Early Grave: Grant Wolves, #1

By Lori Drake

A paranormal killer. A pack running scared. Can she survive the next strike?

 

Joey doesn't need her werewolf pack to complete her. Fiercely independent, she's looking forward to a long supernatural life of adventure alongside her best friend, Chris. But when Chris is brutally murdered in a dark San Diego alley, her hopes for the future shatter.

 

Werewolves are notoriously difficult to kill, so this death was no random act of violence. On the hunt for the cold-hearted killer, Joey discovers her own family been keeping dangerous secrets… and her friend's spirit still lingers, trapped and tortured by a ruthless fanatic.

 

Can she unmask the killer, protect her pack, and help Chris rest in peace, or is she destined to join him in a fate too cruel to fathom?

 

Early Grave is the first book in the action-packed Grant Wolves urban fantasy series. If you like headstrong heroines, dark magic, and twists and turns you won't see coming, you'll love this gripping novel.

 

Buy Early Grave to shift into a page-turning urban fantasy today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clockwork Cactus Press
• Release date: Sep 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781955545051

Book preview

1

Heart racing, Joey spilled out into the alley behind the dance club. The heavy metal door clanged shut behind her, muting the loud music, but the thump of the bass still beat at her back like a steady, percussive pulse. The alley was dimly lit and stank of urine and refuse.

She filled her lungs with the night air, stench and all, and looked up at the moon. It wasn’t full anymore, but it was still damn close. Her body tingled as she positioned herself beside the door, counting the seconds until it opened again.

Tonight was supposed to be about letting go, dancing out her grief in a bacchanalian frenzy of movement. Instead she was pressed against a graffitied wall in a filthy alley, getting god knows what on her favorite shoes, waiting for her freshly acquired stalker to follow her out the back door.

If the creep thought she’d be easy pickings, he had another think coming.

The door opened. The man in the leather jacket stepped out into the alley and looked around, but didn’t see her already behind him. Using that to her advantage, she grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. He cried out in surprise as she pivoted gracefully, swinging him around and shoving him against the building, face first.

Who are you? she growled.

Dean! he said, not even requiring her to twist his arm further. My name’s Dean.

Why are you following me? What the fuck do you want?

To help! Christ, lady!

Help? With what? How? she asked, her skepticism plain.

There’s a spirit attached to you!

Joey blinked slowly. She hadn’t thought any excuse he offered would surprise her. She was wrong.

Three days earlier…

Joey gazed into Chris's eyes, mere inches from her own, breathing heavily in the stillness of the quiet room. Her heart thumped in her ears, pulse racing from their exertions. But it wasn’t his baby blues that held her attention as they lingered in the routine’s dramatic final pose. In truth, she barely saw him as she went over the choreography in her head, comparing it to their performance.

Good, but not good enough.

Again, she said, prompting him to set her back on her feet. She was halfway back to the small X of masking tape on the studio floor when her keen ears detected a marked absence of footsteps shadowing her own. Her dark eyes met his lighter ones in the mirrored wall, questioning.

It was fine. It was great, Chris said. Winded from their most recent run-through of the routine, he lingered where they’d ended, hands on his hips.

His reassuring tone failed to soothe her. I fucked up in the middle. One more time won’t kill you. C’mere. Her long auburn ponytail swayed as she motioned him over with her head.

He rolled his eyes and chuckled as he turned away instead, moving toward where their bags and water bottles were stashed.

I didn’t notice anything, he said, a hint of weariness creeping into his voice. Even if you did, one more run-through today isn’t going to make it perfect. Our six hours are almost up and there are still three weeks before the competition. Let’s just tackle it in the morning when we’re fresh.

Joey narrowed her eyes, but glanced at the wall clock. Sure enough, it was nearly 4 p.m.

We still have four minutes, she protested, but Chris didn’t even turn around. Vexed, she wiped sweat from her brow and sighed. Fine, she huffed, giving in and walking over to join him. It didn’t help that she could literally hear the clock ticking, seconds sliding irrevocably into the past. You know I hate losing time. Every—

Minute counts, Chris finished, flashing her a knowing smile. I remember. The words had been drilled into them by their childhood dance instructor, alongside a rigorous practice schedule that they’d maintained into adulthood. In the world of professional ballroom dance, raw talent would only get you so far.

