Santana watched Rachel and Quinn chat, going on about Rachel's plays and current auditions. The talk consisted of names she either didn't know or didn't care about, but Quinn was knowledgeable enough about the plays. Santana groaned., they had been at the cafe for five minutes and still hadn't even placed their orders. A few more minutes passed and during a lull in their conversation Quinn made her way to the register. Santana glared across at Rachel, who had her eyes glued to Santana, captivated, as she sat across from her. A look of curiosity and bewilderment filled Rachel's doe eyes. Rachel was a friend that she has never been willing to acknowledge, from the very first day Quinn introduced them to each other. Primarily, because the girl would not shut up about singing, Broadway, or witchcraft, the flow of which was only ever hindered by her plethora of questions, all related to werewolves. She was a bookworm and that meant everything she knew, or thought she knew, was from books, some of which were quite outdated.
"Stop," Santana said.
Rachel glanced down at her folded hands. Quinn returned from the register with a tray of drinks and pastries for them and a sandwich for Rachel.. She watched the familiar conversation unfold, took a seat and silently munched on her scone, dispensing the coffee and food. Santana took a long sip from her caramel latte and took a bite from her muffin. Rachel perked up in her seat and took a sip from her own mug, leaving her sandwich alone.
"What?" Rachel deflected, trying to hide that she'd been staring.
Santana peered at Rachel. Quinn played with the handle of her mug.
"We've been over this already," Santana complained. "I'm a werewolf, big deal. Move the fuck on."
"But, it's just..." Rachel hesitated, her eyes widening in wonder, "I have so many ques-"
"No."
"Babe, Rachel's our friend," Quinn said, raising a brow in her direction.
Santana scoffed.
"She's your friend," she said.
"I don't mean to pry, but my kind have never been given a chance to speak with a wolf. It's fascinating. When did it become okay for wolves to marry humans?" Rachel asked.
Santana's jaw clenched and Quinn gulped, sliding a hand across the table and onto her fiance's crossed forearms to soothe her. Rachel patiently waited for a response, unaware of the tension between them.
"Um, Rachel," Quinn started.
Santana's cellphone pierced through the silence. She felt the knot in her shoulders return. Quinn moved her seat closer to Santana's, shifting her hand up Santana's arm to her shoulder as she answered it.
"You were right the other day, something about this is shady, can you come to the bar?" Jake said. "Quinn needs to look at the apartment, we couldn't get anything but a new scent."
"There's no way I'm letting Quinn go to that place alone," Santana refused.
Jake sighed and said, "Fine. Come when you're both done. Marley and Sam didn't touch anything when they went to check it out, but they moved Emilio back to the bar with them. There's still blood, so warn her." Jake let out another strained sigh, "We need to get on this as soon as possible."
Santana hung up and Quinn stared at her, nervously biting her lip.
"That was Jake, we need to go," she whispered. "He's sure you can use a spell to get a better look at the apartment and I'm coming with you."
Santana offered Quinn her hand and helped her stand.
"Rachel should come with us," Quinn said, watching Santana still and turn around.
"What?" she asked.
"Rachel is stronger and better trained than I am," Quinn said. "If we work together we can get more out of the spell. I understand you don't like witches in wolf business, but we'll get more if we work together, please?"
Santana looked over Rachel, who awkwardly smiled at her. She groaned and turned back to Quinn.
"Fine, but I should warn you," she agreed. "There's blood. Let's go."
"I'll need to grab a few ingredients at home first," Quinn said.
Rachel looked to Quinn startled.
"She's kidding about the blood, right?" she whispered.
"Come on."
Santana cringed, picking up the sharp smell of blood. With steady strides, she paused in the kitchen doorway. She turned back to Quinn. She frowned, seeing the state of the house and the blood that was still on the floor, but the body was gone, just as Jake had said. The mess started from the doorway, a series of scratches along the wall and straight into the kitchen. Santana took a deep breath. She turned around when another powerful smell from behind her blocked her senses. She looked to Rachel's stricken face.
"What happened here?" she asked.
"A friend of Santana's was murdered last night," Quinn answered.
"What? This is a crime scene. What are we doing here?" Rachel panicked.
