Vivian Arend: Moon Shine

His smooth promises didn’t erase all the grumbling. Dale and the other pack members on staff seemed to have gotten the most good from Evan’s reassurances. They worked quickly to restore peace and quiet to the entranceway.

Evan answered the summons of one of the maintenance staff who’d popped out from the basement stairwell.

“You figure out what’s wrong?” Evan asked.

Toby shook his head. He’d tilted his oversized flashlight up beneath his chin, and the resulting shadows turned his face into the feature creature on the late-night horror channel. “I’ve checked the connections. Nothing is shorted out, and there’s nothing obviously wrong inside the hotel.”

“Then we must have a problem outside.” Damn. It couldn’t be simple, could it? “There’s no one on shift with you, is there?”

Toby straightened, his attitude darkening. “I can do an exterior check by myself.”

“You know the rules. Potentially hazardous situation, you take a backup.”

“It’s stupid to wait. I’ll be fine—”

Evan jerked the flashlight forward so it shone straight at his own face to make sure Toby spotted the displeasure there. More than that, his wolf rumbled in displeasure, and Toby’s eyes widened as he caught the sensation of power rolling from his Alpha.

Evan grumbled the words softly but clearly enough he knew Toby would not ignore him. “Call for backup, then you can do the exterior check. No forgetting or ignoring the rules just because you feel like it. Do I make myself clear?”

Toby swallowed hard and backed down. “Yes, sir.”

The bit of attitude wasn’t unexpected. Toby was the age and strength where he wanted to impress his Alpha, but even as laid-back as Evan could be about some issues, safety wasn’t one of them. He would never deliberately put one of his wolf’s lives on the line—his own life would be offered up first. “Good man. Do what you can then call me. I’ll work on the other possibilities.”

He patted Toby’s shoulder for a moment, sending the young man off with a dose of acceptance and encouragement. All in a typical day for an Alpha.

Typical, if it weren’t after midnight and pitch black.

Evan cut through the Moonshine Pub to the side door to his office. His cell phone lay on the credenza where he’d forgotten it. He used the light of the screen to spotlight the emergency-phone-number list his previous office assistant had tacked to the wall with a heading IMPORTANT, Look Here First .

Damn, he missed Caroline. The human had been part of the Takhini pack for years, only she was off gallivanting with her bear-shifter hubby. While he wished her nothing but the best, he could have used her ability to troubleshoot.

“Night office, Whitehorse Power and Water, Riverside Station. How can I help you?”

Thank goodness. Not a “click one if you have a rash” answering service. “Evan Stone from the Moonshine Inn. There’s a power outage here. You got squirrels committing hari-kari on the transformer lines again?”

“No. That’s weird. Moonshine Inn? On Fourth Ave?” The kid on the other end of the phone, who must have been all of sixteen, clicked his tongue before responding with far too much “didn’t give a shit” for Evan’s taste. “According to the grid, there’s nothing wrong at our end. Full power to the entire city.”

“Oh, come on.” Evan aimed the flashlight he’d found toward the corner of his office, where an enormous pile of oversized boxes was stacked precariously halfway to the ceiling. Who the hell had made a delivery since he left at nine? “That can’t be true. The power was also off at my apartment. Third and Caribou.”

“Nope. Not us. Check with your direct power supplier.”

The kid hung up.

Fucking hung up.

“Damn customer service.” Evan strode back to the phone list, dragging his finger down the paper until he found the one labeled utilities .

Of course, this time he got an answering system and spent the next ten minutes punching numbers and pounding keys, cussing until he got a live person. While he answered her bazillion security questions, he grabbed a knife from his desk and sliced through the tape sealing one of the mystery boxes.

“Does that sound correct to you, Mr. Stone?”

“Yes, that’s my account information, my date of birth, mother’s maiden name. Unless you need more, like my blood type and a skin sample, tell me why my power is out.”

“Looks as if your service has been cancelled, Mr. Stone.”

Evan lifted the top layer of bubble wrap from the box, wondering who the heck had sent him a container full of sand. “Bullshit. I didn’t cancel it.”

“No, we did. I see a note on your account you received three warnings that your bill was overdue. There was no response, so as of midnight, your services were disconnected.”

“Wait—what?” Evan debated flinging a few choice words her direction. He opened the next box, and found this one contained row after row of Ziploc bags full of beef jerky. “You can’t cancel my service. I have the proof of payment in my bank statements. You’ve made a mistake.”

“If you have receipts, we’d be happy to look at them in person at the customer desk during regular office hours of nine through five, weekdays.”

Good grief. Evan fought to keep from shouting, which made his voice lower and his tone turn glacial. “It’s twelve-thirty a.m. on Saturday, and I’m running a hotel. What do you suggest I do until Monday morning?”

The perky response he got back was enough to make his skin crawl. “I can give you the number of our manager if you’d like.”

Unbelievable. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Yes. Do that.” A pale light blinked in the corner of his office, and Evan instinctively turned toward it. “Give me a second to grab a pen.”

He stomped to his desk, grumbling under his breath the entire time. “Bloody weekends off. Turn off the power. What the hell is going on…?”

He was writing down the number when the computer screen flashed again, this time turning all the way to bright. It was his laptop computer—the one he hated with everything in him, but Caroline had insisted he needed. The little black arrow on the screen moved to the right, and Evan jerked in surprise.

What…? He pulled his hands back to make sure he wasn’t accidentally triggering anything.

“Sir? Did you get the number?” his tormentor on the other end of the phone asked.

“Yeah, thanks.” Evan hung up, distracted by his haunted computer. How was it running with no power? Oh, right. Those things had batteries.

But why had it started?

The arrow moved to the top of the screen, and a new picture appeared. This one stated “Hotel Safety Controls”. Under the bold lettering were orderly boxes. Electric. Water. Cooling system. Sprinkler system. Fire alarms.

The arrow moved unerringly to the sprinkler label, and the box moved as if pushed. A schematic of the hotel appeared, with thick lines showing the different runs for the fire system. The arrow shifted again, pausing over the teeny picture of Evan’s office, and his confusion turned to utter dismay.

In the ceiling above him, discreetly hidden nozzles poked their silver heads into the room and extended little fanlike arms. A blast of water descended, instantly drenching him, his desk and his computer.

He slammed the top shut in some misguided idea that might reverse what had just occurred. Water wasn’t good for demon-spawn computers, was it?

The door burst open, and a half-dozen high-beam flashlights hit his face and torso, damn near blinding him.

“Freeze,” the order rang out. “We have a search warrant for these premises.”

“What the—?” Evan jerked to a stop, blinking madly to clear his vision. Why the hell were uniformed RCMP officers pouring into the room? He raised his hands skyward. “Someone want to tell me what’s going on?”