He tossed her water bottle to her with a gentle underhand motion when she was within range. She caught it, still frowning at him, but took a quick sip nonetheless.

Chris squirted a bit of water on his head before drinking. His dark hair was already damp with sweat, so a little more hardly made a difference. He scrubbed his fingers through his short hair, then shook his head, sending droplets flying.

Joey was preoccupied, still running through the choreography in her head. She blinked when droplets of water spattered her face.

Hey! she exclaimed, giving him the eye as he tossed a towel at her next. What’s the big rush? Got a hot date? she asked, arching a pale brow while she mopped her lightly freckled face and neck with the towel.

As a matter of fact, I do. Chris flashed her one of his trademark boyish grins and wiped his own towel across his face before giving it a twist and draping it around his neck. With Claire. Or was it Claudia?

She didn’t need to see his grin to know he was joking about not remembering the name of his date. So hard to tell them apart, eh? she fired back, but didn’t pry. Chris was her adopted brother and best friend since childhood. They were only a few months apart in age. There was a time when they told each other absolutely everything. But at a certain point you stopped telling your best guy friend absolutely everything and you stopped trying to get him to tell you absolutely everything.

It’s a curse, he replied, with lingering joviality, and stooped to gather the rest of his things. I’m gonna hit the showers and get changed.

Nodding, Joey tossed her towel over one shoulder and faced the mirror, hands moving absently as she marked some of the steps with quick feet. She still had two and a half minutes before their reserved studio time was up.

You should take a break. Get something to eat, Chris added as he strode toward the exit.

Yes, Mom. See you at home, she said.

He glanced over his shoulder with a grin and pushed open the door. Don’t wait up.

By the time Chris hit the club, the evening was in full swing. His feet had caught the rhythm of the music on the sidewalk outside, steps unconsciously shifting to fall on the pulsing latin beats as he approached the front door.

Inside, the smell of alcohol and sweaty bodies in close proximity washed over him. It wasn’t a great time to have a super-sensitive nose, but after twenty-six years he was pretty good at ignoring what he didn’t want to smell.

How’s it going, Chris? A muscular bouncer in a tight black shirt greeted him just inside the door.

Chris smiled, bumping fists. Alright, Tony. You?

Can’t complain, the bouncer replied, looking away briefly to give a pair of new arrivals a cursory inspection. Where’s Jojo?

Chris shrugged, slowing down on the way past but not really stopping to chat. Not my night to keep track of her. He grinned and gave the man a friendly two-fingered salute in passing.

The music called to him. Even after a lengthy rehearsal, he still had some energy left to burn. The shower had helped, as did a bite to eat and the ride over to the club with the sun roof open and the evening breeze in his quickly-drying hair. He’d felt a mild pang of guilt over lying to Joey about his date. It wasn’t the first time, and it probably wouldn’t be the last; his dating life was far less active than she realized, but the last thing he needed was her trying to fix him up. For one thing, there were bound to be compatibility tests, charts, and spreadsheets involved.

The moon was up, and nearly full. Every wolf handled the phases differently, could feel it as the moon waxed and waned. For him, it was energizing. For Joey, it was why she was being particularly detail-oriented. In two night’s time, the whole pack would gather for their traditional moonlight run. For now, all he could do was look forward to it, riding that cresting wave of energy until it peaked.

He stopped on the edge of the dance floor to survey the offerings, watching men and women move with varying degrees of skill to the rhythmic latin beats. None of the women had Joey’s grace or charisma, but there were a few more confident than others. He spied one in particular that seemed a bit more skilled than her partner. The poor fellow was sweating profusely and clearly struggling to keep up, but he had a glint of determination in his eyes.

Chris stepped out onto the dance floor. The music was in his blood, singing almost as much as the moon had on the way over. He snagged the hand of a wallflower lingering near the edge of the floor. She barely had time to set her drink on a nearby table before he had her in his arms. He flashed her a charming smile, white teeth bright in the strobing black light as he led her through a few basic steps. He loved Salsa. Such heat, such passion. She seemed to love it too, smiling up at him and managing to keep up with only the occasional stumble. Another time, he might have enjoyed lingering to show her a few things, but he had an ulterior motive in sweeping her onto the dance floor tonight.

