Hart and Hunter

Chapter 13

Ch. 13: Julian

Questions carpet-bomb my brain as Halloran's words sink in, short-circuiting my ability to speak and leaving my mind blank with shock. Before I can recover, footsteps echo down the tunnel behind Dane, and Ingrid appears at his back.

"Holy shit! What just happened?" she asks, blinding us all with her phone's flash. "Was that a gunshot? Is everyone okay? Oh my God, is that blood?"

Her eyes fix on Halloran's shirt, the front of which Dane grasps in a fist.

Ignoring her, he gives the man a shake.

"Alright, you son of a bitch," he growls in his face. "You got thirty seconds to explain."

"I'm afraid... it will take a bit longer than that... to do the tale justice," Halloran gasps, slumping against the bricks at his back and leaving Dane holding a good portion of his weight. His face is pale in the flashlight's wan beam, and his brow shines with a sheen of sweat. "In the meantime, do you think we might move to a more... comfortable location?"

I see the gears working in Dane's head as he calculates a quick cost-benefit analysis, weighing different factors in his mind. Coming to a decision, he releases his hold on Halloran's shirt and slips his arm around the man's back instead, lending him support.

"Fine," he says. "Ingrid, take the flashlight. Julian, get the gun. Let's get out of here."

Ingrid leads the way out of the tunnels, and Dane follows with Halloran. I bring up the rear, feeling a little jealous and left behind. Sure, I'm not hurt as badly as Halloran, but my wrist is broken, and I just learned I have a great uncle and my grandmother might be a murderer. I could use a hug, at least.

I shove the unhelpful feelings aside as we climb the steps and emerge into the light of Lagrange's shop once more, blinking against the glare of the afternoon sun. Somewhat to my satisfaction, Dane releases Halloran and leaves him to stand or fall on his own while he inspects the gaping hole in the floor.

"How long have you known this was here?" he asks, his voice taking on a 'trained interrogator' tone.

"Not until this afternoon," Halloran replies, leaning on the sales counter for support with one hand pressed to his shoulder. "It's Julian that found the thing."

Dane's amber gaze turns my way, and I flinch. "Funny the cops missed it," he remarks.

Ingrid, who's been busy brushing dust from her clothes and hair, rolls her eyes at him. "Really, Dane? Did you check for trapdoors in every room when you were a cop? It was wide open, and you wouldn't even have found it if not for me."

"You know my senses aren't as sharp as yours in human form," he says, "and yours aren't as sharp as mine as a Wolf." Stripping off his outer shirt, he tosses it to Halloran. "Keep pressure on that shoulder. We should get you to a hospital. Both of you," he adds, glancing at me with a softer — and guiltier — look.

"Ah, no," Halloran protests with a grimace. "I'd rather avoid the paperwork. It's not as bad as it looks, and I can patch meself up well enough."

"So, what? We're not calling this in?" Dane challenges.

Halloran hesitates, then shakes his head. "It's your call. Personally, I'd prefer more time to investigate the place properly, before it's trampled over and boarded up."

Dane keeps his expression neutral, but I can guess his feelings well enough. Naturally, he'll want to investigate the tunnels more thoroughly as well, and that will be more difficult if the authorities have locked them down, not to mention the evidence they might destroy inadvertently. He and Halloran want the same thing; so either they both win, or they both lose. Yielding the decision leaves Dane in control, but really there's only one choice.