“Allowed? He’s not my father, and I insisted. My God, you’re letting all these wild scenarios get stuck in your head—gangs—captured—it’s a wonder why I’m not kept chained to a bed for safekeeping. Fi, look, I know you worry because you love me and don’t want to see me hurt, but I’m not a baby anymore. Both of you have to remember that I’m a Keeper, too. Keeper of the weres, and I’m responsible for their well-being. If either of you had found out that two from your community had been murdered, would you have just sat back and done nothing? Wouldn’t you have wanted details? Been on the scene so you’d at least know firsthand what you were really dealing with?”

After a long pause, Caitlin shrugged, then nodded. “No question, I would’ve been in the middle of it.”

“Don’t make this any harder than it is,” Fiona said.

“But she’s right, Fiona. You know you would’ve done the same thing.”

“Yes, well…”

“Yes well nothing,” Caitlin said. “You’d have been there. Go on, admit it.”

“All right, all right. But that doesn’t mean I have to like what she did. And it doesn’t mean I won’t worry,” Fiona said. “We’re all the blood family we have left. I worry about both of you.”

“I know,” Shauna said. “But I think you toss a little extra my way because I’m the youngest. And that’s not really fair. I do appreciate your love and concern, and I feel the same about the two of you, too, but I’m not a kid anymore. I’m almost twenty-seven.”

Fiona offered her a smile. “I know. I’ll try to do better.

Promise.”

Caitlin pushed away from the table. “We need some kind of strategy to tackle these wolven murders, ladies. I think the leaders of the other underworld groups need to know about them and—” A frown suddenly settled over her face. “Wait a minute…Shauna; you said Nicole and Simon were found in were-state? Weres always revert to human form when they die. Why didn’t Nicole and Simon?”

“Good question,” Fiona said.

Although August had told Shauna and Danyon to keep the information about the metaphysical powers inherent to were claws and fangs under wraps, she wasn’t certain if that applied to her sisters. She was pretty sure if Fiona and Caitlin had been in the meeting with August, he would have revealed the details to them, as well.

Still, to be on the safe side, Shauna said, “August has some ideas about that, but he’s not one hundred percent sure. He’s looking into it.”

Caitlin’s eyes narrowed, an indicator that she thought the answer smelled a little fishy.

“Regardless, we have to let the leaders of the other groups know,” Fiona said.

“No,” Shauna said. “Not just yet.”

“Why not?” Caitlin asked.

“The more people who know, the more opportunity there is for word to spread, and that might send the murderer into hiding before we figure out who it is,” Shauna explained.

“What are we supposed to do, then? We can’t just wait around for another murder to happen,” Caitlin said.

“That’s true,” Fiona said. “But it’s a double-edged sword. I understand what Shauna is saying, yet at the same time, if word leaks out, and the leaders of the other groups weren’t forewarned, we could very well wind up with another showdown. Just like we did with the cemetery murders and the walk-ins. It’s a toss up—tell them, don’t tell them. Either way, we have a huge problem here.”

“I know,” Shauna said. “But I’m asking the two of you to trust me and respect my role as Keeper of the weres. All I want is a little time before we get the others involved.”

Fiona and Caitlin studied her for some time, and in the silence, Shauna felt a vibration flowing between the three of them. She knew her sisters would respect her space and her place as Keeper. She also knew that they fully understood the severity of the situation. Everyone who knew about the wolven murders so far feared the same thing—the possibility of another great war.

Now that Fiona and Caitlin knew about the crimes, Shauna sensed that the expectation bar in her role as Keeper had just risen exponentially. That bar now looked higher than the Himalayas, and Shauna felt about as prepared to take on that height as a climber with two broken arms.

Chapter 9

Every time Danyon crossed over to New Orleans’ West Bank, he not only felt like he’d left New Orleans, but that he’d exited the entire state of Louisiana. There was a different feel to the area and the towns that mapped it. Places like Algiers, Gretna, and Harvey. On the East Bank, where the Quarter was located, there was a sense of continuity. Towns such as Kenner and Metairie felt like New Orleans. They were only different parts that made up a whole. Having just driven through Gretna, Danyon didn’t get the sense that it was tied to anything other than itself.