Across the floor they went, taking an indirect path toward the dancing siren. A suave turn and tap saw him trading his less experienced partner for the siren, leaving hers with someone a little more his speed in the process. It was a risk, but the fellow didn’t make any serious objections. Not a boyfriend, then. He did catch a disappointed look from the wallflower, and offered her a wink before turning his attention to the woman now in his arms.

What’s your name? he asked, as they moved to the music, letting their bodies get acquainted.

Selene, she said, with a smile. Her dark hair was pulled back in a high ponytail that bobbed and swung with her movements. Occasionally a head roll caused it to whip about.

Beautiful, he replied.

She laughed. Glad you like it.

Hmm? he feigned ignorance for a moment, then grinned. Oh, the name is nice too. I’m Chris.

It was the last thing he said for the space of several songs, during which he led her through turn after turn, even a few basic lifts common in these sorts of hole-in-the-wall dance clubs. Yet all good things must end, so he made the best of it and parted ways with her even though he could see she would have liked to continue. Always leave them wanting more, right? He walked away with her number in his phone and bellied up to the bar for a drink.

"Hola Rico, cerveza por favor," he said to the familiar tattooed man behind the bar. It wasn’t quite the full extent of his Spanish fluency, but it was close. You didn’t live this close to the border without picking up at least a few things. San Diego had a rather large hispanic population, but Rico wasn’t Mexican. He was Cuban, like the owner and most of the staff at Santiago’s.

Rico flashed him a smile. Hey man, he said, lifting a hand to bump fists over the bar before fetching Chris a pale Mexican beer from the cooler. His expert hands uncapped the bottle on the edge of the bar, then stuffed a cut lime down the neck and set the bottle down in front of Chris.

Saw you dancing with Selene, Rico went on to say, as he swiped Chris's card at the terminal.

Did you? Chris replied, suddenly cautious. Maybe there was a jealous boyfriend in the vicinity after all?

But Rico just smiled as he passed the card back, flashing him a wink. She’s a firecracker. Fair warning.

Noted, thanks. Chris lifted his beer in salute before taking a swig.

You flying solo tonight?

So far, Chris said, with a shrug. But the night is young, right?

Rico laughed. That it is, my friend. That it is. Let me know when you’re ready for another.

As Rico moved off to see to other patrons, Chris turned his back to the bar, leaned against it, and sipped his cold beer. He let his eyes roam the club. It was a small affair, sandwiched between two more respectable storefronts, and a bit cramped with so many bodies packed inside. Hopefully the fire marshal didn’t show up for an inspection. It wouldn’t have been the first time the place was shut down early for being over capacity.

The vast majority of the club’s patrons were dancing. Sure, it attracted its share of gawkers but this wasn’t really the sort of place you came just to have a few beers or engage in some barroom banter. It was a place you came when the rhythm in your soul couldn’t be contained a moment more. When you had to move or explode in a paroxysm of unfulfilled longing for that movement. He was already on the lookout for his next partner when a feminine voice caught his attention.

Excuse me, she said. He looked down. A short, auburn-haired woman in a tight black dress smiled up at him. He turned aside smoothly, giving her a spot at the bar to ease into. She didn’t move. Instead, she twisted a lock of her long wavy hair around a finger and bit her lip. I saw you dancing. You’re Christopher Martin, aren’t you?

Chris's brows inched upward. It’s not like he was a household name, by any stretch. He smiled uncertainly, but not without charm. I’m afraid you have me at a bit of a disadvantage, Miss…

Tasha, she said, filling that expectant lull. She practically vibrated with excitement once her suspicion was confirmed. Sorry, I don’t mean to come off like a stalker. I saw you dance last year in the U.S. Grand Championship Final. You were amazing.

Thanks. But really, it’s kind of a team sport. He lifted his beer in salute and looked her over, as inconspicuously as possible. She was small and curvy, with intense hazel eyes and an infectious smile. Easy on the eyes, for sure. She didn’t have the look of a dancer about her, but appearances could be deceiving. Wanna dance?

