Cold Spell Page 2

  Jackie pinched the bridge of her nose as if to ward off the headache brewing behind her eyes. That headache’s name was Beauregard Wheeler and twenty-six years ago, Bo had a one-night stand with a part-time bank teller named Mariann Hall. Nine months later, Mariann died of a pulmonary embolism while pregnant. Jackie came into the world in an emergency C-section and bounced around in the system before Bo tracked her down as a teenager and decided they should live together. So began Jackie’s complicated relationship with the man she called her father. It would have ended there, too, if she hadn’t found she had a knack for finding discrepancies in financial ledgers and gotten hired to do taxes for Bo’s boss, Lou Ganner. Now Lou was her boss, too.

  By the time she’d finished her coffee and grabbed her bag, the sun had crawled back under a blanket of clouds. Crisp, cool air nipped at her face and ears. The houses on either side of hers had been decked up for the holidays with lights, wooden cutouts of reindeer, and festive-looking snowmen. Jackie stopped on her way to the car, a small suitcase in one hand and a laptop bag in the other. How much time had her neighbors spent putting all those Christmas decorations up and taking them down every year? And how much had they spent on something so trivial? Yet the same people would complain come April about their tax bills.

  “Hey, Jackie!”

  Jackie turned away from examining the Christmas decorations at the chipper sound of the middle-aged lady who lived three doors down. The lady waved to her from the end of the driveway, but didn’t stop her morning jog. She was a werewolf too, a member of the local pack. The lady always tried to be friendly, and invited Jackie to check out the local pack, but that didn’t interest her. The life of the lone wolf suited her. Packs and their social ladders were a waste of time. Besides, the local alpha—the blonde’s lover every Tuesday and Thursday morning after she saw her kids off to school and husband to work—wasn’t anyone she’d follow into a fight. So long as they didn’t bother her, though, she wouldn’t give them trouble.

  Jackie feigned a smile and waved back. The neighbor lady seemed satisfied by their short encounter and jogged on.

  Her drive to the airport in downtown Billings was uneventful, except for a wreck on the side of the road between a young kid in a hand-me-down suit and a heavy-set man driving a Hummer. The kid had rear-ended the Hummer, but the kid’s used car had more damage than the Hummer. That didn’t stop the older man from carrying on and giving his full report to the cops while the young man stood aside, looking panicky. Traffic crawled by the accident, but picked up right after.

  Since Bo had neglected to tell her which flight and what time, Jackie assumed their normal arrangements applied, which meant she would find him in the bar. It was early yet for a drink, but it was three o’clock somewhere and Billings had an international airport, which meant the bar was already open. She ordered a newspaper and another coffee and sat down to do the Sudoku.

  Jackie almost had it solved by the time an unassuming stick of a man in a blue flannel button-up, jeans, and cowboy boots sat down next to her. “A Miller for me and a Shirley Temple for the kid, honey.”

  “You never change, do you?” Jackie said to Bo without looking up.

  “Didn’t you ever hear you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?”

  Jackie put her pencil down and folded the paper in half before turning to face her father. They were alike in the eyes and in the corners of the mouth, but the similarities ended there. Bo had let his hair grow long and kept it pulled back in a mostly silver ponytail. A scratchy looking beard covered his chin and most of his neck, more the result of several days without a razor than a stylistic choice.

  Jackie preferred to wear loose fitting t-shirts and leggings or jeans. Anything easy to get out of in case she needed to shift worked, and that didn’t include button-ups. Buttons were a pain to undo in a hurry.

  The bartender returned with their drinks.

  Jackie pushed the Shirley Temple away. “So what are we doing in Alaska?”

  “Sorting out a pack that needs sorting.” Bo left the answer hang as if that should explain everything.

  “Alaska is a big state. There are three different packs there. Which one needs sorting?”

  “There’s four packs.” Bo took a long, loud pull from his beer. “The Denali pack, The Yukon Delta pack, The Anchorage pack, and the North Slope Borough pack.”

  “I didn’t know there were packs as far north as North Slope.”

