The bar wasn't just well known for selling ridiculously expensive champagne towers but also for information. Rare information, albeit for the right price.
"A little bird told me people have been stockpiling on silver like Goblins with their gold. What's with the sudden affinity for silver?" Mark asked, his intelligent eyes surveyed the scattered darts on the dartboard that hung on the wall. Noticing how their sharp tips reflected the light. If he was a betting man, he would bet they were made of silver.
"Maybe people just want to add more to the good old family's silverware collection," Stan suggested, shrugging his shoulders. So that's why Mark James was here. He must've heard then...
The corner of Mark's mouth turned upwards slightly as he continued to look amused, neither agreeing or disagreeing.
"There has always been a pent-up demand for silver, didn't you know Defective?" Stan asked, drawing out the last word purposely.
"Oh?" Mark cocked his eyebrow.
God, he was as sly! They shouldn't call him the "Werewolf Detective" but the "Fox Detective". Stan thought and he weighed the pros and cons in his head before making a decision as to what to tell and how much to tell. He didn't want to get himself in trouble with either side. His position in the whole thing was neutral.
"It's a precious metal that's in rare supply. God's metal, that's what everyone calls it."
"God's metal?" Mark's handsome face lit up with interest, "why don't we just put a little bit of this God's metal in your hand and see what it'll do to you?" His hand made the gesture of holding an imaginary pin with his fingers popping a balloon.
Stan's face immediately reddened with rage, "you wouldn't dare!" He clutched his fists together.
"Try me," Mark said, his strong body leaned against the sofa whilst remaining relaxed.
Stan knew he was no match for Mark, who exuded the natural flair of a true Alpha. "I can't." Stan took his stance of a Beta and looked defeated, "they'll kill me."
"I just want a name." Mark spread out his arms and tapped his fingers leisurely against the back of the sofa.
"Mark, please," Stan pleaded, suddenly remembering the unspeakable things they did to the last person who had snitched them to the police, he shuddered involuntarily. "I'm as good as dead if I tell you."
"I can grant you safety," Mark said.
Stan shook his head in despair. There was no place to run or hide from those people.
"Is this waging war merely over territory?"
"They are not werewolves." Stain's face crumpled.
Furrowing his brows together, Mark asked, "what are they then?"
"They are the stuff of nightmares, lurkers of the darkness. They're looking for something and will stop at noth..."
Stan's words suddenly ended abruptly, at the same time Mark heard the sound of a bullet piercing through the air and dived forward knocking Stan onto the ground.
But it was too late, Stan's body twitched unnaturally as if he had just been electrocuted. His eyes were wide open but the light inside them had disappeared.
"What are they looking for?" Mark shouted as he gripped the front of Stan's shirt. The only thing that responded to his questioning was deadly silence. There was no point to perform emergency CPR or calling an ambulance. Stan was already gone.
Mark's hand reached over Stan's wide-opened eyes and with one gentle but forceful sweep, closed the man's eyelids..
Rest in peace.
Mark glanced up; the windows remained intact. Knowing how careful Stan was, he wouldn't be surprised if the windows had already been changed to bullet-proof ones.
The bullet had come through the narrow wedge of opening. Whoever fired that shot at Stan was an exceptional shooter, a well-trained professional.
It had known Stan for exactly what he was, was because not only had the bullet managed to lodge straight into his heart but it had been a silver bullet to guarantee even if it didn't kill him instantly it would still poison him to death.
Mark James took out his mobile phone and phoned the station for backup. This was now a crime scene.
***
I hate Computing.
I didn't like computers and they didn't like me; I had decided. I was a werewolf, I had my killer sense of smell and my natural instincts, what did I even need computers for?
I sat next to Charlie in despair as he showed me where the button was located for turning the monitor on.
"It's really easy Aria," Charlie explained, all ten of his fingers tapping against the keyboard as if he was playing the piano as he logged onto the school's server. "You just type this and then hit this button and then you open and there you go."
I blinked a few times, wondering if it was all random acts of witchcraft.
"Ok, can you show me one more time please?" I asked weakly, "but slower this time, you were far too fast, I blinked and it was finished."
Charlie blushed; he wasn't used to being praised like this. But he took to the task dutifully, carefully explaining the procedure again. "You click here, and then enter your password, then you hit this button, ok?"
I nodded. It did make a bit more sense now. But only just. Whoever came up with the idea for computers was clearly working for the Devil himself
"You're really good with computers." I praised him sincerely.
"Thanks, Aria." Charlie's face beamed even redder.
I tapped away on the computer on my own, then I remembered something. "Charlie," I whispered, leaning over to him.
"What is it?" Charlie turned around to face me, surprised to see how close I was.
"Do you know how to hack into computer systems?" I glanced around secretively, making sure no one was paying attention to us and asked the question.
"I guess so, I mean I've never tried to in the past." He answered truthfully.
"Ah, I see," I said.
"Miss Brown! Mr Bingham!" The teacher Mr Woodburn barked loudly, making both Charlie and I jump up in fright. "No talking in class please!"
"Sorry," I shrank back in my seat, giving Charlie an apologetically look at the same time. Didn't mean to get you into trouble mate.
Charlie grinned and shook his head as if to say "it's fine".