Blood Trail

is usually enough to do the job."

    "I can imagine." A .30 caliber round - and Vicki knew the slug had to have been at least that large to have maintained any kind of shape at all after traveling through flesh and bone and then impacting into the dirt - fired from a high velocity rifle would have left very little of Ebon's head in the wake of its passing. She turned again to Rose and Peter who had been watching her expressionlessly. "I take it that a similar bullet was not found by your aunt's body or you'd have mentioned it?"

    Rose frowned down at her brother then they both shook their heads.

    "Doesn't really matter. Even without the bullet, the pattern points to a single marksman."
    Vicki sighed and leaned forward on the couch, resting her forearms on her thighs. "And here's something else to think about; whoever shot Ebon was shooting specifically at werewolves. If one person knows you're wer, others will too; that's a given. These deaths could be the result of a community. ..."

    "Witch hunt," Henry put in quietly as she paused.

    She nodded, not lifting her gaze from the twins, and continued. "You're different and different frightens most people. They could be taking their fear out on you."

    Peter exchanged a long look with his sister. "It doesn't have to be that complicated," he said.
    "Our older brother is a member of the London police force and Barry, his partner, knows he's a wer."

    "And his partner is a marksman?" All things considered, it wasn't that wild a guess. Nor would it be unlikely that said partner would own a .30 caliber rifle when any six people in any small town would likely own half a dozen between them.

    The twins nodded.

    Vicki let her breath out in a long, low whistle. "Messy. Has your brother confronted his partner about this?"

    "No, Uncle Stuart won't allow it. He says the pack keeps its trouble within the pack. Aunt Nadine convinced him to call Henry, and Henry convinced them both that we should talk to you. That you might be our only chance. Will you help, Ms. Nelson? Uncle Stuart said we were to agree to whatever you charge."

    Peter's hand was back on her knee and he was staring up at her with such single-minded entreaty that she said without thinking, "You want me to find out that Barry didn't do it."

    "We want you to find out who did do it," Rose corrected. "Who is doing it. Whoever they are." Then, just for an instant, the fear showed through. "Someone is killing us, Ms. Nelson. I don't want to die."

    Thus lifting this whole discussion out of the realm of fairy tales. "I don't want you to die either," Vicki told her gently. "But I might not be the best person for the job." She pushed her glasses up her nose and took a deep breath. Both deaths had occurred at night and her eyes simply didn't allow her to function after dark. It was bad enough in the city, but in the country with no streetlights to anchor her, she'd be blind.

    On the other hand, what choice did they have? Surely she'd be better than nothing. And her lack of vision didn't affect her mind, or her training, or her years of experience. And this was a job that would count for something, it was important, life or death. The kind of job Celluci still does. God damn it! She could work around the disability.

    "I can't leave right away." Dawning expressions of relief mixed with hope told her she'd made the right decision. "Unfortunately, I have appointments I can't break. How about Friday?"

    "Friday evening," Henry interrupted smoothly. "After sunset. Meanwhile, no one is to go anywhere by themselves. No one. Both Ebon and Silver were shot while they were alone, and that's the only part of the pattern you can change. Make sure the rest of the family understands that. And as much as possible, stay in sight of the house. In fact, as much as you can, stay in sight of non-wer. Whoever is doing this is counting on you not being able to tell anyone, and as long as there are witnesses around you should be safe. Did I miss anything, Vicki?"

    "No, I don't think so." He'd missed asking for her opinion before he started his little lecture, but they'd discuss that later. As for his assumption that he'd be going along, well, it solved her transportation problem and created all sorts of new ones that would have to be dealt with -
    again, later. She wasn't looking forward to "later."

    "Over the next two days," she told the twins, "I want you to write me up a list - two lists actually; the people who know what you are on one and