It wasn’t unusual for an alpha to cross into other territories, but it didn’t happen often. Some alphas didn’t understand the meaning of borders. They were hardwired to believe that whatever ground their feet touched was up for grabs territorially. To limit the number of fights that came with that mindset, August had issued an addendum to the laws that governed the weres. The official postscript stated that in order for an alpha to cross into another alpha’s territory, he had to get August’s permission. He was also required to provide a valid reason for crossing into that territory. Since trouble makers rarely had a valid reason for anything, the number of problems and fights dropped significantly. This was the first time since the new law was implemented that any alpha had been given free reign over all territories.

Just as Danyon and Shauna were leaving August’s office yesterday, the elder had given him a directive. He was to contact all the alphas in south Louisiana and inform them of the recent murders. Each alpha was then to choose a few of their strongest, most trustworthy weres and have them stand sentinel around the perimeter of their own territory. And they were to stay there until whoever or whatever was responsible for the murders had been captured.

Danyon had already notified four of the alphas. One in Lake Charles, another in Lafayette, and the two who were responsible for Baton Rouge. The only one left on his list was Kara Matiste, alpha of New Orleans’ West Bank.

Kara was alpha by default. Not that she wasn’t strong in her own right, but her husband, Carl, had been the true leader of the West Bank for many years. Kara assumed the leadership role when Carl died eleven months ago in a tragic car accident. He had been traveling home from Atlanta, where he had been summoned by the magistrate for questioning regarding the whereabouts of funds that had recently disappeared from the community treasury. Carl had obviously provided satisfactory answers. The magistrate and council would not have released him otherwise. He was only five miles from the Alabama border when an eighteen wheeler loaded with gasoline T-boned him at an intersection. Carl’s vehicle had exploded on impact.

At the time of an alpha’s death, it’s customary for his mate, always an alpha female, to take responsibility for the pack. She retains that leadership position until her death or until she pairs with another alpha male. If she does choose another alpha, then she is to relinquish the leadership role to him immediately. That particular circumstance was extremely rare, however.

When an alpha chooses his mate, it’s for life. The bond between them is fierce. Indestructible. Granted, when one mate died, it didn’t mean that the survivor didn’t have sexual relations with other weres. But when he or she did, it was usually to maintain or increase the population of the pack, and that would be the extent of the tryst. Rarely, if ever, would he or she call another were their mate.

It was possible for a were to mourn for a lifetime. In the beginning, when the death is fresh and the wound deep, it wasn’t unusual for the surviving mate to become incapacitated by grief. That is when the pack is most vulnerable. At first, many members of the pack act like children, rejoicing that no one is watching their every move. But soon, when they realize how big and bad the outside world really is, they grow fearful and sometimes angry because they no longer feel safe. That never appeared to be the case with Kara’s pack.

Kara had changed significantly since Carl’s death, which was understandable considering how close they had been. Carl had doted on her. Always surprising Kara with jewelry, roses, or whatever he thought she might fancy at any given time. Being vice president of Regent’s Bank, Carl’s income had afforded them the luxury of a three-story colonial in Algiers and matching Corvettes. Now, Kara lived in a two-bedroom apartment and drove an eight-year-old Chevy Malibu.

Danyon hadn’t had many dealings with Kara since Carl died, but he’d heard that her mourning period was unusually short, and that she ruled with a firm hand, did not tolerate slackers, and was obsessively territorial. He supposed those traits were good for the pack in that they established black-and-white boundaries. But those same traits might prove problematic when it was time for her to take orders from someone else. Danyon couldn’t help but wonder if Kara thought she had to be tougher because she was female and younger than most of the alpha males who led other packs. He wondered if Shauna, being the youngest Keeper, thought the same.

Danyon exited off the expressway and headed south toward Estelle, a small town that sat at the feet of the Jean Lafitte Wildlife Preserve. As he drove, Danyon found his thoughts awash with Shauna. It was difficult for him to see her as the Keeper of an entire race for the city of New Orleans. She was so young and beautiful. He remembered how she had stood up to him, defiant, wanting to be part of the murder investigation. How she never once faltered in her commitment to that decision, no matter how frustrated or angry he became. She was certainly from MacDonald stock—hard-headed, loyal, fiercely passionate in her beliefs and, of course, stunning.

All three MacDonald sisters were breathtakingly beautiful, but there was something about Shauna that hooked into his senses and refused to let go. When they had sat across from each other at August’s conference table, it had taken a massive amount of will power not to sit and simply stare at her. Watch her move, talk, blink, breathe. The struggle to control his attraction to her had been as great as his battle to fight off the anger that forced his transformation. As difficult as it had been, however, Danyon thought he’d managed it relatively well.