Santana groaned.
"Wolves take care of wolf business, what do you think would happen if a human cop came here?" Santana grumbled. "Now, calm down. Your fear is making it difficult to pick up anything."
"Fear has a smell?" Rachel whispered.
Santana released a low growl behind closed lips. Quinn led her a few paces out of the kitchen and Santana examined the room again. When the fear dissipated, Santana took a few more deep breaths.
"Another wolf did this, I know their scent now. Are you sure you can do something about it?" Santana asked.
Quinn entered the kitchen and paused at the counter. She stared at the puddle of blood, her face wan as she nodded.
"I can do a sight spell. It might be able to show us something we can't see," Quinn said. "But, the longer we wait to do it the less it'll show us."
Santana stood by the kitchen table as Quinn pulled out a mortar and pestle from her purse and several small glass bottles. Rachel scurried over and measured out the herbs into the bowl before grinding them to powder and setting them alight with a match. She joined hands with Quinn and they muttered a spell over the smoldering bowl several times. The ingredients smoked up and whisked through the room. The wall and floor started to glow. A clear vibrant red handprint with claws appeared on the wall, but there was a second pair, smaller and thinner. They leaned in and studied the two sets of footprints on the ground. The first clearly Emilio's, as he wore boots the night before. The other set in comparison was smaller, much more petite. The tread appeared to be standard sneakers. The prints intertwined along the floor in what looked like a complicated dance and led to the doorway. Emilio's trail ended in the hall and the smaller one remained. They followed it out through the hall and to the pavement where it cut across the street then vanished.
"It stops here," Rachel said.
"What do you mean? You can't see anything else?" Santana asked, curiously watching Rachel shake her head.
"No, wait," Quinn cut in before Rachel could speak, sounding distracted as she concentrated. "I see something... It's a car... a van, I think."
Rachel turned to her astonished and back at the street, squinting as if to try and see what Quinn was picking up.
"Do you have a license plate?" Santana asked.
"No, it's hard to see, but the van is black, or something dark," Quinn responded. "That's all I can see."
"That doesn't exactly narrow down our search," Santana sighed. "This is New York, there are thousands of black vans in the city. Is there a way of finding this van?"
"That would require stronger magic," Quinn said.
"We're skilled, but not that powerful yet," Rachel said.
Santana sighed.
"I'll call Jake," she said, fishing her cellphone out of her pocket.
She stepped a few paces away from the pair of witches and Rachel looked to Quinn, still surprised.
"How did you do that?" she asked.
"Do what?" Quinn replied.
"See the car."
Quinn looked back to the direction of the car then Rachel.
"You didn't see it?" she asked, puzzled.
Rachel shook her head.
"That was all you," she said. "I think we should talk Quinn. Come see me at the bookstore some time. Soon."
Santana shut her phone and joined them again.
"Alright, let's get out of here," she said. "Jake wants us back at the bar."
Santana entered The Den with Quinn. She had dropped Rachel off back at the bookstore before arriving. Jake stood in front of the bar with Sam and Marley.
"I trust everything is sorted out with Emilio's pack members?" Santana asked.
"We just took the last member to a friend of mine who agreed to take them in," Jake said. "They'll have to go to the council and report the murder and request a new Alpha."
Santana sighed, her face shifted into a frown.
"These packs agreed to protect them until they can safely reach the council," Jake added. "It's the best I can do."
Santana huffed and shrugged. There wasn't anything else anyone here could do. The fate of the rest of the pack was in Jake's friend's hands. She had no reason to doubt Jake. He'd made connections with other packs through out his years of owning this bar and they were good people. The idea of just having to sit by and see what happened to them made her unsettled. Quinn placed a hand on her lower back. She glanced back at Quinn gravely.
"Let's start with what we know," Jake said. "The attack wasn't from within the pack, but Emilio's members have no idea who would have a motive to kill him. I think the best way to search for answers is to speak to other mutts."
"We don't have a name?" Santana asked. She watched them shake their heads. "All Quinn could come up with is that a van was parked outside of his home and she thinks it's black."
