From Dead to Worse

said.
    Unfortunately, Furnan wouldn’t shut up. “I hate you,” he said, sounding just as tired as he had before. “I would be glad if a truck hit you. But I didn’t kill anyone.”
    “He believes that, too,” I said, maybe a little dryly.
    Alcide demanded, “How can you claim to be innocent with Cal Myers standing with your pack? He stabbed Maria-Star to death.”
    Furnan looked confused. “Cal wasn’t there,” he said.
    “He believes what he says,” I told Alcide. I turned my face to Furnan. “Cal was there, and he murdered Maria-Star.” Though I dared not lose focus, I heard the whispering start all around Cal Myers, saw the rest of the Furnan Weres step away from him.
    It was Furnan’s turn to ask a question.
    “My wife,” he said, and his voice cracked. “Why her?”
    “I didn’t take Libby,” Alcide said. “I would never abduct a woman, especially a Were woman with young. I would never order anyone else to do it.”
    He believed that. “Alcide didn’t do it himself, and he didn’t order it done.” But Alcide hated Patrick Furnan with a great ferocity. Furnan hadn’t needed to kill Jackson Herveaux at the climax of the contest, but he had. Better to start his leadership with the elimination of his rival. Jackson would never have submitted to his rule, and would have been a thorn in his side for years. I was getting thoughts from both sides, wafts of ideas so strong it burned in my head, and I said, “Calm down, both of you.” I could feel Sam behind me, his warmth, the touch of his mind, and I said, “Sam, don’t touch me, okay?”
    He understood, and he moved away.
    “Neither of you killed any of the people who have died. And neither of you ordered it done. As far as I can tell.”
    Alcide said, “Give us Cal Myers to question.”
    “Then where is my wife?” Furnan growled.
    “Dead and gone,” said a clear voice. “And I’m ready to take her place. Cal is mine.”
    We all looked up, because the voice had come from the flat roof of the building. There were four Weres up there, and the brunette female who’d spoken was closest to the edge. She had a sense of the dramatic, I’ll give her that. Female Weres have power and status but they’re not packleader . . . ever. This woman was clearly large and in charge, though she was maybe five foot two. She had prepared to change; that is to say, she was naked. Or maybe she just wanted Alcide and Furnan to see what they could be getting. Which was a lot, both in quantity and in quality.
    “Priscilla,” said Furnan.
    It seemed like such an unlikely name for the Were that I felt myself actually smile, which was a bad idea under the circumstances.
    “You know her,” Alcide said to Furnan. “Is this part of your plan?”
    “No,” I answered for him. My mind careened through the thoughts I could read and latched on to one thread in particular. “Furnan, Cal is her creature,” I said. “He’s betrayed you.”
    “I thought if I picked off a few key bitches, you two would kill each other off,” Priscilla said. “Too bad it didn’t work.”
    “Who is this?” Alcide asked Furnan again.
    “She’s the mate of Arthur Hebert, a packleader from St. Catherine Parish.” St. Catherine was way south, just east of New Orleans. It had been hit hard by Katrina.
    “Arthur is dead. We don’t have a home anymore,” Priscilla Hebert said. “We want yours.”
    Well, that was clear enough.
    “Cal, why have you done this?” Furnan asked his lieutenant. Cal should have gotten up on the roof while he was able. The Furnan wolves and the Herveaux wolves had formed a circle around him.
    “Cal’s my brother,” Priscilla called. “You better not touch a hair on his body.” There was an edge of desperation to her voice that hadn’t been there before. Cal looked up at his sister unhappily. He realized what a fix he was in, and I was pretty sure he wanted her to shut up. That would be his last thought.
    Furnan’s arm was suddenly out of its sleeve and covered with hair. With huge force, he swung at his former cohort, eviscerating the Were. Alcide’s clawed hand took off the back of Cal’s head as the traitor fell to the ground. Cal’s blood sprayed over me in an arc. At my back, Sam was humming with the energy of his oncoming change, triggered by the tension, the smell of blood, and my involuntary yelp.
    Priscilla Hebert roared in rage and anguish. With inhuman grace, she leaped from the top of the building to the parking lot,