Capitol Kidnap: Urban Werewolf Book 1 (8 page)

"No, no dogs. I never have coyotes come to my yard." Naomi frowned. The men had obviously seen them leaving to their dominance fight last night.

"Well, that you just might want to check to see if you have any damage." He shrugged. "I just wanted to let you know, if I see anything like that again I'll be calling animal control. I never seen anything like it in my life. The way they behaved – completely orderly."

"Dogs and coyotes are pack animals by nature. They have their own hierarchies, maybe you just saw that –"

"Even so, if we have that many coyotes or strays… Well, my wife's afraid for our little Muffin."

"I see. I'll keep an eye out in case anything like that happens again. Though I can't say I was paying much attention to the backyard. I didn't hear anything."

"There were at least half dozen of them. How could she not hear anything?"

Naomi sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. My little brother pulled a disappearing act. Not really sure where he is. I'd really rather find him and then get back to bed before my mother decides that my being up means it's time for her to cook up some kind of large elaborate breakfast in my kitchen, that I have to clean up."

She shut the door firmly in his face. As a general rule, Naomi didn't particularly believe in being rude to her neighbors, but if Muffin's owner had seen more than what he was saying… Unless he was the one who was behind everything. He could have caught her being careless before. Maybe he had seen more last night and was trying to figure out if she was involved with it somehow.
 

Naomi sighed and nestled into the couch. Her mind started to wander almost immediately. She was a butterfly flitting from flower to flower, just on the edge of consciousness, when she sneezed.

"Since when do I sneeze?" Naomi said to no one in particular. She sneezed again. "What the hell?" She stumbled to the front door. She smelled cinnamon and roses, old cinnamon and mildewy roses. Naomi hadn't had enough sleep, but three hours would have to do. "Get out of bed. Someone is using magic!" She ran out the front door. The flower van drove off. Maybe she could cut them off since they had gone the long way.
 

"Hurry!" she shouted. Naomi jumped into her mom's Explorer and turn the keys. Nothing. Kidnappers must have cut the power. Maybe she could run them down and get the license plate or see the driver.
 

Naomi ran full speed down the street in her pajamas. Anyone who saw her would know she was panicked, but maybe no one would realize how fast she was running as her bare feet slapped the road. The man turned the corner. Faster. She needed to go faster. She sprinted to try to peek into the driver's window, but it was too far ahead and moving too quick to get a good look.
 

"Dammit!" Naomi shouted, slowing to a walk. Whoever the kidnappers were, they tried to do something to her and her family while they were asleep in the house.

Naomi stormed back to her house, slamming the door behind her. How dare they cross that line? Her home was supposed to be safe.

"Wake-up!" Naomi shouted as she stomped down the hall. No way anyone could sleep through all this noise, but Mom was still snoring away in Naomi's bedroom. Naomi shook her. Nothing. "Come on Mom. This isn't funny." Naomi shook her again. No reaction. "What the hell? Mom get up." Naomi shoved Mom's shoulder hard, her Mom rolled out of the bed and hit the floor. What the hell?

The magic. They done this, but why? Why put everyone to sleep but Naomi? And we sat down to think, her head hurt. She was just so tired. She didn't even realize she was grabbing her head until the headband slipped into her hand. She stared at it, trying to remember where she gotten it. Mac had given it to her as protection against magic. They hadn't meant for Naomi to stay awake – the headband had protected her!

The men had to be wrong. Mac's protection had kept her from falling asleep. Naomi couldn't do this alone. She needed help and Mac had helped before, even if his pranks were dangerous.

J
UST
IN
CASE
THE
MEN
were right or in case Mac decided to prank her, Naomi made a few stops first with Google's help. If what Mac said when she first met him was true, just expecting the attack should give her an edge to keep falling completely under his spell. Naomi left home was a pack of oatmeal in her pocket and bought vervain and a trowel at the nursery. They were supposed to ward off fae attacks.

