Something had destroyed my second home, my pack’s heart.
Fire trucks still surrounded the block, and the street was soaking wet from the work of the hoses and fire retardant. A handful of firefighters continued working, tromping through the ruins, looking for hot spots, or just making sure it was all well and truly destroyed. Yellow caution tape surrounded the site some thirty feet out from the building. Bystanders stood beyond, gawking, taking pictures. I wanted to chase them out of my territory. I wanted to howl to the skies.
Ben, Cormac, and I stood together, staring. We’d gotten through the cordon set up by the fire trucks when Ben explained that we were the owners. After parking as near as we could, we walked, my mind a blank because how could I know what to expect? No matter what, the reality would look worse than anything my imagination could cook up.
After a minute of staring, I turned around, took a deep breath, and gave a shuddering sigh. I could get through this. I had to get through this. Without a word, Ben wrapped his arms around me, pulled me close, and I clung to him. We stood like that for a long time.
Ben found the firefighter in charge. He introduced himself—Captain Allan—and offered condolences.
“No one was hurt,” he said. “We think it happened in the early morning hours, around 4 a.m., after everyone had gone home. No one was inside when it happened, fortunately.”
“Good, thank goodness,” I murmured. Because if anyone, if Shaun, if any of the pack had been in there … Werewolves were tough, but they didn’t survive being at ground zero of explosions.
I thought back, plowed through my scrambling thoughts. By 4 a.m. we’d left Albuquerque, and enough time had passed for a certain demon to zap herself from Albuquerque to Denver. Or for someone like Roman to pass along a message, to enact some kind of revenge.
“We’re still looking into the cause, but that fire burned very hot. That indicates some kind of accelerant. This may be arson. You know of anyone who might want to hurt you by burning your place, Ms. Norville?”
I laughed. I just laughed, hand over my mouth, tears streaming. The captain didn’t seem at all surprised—he was probably used to people cracking.
Ben stayed calm, put his arm around my shoulders, anchored me. Explained, in a calm and lawyerlike manner, “She hosts a talk radio show that attracts fringe types. There’s a pretty long list of people who might do something like this.”
From the start of the show, I’d kept a folder of threats I’d received, for just this kind of situation. But I was pretty sure the attack didn’t come from someone in that folder. What would the captain do if I mentioned demons from hell?
Allan was still talking, and Ben seemed to be listening attentively. Stuff about paperwork and insurance claims and what would happen next and making sure they had contact info. Logistics-type stuff. I’d gone back to numb. This was just a building, just a thing. An important thing, but the problem of what to do with it would still be here tomorrow.
Shaun and the rest of the pack still weren’t answering their phones. That was a bigger problem right now. Usually, New Moon smelled like pack, a wild scent of wind, pines, granite, a mix of wolf and people, distinct and familiar. All I smelled now was the fire.
The pack hadn’t been here when the place went up, and that was good. But where were they?
The fire captain was about to turn back to his work, but I stopped him. “Captain Allan, is it okay if I take a walk around?”
“It’s not safe to go inside, but if you stay away from the walls, then go ahead.” He smiled kindly, if tiredly. My request must have been normal. It boggled me to think how much he must have had to deal with people in my situation.
Before I started my trek around the ruins, Detective Hardin called to say she was taking Tina straight to our place. That was good—Tina had slept for most of the trip and was still out of it.
“How bad is it?” Hardin asked.
I didn’t know how to put it into words. I had the phone to my ear, staring at the ruins, and felt like I was watching a movie happening to someone else.
“It’s gone,” I said. “It’s all gone.” My voice was flat.
“I’m sorry, Kitty,” she said—kind, sympathetic. Maybe the nicest I’d ever heard her.
“Thanks,” I murmured, and we hung up.
The air smelled awful, of burned plastic and ashes. I’d never scrub the smell out of my nose.
“What do you think?” Ben asked. Cormac and I were standing next to him; he was talking to both of us.
“Real fishy,” Cormac said. “But I don’t think the plan’s changed. You want to find out who did this, my money’s on Roman. And that demon. Wouldn’t have taken much—sabotage the gas line, some kind of gasoline bomb.”
Ben sighed. “Right. Maybe the investigators’ll turn up something interesting.”
“I’ll be back in a minute,” I said, moving off, keeping my gaze on the wreckage of the building, like it was another predator and I was waiting to see which way it would jump.
I stepped slowly, breathed calmly, searching for—I didn’t know what. I didn’t know enough about explosives or fire-starting techniques to think I’d be able to smell anything under all the ash. I hadn’t had enough experience to develop a catalog of those smells. It couldn’t hurt to try, to see if anything jumped out. But mostly, I wanted to say good-bye. File this spot into my memory before walking away.
On the side of the building that looked like it had been blown out, I thought I smelled brimstone. Just a whiff, like the exhaust of a car that had backfired a block away, or the rubber from a squealing tire. Might have been my imagination. But I could see her, Ashtoreth, one of her storms blazing around her, powerful enough to knock down walls, blowing gas lines and leaving fire in her wake.