Dates from Hell(74)
“Contract agent.”
His brows shot up. “Agent? I hope you don’t really expect me to believe that.”
Figures. He might not be physically fighting back but he sure as hell was going to use what—despite his superhuman strength—was obviously his weapon of choice. I took my scarf from my purse.
He continued, “Perhaps that story works with others, but I’m afraid whoever you’re working for has underestimated my knowledge of the interracial council. They don’t employ—”
I lifted the scarf.
He looked at it. “I’m already cuffed, and I can assure you, I don’t need to be bound in any other way.”
“Oh, I think you do.”
I jammed it into his mouth. His eyes widened. He looked at me, eyes narrowing. Then, with a noise almost like a snarl, he turned his gaze away, and let me tie the scarf.
“Wait here,” I said. “I’m going to make a call.”
5
O ne last check to make sure my quarry was secure, then another check—this one outside the door—and I slipped into the hall. I didn’t dare go far, not when I wasn’t sure of his powers.
He wasn’t a vampire. The Samson routine with the metal bars had disapproved that theory. Contrary to some legends, vampires didn’t have superhuman strength. My guess was that he belonged to the most complex of races—my own. I couldn’t recall a half-demon type with his particular skill set, but we were a varied lot, with plenty of rare and poorly documented types, like my own.
One thing I did know. This meeting had been no accident, and I kicked myself for not realizing that the moment Tristan offered me tickets to the gala. Granted, he did that kind of thing often—the perks that came with this job were phenomenal, and I sometimes felt guilty accepting them. I’d told Tristan and, through him, the council, that I didn’t need any extras to boost my job satisfaction. But he assured me they were all freebies, like these gala tickets, a gift from a grateful supernatural that would go to waste if I didn’t use them. Still, this was the second time Tristan had sent me someplace and I’d “stumbled” onto a supernatural crime in progress.
They were testing me. The council wanted to see how good my chaos nose worked, and I guess I couldn’t fault them for that, but when I made that call, I couldn’t help snapping at Tristan.
“Okay, okay,” he said, laughing. “No more tests. Can you blame us, Hope? You’re an Expisco half-demon! We’re like kids with a new toy, dying to see what it can do. And you outdid yourself, as always. Karl Marsten, caught by a half-demon rookie agent.”
“So the council’s been after this guy for a while?”
“They have, which is why I should remind you that you shouldn’t take down targets on your own. That’s why we provide backup. You’re too valuable.”
“It wasn’t much of a risk. Superhuman strength or not, he didn’t even try to fight.” I paused. “Those handcuffs will hold him, won’t they? You said they’re specially made to hold anything supernatural.”
A moment’s hesitation. “You cuffed him?”
“So they won’t hold? Well, he’s still in that room anyway. The door’s closed and—”
“He can’t break the cuffs, Hope. That’s not the problem. I thought you knew—didn’t you—you usually know what they are.”
“Sometimes. This time, I didn’t get a vision—”
Oh yes, I had. Standing in line at the buffet, with him behind me, a vision of forest and fur and fangs and blood.
“He’s a werewolf,” I said.
“And a very dangerous one. You need to subdue him—”
“Should I? If he’s dangerous, don’t you want me to wait—”
“No time. As charming as Marsten seems, he’s a werewolf, the most brutal and unpredictable kind of supernatural, and now he’s cornered, which makes him ten times as dangerous. If he knows it’s the council who captured him, he’ll do anything to get away—kill anyone in his path.”
I swallowed. “Okay, so how do I subdue a werewolf?”
“Disable him. Knock him unconscious. Shoot him if you have to. You don’t need silver bullets—”
“I know.”
“Don’t kill him, just—”
“Disable him. Got it.”
I was already hanging up as Tristan promised me a backup team was on the way.
I made it as far as the door, one hand on the knob, the other on my gun, still hidden in my purse. I turned the handle and—
“You there!”
I dropped the gun into my purse and wheeled as a white-haired security guard strode toward me.