Five Dead Herrings by E.J. Russell

Wash had been rubbing AJ’s arms soothingly this whole time, and the demon’s wings were now folded even if they weren’t fully retracted. “It’s okay, babe.”

“It’s not,” AJ said miserably.

Wash glanced at Jordan and me. “We should let Hugh in to see Lachlan. You’ve done all you can and we can wait for Ewan just as well by the elevator as here. Okay?” AJ nodded and allowed Wash to lead him away.

Jordan stared quizzically after them. “What do you suppose that was about?”

I pointed a finger at the center of his chest. “Whatever it is, you’re to keep your nose out of it. Sometimes I’d swear you were a cat shifter, not a werewolf at all.”

Jordan gave me a disgusted look. “You don’t have to be insulting.” His nose twitched again. “Fish. Why does it have to be fish?” He started to walk into the room, but I stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Jordan. I’m grateful for your escort, but this is a Quest case. You can go now.”

He blinked his big brown eyes. “But—” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “Fine. I’ll wait out here though. You’ll need me to walk you out.”

I suspected I could find my own way well enough, but when Lachlan bellowed my name again, I decided to let it be. I knew from experience that talking Jordan around wasn’t the work of a minute. Or even ten. I slipped into the room and approached the bed.

“Hey.” I studied Lachlan’s face. His usual scowl was in place, but his tanned skin had a grayish cast. He obviously wasn’t up to walking out of here, even without Dr. Mori’s ultimatum. “What happened? You look like crap.”

He cut me an irritated glare. “I’m aware.” He ran a hand through his hair, and when he winced, I noticed that an area under his ear was shaved. “I was mugged.”

“Mugged?” I goggled at him. “What boneheaded mugger would attack you? You’re as big as a Humvee.”

His lips twitched. “Even a Humvee can get T-boned if the driver isn’t paying attention.”

“Were you? T-boned, I mean? Is your truck okay?” I frowned. “Wait a minute. You don’t have your truck.”

He gave me another patented Lachlan Brodie glare. “That’s right. I took your bloody FTA, didn’t I? And look where it got me.”

“You were mugged in Faerie?” Holy crap, the King was going to have a fit.

“No. I was in that stand of trees at the end of the road, digging around for the return token, when I got coshed.”

“Did you see who it was?”

“I was too busy being unconscious, thanks.” He winced again. “Paramedics said I’d been out for at least thirty minutes, although I can’t remember it. Not even sure how anybody found me to call 9-1-1, but whoever it was had to be a supe, since I ended up with the St. Stupid’s SMTs.”

SMTs. Supernatural Medical Technicians. Most of them were witches, so if they said Lachlan had been out for half an hour, they were probably accurate down to the second. “It sounds like they’re expecting an achubydd to come round to treat you, and from what I’ve heard, that’s pretty much instant. So you shouldn’t be stuck here much longer.”

He grabbed my hand, his grip surprisingly gentle. “That won’t help. Not entirely.” He swallowed convulsively. “The mugger took my pack.”

“Oookay. Is there—”

“My pack with my seal skin inside.”

My eyes widened. Without his skin, he couldn’t shift. And if somebody knew that, if they knew what the skin was for, they could control Lachlan’s life. “Oh.”

His grip tightened. “I have to get it back, Matthew. If I don’t, I’ll never be well again. Never whole again. You need to help me get out of here so I can find it.” He let go of me and took hold of his IV line, but I grabbed his wrist.

“No. You stay here. Wait for the achubydd. At least get your physical injuries repaired. I’ll find the pack.”

His skeptical expression didn’t do much for my self-esteem. “You? How will you manage that?”

“I work for an investigation company, remember? This is what we do.” Not that I’d ever done it on my own before, but if I couldn’t handle it, I’d swallow my pride and call Mal or Niall. I gave his wrist a little shake. “Stay here. Let them treat you. Promise?”

He narrowed his eyes, because he knew that I knew that if he made a promise, he’d keep it. He sighed, and he must really have felt horrible because he didn’t fight any more. “All right. I promise.”

“Good. I’ll keep you posted.” I let go of his arm and pointed at his face. “But no more showing up at places unannounced. Get it?”

He nodded curtly. “Got it.”

“Good.” I strode for the door.

“Matthew?”

I turned at the uncertainty in his tone. “Yes?”

He smiled, slow and so sweet he could almost be Ted. I felt that smile low in my belly. “Thank you.”

I scuttled out of the room before I could do anything stupid like fall for another unavailable supe. Since I was aiming for speed rather than accuracy, I ran full tilt into Jordan, who was still lurking right outside the door.

“Oof.” He rubbed his chest. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was the one who ran into you.” I edged past him. “But if you don’t mind, I need to hurry.”

