Flesh and Fury (U.S. Marshals I.S.R. (Interspecies Response) #3)

Chapter Three

EOGHAN

After their little talk, they’d contacted Priest who’d confirmed Eoghan’s suspicions that she wasn’t only sending them north to Bishop to help two werewolf packs negotiate peace. In fact, Alpha Alvin Walters had promised her help with their vampire problem if they were successful. He’d also promised to talk to Oscar Garcia, the Hawthorne Alpha if they could negotiate peace between the packs.

And Joe Two Trees had called with good news. The Tahoe pack was willing to send as many predator shifters as they wanted to help John Townsend get his clan back. It had taken several meetings with the tribe and their tribal council, but in the end, they’d been successful in convincing them that helping a friendly vampire king was better than eventually being overrun by a bad vampire clan.

By the time they arrived in Bishop, it was late afternoon. They’d stopped mid-morning and grabbed breakfast but Ari was starting to get grumpy, so Eoghan figured the first thing on the list of things to do was to find a decent place to eat. To his delight, several new places had opened up since the last time he and Gladys had driven through town. After perusing the available options, he realized that someone on the town council probably thought the way to attract tourists was first to appeal to the small-town bed and breakfast atmosphere as well as opening some good restaurants. There were actually several breweries in town now. They settled on one called the Mountain Rambler Brewery and they’d walked in right as the restaurant was doing Hoppy Happy Hour. They sat at the bar, excited to try a beer from the busy brewery attached to the restaurant.

Eoghan watched Ari’s eyes light up as he greedily perused the happy hour menu, finally settling on beef, mozzarella, sauteed onion, and tomato empanadas with homemade chimichurri sauce. Since his partner always had good taste, Eoghan decided on the same thing. They paired their meals with a Scottish ale called Seven Gables for Ari and Peaklet Porter, an oatmeal porter for him. He loved the dark, nutty flavor but the company of his grumpy partner was the best thing of all. Watching Ari turn back into his adorable, loving, happy-go-lucky self as their early dinner was consumed was highly entertaining.

“You’re not talking much,” Ari said, looking up after taking another sip of his beer.

Eoghan grinned at him. “I was enjoying watching you eat. The level of focus you put into eating when you’re hungry is like nothing I’ve ever seen before and trust me, in my line of work, I think I’ve seen it all.”

Ari grinned. “ Aw , look who thinks he’s funny. Like you don’t enjoy a good meal when we’ve only stopped driving once—to pee—all day.”

Eoghan shrugged. “You have a point.” He pulled out his phone and set it on the table, making sure the faraday cage was in place. He watched Ari do the same.

“Did you have any idea the chief was sending us north to get the two werewolf packs to help us with Townsend?” Ari asked now that they were free to talk.

Eoghan shook his head. “No, but I’ve known the chief a while now and Priest is very cunning if you haven’t already guessed. Just because she hasn’t told us everything she’s been doing about our mole problem; doesn’t mean she hasn’t been working on it. Although I fully expected her to quietly work to gather as many clans and tribes and even individuals as she can to help us. But, I’m still not convinced it will work because werewolves and vampires are almost always enemies. Still, Walters promised he’d do his best to get everyone to agree. Whether he’s successful remains to be seen. The chief may have won his cooperation in a different way. I’ve seen her do it before.”

“In what way?” Ari asked.

“She’s a really good negotiator and sometimes she comes up with something that sounds completely insane, but it works.” Eoghan sat back, grinning widely. “Honestly, some of the stuff she does, reminds me of you.”

Ari frowned at him. “Like what?”

“Like you with the centipede suggestion and Beauregard Champayne.” He shook his head, chuckling. “I still laugh over that.”

Ari snorted. “Thinking on my toes, that’s all.”

