Brotherhood of Cain (Werewolf/Mafia)

Chapter Eight: Child Dealers

"Desperation is like stealing from the Mafia: you stand a good chance of attracting the wrong attention." - Douglas Horton

Chapter Seven

Ethel's POV

  After finding the body, Draven called in reinforcements for both the earlier fight and the hanging. The wolves arrived promptly fifteen minutes later, when I was lent against the wall, counting the number of moles on Calman's back. I had gotten up to twenty one. Calman had a very good chance of getting skin cancer if he wasn't already dead.

Two werewolves came through the arch. One was a spindly man, with glasses that were perched on a long nose and a white lab coat. The other was a small Indian woman with reddish-brown eyes and long dark hair that brushed her hips. She, too, had a lab coat.

The woman carried a large duffel bag that a woman of her size wouldn't be able to pick up. The bag had to be eighty pounds and she carried it like a purse. The man charged right up to the hanging body, snapping on a pair of neoprene gloves from his pocket.

As he opened Calman's mouth, the woman came over to me. "Shi. Do you know where Draven is?"

She gave a firm handshake, like a politician. Smooth, clean, steady. "Ethel. He went to grab something from his Je—Speak of the devil and he shall appear." I nodded at Draven as he entered the ballroom.

Her creamy skin paled before she shook her head and made her way toward Draven. I could already tell they were going to take forever to look over this body. Walking past Draven, I heard Shi tell him they cleaned up the other scene down in the woods.

"Going to look around," he grunted before walking over to the man examining Calman, Shi at his heels.

The hallway was split into two parts, divided by a staircase. The side I was on had three doors frames that entered into stark white rooms. Moving past the stairs, I went through the other three rooms. Each one was of moderate size with a large window that presented a broad view of the forest behind the house.

Entering the single room on the left side of the hall, I looked around. The floorboards creaked in an old symphony that was rather comforting than eery. This room differed from the rest with another open arch with golden hinges. I assumed the door had been ripped off like all the others in the house.

However, as I stepped in the floor groaned oddly. Not the usual out of place board, but an empty sound. Squatting down, I brushed my hands over the boards, shaking a few in the process. A rusty nail popped out of place. Lifting the board up and shrugging the other nails off, I looked down.

A metal box was hiding under the floors. Placing the board aside and lifting up the box, I checked over my shoulder. No one was there.

The box had a hook where you could padlock it shut, but nothing was preventing me from opening it. Doing just that, my heart soared. Thick wads of cash were stuffed into the bag. Flicking through the bills in one stack, I counted ten one-hundred dollar bills. There were at least five wads in here. That was easily five grand.

I had the five hundred from the other job I did with Draven but that wouldn't last long. Maybe a few nights in a hotel without food. This money would get me started on my feet. I could rent a space, stock up on food, and maybe even get a junker.

The only question remained: Who's money was this?

I would say Calman's, but I couldn't be sure. Half of me was screaming not to get involved, but the other half, the street hardened half, said get it and go before anyone sees.