Wolf Slayer Read online

  Although Madden was in no doubt they were dealing with another Cage Killer case, there were some differences. Usually, the Cage Killer hacked off one finger each day, sending the digits to the police. He killed his victims on the tenth day. With Maria, he had spread out the mutilations. She had no clear idea of how long she had been kept captive, but when Madden questioned her about her movements prior to her abduction, he discovered it was likely the Cage Killer had kept her in those caves for at least two weeks.

  Dr. Lambert was the consultant leading the team caring for Maria. She had examined her and confirmed that the two-week timeline was consistent with Maria’s injuries. “As well as the mutilations, he’s been using her as a punching bag.”

  The doctor’s words caused Madden’s Arctic werewolf to surge restlessly against the barriers of his human form. If only he knew where the bastard was. Nothing would have given him more pleasure than to set his inner wolf free to go after the Cage Killer. Human law was too good for this bastard. A little werewolf justice was called for every now and then and Madden had a strong desire to be the one to administer it. In all his years of being a cop, he had never wanted to step out of line. Never known a time before when he would willingly have surrendered his anonymity. This was it. He’d found his breaking point.

  It was a conversation he had now and then had with his Arctic werewolf friends. His fellow members of the Brotherhood of the Midnight Sun had argued that there were principles that were strong enough to cause a werewolf living peaceably in the human world to abandon his or her disguise. Madden, the only cop among them, had disagreed. He followed the code of ethics of his fellow human police officers. Nowhere in that code did it say it was okay to step out of line and become a werewolf to sort things out if ever he felt the force he served wasn’t getting it right, or doing it fast enough.

  How did that fit with being a member of the brotherhood? He was able to square it with his conscience. The Brotherhood of the Midnight Sun was an elite fighting force of seven Arctic werewolves, established by the goddess Angrboda, Mother of All Wolves. Their role was to maintain peace within the werewolf world. They would never be asked to infringe upon the human forces of law and order.

  Joining the police had felt right to Madden. It felt like he was giving something back to a human society that had cared for him when it felt like the werewolf world had turned its back on him. When he was a cub, his parents had been killed by hunters and the alpha of his wolf pack had cast Madden out. He should have died, had been meant to die, but a trapper had taken pity on him and raised him by hand, not knowing, of course, that the tiny Arctic cub was also half human.

  Ivan Joseph, the trapper who had nurtured Madden had been one of the first Russians to lay claim to the territory that was to become Alaska. Drawn to this land by the abundance of fur-bearing animals, Joseph had left his homeland in pursuit of this lucrative new trade.

  When the young wolf had reached adulthood, the trapper had released him into the wild, but Madden had been too old to join another pack. He had spent his formative years alone—the classic lone wolf—roaming the Arctic tundra, learning how to be a wolf, before deciding his human was the dominant force in his life. Making his way south, he had become Kyle Madden. His keen Arctic werewolf senses and quick wits enabled him to learn fast, he had worked his way through college and university, joined the police force, and fast-tracked his way to detective. Could he say he was fully integrated into human society? There was a level on which it was true. Deep down inside? In so many ways he was still that outcast cub who had no home and didn’t belong.

  Madden dragged his thoughts back to the report on Maria Delgardo’s injuries. Dr. Lambert had studied photographs of the bodies of the other victims. “The brand on her right shoulder appears to be the same as that on the others. It looks like a metal object was heated and applied directly to the flesh. It is the same stylized, distinctive image.”

  “The three-headed dog?” Callie looked up from the notepad on which she had been frantically scribbling.

  The doctor nodded. “From the mark on Maria’s shoulder and the photographs you provided, I’d say the same brand was used on each of the victims.”

  The three-headed dog. Cerberus. The hound of Hades. Guardian of the Underworld. They had researched the image until they were sick of the sight of three-headed dogs and hounds of hell. It was like looking for the workshop where the killer made the cages or a link between the victims. Until they had the Cage Killer himself, none of it made sense. But they had to keep trying. Although now, of course, they had the biggest breakthrough of them all. They had Maria Delgardo. Anything she could give them, no matter how small might lead to the clue to his identity that they so desperately needed.

  “Can I speak to you privately?” Dr. Lambert regarded Madden over the top of her glasses.

  “Of course.” He followed her into a private consulting room.

  “It’s about Maria. I ran some tests on her last night when you brought her in and”—she frowned, clearly struggling to find the right words—“there are some things about her that concern me.”

  Madden’s heart gave a wild series of leaps, as though it was trying to connect with his stomach before escaping through his throat. Was it possible that his theory had been correct all along? Surely it was a chance in a million. And, even supposing he was right, what were the odds that the Cage Killer had struck lucky this time? That Maria Delgardo was an Arctic werewolf?

  “What things, Doctor?” He kept his voice level, determined not to give away the thundering of his pulse.

  “There are some anomalies in her DNA.” The doctor gave a nervous laugh. “This is going to sound crazy, but, when I analyzed her results, I might almost have believed that Maria Delgardo wasn’t human.”

