person, seemed to know where she’d gone or what happened to her. She’d vanished, and none of Pierre’s available resources seemed able to find her.
He’d truly hoped that his brother, working as a technician in a provincial lab that tested blood, would by some miracle run across her. With the free healthcare Canadians enjoyed, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that she’d go for yearly physicals and submit samples of her blood. And if luck could take their side, his brother would end up with that sample and spot the markers in her makeup that would shout her status as more than human. It hadn’t happened yet, but in an odd twist, Pierre’s brother located a male within a two-hour drive of their town.
Whoever that male was, he needed to be brought in. Lycans weren’t supposed to exist outside a pack. The dangers to their kind didn’t allow for it, and given this unknown’s rash decision to allow humans to take his blood, needed either some teaching or reminding of his special status.
Pierre gave Remy a shout before heading out, just to let him know he’d be gone a day, maybe more as he dealt with the Lycan. Not that Remy showed much interest. Eat, sleep, and work. That was all his boy did since he’d gotten kicked out of college.
GPS-ing the address, Pierre followed the coordinates right into the city—and not the nice part of it. He pulled up outside a concrete edifice where more sheets than blinds covered the windows and graffiti provided a colorful backsplash. Arming the alarm on his car, Pierre exited it and hoped it would stay intact while he conducted his business.
The interior of the building, easily accessed through the broken security door, looked as shabby as the outside, with worn linoleum and rusted mailboxes. The elevator, no surprise, wasn’t in service, and judging by the ragged tape closing it off, hadn’t operated in a while. Pierre jogged up the stairs, the artwork on the walls providing visual entertainment and a new vocabulary of words—as well as lots of phone numbers for a good time.
Setting foot onto the sixth floor, he peeked up and down the hall before choosing a direction. Number six thirteen didn’t look any different than any other door in this place. After knocking firmly, Pierre stood back and waited, his eyes shifting from side to side, unable to prevent himself from scanning the corridor for trouble. Faint sounds from behind the door made him turn, and he held in a sigh of impatience as he heard the tumbling clicks of numerous locks. The scarred portal pulled open, only a few inches, held in place by a security chain, a joke considering he could snap it without even trying.
A pale oval face peered at him, the bright blue eyes regarding him with suspicion.
As if punched in the gut, Pierre gaped in surprise. Of all the things to hide behind the door, she wasn’t what he’d expected, but he recognized her from the yearbook photos. “Are you Mina?”
“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested. Have a good day.”
As she went to close the door, Pierre blurted. “But I’ve been looking for you.”
She paused, and a crease marred her brow. “Looking for me? What for? Who are you?”
He debated lying, anything to get her to open the door, but her expressive face, which flitted between fear and suspicion, made him go with honesty. “I’m Pierre, Remy’s father.”
Her eyes widened, and he didn’t miss the tremble of her lips. “Sorry. I don’t know who that is.” She moved to close the door, but Pierre slipped his hand through the crack and stopped her.
“What are you doing? Get your fingers out of there. I don’t want to hurt you.” Panic threaded her words.
“Then let me in. I just want to talk to you.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“Mama.”
The child’s voice sent a frisson down Pierre’s back. It can’t be. Not from one time. “Whose child is that?” he whispered.
“My—my husband’s,” she replied in a quaver
He’d truly hoped that his brother, working as a technician in a provincial lab that tested blood, would by some miracle run across her. With the free healthcare Canadians enjoyed, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that she’d go for yearly physicals and submit samples of her blood. And if luck could take their side, his brother would end up with that sample and spot the markers in her makeup that would shout her status as more than human. It hadn’t happened yet, but in an odd twist, Pierre’s brother located a male within a two-hour drive of their town.
Whoever that male was, he needed to be brought in. Lycans weren’t supposed to exist outside a pack. The dangers to their kind didn’t allow for it, and given this unknown’s rash decision to allow humans to take his blood, needed either some teaching or reminding of his special status.
Pierre gave Remy a shout before heading out, just to let him know he’d be gone a day, maybe more as he dealt with the Lycan. Not that Remy showed much interest. Eat, sleep, and work. That was all his boy did since he’d gotten kicked out of college.
GPS-ing the address, Pierre followed the coordinates right into the city—and not the nice part of it. He pulled up outside a concrete edifice where more sheets than blinds covered the windows and graffiti provided a colorful backsplash. Arming the alarm on his car, Pierre exited it and hoped it would stay intact while he conducted his business.
The interior of the building, easily accessed through the broken security door, looked as shabby as the outside, with worn linoleum and rusted mailboxes. The elevator, no surprise, wasn’t in service, and judging by the ragged tape closing it off, hadn’t operated in a while. Pierre jogged up the stairs, the artwork on the walls providing visual entertainment and a new vocabulary of words—as well as lots of phone numbers for a good time.
Setting foot onto the sixth floor, he peeked up and down the hall before choosing a direction. Number six thirteen didn’t look any different than any other door in this place. After knocking firmly, Pierre stood back and waited, his eyes shifting from side to side, unable to prevent himself from scanning the corridor for trouble. Faint sounds from behind the door made him turn, and he held in a sigh of impatience as he heard the tumbling clicks of numerous locks. The scarred portal pulled open, only a few inches, held in place by a security chain, a joke considering he could snap it without even trying.
A pale oval face peered at him, the bright blue eyes regarding him with suspicion.
As if punched in the gut, Pierre gaped in surprise. Of all the things to hide behind the door, she wasn’t what he’d expected, but he recognized her from the yearbook photos. “Are you Mina?”
“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested. Have a good day.”
As she went to close the door, Pierre blurted. “But I’ve been looking for you.”
She paused, and a crease marred her brow. “Looking for me? What for? Who are you?”
He debated lying, anything to get her to open the door, but her expressive face, which flitted between fear and suspicion, made him go with honesty. “I’m Pierre, Remy’s father.”
Her eyes widened, and he didn’t miss the tremble of her lips. “Sorry. I don’t know who that is.” She moved to close the door, but Pierre slipped his hand through the crack and stopped her.
“What are you doing? Get your fingers out of there. I don’t want to hurt you.” Panic threaded her words.
“Then let me in. I just want to talk to you.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“Mama.”
The child’s voice sent a frisson down Pierre’s back. It can’t be. Not from one time. “Whose child is that?” he whispered.
“My—my husband’s,” she replied in a quaver
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