  Bo shrugged. “Cold as the balls on a brass monkey up there, so I don’t know why anyone would want to live that far north, but there is a pack up there. A small one with only twelve names on the roster.”

  Jackie sighed. If she wanted answers, she’d have to drag them out of him. “Okay, then. What’s wrong with the pack up there?”

  Bo’s face sobered. “The alpha called it a laughing sickness, a madness that seems to be overtaking his pack. So far, two have died, meaning that small pack is even smaller.”

  Jackie shifted in her seat to give Bo her full attention. “Laughing sickness?”

  “I looked it up,” Bo said after another long pull from his beer. “Closest thing I could find was a disease from Papua New Guinea called Kuru. It’s related to cannibalism, but it doesn’t fit. With Kuru, the primary symptom is shaking. Tremors. Not aggression and uncontrolled laughter. No, this is something different.”

  “So why are we going in?”

  Packs didn’t call people like them in just to solve problems. If they were going somewhere, it was to kill someone or cover up something. There were rules, and one didn’t just subvert them because it was convenient to do so. Not that there were any official rules outside of the ones the United States government imposed. Just strong suggestions.

  When the werewolves came out to the public ten years ago in the Revelation, the government created the new department named the Bureau of Supernatural Investigations, BSI for short. Every major city had agents that kept records of which vampires, werewolves, and fae lived in the area. Whenever one committed a crime, BSI got a call. But BSI did more than monitor supernaturals and solve crimes. They’d also decided a while back that supernaturals should have permission to breed, permission to move, permission to do anything. The government tracked them like sex offenders. BSI had a blood test that could detect all kinds of supernaturals. That invention had forced them all to register, Jackie and Bo included.

  But what BSI didn’t know was that werewolves operated under another, more complex social structure. Weaker werewolves bowed to the strong, and the most feared wolf in all North America was Lou Ganner, which made him the de facto king of sorts. Lou had wisely decided it would be better for the werewolves to clean up their own messes rather than let BSI get involved. If Lou was the king, then Bo was his headsman. Lou didn’t have many rules, but if one were broken the pack would get a visit from Bo.

  Bo shrugged. “We go where we’re sent.”

  He wasn’t telling her something, she could sense it. She was going to find out whatever it was. The old man had a history of lying to her, or leaving her out to dry when it really counted. Not this time.

  Jackie slipped the Sudoku page into her purse. “What is it you’re not telling me, Bo?”

  Bo shrugged. “Telling you everything important so far as I’m aware.”

  “But why am I going?” She crossed her arms. “We almost never work together like this. Why are you dragging me all the way to Alaska with no notice?”

  “Can’t a father spend a little quality time with his daughter?”

  Jackie raised an eyebrow.

  “You’re right,” Bo said, dropping the act. “Look, it wasn’t my idea, okay? Lou said take you, so I’m taking you.”

  Jackie sighed and drummed her fingers on the countertop. Lou was up to something, but that was hardly a surprise. The man was always scheming; it just didn’t usually involve her. Whatever it was Lou wanted to accomplish by forcing them to work together, Bo probably wasn’t going to tell her. Not without some convincing.<
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  She sighed. “Tell me about this alpha.”

  “Dominic Amaruq. Probably thirty years old by now. Good guy, or he was the last time I saw him, which must’ve been… What? Ten years ago? Anyway, he wasn’t an alpha back then and ran with the Denali pack a while. He was second or third there, so I’m not surprised he eventually broke off to make his own pack. He wasn’t from that area, anyway. His home is and always has been in Barrow. He’s a native, born and raised at the top of the world.”

  Jackie frowned and tapped her fingers on the bar. Laughing sickness. Occasionally, werewolves went crazy. When they did, it was the alpha’s job to put them down before they could hurt anyone. That was getting rarer, since werewolves were declining in population thanks to BSI’s rules, but it still happened. Jackie had never heard of it happening like that, though. When people said a werewolf went crazy, they meant he enjoyed the hunt too much. Liked killing. He forgot he was a man and embraced the wolf just a little too much, which made him dangerous. They didn’t break into mad laughter.