  “You’re right, it does sound crazy.” Madden tried for a slightly incredulous expression. “Possibly it’s an error with your tests?”

  The doctor gave a nervous laugh. “It’s probably just a false reading.”

  Madden checked his watch. “Look, can we continue this another time? Right now, I need to see if I can ask Maria some questions about the guy who abducted and almost killed her. I’d appreciate it if you could keep any other issues quiet until after I’ve done that. I don’t want her spooked any more than necessary.”

  As they walked back onto the corridor, his mind was working overtime. How fast could he get Maria out of this hospital, and which member of the brotherhood was closest? He needed to get someone he trusted down here fast so they could destroy those test results.

  * * *

  The detective who had rescued her was breathtakingly beautiful. It wasn’t a word she would usually use in connection with a man, but in Madden’s case it fitted him perfectly. His body had a coiled muscular strength, and his face, with its unusual coloring—so like her own—was masterfully carved. There was something artistic about those high cheekbones, the narrow nose and strong jaw. And his mouth, with its full, arrogant lips, was perfection itself. It was his eyes that drew her most strongly. They were mesmerizing. Darker and more amber than the bright gold of her own, they drew her into their depths, calling to something within her, something she barely understood but which shimmered just below the surface whenever he was near.

  “I run a small art gallery in Anchorage.” She really shouldn’t be conscious of how she looked in this situation. Yet, faced with so much masculine perfection, she couldn’t help being aware of her shaved head, the patchwork of cuts and bruises that covered her face and body, and her emaciated appearance. This is not a blind date. She wanted to pluck nervously at the sheets that were pulled up to her chest, then she remembered she was lacking a few fingers.

  A choking sound escaped her lips. “Can I get a drink of water?”

  Madden reached for the glass and held it to her mouth. Maria sipped gratefully before leaning back against the pillows. His eyes were concerned as he studied her face. “We don’t have to do this now.”

  “I want to.
” She turned her head slightly so she could see him properly. “The more I can tell you now, the better chance you have of catching him, right?”

  “That’s usually the way it works. It helps if the details are fresh in your mind, but I don’t want to push you. Not if you don’t feel ready to talk.” Those golden eyes glowed with a warm light.

  “What does ready feel like?”

  His hand rested lightly on her wrist above the bandages. “You are the only person who can decide that.”

  She nodded. “Let’s do it.” Drawing in a deep breath, she continued talking about the day she’d been abducted. “I was getting ready for a show. Together with a few other artists who paint Alaskan landscapes, I was putting together an exhibition. I’d stayed late and it was getting dark when I closed up.”

  “Was that unusual?” Madden wasn’t making notes, but she got the feeling he was memorizing the details of what she was saying.

  “Yes. Normally, I close the gallery at five.” She scanned his face, searching for some clue to what he was thinking. “Was he watching me that day? Waiting for the chance to grab me?”

  “It seems likely. You were alone and it was dark. It was the perfect opportunity for him.”

  Maria swallowed hard. “He said my name. I’d locked the gallery door and was just walking up the steps that lead to the parking lot when a man called out my name. How did he know who I was?” She tried, but failed, to quell the rising note of panic in her voice.

  “He doesn’t just choose people at random. We’re sure he watches his victims for some time before he snatches them.”

  She lifted a hand to her mouth. It felt clumsy with its covering of bandages. “That’s what I am, isn’t it? That’s what he’s made me. I’ve become a victim.” The tears she’d been waiting for pricked the back of her eyelids and she attempted to blink them away. “He didn’t kill me, but he has taken control of my life.”

  “Only if you let him, Maria.” Madden’s voice was quiet and compelling. “He can only change who you are if you allow him to.”

  As the tears began to fall, he slid his arm around her so that she could rest her head on his shoulder. She didn’t know if this was in the police procedural manuals, but the feel of those warm muscles beneath her cheek provided a measure of reassurance that went beyond words. She stayed that way for several minutes before lifting her head. Madden handed her a Kleenex and she accepted it with an attempt at a smile.

  “I suppose you want to know about his voice?”

  “I’ve heard it. Many times.” He didn’t elaborate. “Did you recognize it?”

  Maria had thought about this during the long, dark hours of her captivity. Her mind had played many tricks on her during that time. She had been unable to shake the conviction that she had known that voice. Had it been another hallucination? Even though she had no idea where she knew her abductor’s voice from, she was sure it wasn’t her troubled imagination playing tricks.

  “I think I did, but I can’t say where I knew it from.” She sighed. “It goes without saying that, if I do remember, I’ll tell you.”

  “Did he talk to you again? After he said your name that time?”

  “Now and then.” She shivered at the memory of the brutality and the lengthy silences punctuated by disjointed threats. “But the things he said didn’t make sense.”

  He seemed to sense her growing distress. “Can you tell me what he said?”

  She shivered. “He only spoke when he was hurting me. Then he would push me ahead of him in the cave and say things like”—she frowned in an effort to remember the exact words—“‘you know you want to do this’ or ‘stop hiding what you are.’”

