Damien climbed up the rope and into the tree. From there, he would have an excellent view of Vincente’s prop…prop…property. “What the fuck?”
I told you to bring the big knife, tailor. Why do you never listen?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The word disturbing did not come close to describing what Damien was witnessing in Vincente’s backyard.
Men and women dressed to the nines and sipping martinis were gathered around a wooden table. On that table was a female. Nude, bound, and surrounded by tiki torches.
Now, if this were your standard ritualistic cult gathering, one would draw certain conclusions. Human sacrifice. Ritualistic rape.
But no.
This was something far worse: a political fundraiser.
Damien winced. That poor woman. In about two minutes the full moon would come out, and if his assumptions were correct, she was going to turn into some sort of creature. Wolf, rabbit, penguin? Who knew? The were-community reached across the species spectrum.
And how did he know she was a were? Vincente’s fear-porn speech.
“You think you are safe?” he bellowed in his tux, circling the table while speaking to the guests. “These creatures don’t want to coexist. They don’t care about you or your families. Sure, some look like you and me. Some even look like our beloved pets. But make no mistake!” He raised his voice higher, shaking a finger at the sky. “They want to enslave you, take over your minds, eat your children. They are evil! We must take action to fight back!”
Damien had to hand it to Vincente; he had the gift of oration. Because his guests started pulling out their wallets and writing checks. The woman on the table hadn’t even shifted yet.
You must put an end to this, tailor. She is suffering. She is afraid. You cannot let this stand.
Damien knew the dark beast was right. The woman had done nothing wrong other than to be born a were or get bitten by one.
I wonder how she survived the blast.
Damien whispered, “I agree with everything you’re saying; however, I cannot take them all on by myself.”
Yes, you can. You have your emergency black suit in the car.
He knew what the beast was thinking, but it was a bad idea. “I’m going to get the police and return.”
It will be too late for the woman, tailor. Stop being such a pussy and fight.
Fighting was not on the menu tonight.
If you will not step up, tailor, then step aside. Let me take over.
“No. Never.”
Damien straightened his tie, put on his sunglasses, and rang the buzzer to Vincente’s front gate.
“Hello?” said a woman over the speaker.
“Here for the party. My fucking assistant lost the code. I’m Senator Robles.” A made-up name but sounded legit.
“Come in, sir.”
The gate buzzed, and Damien walked through, heading straight for the side of the house instead of the front door.
He paused for a brief moment, taking a deep breath. Pretending to be someone official generally worked in most situations, but he’d never attempted anything this bold or, frankly, stupid.
Damien pushed on the gate and stormed around the side of the massive house. “Everyone stay where you are.”
Startled, the people in the crowd turned and gasped.
“Who the fuck are you?” snarled Vincente, a thin blond man with hollow cheeks.
“Do you have a permit for this creature?” Damien pointed to the naked woman. “Do you even know the laws? No. I thought not. Because harboring a were requires a level-ten clearance, and the last time I checked, you, Vincente Newbery, didn’t have one. So you can either come with us—” Damien pointed to the trees around the perimeter, pretending he had an army of men in black suits with him “—or you can look at my handy device here and forget this ever happened. Either way, this dangerous being comes with us.” Damien held up his pen. Hell, it worked in the movies.
You are ridiculous, tailor. Let me handle this.
“I’ll take the forget option.” A woman in a white dress handed her drink to the man next to her and went to stand in front of Damien. “Sorry, Newbery, but I can’t afford bad publicity. Not now.”
Damien stood his ground, not reacting to the drama. No blinking. No moving. Just a mysterious man in a dark suit wearing sunglasses at night. Like the song.
“Go untie that creature, please,” he told the woman in the white dress.
She scrambled over and loosened the restraints.
The naked woman sat up, crying hysterically.
Damien pushed away any feelings of sympathy. He had to. “You. Give her your dress.” He pointed to another woman in a red dress who was the same size as the were.
“But this is a Valentino.”
“Who do you think you’re fooling with that knockoff? Valentino never made that design in red. Now give it to her.” Damien probably should not have said that. Didn’t go with the persona.
The woman did not seem to notice his slip-up and quickly stripped it off, leaving her in a pair of unflattering control-top panties and an eight-hour support bra. The wrong size. She was clearly a B cup trying to fit into a C.
She handed the dress to the were.
“Good. Now if everyone would please stand over there in a single-file line,” Damien instructed coldly, preparing to grab the were and make a hasty exit.
The crowd started organizing, muttering how pissed off they were at Vincente for getting them involved with this. Vincente just looked downright confused.
This rescue was going much better than he’d thought. Of course, now he’d have to return later. Damien still needed to have that chat with Vincente like he’d planned.
Screams erupted, jarring Damien from his moment of triumph. The clouds above separated with a slow crawl, and the moonlight beamed down on the yard.
The female were dropped to her hands and knees, giant feathers sprouting from her spine.
A were-eagle? “Oh shit.”
When will you listen, tailor? Always bring your weapons. Always! You’d better run.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Just after midnight, covered in blood, Damien pulled in front of an impressive glass palace overlooking Malibu beach and shut off his engine. Not only had his “emergency” suit been ruined—completely shredded—but the one man who could have provided valuable answers pertaining to the creature trafficking was now history. So were the catering staff, pets, lawn furniture, and all but one of the guests. The eagle had gone to town.
Jesus, I thought they were merely legends. Mythological creatures invented by the ancient Greeks.
Nope.
The thing’s wingspan had to be at least thirty feet. The talons were so long and sharp, it had made sushi out of the guests in under two minutes. It had been a complete bloodbath.
After that, the were-eagle took a tiki torch and lit the place up. Any documents, evidence, or clues inside Vincente’s home were now gone.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He pounded his fists on the steering wheel. He just wanted to get this done and move on.
“Thank you again for saving me,” said a quiet, feminine voice from his side. “I promise I’ll never forget what you did.”
He turned his head toward the woman wearing his shredded blazer and her control-top panties. She was the only guest who’d survived, though he hadn’t been trying to save her. He’d been attempting to get the were-eagle to go with him.