Book 1 - Page 34 (1/2)
Bran's smile softened with amus.e.m.e.nt. ”Samuel was gone for a long time,” he explained. ”Other than Adam, I think that only Darryl, Adam's second, has ever met him. Until we know what is going on, I'd rather not have everyone know I'm investigating matters.”
”We think the time is coming when we will no longer be able to hide from the humans,” said Samuel, who had finished wrapping Adam in the blankets. ”But we'd rather control how that happens than have a group of murdering wolves reveal our existence before we're ready.”
I must have looked shocked because Bran laughed.
”It's only a matter of time,” he said. ”The fae are right. Forensics, satellite surveillance, and digital cameras are making the keeping of our secrets difficult. No matter how many Irish Wolfhounds and English Mastiffs George Brown breeds and crossbreeds, they don't look like werewolves.”
Aspen Creek had three or four people breeding very large dogs to explain away odd tracks and sightings-George Brown, a werewolf himself, had won several national t.i.tles with his Mastiffs. Dogs, unlike most cats, tended to like werewolves just fine.
”Are you looking for a poster boy like Kieran McBride?” I asked.
”Nope,” Adam grunted. ”There aren't any Kieran McBrides who make it as werewolves. Harmless and cute we are not. But he might be able to find a hero: a police officer or someone in the military.”
”You knew about this?” I asked.
”I'd heard rumors.”
”What we don't need right now is a murdering b.a.s.t.a.r.d running free around the Tri-Cities, using werewolves to kill people,” Bran said. He looked over my shoulder at his son. ”Find the blackguard and eliminate him before he involves the humans, Samuel.” Bran was the only person I knew who could use words like ”blackguard” and make them sound like swear words-but then he could have said ”bunny rabbit” in that tone of voice and weakened my spine with the same s.h.i.+ver of fear.
But I s.h.i.+vered more from the cold than fear. In the Tri-Cities it was still above freezing most days. It wasn't particularly cold for November in Montana-for instance, my nostrils weren't sticking together when I breathed, so it wasn't ten below zero yet-but it was considerably colder than I was used to.
”Where's your coat?” asked Bran, his attention drawn to my chattering teeth.
”I left it in the room,” I said. ”It's not mine.”
”You are welcome to it.”
”I'm out here now,” I said.
He shook his head. ”You'd better get going then, before you freeze to death.” He looked at Samuel. ”Keep me apprised.”