Tasha’s eyes widened. She darted a glance toward the dance floor and pressed a hand to her chest. Oh no, I couldn’t possibly.

Are you sure? I could show you a few steps.

Her eyes met his, red lips twitching in a smile. How about buying me a drink instead?

Chris returned the smile and dipped his head. Her sudden boldness piqued his interest, so he bought her that drink and when she later suggested a change of venue he agreed without hesitation. As long as there was a bar and a dance floor, he wasn’t choosey.

Do you want to meet there or…? Chris said, once they’d stepped out of the noisy club.

Let’s take my car. She slipped her arm through his and started down the sidewalk.

He went with her, a lifetime of keeping pace with another diminutive woman shortening his stride automatically. Where’d you park?

Not far. You can’t be out of breath already. Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight as she glanced his way, a mischievous smile curving her lips.

Chris laughed, then made a show of huffing and puffing. What can I say? I’m just not used to this sort of vigorous exercise.

Her laughter joined his. Don’t worry, I know a shortcut.

Oh?

Mmmhmm.

They walked a couple of blocks before she turned down an alley that ran between two storefronts, bringing him along by the arm. He looked around curiously. Tucked between two large brick buildings, the alley was narrow, poorly lit and littered with refuse. The scent of trash and urine was overwhelming to his sensitive wolf nose; he blocked it out as best he could but his nostrils tingled.

Wow, he said, fighting off a sneeze. A shortcut down a dark alley. I’m starting to think you want to take advantage of me.

Would you mind if I did? She squeezed his arm and shifted closer, practically snuggling against his side.

Here? He chuckled. I— The reply died on his lips as pain lanced his abdomen. Gasping, he looked down and found a knife’s hilt protruding from his stomach. Tasha’s pale fingers, smeared with crimson, were curled around the grip. His eyes darted to her in confusion, but the agony stole his breath and when the burning started he didn’t even have any left to scream.

2

Joey woke to the grating screech of her alarm and fumbled for the phone on the nightstand, nearly upsetting the glass of water sitting next to it in the process. Her heart was pounding; the sudden noise had jolted her from a rather pleasant dream about running along the beach, feeling the sand beneath her paws and the wind in her fur… the transition from wolf to human was always a little jarring, even when it was only a dream.

By the time she managed to get the alarm turned off, there was no hope of a few more minutes of sleep. She tossed the phone down on the bed and rolled onto her back with a groan, rubbing her eyes and blinking blearily up at the ceiling. It was a ridiculous dream. She never ran on the beach, not as a wolf. It was too exposed, too odd for a large red wolf to be there. It didn’t mean she didn’t want to do it, though. Just once. She could still smell the ocean, taste the spray of the surf.

It took her a bit more effort to shake off the dream and haul herself out of bed. After a side trip to the bathroom, she wandered out in search of coffee. She was mildly surprised to see Chris's bedroom door open on her way past. All-nighters weren’t usually his thing, but they did happen now and then.

The aroma of brewing coffee soon filled the air, and she went about her morning routine: Coffee, email, coffee, breakfast, coffee, shower, coffee. Somewhere along the way, she had an extra cup since she had the unexpected luxury of having the whole pot to herself.

The morning passed uneventfully, and around nine o’clock she stepped out of the apartment to head to the studio. She hoisted her gym bag on one shoulder and was halfway down the steps outside when she remembered that Chris had taken the car. Annoyance flared briefly and her steps slowed, but it was a sunny day and the studio wasn’t far.

She set off with a spring in her step, auburn ponytail swaying and earbuds in. Spanish guitar flowed into her ears, putting her in the right head space for her upcoming rehearsal. The sun was warm on her skin, the cerulean sky only broken up here and there by a few fluffy white clouds—fairly typical weather for October in southern California.

Even though it had dipped below the horizon hours ago, she could still feel the pull of the moon. Its influence was undeniable throughout the day, but it was strongest at night. The waxing moon always brought a certain clarity with it. She always felt sharper in this phase. Focused. On top of her game. She couldn’t wait to get back in the studio, back to work.

Maybe I can talk Chris into an evening session tonight… no, wait, dinner with Cheryl and Em. After?