  “I see the wheels in that big brain of yours turning.” Bo finished the beer and gulped down the Shirley Temple. “I’ve already been through all the records Lou has. Never heard of anything like this.”

  “Are you thinking magick?”

  He slapped his daughter on the back, prompting a growl from Jackie. “You and me, we’re going to go find out.”

  “I still don’t see why I’m going.” Jackie shook her head. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing, Jacqueline.” Bo grinned.

  Jackie winced. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

  “Your mother picked the name, girl. Don’t blame me.” He patted her on the back again and checked his watch. “We’d better hurry. Our plane leaves in twenty minutes.”

  They rose. Bo gave her a once-over as if it were the first time he’d seen her. “Girl, I hope you brought boots and warm clothes.”

  “I have fur and paws at my beck and call,” Jackie said gripping her suitcase. “I think I’ll manage.”

  Chapter Three

  N ic watched the plane taxi down the runway, stifling the urge to take an aggressive stance. Lou Ganner had said he was sending his best, a Jackie and Bo Wheeler. Bo he’d heard of. Every werewolf in North America and beyond had heard of Bo Wheeler, Lou’s hatchet man. Whenever an alpha overstepped or made a serious mistake, Bo would show up and the alpha—and usually several of his pack—would turn up dead shortly after. Nic hadn’t done anything wrong, at least not that he knew of. So why did he feel so on-edge about meeting this pair?

  The woman he’d never heard of, which probably meant she didn’t work in the field often. He wasn’t concerned either way. No woman could threaten his position in his own territory. Bo, however, had carte blanche to murder him if Bo suspected he wasn’t doing his job as alpha.

  Nic adjusted the hood of his parka, pulling it down and away from his face. Well, I guess I’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t doubt me.

  The private plane came to a stop and the stairs rolled up. The door opened.

  She was the first one off the plane. Medium height with a strong build and soft features, she hadn’t dressed for the weather with her white thigh-length coat of thin wool. She stood at the top of the stairs, pulling on a set of white gloves, the wind tugging at her evergreen scarf. At least she’d had the good sense to wear a thermal hat, also white. Deep brown hair with a reddish tinge spilled out from under the hat and pooled in long, messy curls on her shoulders.

  This must be Jackie Wheeler. Nic thought the name fit. He hadn’t been alive when Jackie Kennedy was the First Lady, but this woman coming off the plane carried the same all-American charm that First Lady was famous for. Except this one was a little harsher in her movements, her every move decisive and without excess. It didn’t make her unattractive, but Nic figured her for the corporate type. She had the air of a lawyer, a CEO, or something like that. A woman used to getting her way. Maybe she was here to keep Bo in line.

  She turned her head left and right, scanning the area, before her eyes settled on him. Nic took in an involuntary breath and held it under her gaze. It was the oddest feeling. He’d never seen a woman stare him down like that. If one had ever tried, he should have felt threatened, not attracted.

  Interesting, said the wolf inside of him. We should chase this one.

  To which he answered, This isn’t the time. We are working. Try not to look like a drooling, mindless idiot in front of these two, will you?

  Jackie was halfway down the stairs when an older man barged through the plane door. Bo was decked out in cold weather gear, clearly the more experienced of the two. He hauled a backpack on his shoulders and a larger, leather rolling suitcase in his hand. He started to look around and then realized Jackie was already off the stairs, striding toward Nic and booked it to the ground with surprising agility and speed. They wound up reaching him at the same time.

  Nic extended a hand to Bo who took it in a firm grip.

  “You must be Dominic Amaruq,” Bo said.

  “I prefer Nic, if you don’t mind.”

  Bo’s grip squeezed harder as Nic’s gaze turned to Jackie. Not to be outdone, Nic squeezed back. Bo pulled his hand away and gestured to Jackie to begin an introduction, but she interrupted him, putting her hand forward stiffly.

  “Jackie.”