Naomi scanned Mac's parking lot for the florist's van, but it was nowhere to be seen. Of course, Mac wouldn't hide it in plain sight if he were behind it. He had hidden too long among humans to be that sloppy. Naomi pounded on the door. No answer. She tried the handle and the door swung open. Naomi gasped as she looked inside. The place was trashed. The same rose perfume scent covered the faint smell of stale cinnamon and mildewy roses.

"Mac?" Naomi called out into the dark apartment. "Mac? Are you playing a trick on me?" she called out into the dark apartment. "Mac, I'm coming in to your apartment if you're here. No pranks." Naomi couldn't bring herself to believe that the fae who had a half dozen different flavors of cookie dough neatly labeled and his refrigerator would have allowed his house to look like this. He had to have been attacked.

"Mac, if you're here it's Naomi." She inched in through the door, holding the trowel up in one hand. I hoped you could help me find more information about the kidnappings. It seemed like you know a lot, and my whole family is under some kind of spell that's making them sleep." No answer. He'd been too powerful to get caught up in all of this, hadn't he? The kidnappers had been going after young ones: Bryan was in college, the vampires were all fledglings. Mac had seemed old. Mindy had been threatened by his power. The kidnappers must be stronger than she thought.

Naomi would have to find any clues here on her own. She could smell of perfume – that Mac made… Okay that meant whoever it was had to be someone that Mac trusted, or at least knew well enough to do business with on a regular basis. Naomi shook her head. These people were strong enough to make Bryan do what they wanted and put her entire family to sleep. It wasn't even noon yet on Sunday morning and she was lost. She had 20 hours until her brother would be forced to transform on the Capitol steps and then killed. She was running out of time and options. Answers had to be somewhere. Naomi sat on Mac's couch, put her head between her hands, and let the weight of everything sink down on her.

It was so hard. Right now, she just wished that she could go to the cops like a normal person. It would make things so much easier if she were human, but none of the victims were human. They were invisible victims. Someone was hunting them for being different. The cops wouldn't understand or even begin to believe. Naomi had proven herself alpha last night. She was the only alpha here and now. No one was going to bail her out. At least, not until the sun had set, so she needed to make it on her own at least until then. After the sunset, she could fall apart on Mindy. Now, she had to be strong. Things would come together or she would shove them together they didn't. First – she was going to have a cookie. Mac said that he made the cookies to help ward his guests against danger, then dammit, she was going have cookie. One kind of little protection was better than no protection.
 

Naomi rummaged through his kitchen, maybe the cops wouldn't approve, but Naomi certainly did. She grabbed the rusty cookie sheet from under the stove and scooped cookie dough onto it. Now she could get to work. She needed to find something that might push her in the right direction. She set the timer above the stove and searched the little condo. The couch was normal. Not even a foldout, just plain black leather. Nothing under it or in the cushions. Naomi looked under the coffee table, but the only thing out of place there was a sugar packet under one of the feet. The bathroom was clean and neat, the lid was down, which was strange for a man living alone, but then again who knew how often he had company. Something tickled at the back of her mind. Something was wrong. Naomi continued to search the condo. She climbed the stairs up to the lone bedroom.

She looked around, there were no pictures of friends or family on the walls. Classic paintings… His cookie sheet was rusted. Only iron rusted. Fairies couldn't touch iron. He'd said he had an allergy to iron, but then…
 

"Mac! I said no tricks." Naomi had been anxious before, now she was in full alert mode. She was ready to shift and screw her clothes she'd tear them all to shreds like a werewolf in a movie. Mac wasn't fae.
 

If he wasn't a fairy – was he a sorcerer or a magician? Where should she even began? He had a rusty cookie sheet, meaning he wasn't fae. Her family had seen him in the daylight, so he couldn't be a vampire. He sure as shit wasn't a werewolf. He must be human. Human passing himself off as a fae. Why? Why would a human do that? He must have been passing himself off as a fae for a while. Even Mindy believed he was fae, and an old fairy at that. Even Ginger did and she was a fae. Someone had come and attacked him… Kidnapped him? Why? Did they believe he was fae or did they know what he really was? None of this made any sense. Mac was just an old man, but he knew the goings on of the fairy, and apparently werewolves. He had to have the way that he did it all. He recognized them for what they were at first sight or very near first sight.