Jake rubbed a hand under his chin and frowned. His brows pinched together perplexed on the situation. The van was a lead, but it was small. Sam looked between them.
"I have a place," he said, "I lived long enough with them that I can still get in."
"What are you saying Sam?" Santana asked.
He tapped his hands against the table and clenched his jaws.
"An underground fight club," he said. "I can get in, but the only person they would allow with me is Marley. She's less recognizable than you two."
Santana frowned. Jake moved away from the counter, alarmed.
"And what exactly do the rest of us do?" she asked, "Sit back and wait for you to return?"
Sam shrugged.
"You can wait outside. I just know with Santana having something of a reputation here and the pack she came from and Jake with his neutral bar people will talk," Sam explained. "Mutts stick with other mutts. I used to be one, so I have some cred."
Santana scoffed and shook her head. Jake brushed a finger along his chin, contemplating. He tucked a hand under his chin and nodded. Santana looked the most frustrated by such a suggestion.
"I can't allow you to do this alone, Marley has her mother to worry about," Santana complained.
"I don't agree with this either, " Jake replied, wrapping his arm defensively around Marley's hips. " But it's the only revenue we have right now," His jaw clenched and he turned to Marley. "Are you okay with this?"
His eyes searched Marley's features, his brows pinched together in worry. Her hand rested on to his forearm, stroking a thumb over his skin.
"Yeah, I can deal with it," she said.
Jake nodded and gazed back at the group. Santana puffed out another sigh.
"Okay," he said, "Santana, come with me. We'll go see if we can find a congregation of mutts who're willing to speak."
Jake kissed Marley, giving her one last concerned look.
"Be careful, okay?" He said.
"I'll make this quick." She said.
Sam left out the back with Marley and Jake headed toward the front entrance. Santana sighed and looked back to Quinn.
"Are you going to be okay?" Quinn asked.
Santana crossed her arms over her chest with a clear glare.
"It's the only thing we have," she said. "What about you? You just saw a crime scene."
Quinn's hand clenched shut, she wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging herself. Santana stepped to her gathering her up in a soothing hug.
"I'm still a little on edge," she admitted."I'm gonna head back to the shop. After the spell Rachel said she had something she had to talk to me about."
"Do you need a ride?"
"I'll be fine. It's a few blocks from here," Quinn said. "I already texted to see if she's there. I'll see you back at the bar?"
Santana leaned down and kissed her.
"Call me if anything happens."
Quinn took a deep breath, staring at the bookshop door for a second. She'd been texting Rachel on her walk. Rachel had asked her mentor to meet with Quinn. If what Rachel had implied in her texts was true, then Quinn hadn't the slightest idea what to expect from her meeting. Would it be a hidden power she couldn't control? Finally getting the chance to meet her teacher was an honor, Rachel always said she was busy. Her teacher would be the only one strong enough to help her understand where her powers lie. She entered and Rachel, was at the register.
"Quinn, thanks for coming," she said, walking from behind the counter, "Ms. Holiday is in the back, waiting for you."
Santana propped her elbow on the arm rest against the car door and leaned her head on her fist. She switched through several news stations to keep the tension in her shoulders down. The past stops were a bust as a majority of the mutts refused to talk and those that stepped up didn't have any leads. Jake refused to allow Santana to rough them up and had the car loaded with a box of food. It should be enough to get someone to talk, he was sure of it. Santana left the radio alone and glanced at Jake. He kept his eyes on the road. When she gave him another glance he turned to her.
"What?" He asked.
"You really think this is gonna work?" Santana asked. "Mutts function like a weird pack, they like to keep to themselves, what makes you think they will speak to us?"
"I get that you're not the type to just sit back, but we have Sam doing what he can," he said. "Now the only lead we have from the other mutts is that Alex might have heard something."
Santana sighed. Jake steered right and slowly pulled up to an alleyway located underneath the Brooklyn bridge. He turned off the car and stepped out. Santana got the box of food from the back and followed Jake off the gravel road. A few steps from the car was a group of mutts, covered in tattered clothing and huddling on the ground in front of their tents and collections of debris. When they spotted them a few got up and left while some remained, trying to stay warm from the fire lit in a trashcan.
