Page 11 of Flesh and Fury
She looked over and then back with fear in her eyes.
“Sorry,” she quickly apologized. “I gotta get back to work.”
“But your arm.” Ari gestured at the napkin.
She pulled it away and Eoghan was surprised to see that the cut was half the size it had been before. Similar to vampires, shifters always healed fast, especially the young ones. In the case of this girl, she’d probably feel like a hundred percent in about five minutes. “It’s healing.” She smiled and glanced at something or someone over his shoulder. “And, I really need to get back to work. Sorry.”
“Ah…before you do, would you point me in the direction of whoever’s in charge, please?” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his gold star tucked inside. “U.S. Marshal Eoghan Sapphire, I.S.R.,” he said, inspiring another louder, collective groan which swept through the brewery. Every werewolf in the place turned to stare at them with glowing, yellow rings around their eyes.
“Let me guess,” Ari said, sounding completely disgusted with himself. “Somehow the two of us—who have the most perfect streak of the worst luck on earth—have somehow stumbled into the bar of an angry werewolf pack and disturbed a rather intolerant conversation between future in-laws.”
“Yeah,” Eoghan said as the same busboy came out with something in his hand.
“Here.” He held out the ice, and Ari smiled at the kid, taking the napkin, before lifting it gingerly to his cheek.
“I really appreciate that,” Ari said.
“The man you want to talk to is right over there,” the server said, pointing out the manager before walking away.
“Thanks!” Eoghan said to her back before looking over at the manager. He didn’t like the man on spec. He was big, beefy, red faced, and unsmiling. He watched them as the waitress walked up and said a few words to him. The manager nodded, then started heading their way.
“I’m not crazy about this, Eoghan,” Ari said.
He turned to look at Ari, noting the nervousness in his voice as he kept his gaze focused on the approaching werewolf. He didn’t like the idea of being in an environment where a potentially dangerous shifter was on hand. If nothing else, what he remembered of werewolves was that they weren’t the easiest people to get along with even when docile or in human form.
If he’d had any idea Alvin Walters owned a restaurant, he’d have done some research ahead of time and figured out which one not to patronize. The guy stopped in front of them and crossed his big arms over a muscular chest. He was about Ari’s height, perhaps an inch taller, but wider certainly. The expression on his face wasn’t happy and the energy radiating from the guy was hostile.
Great.
“U.S. Marshals Eoghan Sapphire and Aristotle Brown,” Eoghan said, holding out his star as Ari did the same. “We’re I.S.R.”
“Don’t know what that is, but you folks seem to know what we are,” the guy said. “Why don’t you tell me how you know that and what you want?”
“You don’t know what the I.S.R. is?” Ari asked, smiling at the manager.
The guy pivoted and glared at Ari. “Why don’t you tell me?” he growled. The low growl made the hair on the back of Eoghan’s neck stand straight up. If Ari hadn’t been standing right beside him and if he hadn’t been the man he was, Eoghan probably would have bolted from the room.
“The I.S.R. is an acronym for Interspecies Response,” a booming voice said from behind them. “The civilian U.S. Marshals Service formed the I.S.R. about a hundred twenty years ago under the then president of the United States, Teddy Roosevelt,” the short, squat man said as he walked over. “Right after that, they stuck us all on reservations to keep us away from human folks.” The man smiled, his eyes flashing bright yellow for the briefest of seconds before returning to their usual yellow rings around the irises that looked so otherworldly. He held out his hand when he got to them. “Alvin Walters,” he said. “I understand you marshals want to talk to me and I’ve been expecting you.” He turned to his manager and clapped him on the back. “You can leave it with me now, David. Thank you.”
“Sir, I think you should know that Oscar Garcia was here. He was the one who started all this,” the manager said.
Walters frowned. “Why would he do that?”
“He was here with his granddaughter, Carmen, as well as Edward.”
Walters shook his head and stroked his beard. He looked at Eoghan and Ari. “Now, what did that fool think he was going to accomplish by talking to my pigheaded grandson? He knows what has to be done. Garcia needs to return Galen andthen Edward needs to see common sense and marry Carmen. Afterward, Edward will simply adopt the child she’s carrying. That way our packs will be united, I will have both of my grandsons back along with a new granddaughter-in-law, and we can all look forward to the next generation. Personally, I don’t care who got Carmen pregnant. I’ve already told those in the pack the man won’t be punished if he comes forward and relinquishes his claim on the child.”
“You’ve discussed the situation with your pack then?” Eoghan asked. “I’m surprised because…” He let his words trail off. With the manager, David, and other werewolves milling about, he wasn’t going to talk openly about the Alpha’s problem. He’d been asked not to.
Walters nodded. “I felt it was time. There’s no use in hiding the situation.” He glanced at David. “You have a brewery to put back in order, young man. Go and do your duties while I talk to these marshals. It’s perfectly safe.”
“Yes, Alpha.” David bowed his head in deference before pivoting and walking away.
“I suppose I should formally introduce myself,” the Alpha said. “As I told you, my name is Alvin Walters and I’m the Alpha of the Bishop werewolf pack. I’m the one who contacted Deputy Chief Priest. Which means you must be…”
“Oh, sorry, sir. I’m Eoghan Sapphire. This is my partner, Aristotle Brown.”
“Aristotle…well, that’s quite a mouthful, yes.” He swept out his hand. “Have you eaten? I think we could rustle something up.”