bumptown is the closest one to Grayson. And, as of last night, we’ve got ourselves a Para problem that we could use your help in solving.”

He couldn’t contain his reaction. His claws let loose with an audible snick. A growl started in the back of his throat. “And you’re blaming my people for that?”

Triumph twisted Diaz’s features. Triumph, Colt saw, not fear. Still caught in the throes of a sudden fury, his instincts screamed that he made a mistake—but what was it? What the fuck did he do? He ran his words through his head again.

My people.

Shit.

Colt jerked his chin over at Diaz. “Fine. You got me. Now, tell me, what’s the problem?”

“We keep finding dead bodies. Not sure what else you’d call it, but it’s a big problem for us.”

Dead bodies in Grayson.

Plural.

Add that to the tallies mentioned at the pack meeting and Colt had to accept the truth. A rogue Nightwalker or two was out there, brutalizing Ants and leaving them for dead.

Fucking great.

Colt locked down his expression, his wolf already clawing at the inside of his chest, eager to go hunting or, shit, who was he kidding? Desperate to go back to Grayson and make sure that Shea was safe.

He shook his head. “I’m still not getting why you’re here, Detective. You’re not blaming me or mine. So what’s the real problem?”

“I’m hoping that you might want to help me stop this Para threat before it gets any worse. And, look. We both know it would be stupid for this killer to be cruising for victims so close to home. I’m betting my badge this ain’t his Bumptown. Still, he’s giving the rest of you a bad name. Humans are already wary—”

“Ants.”

Diaz was a smart man. Ignoring Colt’s sneer, he continued, “We all want peace. If the humans get spooked, who knows how the Claws Clause will change, huh, Wolfe? We’ve got a Para killer on the loose. How long before it becomes routine to put all Paras in a… in a cage?”

A cage?

The Cage.

The cop had a point. And, Colt thought suspiciously, Diaz also had a strange way of mentioning it. The Claws Clause? Only Paras referred to the ordinance with the muttered nickname. Humans, who used the detailed laws to shield themselves from the paranormal community, often invoked Ordinance 7304 like a prayer.

Hmm.

“Listen. You don’t have to help. I’m here because my superiors don’t want another scene like last night. No more bodies, okay? I’ve been authorized to invite a Para to work with one of ours to take down the killer before anyone else gets hurt. You already gave yourself away, Wolfe. You’re not leader of your pack, but you’re the one who runs things here. You’d be a perfect fit for our task force.”

Half of Colt wanted to head back inside, slamming the door in Diaz’s face. Whatever was going on in Grayson wasn’t his problem. But if the same Nightwalkers that had his dad on edge were starting shit with the humans, they would definitely need Para help.

No Ant could take on a murderous corpse and hope to win.

Shoving his hands in his jeans pockets, leaning casually on the heels of his boots as if it didn’t bother him one way or the other, Colt asked, “Say I agree. What would I have to do?”

“My superiors want to keep this under wraps for now. I’m sure you know, humans find out they’re being stalked by a Para, all hell will break loose. The operation has to be small. You’d buddy up with one of my officers. You have the nose, he’s got the authority. Between the two of you, I’d bet you can take this threat down and toss him in a Cage before word gets out in the city that we’ve got a rogue vampire out there.”

Colt straightened. Vampire. So the police already knew what they were dealing with—or, at least, Diaz did.

Ever since he caught the stench of blood and rotten meat on the edge of his territory the other night, Colt suspected a Nightwalker was testing him.

Then he found the girl and he was sure of it.

Why couldn’t the butcher be some insane, twisted human? Cop was right. Bastard Paras like the one Diaz was hunting gave all other paranormals a bad name. And if the Ants were being terrorized by a rogue Nightwalker or two, it was only a matter of time before they started eyeing Colt’s claws and his fangs and began to wonder if maybe he might attack them, too.