Mal could tell Everett was mad by the time they pulled into New Port. He hadn't exactly told him where they were going after he'd ushered him into the car before dawn. Everett had slept the entire time since he'd barely gotten any sleep since the night of the first attack. He may have lain down, but that didn't mean he slept well.
They'd stayed at the precinct until three in the morning. Then Mal had made up the day by taking care of Everett in the shower. They were in bed by four. Mal had set an alarm for seven and they were on the road by eight. Not enough for the barkeep to get too much sleep.
Mal hated lying to Everett, but the only way he could get him in the car was to do it while he'd been sleeping. Luckily, he'd dropped back off as soon as they'd pulled out of the driveway. Even when Mal had stopped for lunch, he hadn't gotten up.
His food had been cold when he'd finally woken up, but Everett had eaten it without much of a fuss. He'd been very quiet, just watching the scenery go by. Until they'd gotten to the county line, only then did he start tensing up.
When the "Welcome to New Port" sign had been visible, Everett had glared at him. Mal had felt the rage and unspoken hatred in his eyes, but he'd been surprised when red flashed through them. Whatever was in this town, it was either going to blow this case wide open or destroy Everett.
Mal pulled into Big Sal's Diner and killed the engine. He sat still for a moment before getting out. He waited by the car as Everett gathered himself, looking at him cautiously when he met him at the front of the vehicle.
Everett led the way and sat down in a corner booth with his back to the wall. He was on edge and very, very unhappy. Mal wanted to hold those hands, to caress the back of them with his thumbs. But Everett was already wound up, and the wolf didn't want to make it worse.
The waitress sidled up to them, gum popping in a cliche manner. If she knew Everett, she didn't let on. "Hey, honies. What can I get for ya?"
"Two coffees please," Mal said.
She walked away for a moment then returned with two cups and a glass coffee pot. She poured them and walked away again for them to peruse the menu. Only an idiot would look at them and think things were hunky dory. They were far from it, and the two men put off that atmosphere. If anyone else could smell it, they would know to sit far, far away from them.
The werewolf looked back at his lover as he perfected his cup. "It wasn't my idea."
"I don't care whose idea it was. You didn't tell me we were coming," Everett shot back.
Mal understood why he was mad. "All I had to do was tell you?"
The young man leveled him a heated look, and not the sexual kind. "I told you yesterday if it was pertinent to the case, I would come. So I don't know why you had to lie to me."
"You've been so adamant about not coming. I thought you'd fight tooth and nail." he held up his hand when Everett went to argue. "Yes, I know you don't want to know what's in your past, but Donovan thinks it's important. At least who you were in contact with after you wreck, before you came to Madisonville."
The waitress came back for their orders, smartly reading the atmosphere now that the two men were talking. They ordered a stack of pancakes apiece with half bacon and half sausage. When she brought them back, she smiled as one doused his (Mal) in maple syrup and the other poured strawberry syrup on his (Everett). She left them alone to enjoy, topping their coffees off before she sauntered off.
Mal watched Everett eat with a voracious hunger. It hadn't been that long ago since he'd eaten, but his anger had depleted him. He liked sweet things mostly, but liked his coffee with a bitter aftertaste. It truly suited him well, especially the bitter part.
"Who did Donovan call?" Everett asked. He was almost finished with his plate, steadily shoveling the bite size pieces.
"He knows the Alpha here. Mitch Lassiter I think," Mal replied. He ate at a more sedate pace.
The other man nodded. "That makes sense. Mitch was always no bullshit when we were in school."
"So you know him?"
"Mmm, but I didn't know he was a werewolf."
That made sense since Mal had told him about werewolves several months ago. He didn't seem too surprised to learn more about the supernatural world.
They finished eating and waited as the waitress topped off their cups for a third time. Everett looked out the window, eyes watching the early afternoon life. School was still in session so all that were milling about were the soccer moms. They were going to the grocery store, getting their nails and hair done, and just all around running errands.
Everett had skipped school plenty of times, opting to hang out at the theatre down the street from the diner. He hadn't wanted to hear or see all the looks he got. New Port wasn't the size of Madisonville, but it wasn't a podunk town either. People talked about everything, especially things that were different and they didn't understand.
The traumatized teen had been their favorite topic after he'd been pulled out of the fiery wreckage. He hadn't known anything other than a name; Everett Coombs had been on his identification card so they'd gone with it. At least it had been better than John Doe. He hadn't known where he'd come from, where he'd been heading, or who his family was. Whatever he'd been doing before that wreck had completley disappeared so they'd put him in a group home in hopes someone had been looking for him.
No surprise, they hadn't.
