Demon and the Fox - 19. New Players in the Game

Malachy and Hazel got back to Kyle’s apartment around 10 pm on Monday evening, after a movie plus restaurant date.

“I told you you’d love it,” Malachy was saying to Hazel.

She closed the door and held on to him as she kicked off her shoes.

“Oh my God, it was so good! But way too expensive. Where do you even get the money? You don’t even have a job!”

Malachy hooked his arm around her neck. “I stole it,” he whispered in her ear to spook her.

She laughed and pushed him away playfully. Malachy caught her into a breathless kiss, pinning her against the wall next to the framed photograph of Jackson and Kyle in their graduation garments. Malachy closed his eyes and parted Hazel’s lips with his, snaking his arm around her waist, and she arched her back, leaning into him—

“Guys!” Jackson shouted from across the apartment. “Didn’t you get my texts?” He didn’t sound too happy.

“Get over here, now,” Kyle added.

Malachy exchanged a worried glance with Hazel, and they rushed across the hallway, barging in the living room. Kyle and Jackson were both seated on the couch, leaning forward, staring up at the flat screen TV. Jackson’s Mac was open on the coffee table, next to an empty pizza carton. They were watching the news. Malachy plopped down in the velvet arm chair and Hazel dropped in his lap. Malachy’s arm locked around her waist.

They froze as they saw what they were talking about on the local news.

Elena Snow had been found dead in her condo today. Shot in the head and in the heart. Hazel stiffened in Malachy’s arms.

“…just five days after her husband was found dead,” the news reporter was saying, “in Midtown, Manhattan. The police has new information, as they were finally able to reach the couple’s twenty one year old son today…”

Jackson used the remote to lower the volume. “My lawyers couldn’t keep it quiet from the press any longer. I had no choice. I gave a statement today.”

“What did you say?” Malachy asked.

But Jackson just looked back at the flat screen.

“…assures he and his seventeen year old sister know nothing, and they were staying over at their friend’s home when it happened. They are devastated and scared, and they will help the investigation in any way they can in the presence of their lawyers…”

Jackson shut down the TV, and settled back in the couch, throwing a hand in his blonde hair.

“They’re not saying everything on the news. There’s more.”

Hazel pulled away from Malachy and jumped to her feet.

“What?” she asked. A tear danced at the corner of her eye, threatening to fall.

Jackson licked his lips. They looked very dry. “Our—Elena—was shot with silver bullets.”

“Is silver really lethal to werewolves?” Malachy asked. “Or is that just a myth?”

He knew for a fact it was just a myth. This wasn’t his first time befriending werewolves. But he asked anyway, in the spirit of keeping up his act.

“It is just a myth,” Jackson answered. “But it’s a message. The cops also found a note next to her… next to her body.” Jackson kept his voice steady. He looked at Malachy, like looking at his sister would be too painful. “The message said: She didn’t give you up. But we’ll find you anyway. We’re coming for you. All of you.”

Kyle’s bright, colorful apartment felt cold and unsafe all of a sudden. Malachy wished Hazel had stayed in his arms.

But instead she paced the room. “Werewolf hunters,” she stated the obvious.

On the couch, Kyle put his head in his hands.

“At least,” Jackson said with a voice that revealed he barely had the energy to talk, “with that note, the cops don’t think we did anything. They think it’s a money thing: one of Kevin’s business deals must have gone wrong. The people he pissed off would be coming after him and his business partners—like the Blackburns. So they’re looking into that. For now we’re off the hook. And if the cops start asking too many questions, we’ll probably be fine anyway. I guess we’re lucky that our parents had a lot of money. I can afford good lawyers.”

But nothing he was saying seemed to be making his sister feel any better.

She kept pacing the room, and tears started streaming down her face. She wiped at them angrily, smudging her makeup.

But Hazel wasn’t saying anything.

Malachy broke the uncomfortable silence. “We’re not safe here.” He rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt over his elbows. “The hunters could find us. Elena must’ve had Kyle’s address written down somewhere.”

Kyle looked up. “We could go to Nick’s place.”

But Malachy shook his head. “Not safe either. She probably had my address too. I was dating her daughter.”

“He’s right,” Jackson said. He gathered up his phone, rising to his feet. He looked like a zombie.

Hazel had stopped pacing. Instead she stood next to the window, holding the velvet curtain in a tight fist, like she wanted to tear it down. She seemed to be looking down at the night view of the Harlem River, but Malachy doubted she was seeing anything right now.

“I’ll call Charles,” Jackson was saying. “Explain everything. So he can protect his family.” Kyle nodded at this.

“The four of us could get a hotel room,” Malachy suggested, “at least for now. Until we figure this out.”

Jackson gave a slight nod. Then he pressed a key on his phone and brought it to his ear. He disappeared down the hall, and they could hear him speak to Charles.

Malachy stared at Kyle.

Kyle got the hint. He sprung from the couch and went to hide in his bedroom.

As soon as they were alone, Malachy stalked over to Hazel. He took her in his arm, and she started to cry. Her chest was racked with spasms as she pressed herself close to him, letting go of the curtain.

“I can’t,” she whispered between sobs, her face buried in his chest, “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. You’re strong. So strong.”

“I’m not,” Hazel cried.

Malachy held her tight. Waited.

“She didn’t give us up,” Hazel said. “You know what that means?” She looked up at him. He reached out to wipe under her eye, but the tears kept falling, and falling. “They hurt her. Tortured her. And she still wouldn’t give us up. Not any of us. She was still part of the pack. My pack. I should’ve—I should’ve gone to her. Talked to her. I should’ve…” Hazel struggled to catch her breath. “I should’ve forgiven her, Nick.”

“You tried,” Malachy said softly. “You called her. Left messages.”

“I should’ve tried harder!”

She fell in his arms again. There was nothing Malachy could do, or say. He could only hold her close. And let her cry.

Malachy looked out at the skyline across the river. The sky was dark, cloudless, and starless; reminiscent of Hell’s inky sky. That made him shiver a bit. But the moon—almost at its last quarter now—shone bright, reminding him that he wasn’t in Hell.

And he didn’t want to go back there any time soon.

“Are you okay?” Hazel asked him.

“I will be. We’ll both be okay,” he told her.

She just held him. He frowned, stroking her silvery locks.

Werewolf hunters, Malachy thought. It looked like new players had entered the game.