Spark of a Wolf [Eyes of Darkness Series Book 2] Read online

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  Whiskey Creek Press

  www.whiskeycreekpress.com

  Copyright ©2005 by WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  EYES OF DARKNESS

  BOOK 2:

  SPARK OF A WOLF

  by

  Christy Poff

  WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

  www.whiskeycreekpress.com

  Published by

  WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

  Whiskey Creek Press

  PO Box 51052

  Casper, WY 82605-1052

  www.whiskeycreekpresstorrid.com

  Copyright ©

  2005 by Karen Morris

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  ISBN 1-59374-465-X

  Credits

  Cover Artist: Lisa Ulibarri

  Editor: Chere Gruver

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  As always, my thanks go to my son and daughter for being there for me when I needed them; to Deb and Dot for their friendship; Chere for her editing and Nick for his cover art.

  Prologue

  A darkened cemetery to an abandoned church. The moon full of ominous warnings.

  Shadows surrounded him and encircled him as he walked deeper into the Garden of the Dead. A shiver ran down his spine, causing him to stop and look around.

  He heard a twig snap and turned toward the noise, though he could still see no one. He calmed and forced himself to go a little further. Another twig snapping stopped him.

  "Whoever you are, come out and face me,” he stated. He hoped he had not betrayed his apprehension. He waited, then heard the rustle of dried leaves as someone approached. Again, he turned to where the sound came from, though he could find no one near him. He sensed the presence of another. Why hadn't they shown themselves?

  The note had been clear.

  Meet me at Saint Anne's Cemetery if you want the answers you seek. Midnight. Come alone.

  Cryptic at best, something in the message compelled him to be at this place at the stroke of midnight. Never had an invitation held power over him like this.

  He heard a nightingale sing its mournful song, then fly away. The air around him changed and closed in on him, intense and dangerous. Should I leave now?

  No, you shouldn't—not if you want answers.

  "Get out of my mind, damn it! Come out and face me!"

  He heard another sound and spun around to come face-to-face with the largest silvery-gray wolf he had ever seen. The moonlight bathed the animal, giving it the appearance of having white fur. His eyes locked with the animal's glare, red with a devilish fire.

  I will not harm you unless you force me to.

  "Who are you?” he asked aloud, taking comfort in the sound of his own voice.

  I am your future.

  "Excuse me?"

  You are one of us—a hunter.

  "No, I'm human—a cop."

  A good one, but you need to discover your true potential. We need your knowledge.

  "And you know about me how?"

  Our history tells of a great hunter who'll give us what we need to survive.

  "You're crazy. This is a dream."

  No dream, my friend. It's time...

  "No!” he yelled. His voice shattered the silence of the cemetery. He backed away, then ran. He knew it would be fatal if the wolf caught up with him but he realized he had to escape this insanity—his nightmare. He raced to the gates of the ancient graveyard, but only made it a short distance when the huge wolf tackled him. He rolled on his back and tried to fight the animal off. He grabbed a handful of thick fur to pull him away to no avail.

  Teeth bared, the wolf bore down on him as his thunderous growl echoed through the night.

  Why couldn't you have made this easier?

  "Leave me alone!"

  I'm afraid it is too late for that.

  The wolf bent down, his teeth sinking deep into his prey's shoulder.

  A pain-filled scream ripped through the night. God help me.

  He can't help you now.

  Chapter 1

  Sean McMurray bolted up, soaked in a cold sweat. Why the nightmare kept coming to him, he had no clue. As real as any of his dreams had ever been, this one had been the worst and too close to his own life. The setting had changed, but the nightmare remained the same. He would inevitably fight a mystic wolf and lose the bloody battle.

  At first, he cast them aside and blamed stress, but he could no longer do so. They meant something to him and sooner or later, he would be driven to find out what.

  He had been a detective on the Aspen Police Force since leaving Special Forces, where he had served the elite group as a tracker and surveillance specialist. His incredible night vision had been one of his greatest assets and garnered him nighttime covert assignments worldwide. When he had put his papers in for retirement, his commanding officer tried desperately to change his mind. Sean refused with three simple words—I've had enough.

  The feel of the cool, hardwood floor under his bare feet chilled him and calmed him at the same time. He ran his hand through his dark brown hair and rubbed his neck. The dreams had to stop or he'd go mad. He stood up, the sheet dropping away from his naked body. Since his retirement from the military, he'd lived alone and felt no need for proprieties.

  He walked to the bathroom and washed his face off, the heat of the water giving him some comfort. He dried off and went to the bar in his study, where he poured himself an old-fashioned glass of Jack Daniels. He looked at what he'd poured, downed it and refilled the glass. With bottle in hand, he walked to his leather couch and dropped down on it.

  "I have got to get it together."

