Chapter 4

Dr. Josiah Sanchez, PHD in anthropology, looked over the profile he was making of a serial killer who used humans as sacrifices to enhance his own personal power. Why did so many people chose to give themselves to the Dark Arts? It always backfired in the end. Of all people he should know. He was blessed in the form of a curse and cursed in the form of a blessing. He was forever barred from heaven, and each time he was reborn into a similar situation with an abusive father and a little sister to protect. On the one hand he was getting better at protecting his little sisters. On the other hand, he still couldn't stop the abuse from happening. It was heaven and hell here on earth. The only thing that made it worth it was his pack.

"Hey Josiah, how is the FBI's best profiler doing?"

Josiah looked up to see John Henry, a skinny white man who took the jokes about his name with a good sense of humor. He was a good friend of Josiah's, mostly because they were in different departments and neither of them put up with politics. "Saddened by the state of humanity as usual, my friend. I tell you, if I didn't know for a fact that there were so many good people in this world, I would start praying for another flood." He set the file down and grabbed John's forearm. "Join me for lunch?"

"I'd be more than willing; I've even got a payment for you. Didn't you tell me you were looking for a missing member of your Seven?" John asked as he set down his lunch tray. He remembered the shouting match that Josiah had ended with a task force when he told them he was one of the Seven and you pretty little boys had better listen to your elders. After being proved right, both about being one of the legendary (among western law enforcement) Seven and about the profile he had made for the perp they were trying to catch, no one in the FBI had ever tried to ridicule his profiles again.

Josiah nodded. "Vin Tanner, he's usually born here in Texas. He has a fondness for this state. I believe that someone tried to block the curse that ties us together. No one has been able to find him."

"This just came in from the MisPer office in New York. A FBI agent by the name of Martin Fitzgerald collapsed in his office about a week ago. His coworkers rushed him to the ER only to find out he was under a curse. They took the curse off of him and he claimed he was one Vin Tanner. His coworkers searched through the cold case files and came up with an infant abduction case of one Vincent Michael Tanner from here in Huston. I ran the prints and thank the good lord that Huston Medical Center prints both hands and feet of newborns because I got a match. Is this your Vin?" He passed over a picture taken from an employment file.

"Good Lord Almighty! He's got short hair!" Josiah exclaimed. He never would have guessed it, after all the man had threatened to scalp one supervisor who had tried to make him cut it once.

John laughed. "I guess that means it's him?"

Ezra P. Standish hated these cocktail parties his mother dragged him to. If it wasn't for the fact that his mother actually improved her parenting skills each time he would have demanded a new situation when he was reincarnated. After all, it did not affect the way the Seven were gathered together from where ever they were. As it was, she had improved her mothering and he did love her, so he went along with her whenever his conscious allowed him to do so. Such as attending this absolutely mind numbing fundraiser for some charity he had no idea of the name of. The only good thing about it was the food was beyond excellent because AD Fitzgerald was one of the more pompous politicians he had ever had the misfortune to be incarcerated in the same room with. Perhaps if he searched he would find an intellectually stimulating conversation, although he doubted it would be possible among these examples of the dumbing down of America theory. He had thought that his pack members were bad! These people wouldn't know a logical argument if one was to hog tie and spoon feed it to them. Although none of the other members of the Four Corners Pack had an extensive education, not one of them was idiotic enough to make a single statement that these people were eating up as though they were words from the great Socrates himself.

"Mr. Standish, I'm so glad you could make it!" Mrs. Fitzgerald was the perfect society wife. She had perfect manners, a perfect figure, nothing embarrassing in her background, and only enough brains to not make a fool of herself. Ezra mentally tipped his hat to Fitzgerald for his choice in political maneuvering. There was nothing here that could hurt him and a great deal to help him in his rise to the top.

"Not at all, madam. I've been looking forward to meeting you." Ezra kissed her hand as was proper for a true gentleman, although in truth he'd rather be at the Saloon, one of the many businesses the pack owned, drinking and playing poker with his pack.

"Please, Mr. Standish, call me Gloria."

"And I am Ezra." There was no way he was going to make it through to the end of this torture.

"I'm so pleased that a business man of your stature is supporting our cause." She led Ezra over to yet another group of young women by the fireplace in the great room of the large house. Wonderful, he thought, yet another attempt to snare the millionaire. What he wouldn't give to see the looks on their faces if they realized he was a member of a Two Blood pack. If he had realized what would happen, would he have been so hell bent on making investments that would last and be available to the pack when they reincarnated? Of course he would, he sighed to himself while smiling and kissing the hands of the young ladies. The needs of the pack outweighed the minor annoyance of being sought after as marriage material.

As he raised his head from the last young woman's hand his eyes caught on the painting above the mantle. It was a family portrait of the Fitzgeralds and the young man in the painting was Vin! He was sure of it. His missing pack brother was a member of this horrible family! And they had scalped him!