Naomi found a journal beside the bed. The room was neatly made up, is the fight had happened entirely downstairs, or someone had taken the time to clean up the room. The way today was going, Naomi wouldn't bet on either one.

She checked under the bed for anything that she might not have heard or smelled. Then, she checked the closet and behind the curtains. It wasn't that she didn't trust her senses anymore, she just needed to be sure she was alone. She sat on the bed and opened the journal. Naomi didn't know what to look for, but there had to be something in it about the disappearances. She started on the first page, no name in the journal, but the cursive had to be his handwriting. It put off the same vibe as he did, classical, old, powerful. Naomi flipped a few pages further in, but it just talked about his sales and the progress of some band he liked playing in a bar in Old Sac. She flipped to that end, anything useful should have been on the most recent pages.

These disappearances have me worried. At first I had thought that it was simply an older vampire weeding out the younger….Blah blah blah boring… Now I am much more certain that it is in fact a sorcerer. Naomi felt like she was being lied to as she read. She slipped the journal into her purse and kept searching. The journal seemed like a plant, like he kept it up in case someone would find it. Maybe there was a note someplace else. She lifted the mattress, but found nothing.
 

She headed back downstairs to get her cookies, and noticed the paintings on the walls again. Naomi was tempted to pull them down to see if there were some kind of note on them or something behind them, that was a little bit too crazy for her, yet. Naomi had a friend in college that hid her passport in a ziplock bag in the toilet tank with a wad of cash. The friend had been a little kooky, but so was this guy – especially if he wasn't really a fairy, but just pretended to be. Naomi lifted the top off the toilet and found small baggie – yes! This was what she needed. She was sure of it. She found a thousand dollars in twenties in it, but nothing else. She put the cash back in the bag and taped it to the side of the toilet tank. Naomi wasn't a thief.
 

Her nose led her back into the kitchen. The sweet smell told her that her cookies were done. She looked in his drawers for an oven mitt. Could something so mundane protect him from iron? Could fairy magic even work when it touched iron? He had to use some other kind of magic. Or else… What if a cookie sheet were just another ruse? Naomi finally settled on a clean dish rag to scoop the sheet out of the oven. In the hood under the microwave she found a red and white cloth binder. A cookbook! In the front, there were recipes for normal things like pot roast, ham, and cookies, but towards the back there were recipes for stranger things. The perfume recipe was in there. His cookie recipe included handwritten notes of things to include for different results. Naomi flipped further and further back, finding recipes for talking to the dead, the recipes that begin to look more and more like spells. Naomi didn't doubt his magic had been real, but what was he?

She left with the cookbook, the journal, and a baggie full of cookies stuffed into her purse. If Mac survived, then she could return the journal and book, but they were her only clues to follow. She didn't know where else to go or what else to look for, and she spent enough time getting here now she was running out of time.

N
AOMI
GRABBED
THE
VODKA
AND
the shot glass out of the cupboard before she even realized what she was doing. She frowned at the drink in her hand, them pounded the shot anyway. Damn. This was getting out of hand. Naomi curled up in her dealing-with-mom-chair with the recipe book – maybe she can find something to wake everyone up.

She found recipes for cookies to keep you from dying in a car accident, a recipe to turn a fish into a shark by feeding it meat prepared with magic, all kinds of scary things followed by helpful or benign things. She can make a gazpacho that gave eater fluent Spanish or escargot for fluent French or a batch of eye drops to make you see clearly.

That's it! That had to be how he knew they weren't human to how he could see them for what they really were. Maybe the drops would help Naomi to find the killer. It said right in the recipe book that it protected against fairy glamour and other judgment effecting spells. Score!

Naomi only needed salt, water, spearmint, and lemon juice - though that couldn't feel good in your eyes. She read further. She needed a strong intention too?

She had everything she needed – she damn well better have the strong intention.