Eoghan slapped his knee, swiveling his barstool to stare at his partner’s handsome, bearded face. “Punny guy. See? That’s what I mean. You’re funny. Priest on the other hand…well, she doesn’t have the sense of humor you do but she has, I don’t know, other things. Let’s just say, she’s convincing. I know she’s been keeping in touch with King John and holding that mess together. It’s not like the guy has any choice but to have us work toward gathering allies together but still, I know the reason he hasn’t exposed himself is all because of her.”

“Is she usually so…I don’t even know the word for it.”

“Private?” Eoghan asked.

“Sneaky,” Ari said, grinning.

He smiled back and nodded. “Well, I wouldn’t say sneaky but come to think of it, yeah, she’s definitely clever in that way.”

“Oh, do tell,” Ari said, leaning an elbow on the bar and turning to almost fully face him.

Eoghan opened his mouth to reply when a shout rang out from across the room. He and Ari both swiveled to see what the noise was. A wooden chair clattered to the slate tile floor as one man stood and swayed, looking slightly inebriated. He pointed at another man at the table, leaning forward and grabbing the table for balance. Eoghan’s gaze focused on the three empty pint glasses in front of his place setting, absently wondering if all three belonged to the inebriated man. The other two people at the table, a younger couple, had half full wine glasses in front of them.

“What’s going on?” Ari asked, looking just as interested as Eoghan.

“Don’t know.”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Walters!” the man slurred, stabbing a finger with each word at the man’s face.

The younger man and woman were early twenties if Eoghan had to guess, definitely younger than himself. He couldn’t catch every word the man was saying but the way he held up both palms in a placating gesture, trying to get the irate man to calm down, was clear as day. The woman at the table had turned a bright pink hue and was glancing around at other patrons, clearly embarrassed by the older man’s outburst.

“Don’t know who you think you are,” the man shouted. “Not gonna treat my little granddaughter like that.” He lunged for the younger man who scooted back out of reach before standing.

“Sit down and stop this foolishness!” the younger man said. “You’re only hurting your granddaughter. Make her marry the baby’s father. Don’t force me into it!”

“Granddaddy, please—” the woman began.

“You ssstop, Carmen!” the man drunkenly hissed, stabbing a fat finger at the woman’s face. “Acting like a whore with…with...”

“Hey! Watch your mouth, old man! I don’t care who you are! You don’t talk about women like that, especially your granddaughter!” the other man shouted, lunging for the drunk and taking him to the ground along with a waitress who’d been balancing a huge serving tray full of drinks and had moved into the line of fire at the wrong moment.

They were off their barstools and racing across the room before Eoghan could think twice about it. He redoubled his efforts when he caught sight of blood gushing from a deep gash in the server’s arm. Broken glass was everywhere, and people were slipping in spilled beer and wine as they scrambled away from nearby tables to give the fighters a wide berth. By the time they got to the two men, they were rolling on the ground, hitting each other, with the very pregnant woman at their table screaming for both her grandfather and her forced fiancé to stop what they were doing.

“Help! Help!” she cried.

“U.S. Marshals!” Eoghan shouted. “Get out of the way, ma’am.”

Both men looked strong, each over six feet tall, and the older man weighed at least two twenty with a big gut and wide shoulders. Ari went for him while Eoghan grabbed the other guy, admonishing him to stop attacking the older one.

“Knock it off or you’re both going to jail!” Eoghan yelled, grunting as the younger man’s elbow caught him in the solar plexus, momentarily blinding him with pain and knocking the wind out of him. The woman’s screaming wasn’t helping things. The more she cried and screamed, the worse the two men fought. The man Ari was fighting was shouting everyone down now, throwing drunken punches that failed to land, cursing the young guy up and down, and shouting at his granddaughter to “shut the fuck up!”

No matter how hard he tried, Eoghan couldn’t get the guy away from the old man. He had amazing strength…almost inhuman strength.

When the man rolled him, and Eoghan was suddenly looking up into the guy’s eyes, only then did he notice the glowing yellow ring around his irises. He’d only seen those once before and his blood suddenly ran cold, knowing without a shadow of a doubt, that he was indeed staring into the eyes of a werewolf. As the guy looked down at him and his lips peeled back just far enough for him to bare his teeth, the four elongated canines almost made him wet himself. The low growl, which came from somewhere down deep inside the man, made Eoghan feel faint but it was the gleam of pure blood lust in the man’s eerie, yellow eyes that frightened him nearly to death.