The gossip hadn't stopped even throughout his high school days. He'd worked his ass off and had gotten into MIT. The day he'd graduated he'd packed his little putt-putt car he'd bought with the money he'd made bussing tables and had moved to Massachusetts. He hadn't come back despite moving back to the state several years ago.
"Do you what the hardest part of the last thirteen years has been?" he asked.
Mal was surprised at the sudden question. He hadn't thought Everett would talk about being here, and he'd prepared himself for silence the entire trip. Now, he was bringing it up voluntarily.
"What's that?" he replied.
"I've lived with this shame of not knowing who I am or where I come from. Simply because I have no recollection of anything before that crash. But the worst part has been the pain that no one was looking for me." Everett looked at Mal, and his violet eyes brimmed with years of hurt. "Do I have a family who thought I'd died, or did they just not care enough to look for me?"
The werewolf slipped out of his seat and slid in beside the younger man. His arm went around his back as the other hand covered his bunched together on the table.
"Whoever decided or told you that weren't good enough is a fucking liar. You're worth more than anyone cares to realize, and I'm damn lucky to call you mine. No one else gets to have you, and I will fight anyone who tries to take you away from me," he said.
"Is that you saying that or your wolf?" Everett wiped at his nose, sniffling at the same time.
"It's both of us. Any time I think about something happening to you, or you leaving in any way, he gets angry. He wants to protect you just as much as I do. And he doesn't want anyone else either."
Everett looked at him. Since they were in public, any displays of affection would bother him. Mal knew being this close was making his leg twitch, but he was distraught since he'd been brought back to where it had all begun. He was going to give him as much support as he could, as much as he would allow.
Surprisingly, the young man pressed his forehead to Mal's cheek and inhaled deeply. It was the most intimate thing he had ever done in public. Mal could feel how heavy it weighed on him being back, and just this one little act was doing a lot to ease his tension. Mal brought his hand up to rub his fluffy hair gently.
"Am I interrupting something?"
They looked up as a man slid into their booth. Mal could tell he was a werewolf by the scent. He also knew this was Mitch Lassiter by the way Everett pulled away and leaned against the booth.
The Alpha looked them over a few times before his gaze naturally shifted to Everett. Mal could understand how someone would mistake him for a regular human. If his nose hadn't told him what he was, the other werewolf would have throught he was human.
He was a small man, maybe just over five feet seven. His dark hair was graying at the ears but not enough to tell his real age. As it was, he could pass for a man in his early to mid fifties. There was a twinkle in his brown eyes that said he was ready for a little mischief at any time. Mal could tell several people had underestimated him, but they'd only done it once.
The look he cast Everett was far from pitiful. He was genuinely concerned about the young man's well-being. Chances are he was one of the few who had actually cared for him after his wreck. It was the reason Everett was still in the booth, otherwise he would have crawled over Mal and escaped.
"How are you, Everett?" he asked. His tone was genuine, just as Mal predicted.
Everett nodded. "I'm good, although I've had better weeks." He motioned to his left. "This is Malcolm Danvers, my partner. Mal, this is Mitch Lassiter, former mayor and current Alderman."
Mal inclined his head and stuck out his hand. He didn't bother saying anything about why Everett knew all that even though he'd been gone for so long. "Nice to meet you, sir."
Mitch took it and shook firmly. "You too. Donovan has spoken your praises." He flicked his hand between them. "When Everett says partner, does he mean..?"
"Yes, sir. We're lovers."
He nodded. "I just wanted to make sure. Everett didn't date in high school so I've always wondered what kind of person he'd choose when he did."
"It's kind of hard to date when everyone thinks you're a freak," Everett quipped.
Mal put a hand to his thigh, but he didn't miss the pained expression on Mitch's face. He didn't like hearing Everett talk like this either. Even though they couldn't change his past, they both hoped to change the hurtful words he said about himself.
"When Donovan called, he said you had a case you were working. He didn't give too many details, but he said you'd fill me in when you got here," Mitch said.
Mal dove into the tale making sure he didn't miss a beat. He told everything he knew about the murders and how they may connect back to New Port and Everett's wreck. He told of how there were three scenes but six victims. Everett pitched in his theories here and there, but none of them ever made sense.
"It sounds like they're getting ready to summon something, or they're trying to get your attention with the last one. Because you didn't know five of them, maybe they used your old employee as a message. 'Listen to us or we'll kill off those you know'," Mitch offered.
The reasoning didn't sit right with Mal. they weren't trying to get Everett's attention. They were trying to get to Everett himself. They wanted him. He was their target. The more he thought of it, the more it made sense.
"What if," he said. He drew both of their attention. "What if the murders were just acts of anger? My gut says they're trying to get to Everett. These people just happened to be around when they couldn't find him."
Everett frowned. "That doesn't make any sense."