"Which one of you is Alex?" Jake asked.
A pause settled between them for a moment. Two more mutts got up and left.
"Who wants to know?" a mutt with gray hair coughed.
Santana pulled out a grease stained McDonald's bag. The mutt pointed to the right. Jake headed to a single mutt stationed by his cart and Santana gave the gray haired mutt the bag.
"Alex?" Jake said.
"Yes."
"We just need a moment of your time," Jake said, "we promise we'll make it worth your while."
He handed him the bag of food and held out several tens in his hands.
"What do you need?" he asked gruffly.
Santana watched him, his body language. His shoulders were bunched up and his arms crossed, but his facial expression was genuine and lacked any of the tics to hint he was lying. He kept eye-contact with Jake during the entire conversation. She looked back across the group of homeless mutts, covered in dirt. They occasionally glanced back at Santana and Jake.
"A pack lost their Alpha last night and his death is connected with mutts. You know that doesn't ever look good for mutts as a whole," Jake said.
Alex frowned. Sympathy crossed his face for the pack before it was replaced with worry for himself and his friends. He exhaled, shaking his head for a moment then nodded.
"Okay. I haven't seen anything," Alex said, stepping closer.
Santana noticed Jake's muscles tighten and his hand curled into a fist. Mutts were unpredictable, even if Alex was being helpful.
"I've heard rumors," he said, quietly, "other mutts have spoken about someone. They told me he wants to work with us. As far as I can tell he has a pack so what would he want to talk to us for?"
"Do you know what he looks like?" Santana asked. "Have you heard a name?"
"No, I stick to myself. I don't think a guy like that is someone I should trust," Alex said.
"From what we can see so far, that's probably a smart call. Thank you for your time Alex," Jake said, handing over the ten dollar bills.
Alex took what was offered and Santana and Jake walked away. Santana settled back into the passenger seat.
"I'll call Sam,"he said.
The fight club was stationed in an old abandoned factory in Queens. It took some digging, but eventually Sam had managed to get the current location. Things like this tended to move around due to it being illegal and only a selected few were invited. Sam led Marley into the pit of the club. The strong scent of sweat, blood, and rusted metal filled the air. He glanced around, squinting through the smoke of cigarettes and cigars. Aligning the side of the factory under the glassesless windows sat a scattering of mutts playing cards, drinking, and laughing. A makeshift bar stayed at the other end constructed of planks. Sam looked back to Marley.
"Who are we looking for?" she asked.
"An old friend of mine. His name's Andy," Sam said.
His phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket.
"Yeah?"
He pressed a hand over his left ear, trying to pick up the conversation. Marley examined the building a second time and spotted a cluster of men in the far corner. Sam gave out a few responses before hanging up.
"That was Jake. He says someone has been offering work to the mutts," he said.
"Another mutt?" Marley asked.
"He thinks this one has a pack."
A shout rung across the club from the group of men huddled in a corner with bottles and cash in their fists. Sam motioned toward that direction. They wedged their way through the crowd and Sam stopped behind a wooden fence, drawn to the center of it. Two shirtless men were in the pit. They were covered in blood and bruises, their torsos slicked with sweat. He watched them toss punches at each other and grunting.
"Which one is Andy?" Marley said.
"The one with the sideburns," Sam answered.
A man with brown hair pulled out a knife and lunged forward. The men around them gasped and shouted. The second man, Andy, pulled out a baton. He blocked a swipe toward his face and kicked out into the guy's stomach. He hunched over and the knife was kicked out of his hand. Then he was flipped over onto his back. Andy pined him down and hit him over the head. A guard entered the ring and pulled Andy off. The man who had pulled the knife laid unconscious. Men were yelling and patting Andy on the back as he left the ring and wiped his face with a towel.
"Hey, Andy," Sam said.
He draped the towel over his shoulder.
"Sam?" he said.
Sam smiled and he was pulled into a hug.
"It's been a while. How are you?" Andy said, looking toward Marley. "Is this your girl?"
"No, Marley and I are friends," Sam said.
Andy chuckled and shrugged, "Sure, okay."