Within thirty minutes, Joey arrived at Shay’s Dance Studio, so proclaimed in glittering gold paint on the front windows. It was practically a second home, and she felt a sort of peace wash over her as she stepped inside the building. The hallmark scents of a busy dance studio enveloped her, and it didn’t take a wolf’s nose to pick up those traces of sweat and spandex, canvas and leather, rosin and wood.

Good morning, Ms. Grant. The receptionist always greeted her cheerily each morning. Seriously, she couldn’t remember the woman ever taking a day off.

Pushing her sunglasses up to rest atop her head, Joey managed a smile for the overly-sunny woman as she edged past the front desk. Good morning, Sally. Seen my partner in crime yet this morning?

Not yet, but I’ll be sure to send him up as soon as I do, Sally replied, as chipper as ever; Joey hastened for the stairs in case it was contagious.

By the time she got through her warm-up and stretches, Chris was over twenty minutes late. Annoyed, she grabbed her phone and fired off a quick text.

hey asshole, where r u?

A few minutes passed, and no response. Annoyed, she reached for her phone again.

must have been quite the piece of tail

After a thoughtful pause, she added one last message. Antagonizing him wasn’t going to get her anywhere.

let me know when ur on the way.

She tried to make productive use of the time while she waited, but it wasn’t an easy thing to rehearse a tango without a partner. The more time passed, the angrier she got. When her phone rang an hour and a half later, she all but pounced on it only to be disappointed—and a little annoyed—that it wasn’t Chris at all. She answered it anyway, jabbing the touch screen with her thumb.

What? she growled into the phone.

Uh, is this a bad time? It was Cheryl, Joey’s other best friend. Cheryl and Chris pretended to jockey for first place; Cheryl was even known to refer to Chris as Joey’s second-best friend, but it was all in good fun.

Kind of, Joey admitted. What’s up? She paced over to the window, looking down on the street while she listened.

Nothing, just checking to see if we’re still on for dinner tonight. I have no idea what Em’s making. She’s banished me from the kitchen. Cheryl’s voice was warm with amusement, no hint of annoyance present.

Because you keep sticking your fingers in things! Emma called in the background, presumably from the kitchen.

"When are you going to learn to wait until after she’s done to start licking spoons? Joey said, chuckling. But yeah, I’ll be there… She paused, frowning as her eyes scanned the street below. Might be down my plus one, Chris is AWOL this morning."

Oh?

Yeah, he had some hot date last night and didn’t come home. We were supposed to start rehearsal almost two hours ago.

Really? The word radiated concern. That doesn’t sound like Chris. You haven’t heard from him at all?

Cheryl’s tone gave Joey pause. She’d been so caught up in being annoyed with Chris that it hadn’t occurred to her to be worried that something might have happened to him.

She’s right. This really isn’t like him. Am I the worst sister ever?

Hello? Cheryl’s voice interrupted her reverie. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been thinking it over. Too long, apparently.

Yeah. I mean, no. I haven’t heard from him at all. But I’m sure it’s fine. He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Cheryl or herself more. But he was a big boy, and he could take care of himself. Right?

Well, let me know when you hear from him, okay? And if there’s any Chris left when you’re finished tearing him a new one, bring it to dinner.

Joey emitted a short, strained laugh. Will do.

She stood there holding her phone for a long moment after hanging up, staring at the black screen. Worry bubbled beneath the surface, but she wasn’t sure it was warranted. Shaking it off at least temporarily, she went back to rehearsing, but after another less than productive hour passed she gave up and sent Chris one more text before leaving the studio.

heading home. r u ok?

Chris never answered Joey’s texts. His social media accounts remained silent. He didn’t call, and he didn’t come home. The television only distracted her for so long. By dinnertime, Joey had scrubbed the kitchen sink until it gleamed and picked up, put away, wiped down, and polished everything she could lay hands on. She was beyond worried; she was riding a wave of anxiety that threatened to crash against the breakers and pull her under at any moment.

Even though she needed to get her ass in gear if she was going to make it to dinner on time, she started making phone calls instead. Her thumb skipped around her contact list, hitting the most likely suspects first.