Mal leaned agains the table and risked being disrespectful by looking directly into Mitch's eyes. "What happened thirteen years ago?"
Mitch ignored the challenge and looked at Everett. The young man looked at him, eyes darting just over his shoulder. He'd been taught well the etiquette of werewolves.
"I won't say anything without your permission," he said.
Everett looked at him, and Mitch could feel the boy's reticence. He had lived thirteen years not knowing what had happened. So far he looked like he hadn't let that bother him.
"Go ahead," he agreed.
Mitch explained how he'd been working as a volunteer firefighter that night. He had just been getting ready to go home when the call had come in. A car had gone off the road just at the edge of town and was engulfed in flames. There were two passengers trapped.
No one had bellyached as they'd suited up and hoped there were people to rescue. Cars burned hotter due to the accelerants that made them run, and the occupants could die almost instantly from smoke inhalation and burns. They had hoped the passengers had escaped.
When they'd pulled up, the car had been completely engulfed and burning almost white. Containment had been the priority so they'd sprayed it down from a safe distance until it had been safe enough to approach.
Mitch had been the first one. He'd seen the driver and had known whoever it was had perished. When he'd rounded the other side, he'd found a teenage boy lying in the dirt. His clothes had been charred but he'd been unconscious. Mitch had checked his pulse and had sighed when he'd found one.
"You were transported to the hospital for a full exam and observation," Mitch continued. His face turned somber. "Everett, you had no burns on you whatsoever. Even the doctors considered it a miracle."
"What?" Everett's voice was incredulous and his face matched the tone.
The Alpha produced a file and slid it across the table. Everett snatched it up and read through it. Mal watched him before turning his attention to the other man.
"What else?" he asked.
"He had no external injuries. That fire was a one-alarm fire. We contained it fairly well, but there was some damage to nearby trees and a field. Also, this was found on the ground by Everett."
Mitch pulled out a red feather the length of his forearm. Mal could see some iridescent gold, blue and orange in it. No bird he had ever seen had feathers with these colors in that pattern. It was vibrant and huge. A bird of prey had to have molted this.
"My cousin is an orinthologist. I showed this to her, and she's never seen one this long or this vibrant. She said the bird had to have been three feet tall, and this was a wing feather used for flight," the Alpha said. "Not only that. It hums with magic at certain times."
Mal took it and looked over the impressive item. Like Mitch had said, he could feel the slight thrum of magic. It wasn't strong, but he could tell it used to be. It had been strong and it was of very old magic. Very, very old magic at that.
He said it aloud. "This is old magic. I haven't felt this since my change almost four years ago."
"My research hasn't shown anything that points to an old magical bird. Then again I've also been really busy trying to keep the far off my pack's doorsteps."
"You're having problems with the fae?" Everett asked.
"They've shown up every year at the same time looking for something. I always find them in the same spot, over off Duncan Road. This year they were at the sight of your wreck. I don't know what they found- if they found anything- but it's nearly caused a race war with my wolves."
Everett stopped reading and looked at Mal. "Could this be connected to the fae woman with the wolves that committed the murders?"
"They could very well be. We won't know until we go to the crash site." Mal noticed Everett's face turned pale, his violet eyes popping out against his sudden pallid color. "The only way we're going to figure this out is if we look at everything."
"There is a memorial in its place now. Mrs. Collins planted a small garden in memorial of the unknown man who perished," Mitch muttered.
It made Everett feel a little better, but not too much. Going back still made him anxious.
He looked at Mitch. "Can I keep this? Maybe it will help some."
"Go ahead. They're copies anyway. Chief Eriksson was kind enough to make them when I told him you were coming," the older man said.
"How many people know?"
"Eriksson, Chief Swann and myself. I didn't think it pertinent to tell anyone else. You've been through enough when you were a teen. Even now, I didn't think you would want people fawning over you."
"Thank you."
Mitch handed over a business card to Mal. "Feel free to call me if you have any questions. And your breakfast is on me."
He excused himself and disappeared out the door. Everett watched him walk halfway down the block and get into the blue 1975 Chevy he had always driven. Everything had changed and nothing had changed. It was the way New Port was, and one of the reasons he'd left.
Mal nudged his arm. Slowly, he turned to look at him. The other man ran his hand along his face then smiled at him. He was giving as much support as he could. Silent demons were hard to battle, especially alone.
He held the keys out. Everett looked at them, not really seeing them for a long moment. With a shaky hand, he took them. Mal stood first then waited for him to stand. Then he followed him out the diner door. He got in the passenger side. It gave Everett some sense of control when he felt it was spiraling away from him.
Everett backed out slowly then pulled on to Main Street. He followed the familiar road to the one place he hated the most in his life. The place he lost everything.