Night of the Wolves. Heather Graham

him.

      He tamped down the thought. He’d decided long ago that his life was meant to be a solitary one.

      “You think the boardinghouse is safe?” Brendan asked as they walked together along the street.

      Cody shook his head. “It’s a boardinghouse. Its business is opening its door to strangers.”

      “Someone in there knows something, though. There are crosses all over the place, garlic festooned around the window.”

      “Doesn’t matter. Milo has already been in there,” Cody said.

      “Maybe we need more crosses,” Brendan suggested.

      “What we need is to kill Milo,” Cody said, and kept walking.

      Brendan looked after him. “Right. And then pierce his heart, chop off his head and burn the body to ash.”

      AS THE TWO OF THEM walked back to the boardinghouse, Cody thought back to how he and Brendan had met. It had started with the murderer Aldridge had needed his help in stopping. He could still remember bending over the first two bodies….

      The first of the two latest victims was lying on his back, a look of abject terror on his face. His wife was in worse condition. Her tormentor must have played with her first, because her eyes were closed, as if she had clenched them hard against the sight of her impending death.

      Both bodies bore stab marks about the chest and abdomen, but neither was lying in the expected pool of blood, and both were curiously white.

      “It beats everything I’ve seen,” Aldridge said quietly, watching as Cody moved the woman’s hair aside to reveal the marks he’d been sure he would find. Cody hesitated, wondering just how much of the truth Aldridge might be able to accept.

      The evidence was actually encouraging, at least as far as putting an end to the killing spree went. He was pretty sure he was looking at a rogue killer, someone who was trying to blend in with the population of the city. The stab marks had been made to fool whoever found the bodies, and it was only luck—good for Aldridge, maybe not so good for Cody himself—that someone had connected these killings to the case Cody had put an end to.

      Cody looked up at Aldridge. “I’ll go after your killer, sir, but it’s unlikely I’ll be able to bring him in for trial. This … person will fight to the death.”

      Aldridge stared at him. “You do what you have to do. I need you to catch this man.”

      “I can’t be held to any curfew.”

      “You’ll have free rein,” Aldridge promised.

      That night, Cody prowled the streets.

      He tried the bars first, but found nothing unusual. Then, as he walked along Dauphine Street, he noticed a gate standing ajar. Curious, he pushed the gate open and stepped into a dark courtyard.

      He scanned the courtyard quickly, then winced, seeing what looked like a pile of clothing off to one side. He hurried over and found the body of a young woman, still warm to the touch, but dead.

      Quite, quite dead.

      Still warm, he thought. Which meant the killer might still be near.

      He heard piano music and a songstress at work coming from one of the nearby restaurants, so he walked over to see what he might find.

      He stood by the bar and sipped bourbon as he looked around the room. Several soldiers were at a table close to the piano, where they watched a dark-haired and quite beautiful woman as she played and sang, all the while flirting openly with them.

      As he watched, the songstress rose, whispered in the ear of one of the men, then left him sitting and staring hungrily after her as she walked toward the back and the alley Cody knew ran behind the building.

      As subtly as he could, he followed.

      He had to stop the death toll. Now.

      She was waiting, leaning against the wall, a wicked smile upon her face as she waited with supreme anticipation. He stared at her for a moment, realizing with a sick feeling that she wasn’t the intended victim at all.

      “Excuse me?” she said, surprised when she saw Cody, and not the young man with whom she’d been flirting.

      “Good evening,” he said.

      She smiled and shivered, though it was far from cold. “Lovely night, actually. I’m Vivien La Rue. How do you do?”

      She stretched out a hand, and when he took it, she allowed her fingers to wander over his flesh.

      “You shouldn’t be out here,” he said, playing along. “There’s a killer loose in the city.”

      He glanced toward the door. The young soldier had yet to emerge, but it might not be much longer until he showed. This would have to happen quickly.

      “Are you interested in other sorts of … entertainment?” he asked softly.

      She laughed and sized him up. “What might you have in mind? And what are you offering?”

      She moved closer and slid her arms around his neck, gazing up into his eyes. Something she saw there seemed to startle her, and she started to pull away.

      He didn’t let her. She let out a hissing sound and threw back her head, lips receding, teeth extending. She started to aim for his throat.

      But he was ready. And he was extremely strong. He slit her throat, instantly severing the jugular. Trying to avoid the spilling blood, he worked relentlessly, sawing, finally dropping both the body and the head to the ground as he made the final cut. In moments, nothing was left but a pile of ash.

      Grateful that the soldier had not yet made an appearance, he hurried out of the alley and straight to Aldridge’s office, where the lieutenant had promised to wait for word.

      Cody informed him that the killer had been found and, as he’d predicted, been killed.

      “Where’s the body?”

      “I’m afraid you won’t find it.” Suddenly, Cody realized Aldridge was looking at someone who was seated behind him, and he cursed himself. He should have sensed the other presence.

      He turned quickly to see a lean, dignified man of middle age. Cody recognized him as Brendan Vincent, a one-time brigadier general in the Union army, discharged on medical grounds, who had made his reputation in the Mexican War and was now honored by both sides in the current conflict.

      Vincent stood as Aldridge made the introductions and smiled grimly as he shook Cody’s hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, young man. I need you desperately.”

      “Oh?”

      “We’ve been having some trouble out West. In Texas.”

      Startled, Cody looked at Aldridge.

      Aldridge nodded grimly. “Yes, Texas, still a Southern state. But murder is murder, and Brendan is my cousin. He’s made Texas his home since his discharge, and … well, I’ll let him explain for himself.”

      “We’ve had a few … incidents recently. Whole towns disappearing, and I think we’re looking at the same kind of killer my cousin tells me you’ve now defeated twice. I’m desperate, Mr. Fox. I need you to come with me.”

      Cody winced, looking downward for a moment. Did he really want to go back there? Out West? Where he’d been conceived?

      “All right,” he said after a moment. “When do we leave?”

      “First thing in the morning.”

      “Exactly where are we going?” he asked.

      “We’re going to Victory, my boy.”

      At first he thought Vincent was trying to be poetic. Then it hit him.

      “Victory, Texas,” he breathed, and the other man nodded.

      Cody