  * * * *

  He woke the next morning, sprawled on the couch, the empty glass on the braided carpet. His head hurt from the nightmare followed by his foray into overindulgence. The slight movement to open his eyes to morning's light caused his head to spin. Somehow, Sean got himself into the bathroom and got sick. He washed his face off then, once the room ceased spinning, he cautiously stepped into the shower and took a hot one.

  Sean felt better afterward, hot showers always a relief and comfort. He tugged on a pair of silk boxers, his one extravagance, and then a pair of jeans. He walked to the kitchen and made some coffee. He started when the phone rang, then finally answered it.

  "Yeah, what?” he growled.

  "Good morning to you, too, Detective."

  "Sorry, Jules, bad night,” he told the detective squad's secretary, Julia Reardon. She'd been his Moneypenny, he, her James Bond. They would always be just good friends, the way he preferred it.

  "Are you all right, Sean?"

  "I'll live, I guess. What's up?"

  "We just got a report of a body dumped in the alley behind the senato
r's office. Fortunately, he's in Washington so you won't have to deal with him."

  "How long?"

  "Several weeks."

  "What about the vic?"

  "Within the last twelve hours."

  "Who found it?"

  "One of his secretaries. She went to put trash in the dumpster and found it by the wall."

  "Description?"

  "Blonde, early twenties. Boyd said she overdosed."

  "I'm on my way. Let him know to hold the crime scene till I get there."

  "Already taken care of."

  "Did you get hold of Hunter?"

  "He's holding the scene for you."

  "I see. Thanks, Jules."

  Sean hung up and headed to the shower again. He took a quick one, dressed in a black twill shirt and blue jeans, then slipped his feet into a pair of Vans. On his way to his bureau, he picked up his shoulder holster and checked his 10mm Beretta. The clip full, he made sure he had one shot ready in the chamber. Safety on, he slid it back into the leather holster, then slid into it. One last check assured him he had two extra clips. Sean grabbed his leather jacket and left.

  Outside, he slid behind the wheel of his Chevy Silverado pickup, started it, and let it run a few moments, then left for the drive into Aspen. He loved the town off-season. With no skiing, or minimal skiing at best, tourists blended in with the locals, unlike the winter months when Aspen doubled in size.

  Fifteen minutes later, he parked the truck, got out and walked up to the rear of the small strip of storefronts and small offices. As he got out of the truck, he glanced around the area. From behind his silver aviator-styled sunglasses, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. A small crowd had gathered at the entrance to the alley and Sean took a quick survey of those standing around. One advantage of the shades as dark as he wore, he could watch people without them being aware of his interest.

  As he approached the yellow police tape, he moved his jacket out of the way in order to have his badge evident. A patrolman nodded as he lifted the tape to usher Sean under it.

  "Thanks, Officer."

  "Sir."

  He walked down the alley to where the forensics people hovered over the body of a girl in her early twenties. He could smell death as he picked up the scent of spent blood. He stopped a moment and took a deep breath.

  "You all right, sir?"

  "Bad night, no sleep."

  Sean looked around him, his mirrored shades concealing his eye movements. He couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, aside from the body and investigators, but he sensed something hanging over the area. What the hell is happening here? He took another survey of the immediate area but saw nothing.

  "What do you have?” he asked the first officer he met.

  "The only thing I can tell you is the murder took place somewhere else and then the perp dumped her here."

  "Any idea who she is?"

  "Not yet. I had planned to check missing persons of late to see if we might have a hit there."

  "Good idea. Forward your information to me when you get it."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Anything else?"

  "No, sir. The medical examiner probably has something."

  "Thanks,” Sean said, then stepped closer to the body of a young woman, who at one time, had been a beauty. He looked at her arms and found needle tracks on both. Haphazard at best, he counted over two dozen wounds on her left arm, then checked the right and found the same.

  Sean looked at her face and saw the look of someone who had become dependant on one drug or another. He shook his head.

  "Can you get me the test results as soon as possible?” he asked Dr. Elise Whitman, Aspen's Medical Examiner.

  "Sure."

  "Any ideas?"

  "Cause of death looks to be an overdose, but the pool of blood tells me different."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Poor girl was so high, she never felt the gunshot. After he shot her, he brought her here, where she finished bleeding out.” She showed him the bullet wound in the back of the girl's head before she rolled her back.

  "How long?"

  "Six hours from lividity of remaining blood and she's a bit stiff. Whoever did this dumped the poor girl off as if she were trash."

  "Thanks, Elise. I'll wait to hear from you."

  Sean stood and turned to leave the crime scene. He'd seen enough and could recite the crime's scenario without thinking.

  Young girl, early twenties, found dead. Victim has numerous needle tracks from intense drug usage over a short period of time. Cause of death ranges from stabbing to gunshot wounds, though victim is always left to bleed out. Murdered at one location, not where body eventually located.