When they’d run toward the fighting men, he’d absently registered who they might be, but having it confirmed by staring into the eyes of a werewolf who was now focused on him, probably planning his death, was a whole new thing.

Just as he was about to lose it, the weight of the man suddenly vanished as quickly as the man himself. Eoghan sat up as he watched a much bigger man lift his attacker as if he were nothing but a feather and heft him over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry.

Eoghan dragged in huge gulps of air, trying to catch his breath as he watched his rescuer striding away from them. He shook his head, not believing the strength it took to heave the man literally off his body, somehow rendering him unconscious, and no longer a threat, then head for the door. He glanced around, spotting Ari sitting on his ass about fifteen feet away, equally stunned that his attacker—the older man—was being carried out the door as well. The pregnant woman was following meekly, sobbing into a cloth napkin as people made way for the group to pass through to the outside.

He glanced over at Ari again and in alarm, noticed that he had a cut on his cheekbone, just beneath his left eye. He scrambled to his feet, crossing the gap in seconds.

“Jesus! How badly are you hurt?” Eoghan asked, bending to take Ari’s bearded chin in hand, and gently tilt it up.

Ari glanced up at him, and Eoghan could already detect the swelling beneath his eye, knowing it was going to fully blacken by tomorrow night. Ari reached up, prodding his cheekbone and wincing. “He got a few good whacks in before someone pulled him off. I gotta tell you, I’m sure as hell glad someone intervened because I was on the losing end of that fight. The guy was stronger than fuck, Eoghan. For an old guy, he sure as hell knows how to pack a punch! Help me up.”

“That wasn’t just any guy,” Eoghan said, hauling his partner off the floor before glancing around and noticing the people who’d witnessed the fight were either gathering toppled belongings, or making their way toward the exit. All serving had ceased around them and he knew the brewery would probably shut down for the rest of the evening based on the way the servers, busboys, and a manager looking dude were behaving. They were picking up toppled chairs and a few tables as well as collecting broken dishes and discarded food. One kid already had a broom in his hand and was sweeping up shards of broken wine glasses.

“I thought I noticed a yellow glow around his irises,” Ari grumbled, letting go of the hand Eoghan offered. He met his partner’s knowing glance. “I take it that was a werewolf,” he said under his breath.

All movement and noise in the restaurant came to an immediate standstill, making Eoghan and Ari look up. Every single person in the restaurant had turned in their direction and they were all listening. Not a voice, clink of silverware or glassware could be heard anywhere in the place. You could have heard a pin drop.

“Sorry,” the server said, prodding at the bleeding cut on her arm. They both turned to look at the girl. “But did you say something about a werewolf?”

Eoghan stared at her for a few seconds, noting the nonplussed expression on her face. For someone who shouldn’t know anything about werewolves, she certainly didn’t look at all like she cared or was even interested. He looked around, noting everyone—to a person—was staring at him and Ari, not grabbing their loved ones and running in fear from the mere suggestion that something as dangerous as a werewolf could be real.

Everything dawned on Eoghan at once.

He let out a long-suffering sigh and glanced over at Ari before looking back at her.

“Eoghan, what’s going on?” Ari asked in the quiet room.

He ignored him and stared hard at the young waitress before speaking. “Sorry, but this place wouldn’t happen to be owned by either Oscar Garcia or Alvin Walters, would it?”

There was a collective groan as the server’s eyes momentarily flashed yellow before she nodded.

“Alvin Walters…who’s asking?” she replied. “The older man you saw carried out was Oscar Garcia and the younger man was Edward Walters.”

“And the pregnant woman was Carmen Garcia?” Eoghan asked.

