“Leonard, are you teasing me?”
He smiled without bitterness this time. “I can’t let my charming cousin have all the fun. And call me Leo.”
I smiled back. This could end up being a fun afternoon.
Chapter Six
The caffeine and sugar from the chocolate pie and latté buzzed happily through my bloodstream as I rode up the mountain in the back of Ron’s compact car. Lonna still had the car keys with her, so I left a note on her Jeep, and the guys brought me home. Leo had originally offered me the front seat, but I was the shortest, so it made sense for me to take the back. After about ten minutes, the guys seemed to forget I was there.
For a moment it felt like I was back in graduate school. Most of my friends had been men, and I’d learned to fade into the background and listen to them tease. The differences between the thought processes and communication styles of men and women had always fascinated me. Now I had to learn a whole new vocabulary—that of the werewolves.
Leo and Ron bantered about women of their past, but when they slipped into a debate about a certain reconstructive surgical procedure in the most recent issue of JAMA, I became bored and watched the world out the window.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve used the road to get up here,” Ron commented as we pulled up to the gate, which was closed. Lonna had the remote, too, so I hopped out and pushed the buzzer.
“Wolfsbane Manor.” Gabriel’s clipped accent came through with some static. “State your business.”
“It’s me, Gabriel, and I have guests.”
“Very good, Madam.”
I hopped back in the car as the gate swung open. Ron maneuvered the car up the long drive to the circle in front of the house. Gabriel had cleaned out and turned on the fountain, and the water droplets sparkled in the sunlight. For a moment, all felt right with the world, but then Ron’s comment about not having used the road to approach the manor jolted me back to the present sticky situation.
“How long have you been coming up here?” I asked.
“Months.” Gabriel appeared in the door, which opened without a creak. He’d been busy.
“Gabriel,” Ron said with no trace of his former joviality.
“Ronald. Good to see you again.”
But it obviously wasn’t.
Leo frowned. “Gabriel? When did you get back in town?”
“Yesterday. Apparently you don’t remember our conversation last night.”
“What conversation is that?”
“The one during which I taught you a lesson about threatening ladies.”
“I don’t remember.”
“You were fresh off the hunt.”
Now I was the one rubbing my temples. It seemed impossible the violent, angry Leo of the night before could be the same affable chap who had just bought me lunch. The conflict had slipped my mind even though my wrist throbbed when I moved it in the wrong direction, and most directions were wrong. It seemed like everywhere I turned today there would be some sort of surprise waiting. I just didn’t want to end up with a fight on my hands, but Leo didn’t look like he wanted one. His frown was of concentration and frustration.
“Would you care for a drink?” Gabriel asked.
“I’d love one,” Ron replied and bounded up the stairs.
“I need one,” Leo added and followed. Gabriel held the door open for them but moved to block me.
“A moment, Madam,” he said.
“Okay.”
“The drinks are on the bar in the den,” he called over his shoulder, then shut the door.
“What is it?”
“As you can tell, there is some, ah, tension between us.”
“No shit.” I crossed my arms and tried to look as stern as I could even though I barely reached his shoulder. “Tell me why?”
“We were part of the same pack. There was a falling out. I became a solitary hunter.”
Gabriel’s revelation jolted me.
“You’re one of them, too?” I whispered.
He looked at his feet. “I thought you might have guessed after last night. My case was from childhood. Your grandfather had hired me for research, and the domestic help thing was just to be a cover-up.
“So why are you still here?”
He inclined his head toward the inside of the house. “The same reason they are, I suspect. I know of your research. And you need the help around here. It’s a big house.”
“Fine, you can stay.” I put a finger on his chest and tried to look intimidating. “But no more funny stuff, and especially no more drugs. At the first sign of something suspicious, you’re out of here. Got it?”
Gabriel nodded solemnly. “Yes, Madam.”
“Why was my grandfather interested in werewolves?” I asked. “Don’t tell me he was one, too.”
“He had the lycanthropic energy about him, and he understood the condition, but I never saw him change. He told me he was working on a cure, and I became a willing subject. It was soon after that he disappeared.”
“What do you know about that?”
“The same facts you do: he went on an ill-fated canoe trip. I was out of town working out immigration issues, so I wasn’t here.”
“Do you think they had something to do with it?” I glanced toward the windows to the den.
“Perhaps we should question these two and see what we can learn.”
“Sure, why not? Although… You haven’t put anything in the drinks, have you?”
He smiled, and wrinkles appeared around his eyes. I realized he had seen and done a lot more than he’d let on, and I mentally added about five years to his estimated age. “No, Madam. I am counting on the truth being in the bottle, as they say.”
We entered the den. Ron and Leo sat on the sofa and sipped beers.
“Done with your conference?” Leo asked.
“Yes, he was just filling me in.”
“Must’ve been quite a fill-in. Ron’s already on his second beer.”
Gabriel took the first bottle—which Ron had put on the sea chest without a coaster—into the kitchen. I poured a glass of white wine from the bottle that chilled in the ice bucket along with the beers.
“So you guys are doctors?”
“Were doctors.” Ron waved his beer in a dismissive gesture. “We could be saving lives, but we’re stuck here, in the middle of the backside of nowhere.”
“Doctor Fisher doesn’t need to hear a reprise of this old conversation,” Gabriel came in with a plate of assorted cheeses and crackers. “She has some questions for you.”
As much as I appreciated his interrupting the rant, I resented him taking the lead just as Lonna had earlier. Did I really seem so timid?
I took a deep breath. “Ron, when were you diagnosed with CLS?”
The lycanthrope in question sat back and sipped his beer. “I don’t remember exactly when I was diagnosed, but I knew when I had it.”
Leo sat forward and laced his fingers over his bottle, his head down. Dark brown curls obscured his face. “The night of Temmerson’s dinner.”
Ron looked sick to his stomach. “The chief surgeon Alfred Temmerson had us residents over to his house. I didn’t have a date, so I brought Leo.”
I listened, fascinated. I had never heard the story told from the first-person adult’s perspective.
Leo had been out sick that day, as he mistook the early signs of CLS infection for the flu, which he assumed he acquired from the flu shot he’d gotten earlier that week. Ron also wasn’t feeling great, so the cousins decided to go to Fred Temmerson’s dinner together in case Ron needed Leo as moral support and chauffeur. When the cousins arrived, they were greeted by the very attractive Lisa Temmerson, who was home from college and helping her father host the dinner. Her mother had died from breast cancer the year before. The moon was waxing, only a day away from full, and as it rose, Ron and Leo felt its charm—and those of the young Lisa.