  Nic took her hand, but rather than in a traditional handshake, he turned her hand over, exposing her knuckles and lowered his head in a slight bow. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  It was a stupid thing to do, and he knew it would antagonize Bo, but he couldn’t help it. It rubbed Nic raw already that he’d had to ask for help. To have that help march into his territory and try to assert dominance with such a human gesture had forced the wolf even closer to the surface than he would have liked. Nic’s inner wolf was far more vindictive than his human self, though they agreed on this one thing: Bo had already shown them disrespect and he couldn’t let that stand.

  Amusement sparkled in Jackie’s eyes as Bo let out a soft growl.

  “Careful,” Bo ground out. “My daughter is a far fiercer creature than you realize. I’d be wary about exposing your neck to her, young wolf.”

  Nic stood and released her fingers, choosing to ignore Bo’s warning. “Thank you for coming, both of you. I can fill you in on the way. It’s not good to stand out in the cold up here like this.”

  The local alpha showed them to an ATV that looked more like an oversized golf cart than a car. It had plenty of room, but only two front seats. Bo, of course, took the front passenger seat, leaving Jackie to slide in the back. She didn’t mind. The back was roomier, and it would be less awkward this way, especially after the way Nic had greeted her.

  He’d done it as a dig at Bo. Men were like that, always trying to get under each other’s skin. She hadn’t expected anyone to try it with Bo. That he had almost instantly made her like him. Nic was bold, at least, to stand up to Bo right out of the chute. Anyone who could ruffle his feathers was alright by her.

  Jackie piled in the back with the luggage and buckled in as the vehicle lurched forward. The town of Barrow reminded her of any other small town in the grip of winter. Snow and ice was everywhere with dirty mounds of it piled up against buildings. Roads of gravel and dirt crunched by under their tires. Where there might have been an undercurrent of green in Montana, white and brown colored Barrow, stretching out until the barren landscape collided with the gray arctic. Already, she found herself missing the trees and hills.

  “So tell me about this laughing sickness.” Bo leaned back and put his arms wide over the back of his seat as if he were relaxed, but Jackie knew better. That posture said he was making an effort to stay in command of his beast.

  “Anabelle Latrim was the first victim,” Nic said as they went over a bumpy patch that made his voice jump a little. “She was fifth in the pack and had never had designs to move up in the past, so when she suddenly became more aggressi
ve and agitated, everyone noticed. I asked her about it before things got bad, before the laughing fits started. She said she just wasn’t sleeping well.”

  Bo turned his head to look at Nic, who kept his eyes glued on the road. “Why not?”

  “She said she never felt alone in her room at night. Like someone was beside her, breathing on her. Whenever she would fall asleep, she complained of icy hands grabbing her ankles.”

  Jackie shivered.

  Nic’s eyes snapped to the rear-view mirror. “You doing okay back there?”

  “I’m just cold. I’ll adjust.”

  Nic turned his attention back to the road. “I’ll have the pack get you some warmer clothes. Someone should have told you how cold the winters get here. It’s probably close to thirty below outside right now and I’d call it a warm day.”

  “I tried.” Bo waved a mittened hand. “But she’s stubborn.”

  Jackie narrowed her eyes. She was of a mind to tell him she’d inherited her stubbornness from him, but didn’t think it’d be a good idea to fight in front of a stranger.

  Bo dug right back into business. “I assume you checked out her room?”

  Jackie didn’t miss how Nic’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “I watched over her personally that day. I saw nothing, but then she reported that she didn’t feel the same when I was there with her. She slept in the common room of the house under watch that night, but no one seemed to see anything.”

  Bo made a grunting noise, the noise he often made when he disapproved of something.

  Nic maneuvered the vehicle through a sharp turn over ice. “She started laughing the next day and couldn’t stop. The doctors had no idea what to do, and neither did I, so we just resolved to keep an eye on her. She didn’t seem violent, and I thought Peter might help.”

  “Peter?”

  “Submissive wolf.” Nic raised one hand off the steering wheel to gesture to nothing. “He and Anabelle always got along.”

  “And more dominant wolves should be driven to protect a submissive.” Jackie leaned forward between the seats. “Which meant he should have been out of any danger.”