The server nodded and then looked up as someone walked over with something wrapped in a cloth napkin, presumably ice. She thanked the busboy and then immediately pressed it to her bloody arm. She looked back at Eoghan. “That’s right. The bane of our existence is that girl. I wish she listened to her mother and gone off to college after high school, like a good girl. Now, she’ll end up barefoot and perpetually pregnant, raising some stupid—”

“Rebecca!” someone bellowed.

She looked over and then back with fear in her eyes.

“Sorry,” she quickly apologized. “I gotta get back to work.”

“But your arm.” Ari gestured at the napkin.

She pulled it away and Eoghan was surprised to see that the cut was half the size it had been before. Similar to vampires, shifters always healed fast, especially the young ones. In the case of this girl, she’d probably feel like a hundred percent in about five minutes. “It’s healing.” She smiled and glanced at something or someone over his shoulder. “And, I really need to get back to work. Sorry.”

“ Ah …before you do, would you point me in the direction of whoever’s in charge, please?” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his gold star tucked inside. “U.S. Marshal Eoghan Sapphire, I.S.R.,” he said, inspiring another louder, collective groan which swept through the brewery. Every werewolf in the place turned to stare at them with glowing, yellow rings around their eyes.

“Let me guess,” Ari said, sounding completely disgusted with himself. “Somehow the two of us—who have the most perfect streak of the worst luck on earth—have somehow stumbled into the bar of an angry werewolf pack and disturbed a rather intolerant conversation between future in-laws.”

“Yeah,” Eoghan said as the same busboy came out with something in his hand.

“Here.” He held out the ice, and Ari smiled at the kid, taking the napkin, before lifting it gingerly to his cheek.

“I really appreciate that,” Ari said.

“The man you want to talk to is right over there,” the server said, pointing out the manager before walking away.

“Thanks!” Eoghan said to her back before looking over at the manager. He didn’t like the man on spec. He was big, beefy, red faced, and unsmiling. He watched them as the waitress walked up and said a few words to him. The manager nodded, then started heading their way.

“I’m not crazy about this, Eoghan,” Ari said.

He turned to look at Ari, noting the nervousness in his voice as he kept his gaze focused on the approaching werewolf. He didn’t like the idea of being in an environment where a potentially dangerous shifter was on hand. If nothing else, what he remembered of werewolves was that they weren’t the easiest people to get along with even when docile or in human form.

If he’d had any idea Alvin Walters owned a restaurant, he’d have done some research ahead of time and figured out which one not to patronize. The guy stopped in front of them and crossed his big arms over a muscular chest. He was about Ari’s height, perhaps an inch taller, but wider certainly. The expression on his face wasn’t happy and the energy radiating from the guy was hostile.

Great.

“U.S. Marshals Eoghan Sapphire and Aristotle Brown,” Eoghan said, holding out his star as Ari did the same. “We’re I.S.R.”

“Don’t know what that is, but you folks seem to know what we are,” the guy said. “Why don’t you tell me how you know that and what you want?”

“You don’t know what the I.S.R. is?” Ari asked, smiling at the manager.

The guy pivoted and glared at Ari. “Why don’t you tell me?” he growled. The low growl made the hair on the back of Eoghan’s neck stand straight up. If Ari hadn’t been standing right beside him and if he hadn’t been the man he was, Eoghan probably would have bolted from the room.

“The I.S.R. is an acronym for Interspecies Response,” a booming voice said from behind them. “The civilian U.S. Marshals Service formed the I.S.R. about a hundred twenty years ago under the then president of the United States, Teddy Roosevelt,” the short, squat man said as he walked over. “Right after that, they stuck us all on reservations to keep us away from human folks.” The man smiled, his eyes flashing bright yellow for the briefest of seconds before returning to their usual yellow rings around the irises that looked so otherworldly. He held out his hand when he got to them. “Alvin Walters,” he said. “I understand you marshals want to talk to me and I’ve been expecting you.” He turned to his manager and clapped him on the back. “You can leave it with me now, David. Thank you.”