  He shook his head but made a note to check the toxicology reports. By now, they had to have some idea what the girls overdosed on. Somebody had access to the drug and he wanted to know the particulars and put the bastards away. Three girls dead, possibly more. Whoever had done this had to be stopped.

  Sean left the alley and walked to his pickup. He slid behind the wheel, deep in thought as he tried to organize the facts as he had them. The more he tried to analyze things, the worse his headache became. He needed sleep or he wouldn't be able to concentrate on the case. He left word for Hunter Lockwood, his partner, to meet him at the office and left.

  * * * *

  Once back in his office, he made up his index cards and pinned them to a board on the wall. His mind worked on organization and it helped him to lay things out like this. After he placed the last card, he stepped back to see if he could find something to lead him to the killer or killers. So far, nothing, but he knew they'd be making a mistake and soon. After three or more unanswered murders, the perps had to be getting overconfident. Make your mistake and I will be there.

  He picked up the phone and called the lab.

  "Do we have anything on the drugs the victims used?"

  "Not yet, though I can tell you it's potent as hell."

  "Go on."

  "I can't match it to any of the ones on the DEA's list. Whatever we're looking at could be a new recipe, maybe even a hybrid."

  "Shit,” Sean cursed. “That means we could have..."

  "I don't even want to think about it, Sean. If this hits the streets, we've got a big problem. Have you seen the ME's reports?"

  "What have I not seen?” Sean asked.

  "Look at the description of the victims’ brains and hearts."

  "What am I looking for?"

  "Each girl would have died within days from either a massive brain hemorrhage or a massive coronary."

  "Shit!"

  "Exactly."

  "Let me know if you get anything more."

  "Sure, Sean."

  "Thanks, Eli."

  Sean hung up even more determined to solve this case. They had been fortunate all this happened during the so-called off-season when Aspen's population was a fraction of the thirty-five thousand who came to the small mountain town to ski at Christmas. The season neared and he needed to put this to rest and solve the case before then.

  * * * *

  Rhiannon Drake worked as a guide—both privately and for the National Park Service. She loved the work and her schedule because she made her own. Once a month, she kept a week for herself. She told anyone who asked about her master's thesis on the effects of the full moon, but she had another, more personal reason.

  Rhi, or Ducky as some of her friends from school called her, had her own agenda and this time helped her keep her sanity. She lived in a secluded cabin on wooded acreage between two national wilderness areas, away from the hustle and bustle of Aspen and the very same people who paid her for her skills.

  She got out of her black Land Rover after finally returning home and stepped away from it. As she did each time she made it home safely, she breathed in a deep dose of fresh air and thanked the Spirits who guided her. Half-Irish, half-Cherokee, she leaned more toward her native roots than the Catholic ties of her father's side of the family. For some
reason, she took more comfort in her beliefs than those of a large, opulent church like the one he went to in Chicago.

  Rhi closed her eyes and let the breeze wrap around her. She opened them to find a black wolf gazing at her.

  "How are you today, my Lord Wolf?"

  She wanted to see what he would do next. He made regular visits to her home and they would visit, then the huge animal would amble off into the woods and disappear. She noticed something different about him as if the weight of the world sat on his shoulders.

  When she knelt down, he went to her and allowed her to stroke his thick fur, a privilege she took to her soul. She closed her eyes again and let her mind open to his.

  You must be careful. A threat to you and the rest of us hangs over the area.

  But, my Lord Wolf, why me? I keep to myself here. You know that.

  I do, my child, but danger is around us.

  What danger?

  Men with their drugs. Their evil threatens our safety.

  But what can I do? I'm not strong.

  You will be, in time. There is one out there who doesn't know of his gifts. You must find him. We need his help.

  Who?

  A man in torment. He's yet to realize or meet the change. It's coming upon him in the near future. He has to come to Sanctuary, or we'll lose him.

  My Lord Wolf, how...

  I don't know but he must be found. You walk in his world as he sees life. You...

  The sound of a car startled the wolf and he drew back and hurried away from her to disappear into the shadows. Slowly, she opened her eyes and came away from the connection between the wolf and her mind. She looked up to see a car pull up behind her SUV.

  She relaxed when she recognized the man who got out of the official-looking vehicle.

  "Charlie, what are you doing here?"

  "I couldn't get a hold of you. You know how I worry."

  "I'm fine. Really."

  "I heard they found another girl murdered. I wanted to see for myself that you're all right."

  "Yes, Charlie, I am."

  "Good, then I'll see you later."

  "Thanks, Charlie."

  She watched the older man leave and smiled. It meant a lot to her that he cared enough to check on her. It disturbed her to hear of another murder in town. What if it kept happening? And the warning ... Who did she have to find or help? What the hell was going on?