He tread toward the bar and tapped the table. He was served a cup of water and a stack of bills. The bartender nodded at him and went back to the shelf of drinks. Andy walked away and took the nearest table. He ran his fingers through his medium length hair and sighed.
"Why are you back?" he asked. "You didn't run away again did you?"
Marley stayed silent, but glanced at Sam. Clearly she had questions about that.
Sam gulped, sitting in front of Andy.
"No, I have a pack now and Marley is apart of it,"he said. "Everything is fine Andy. I just needed some information."
Andy frowned, "You don't owe anyone money do you?"
"I'm not in that business anymore, Andy. A friend of ours was killed," Sam explained. "Now the pack has no Alpha and we're trying to set things right. Before he died, some mutts were trying to frame him for human murders. We took care of it, but the next day he was dead. You can't tell me that's not fishy."
Andy's brows arched up and he frowned.
"Wow that's...killed?" he sighed. "What can I do?"
"Intel tells us a few mutts have had some guy come to them offering work," Sam said. "What can you tell me?"
"Yeah I've heard about it," Andy agreed, "I thought the guy was nuts. All I know is that this guy doesn't work alone."
"Do you know who's helping him?" Marley said.
"A week ago a girl came in here, saying her boss is looking for recruits," Andy said. "She'd pay those who wanted to work for her. The boss must be loaded because it was good money too."
"Do you remember what she looks like?" Marley pressed.
"Some hot chick, small, with brown hair up in a ponytail," Andy said. "She had a hell of an attitude."
"Did you get a name by any chance?" Sam asked.
Andy paused for a second and nodded.
"Yeah. Bree," Andy said.
Sam slid a twenty across the table and got up.
"Thanks for your help Andy," he smiled, patting him on the shoulder.
"See you around Sam," he said.
Sam walked away from the table.
"We at least have a name now," Marley said, "my money is on Bree being the one we scented at Emilio's place."
"Let's get out of here," Sam said.
In the center of the factory four men blocked them from the entrance. The guy in the middle, with blonde hair, grabbed Sam by the collar of his shirt. He looked Sam over and growled.
"What are you doing here, Evans?" he hissed. "I've seen you around before and you ain't a mutt anymore."
"You're one of Jake's boys," the mutt on the right said.
Sam chuckled and put his hands on his wrists.
"I can explain," he said.
The blonde haired mutt scoffed. Clenching his jaw, Sam slammed his forehead into the mutt's nose and felt the cartilage sink in with a crunch. The mutt released him and groaned, touching his bridge. Sam shoved him and heard the sound of a beer bottle smashing. Marley reacted as the second mutt charged with his makeshift shiv and punched the mutt in the throat. A crowd gathered around them, mostly of them were drunken mutts unaffected from the fight and cheering.
"Marley, let's get out of here!" Sam yelled, eyeing the crowd.
When Santana and Jake arrive back at The Den Quinn is already sitting at the bar with a half finished drink in front of her.
"Sam and Marley aren't back yet," Santana noted.
The door swung open a moment after and Sam fumbled in with Marley. Their clothes were covered in speckles of blood. On Sam's right cheek a tiny nick had already started to heal.
"What the hell happened to you guys?" Santana asked.
"Bar fight," Sam said. "I won't be going back to another fight club again."
Jake stepped behind the bar and pulled down a bottle of Jack from the shelf. It was already infused with wolfsbane, but he added some of the powdered herb over the top before handing the cups out.
"It turns out this guy has someone doing the dirty work for him," Marley said, sitting on a stool and knocking back her drink. "A recruiter by the name of Bree."
"Yeah, and he was offering to pay the mutts that wanted to work with him well," Sam said.
"You didn't get his name did you?" Jake questioned.
"No, but if he has money I'm sure we can find him," Santana said. "I'll speak with my dad."
She chugged down her cup and sighed.
"I'll speak with my guys tomorrow to see if the name brings up anything," Jake said. "Right now I'm sure we can all use some rest."
Santana looked over to Quinn. She had remained silent and staring at her still half empty drink the entire time. She nudged her on the hip and Quinn turned back to her, her expression perplexed.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
"I need to talk to you."
