Black Rook by Kelly Meade Page B

couldn’t stop staring at their father, whose face had flushed and whose clasped hands were shaking. He was the very picture of barely contained rage, and the sight of it made Rook want to hit his knees as his furious Alpha triggered the submissive instincts of the loup under his command.
    Knight put the phone down on the book-covered table next to his chair, then moved to stand in front of their father. He touched Thomas’s shoulder and the simple act of a concerned White Wolf seemed to absorb some of the enraged Alpha’s stray emotions.
    Relieved to have his brother there with them to keep their father calm, Rook inched closer to the table so he didn’t have to shout to be heard over the cell phone. He didn’t want anyone else in the house hearing this news yet. Unexpected news he didn’t want to believe, because of the coincidence of Brynn’s arrival. Had she been playing them all along? “What makes you think a Magus was there?”
    “Well, we aren’t in Florida and it stinks of rotten oranges,” Bishop replied. “That and some of the bodies were . . . roasted.”
    Roasted conjured up a mental image of someone tied to a man-sized spit over an open flame, and that was not something Rook needed in his head. “What do you mean roasted? As in burned?”
    “No, that implies an external heat source, and nothing around here smells burned. The people who died this way . . . damn it.” Bishop cleared his throat hard. “It’s like they cooked from the inside out, and since loup aren’t known to spontaneously combust, the only way that could happen is through magic.”
    “So our suspects are loup, vampire, and Magus? Is that even possible?”
    “Possible or not, they were all here during the slaughter and they left before we arrived.”
    “How many?” Father asked. His voice was rough, bitter, but Knight’s abilities had taken the edge off.
    “It’s difficult to determine,” Bishop replied. “We’ve agreed there’s only one distinct Magus scent, but the loup and vampire scents are less distinct. Our best guess is three to six suspects.”
    “Six people killed over three hundred?” Rook asked, his horror and fury compounding with the implications of such an occurrence. “How’s that possible?”
    “I wish I knew, Rook.”
    Knight turned toward the phone, his expression helpless, as though he wanted to reach through the air and take some of the haunted desperation out of their oldest brother’s voice. So many lives lost to such a violent, unknown enemy, and Bishop had seen the devastation with his own eyes.
    “Collect whatever evidence you can,” Father said. “Destroy what you need to keep from the human police, and then get home.”
    “Already in progress,” Bishop said. “I’ll text you when we’re on our way back.”
    “All right. Be careful.”
    “Always.”
    Rook waited for Bishop’s end of the line to go silent before he ended the call. He stood in the middle of the library, unsure what to say or do. Their world had tilted sideways a few minutes ago. The foundational melody was ripped apart and forever changed. Over three hundred of their brethren were dead and other runs had to be notified. The rest of the Cornerstone enforcers—a handful of Black Wolves and the strongest, fastest of the Gray—needed to be told, alerted for possible danger. Cornerstone had twice as many loup garou as Stonehill had, but until they knew why Stonehill was targeted, everyone was potentially at risk.
    Similar thoughts must have been going through their father’s mind, because he said, “I need to make some calls. The other Alphas have to know what’s happened.”
    “Would you like our help?” Knight asked.
    “Not with the calls. I need you and Rook to tell the other enforcers what’s going on. No immediate action, but I want them alert and informed. And then try to get some sleep, if you can. Bishop and the others won’t be home for hours yet.”
    Rook doubted he’d be able to sleep