  “So you weren’t kept in the cage the whole time?” It had never occurred to him until now that it might be otherwise. In all the other cases, he had assumed that the victim was kept locked up in the cage and that the killer tortured and killed them in that confined space.

  “No. Sometimes, I would spend hours wandering those caves in the darkness. Now and then, I’d think he might have gone and that maybe I could escape. But he was there all the time, watching me. He always took me back to the cage in the end.” She shivered. “I can’t remember it all. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not surprising, given what he put you through. Was there anything else about him that would give us a clue to his identity?” Madden asked. “Anything, no matter how small?”

  “There was a smell. Not in the place where he kept me locked up, but about him.” She saw Madden sit up a little straighter. “A rotten smell, but with something else as well.” She wrinkled her nose, trying to recapture it. “Like when you strike a match. That first scent you get before you smell the burning.”

  “Sulfur.” He breathed the word as though he couldn’t quite believe it.

  “Does that mean something?”

  “Only to me.” He seemed to be debating with himself. “Was there any time when you got a sense of why he took you?”

  “I already said he didn’t speak to me other than those comments when he was hurting me.” Madden’s expression troubled her. It was as if there was something he wanted to ask her, but he wasn’t sure he could.

  “Did he ever try to push you, to force you to shift?”

  “Shift?” She gazed at him uncomprehendingly.

  Madden nodded, as though he had reached a decision. “I’m going to come right out and say this because I’m an Arctic, too, even though no one on the force knows about it. Was your abductor trying to get you to shift and reveal yourself to him as a werewolf? Is it possible that’s why he was watching you in the caves?”

  Maria withdrew her hand from beneath his, easing as far away from him as she could. It was just her luck that the most handsome man she had ever met should turn out to be deranged. It was also just her luck to have escaped one madman only to encounter another.

  “Arctic? Werewolf?” She shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  * * *

  Madden sat on a bench outside the hospital with his head in his hands. How could he have gotten this so totally wrong? From the very start, he had been sure the Cage Killer was targeting victims who had the unique coloring of an Arctic werewolf. But none of the victims so far had been a werewolf. As each case unfolded, that had been one of Madden’s fears. That, once forensics got to work on the bodies, the world would be stunned at the news that werewolves existed. That once the DNA of the victims was analyzed, the truth would come to light and his anonymity, together with that of other werewolves who lived alongside humans, would be blown wide open.

  It hadn’t happened. All of the victims had been human. If the Cage Killer was seeking Arctic werewolves to kill, he was failing. Yet Madden had been unable to shake the conviction that the link existed. The Arctic coloring was too distinctive. He had become certain that the murderer was seeking a particular type, but failing in his search. Madden was convinced that Arctic werewolves were the intended victims.

  When Dr. Lambert had said that Maria’s DNA wasn’t human, Madden had jumped to the conclusion that the Cage Killer had succeeded in his quest at last. He had finally found a victim who was an Arctic werewolf. He laughed, the sound hollow and mirthless.

  She didn’t know what I was talking about. On the contrary, she looked at me as if I was the worst kind of crazy. And I must be. I’ve just blown my whole life wide apart on a hunch.

  “This had better be good.” The familiar voice roused him from his thoughts. The man coming across the lawn toward him was the most welcome sight he had seen in a long time.

  “Sebastian.” Madden got to his feet and greeted his best friend and fellow brotherhood member with an attempt at a smile. “Thank you for getting here so fast.”

  Most members of the brotherhood lived farther north, preferring to stay as close to the Arctic Circle and the midnight sun as they could get. Sebastian was nomadic. He was a freelance journalist, reporting on stories that grabbed his attention. It was a lifestyle that s
uited his restless, daredevil nature. He was currently based in Anchorage, but Madden was fairly sure his friend had relocated to a new city at least three times in the last five years.

  “Your call made it sound urgent.” As he drew closer, Sebastian’s eyes scanned Madden’s face.

  “It is.” Madden drew in a shaky breath as he sat back down. “I’ve just blown my cover as a human and thrown away my career as a cop.”

  Sebastian sat on the bench next to him, stretching his long legs in front of him. “Yeah, that sounds kind of urgent. Want to give me the details?”

  Madden scrubbed a hand across his face, gathering his thoughts. Briefly, he outlined the details of the Cage Killer case, secure in the knowledge that another member of the brotherhood would maintain confidentiality. “I was so fucking sure of my theory that he was hunting Arctic werewolves and that she was one of us that I blurted it out.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I came right out and asked her. Can you believe it?”

  Sebastian was silent for a moment or two. “Yet her DNA isn’t human?”

  “So the doctor said.” Madden shrugged. “Looks like it really was a screwed-up lab result. I fucked up my whole life because some slides got contaminated.”

  “Or the lab result was right and your Cage Killer victim doesn’t know she’s one of us,” Sebastian said.

  Madden stared at him in amazement. Sebastian was the brotherhood’s nonconformist. He was always the one who, when confronted with a problem, took them down a route no one else thought of. This solution seemed so extreme, it was off the scale . . . even for Sebastian. “Is that possible? She could be a werewolf who doesn’t know she’s a werewolf?”