“Sir, I think you should know that Oscar Garcia was here. He was the one who started all this,” the manager said.

Walters frowned. “Why would he do that?”

“He was here with his granddaughter, Carmen, as well as Edward.”

Walters shook his head and stroked his beard. He looked at Eoghan and Ari. “Now, what did that fool think he was going to accomplish by talking to my pigheaded grandson? He knows what has to be done. Garcia needs to return Galen and then Edward needs to see common sense and marry Carmen. Afterward, Edward will simply adopt the child she’s carrying. That way our packs will be united, I will have both of my grandsons back along with a new granddaughter-in-law, and we can all look forward to the next generation. Personally, I don’t care who got Carmen pregnant. I’ve already told those in the pack the man won’t be punished if he comes forward and relinquishes his claim on the child.”

“You’ve discussed the situation with your pack then?” Eoghan asked. “I’m surprised because…” He let his words trail off. With the manager, David, and other werewolves milling about, he wasn’t going to talk openly about the Alpha’s problem. He’d been asked not to.

Walters nodded. “I felt it was time. There’s no use in hiding the situation.” He glanced at David. “You have a brewery to put back in order, young man. Go and do your duties while I talk to these marshals. It’s perfectly safe.”

“Yes, Alpha.” David bowed his head in deference before pivoting and walking away.

“I suppose I should formally introduce myself,” the Alpha said. “As I told you, my name is Alvin Walters and I’m the Alpha of the Bishop werewolf pack. I’m the one who contacted Deputy Chief Priest. Which means you must be…”

“Oh, sorry, sir. I’m Eoghan Sapphire. This is my partner, Aristotle Brown.”

“Aristotle…well, that’s quite a mouthful, yes.” He swept out his hand. “Have you eaten? I think we could rustle something up.”

“Yes, sir. We ate,” Eoghan said. “The food was very good.” He darted a glance around the place. Everyone was hurriedly cleaning up the mess but there were way too many people in the room. That told him that everyone wanted to listen in. “Would it be okay if we talk to you somewhere more private, sir?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Walters said. “Come this way to my office.” He led the way to the back room, past several tables filled with guests who appeared to be nursing their drinks, probably hoping to pick up on some gossip or conversation between the I.S.R. and their Alpha.

Walters pulled out a circle of keys and unlocked a sturdy, wooden door when they got to the back corner and stepped inside, flipping on overhead lights. The room was elegant with oak paneled walls and held a large desk which was neat as a pin. He walked over and switched on a Tiffany lamp which illuminated the desktop, taking a padded, leather desk chair as he waved them into two chairs facing him.

“Well, that’s better,” he said.

“Yes,” Eoghan said, sitting back in the comfortable chair which seemed to be more suited for the front of a fireplace than the front of a werewolf Alpha’s desk. He watched the Alpha open a drawer and pull out a fat cigar and cigar cutter before holding it out.

“Care for one, gentlemen? They’re Cohibas. Very rich and smooth.” He wiggled the cigar in front of them and watched them both shake their heads. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

“Not at all,” Ari said.

“Good.” He snipped the end of the cigar, picked up a cigar lighter from somewhere, and lit it, blowing smoke high into the air. “Now, what can I tell you?” he said, looking serious as he stared across the desk at them.

“Well,” Eoghan said, “I guess you can tell me what you’re going to need from Oscar Garcia so we can convince him to return your youngest grandson, and Edward can marry Carmen.”

Walters sat back in his chair and looked between them before tapping the side of his head with his finger. His gaze shifted to the high ceiling where smoke swirled. “What am I going to need?” He looked down at them. “Is that what you want to know? What I’m going to need?”

“Yes, sir,” Ari said.

He took a long drag on the fat cigar, turning it to look at it in profile as if admiring it, before lifting his chin and blowing another long line of smoke at the ceiling. When he glanced back down, his lips were curling, his fangs were showing, and his eyes were glowing bright yellow. “I’m going to need Oscar Garcia’s head.”