“I don’t mind.” He grinned at me, bouncing on his toes. “Where are we going?”

“We are not going anywhere. I am going to track down a missing—” I clamped my lips together. Client privilege.

“A missing pack. I heard.”

I rolled my eyes. “Jordan. Seriously?”

He gave me the patented werewolf puppy eyes. “Come on, Hugh. I may be lousy with the milk steamer”—he brandished his unnecessary bandage—“but I’m super good at finding things.”

I hesitated. I didn’t really want to bring Jordan in on a case, at least not purposely. We had enough problems when he inserted himself accidentally. On the other hand, what experience did I have in locating missing articles, since apparently when it came to falling for the wrong guy, I couldn’t find my common sense with both hands and a GPS?

“Are you sure you could track it?”

Jordan wrinkled his nose again. “If he was carrying it, then yeah. Smells kind of…rub off. And fish is one thing that I never mistake.” He grinned. “Mostly so I can avoid it.”

I glanced back at the door and lowered my voice. “He’s not a fish. He’s a selkie. A seal shifter.”

“I get that. There’s the whole ocean vibe. But he’s been near a fish lately.” His nostrils flared. “For that matter, so have you.”

“Hey!” I said indignantly. “I cleaned up afterward.”

“Like I said, smells rub off. And linger.” He patted my arm. “But don’t worry. Not forever.”

“Right. Let’s go.”

I didn’t want to take the FTA back to the place where Lachlan was attacked. For one thing, the scene had already been contaminated by the SMTs. The supe community didn’t have a law enforcement branch per se—they dispensed justice through their councils. If they received a complaint, they could haul in the suspected perp and subject them to the same truth spell that had gotten me to declare my enduring love for Ted in front of—among others—Ted’s husband, not to mention the Queen of Faerie, the high druid elder, and the dragon shifter queen. That’s why they needed Quest in the first place. They wanted investigations carried out by their own, discreetly.

I had to laugh, since this investigation was being handled by me—a human who was not their own and never would be—and Jordan, the least discreet person on the planet. We were like a double whammy. A one-two punch. A not-so-dynamic duo.

Nevertheless, I was determined to get the job done.

So we took an Uber, Jordan chattering to the driver—who happened to be a Wonderful Mug customer—all the way. I had him drop us a good half mile away from the attack site, just in case.

Dark had already fallen, but the streetlights cast a wan light on the street. As we walked up the hill toward the spot, Jordan looked around brightly. “Wow. This is way different from my pack’s compound, or even the Howling Residence. Guess some people have a lot of money, huh?”

“You could say that,” I said, eyeing a house with at least four levels, most of them fronted with glass. I put my hand out to slow him down as we approached the trees. “That’s the place. Are you picking up anything?”

Jordan’s eyes lost focus and his nostrils quivered. “Yeah. I can smell Lachlan. And fish. And something else, but—hey, there’s a squirrel!”

“Jordan. Focus. Please.”

“Right. Sorry.” He bit his lip. “I could be more accurate if I shifted. Do you think anyone would notice?”

A wolf in an upscale Portland neighborhood? “What do you think?”

He brightened. “You could pretend to be walking your dog.”

“I’m pretty sure anybody with half an eye will be able to figure out that a wolf is not a German Shepherd.”

Jordan tilted his head, and for an instant his sardonic expression made him look older than his twenty-one years—like an adult rather than an overgrown teenager. “You got any better ideas?”

I sighed. “Fine.” He started to take off his jacket, but I held up a hand. “How about you wait to strip off until we’re under cover of the trees, okay? Even if we can pass your wolf off as a friendly pooch, I doubt a naked guy morphing into said pooch would pass without comment.”

Even in the sketchy light, I could tell he was blushing. “Sorry. I forget sometimes. Humaning is really hard. I don’t know how you do it.”

As I trailed him into the copse, I forbore from saying I didn’t have much choice. Once we were shielded from sight, he didn’t waste any time, shedding his clothes faster than I could change lenses. I very carefully did not watch him, busying myself with collecting his discarded garments and folding them up to fit in my pack.

When I looked up, wolf-Jordan was gazing up at me with the same big brown puppy eyes as human-Jordan. He gave a short yip and then bent his head to the ground. As I followed him out of the trees and down the street, I really really hoped that the thief hadn’t had a getaway car stashed in a convenient cul-de-sac, because I doubted even Jordan’s super-sniffer powers would be up to a car chase.

With a low whine in the back of his throat, Jordan picked up speed, making me trot to keep up. Ears pricked, he made a last dash and stopped, panting with a wolfy smile.

Right in front of the Martinson’s pretentious wrought-iron gates.

And call me a cynic, but I wasn’t surprised in the least.