Blood in the Ozarks

33. What The Hell

"Excuse me?" I asked in disbelief. Whether that was about her threat to murder someone, or that she'd used the F-word I wasn't sure.

Sheriff Dinah hopped down off the bar stool with the light touch of a dancer. The confidence that allowed her to traverse dense woods only a few days ago was now on full display.

"We can't put people like them in jail. My only choice is to kill them. That's why you sent that fella to DC, isn't it? Because you knew you couldn't leave that kind of monster in a box with normal people."

Our plan was never to kill anyone. Every creature, even the supernatural, deserves to live a peaceful life. Jayme Donner gave up that right when he used his abilities in an act of aggression against us. Sure, we could have left him in the local jail. A fiend would probably fare okay in a human jail since their change was never forced by nature. But we couldn't risk Donner taking matters into his own hands. Plus, he was our best suspect for the UKC that was killing students. Even if he were human, we would be taking him back with us. The bureau doesn't take murder lightly, leaving the county jail to sort out the details.

But I didn't voice any of these thoughts. Instead, I let the sheriff continue on explaining herself and hopefully divulging her own role in the case.

"Which is why Daryl isn't here, I assume. Went to rescue his new puppy from whatever fancy cage you've put him in. I'm guessing he won't be back for a while."

I didn't think Jayme Donner had a strong enough bond with their Pack to warrant a bailout mission. Or for the Pack to even bat an eye. Maybe he'd become closer with the group than he'd let on. Because once you're part of a Pack, they are there for you to the ends of the earth. On the other hand, if you caused any amount of trouble your punishment would be handed down from the Pack as well. And that end of the bargain could prove fatal.

"So Daryl isn't here. Where's their Guard? What have you done with the fiends?"

"They've been taken care of. That nice block of aconite we took off you helped us out with that."

"Shit," Ortega spat under his breath.

Millions of thoughts raced through my head. How much aconite had Ortega had on him? How much did they use on the fiends? Enough to kill them? Or enough to only make them angry when they woke up?

"Do you understand how many calls I get about this fucking bar? Or these people in general? If they aren't wrecking havoc out here, they are causing trouble in town. You'd think my biggest problem would be the college kids, but it's not. It's these goddamn creatures out scarring joggers and snacking on cattle."

"So your solution was to murder their family memebers?" I asked, incredulous.

Dinah huffed. "No, of course not."

"Then what the hell, lady?" Ortega bellowed.

A howl came from outside. Not outside as in the general outdoors area. The howl sounded like a wolf was sitting right outside the bar's front door baying straight into the room.

All three deputies stilled, their necks snapped to attention and they faced the door. No one moved other than to turn a careful eye on the door.

As the handle turned, Dinah placed a hand on her firearm. Ahead of her Ortega raised his own gun, but instead of at the door he was aiming for her.

The door opened and the doe-eyed deputy I'd seen before stumbled into the bar. Ducking behind him as they entered was Cian with his left hand outstretched holding a gun.

Favoring his left arm, Cian shoved the deputy forward with the barrel of his gun as his right arm hung gingerly to his side.

"Don't you dare fucking change," Cian warned him, pressing the barrel against the deputy's skin above his uniform collar.

"Change?" I asked. I was slow on the uptake. All I could think about was that Cian was there. He was right in front of me. Relief washed over me and it took everything in me not to address his sudden presence.

Cian ignored my startled question. "I caught this one out front. I think there's a second one on the back door. Hopefully still human."

Ortega didn't wait for an explanation. He ran through the front door before anyone could move to stop him. Although if he was running into the arms of someone guarding the back door, they may not have cared much. One less person to deal with as long as their guy could hold off Ortega. Personally, I had my doubts.

We were in a stand-off. With Cian's gun raised to the deputy, my hands aching to grab my own gun, and Dinah poised to send the other officers forward--none of which seemed to be armed.

I was catching up.

"Are these the--?"

Cian glared at the deputy. "Werewolves."