Every call went roughly the same.

Have you heard from Chris today? What about last night? Okay, thanks. Hey, if you do would you tell him to call me?

As the pool of possibilities steadily emptied, her heart sank. No one had seen him. No one had heard from him. It wasn’t possible for someone to fall off the face of the earth, was it?

Her thumb hovered over a particular name again. She’d passed over it several times, knowing he’d be at work already. His boss was pretty strict about phone use behind the bar, but she was running out of non-parental options—and that was a level of DEFCON she wasn’t ready to invoke.

He picked up on the second ring. Latin music played noisily in the background, spilling out the speaker of the phone loudly enough that Joey shifted the phone away from her sensitive ear.

Bitch, I told you not to call me at work. The harsh words were blunted by a jovial tone.

Joey snorted a chuckle in spite of herself. Hi Rico.

"What’s up chica?"

Have you heard from Chris today?

Chris? No…

What about last night?

Yeah. I mean, he was here last night.

Joey blinked and sat up straighter on the couch. Last night? He was at Santiago’s last night?

"Yeah, is something—mierda, gotta go. I’ll call you later."

The line went silent, but Joey held the phone up until the beep of the call actually ending reminded her to lower it. Her mind raced. Chris had been at Santiago’s. She contemplated the phone in her hand, but there was no way she could wait for Rico to call her back. It could be hours until he got a break.

She launched herself off the couch and headed for the door, dialing Cheryl along the way. While the phone rang, she shoved her feet into untied sneakers and grabbed her purse. She was already out the front door by the time Cheryl answered.

Hey girl, are you on your way? Did you hear from Chris?

No and no, unfortunately. But I did get a lead on where he was last night. I’m headed—shit, I don’t have the car.

I’ll be right over.

It was around six o’clock when Joey and Cheryl walked into Santiago’s. The music, which Joey’s wolf ears had first picked up a block away, washed over her. The dance floor beckoned, but she had more pressing matters at hand.

The bouncer detached himself from the wall, and his stern face broke into a broad smile. Hey Jojo! And…?

Joey let Cheryl answer for herself while she scanned the club. It was irrational to hope that Chris might be there, but she looked anyway.

Cheryl. Nice to see you again, Tony.

Right, right! Sorry. You ladies don’t look like you came to dance. Their street clothes were decidedly ill-suited to a night on the town.

No, Joey said and shook her head. I Just came to talk to Rico. And you, actually. Was Chris here last night?

Tony tilted his head, expression taking a thoughtful turn. Yeah, why?

He didn’t come home last night. Or today. I haven’t heard from him at all.

Ahh. I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just spending time with his lady friend.

Joey’s human ears would have perked up if they could. Lady friend? Anyone you know?

Nah, I’ve seen her around a bit in the last week or two but never caught her name. Kinda short, red hair, easy on the eyes. She was really into him.

Joey frowned thoughtfully, but nodded. Okay, well if you see him tonight—or her, for that matter—would you give me a call?

Sure. He passed her his phone and she added her phone number, then handed it back.

Thanks. She squeezed his arm and slipped away as his eyes shifted toward a noisy group of new arrivals.

With Cheryl in tow, she headed for the bar. It was early enough that there wasn’t much of a crowd to speak of. Rico was behind the bar as expected, a clipboard in one hand. He glanced up as they approached and his brows shot up.

Joey? Hey…

Joey flashed him a weak smile. Couldn’t wait. Can we talk?

He gave her a considering look before nodding. Sure, gimme a minute. While he reached for the walkie talkie under the bar, Joey turned her attention to Cheryl.

I know I said it in the car but… thanks again.

Cheryl smiled, looped an arm around her and squeezed. Don’t mention it. Em’s keeping dinner warm, so whenever we’re done we can go have dinner.

Joey nodded and squeezed Cheryl back, grateful for her willingness to help, but that was Cheryl in a nutshell. They’d known each other since high school, had been there for each other through good times and bad. Standing by the bar, she leaned against her friend and hoped that one day they’d be able to look back on this and laugh.

A couple minutes later, someone came to relieve Rico so he could take a break. Joey left Cheryl at the bar and followed Rico through the door marked Employees