"When Goldstein called me, I offered to host the party at The Irish Wolfhound," Isaac told her. "The pub owned by our pack. There's a big room for parties."

Anna couldn't help being a little disappointed. "I was hoping for a diner."

Isaac laughed. "The food's better at the Wolfhound, and we're less likely to have uninvited guests." Amusement died from his face, and the smile he gave Anna was tight and unhappy. "As I told you, there are members of our law enforcement community who dislike us and would love to provoke a fight under the cover of too much drink. This way it's just the people who are working on this case - and most of them are way too ecstatic about Lizzie's rescue to be fussy about how it was done."

"It seems like a lot of celebrating, when we didn't catch the killers," Anna said.

Isaac nodded. "It's like when I was in high school. My junior year our football team just had this...synergy. The year before, the year after, they were good. But that year, they not only had the players; they had the team. No one even scored against them until the last game of the season. The other team scored a field goal in the fourth quarter - and the stands erupted. You'd have thought they won the game instead of losing by thirty-odd points. What they had done was what no one else had managed to do."

"I see," Anna said.

Isaac's white teeth flashed. "We didn't win this one," he said. "But we didn't lose, either."

"You weren't on that football team, were you?" There had been something in his voice and the way he referred to his high school team as "they."

"Nope. I was the little geek the football team halfback liked to shove into gym lockers for fun when the team captain wasn't around to keep him in line. Sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly mean, I'd love to meet Jody Weaver again and have him try to shove me in a locker now."

Anna laughed...paused, because she didn't know football, but she had a father and brother who were football fanatics. "I know that name. Jody Weaver. He's a big deal, right?"

Isaac nodded. "Went on to get rich and famous - and he's still a bastard. Proving once and for all that life is not fair."

"Speaking of not fair," Anna said, "have you heard anything about Lizzie? I called Leslie earlier, but all she knew was that she was listed as stable and that they already had her in the operating room for her knee."

Isaac shook his head. "You know more than I do. I left a message on Beauclaire's phone and invited him over tonight. I suspect he won't be leaving the hospital."

"Were there any clues to be had on the island?" Anna already knew that the forensic people hadn't found much from her earlier conversation with Leslie. But there was a possibility that Isaac or his witch might have found something they hadn't talked to the authorities about.

Isaac shook his head. "No. It was like they knew the island would be searched by werewolves - the whole prison area had been doused with ammonia. They found a few personal effects, enough to determine that Jacob, Otten, and a couple of the other victims had been kept there."

"If they had known we were coming, they'd have moved Lizzie," Anna said.

Isaac nodded. "Right. I suppose it was in preparation for a worst-case scenario. They've been killing werewolves. They don't want us to figure out who they are."

Isaac's explanation made sense. He was probably right. And if he wasn't, they'd figure it out when the bastards were caught.

THE RAIN WAS pouring down when they reached the pub. Irish pubs in Boston, Anna had noticed, were sort of like pizza parlors in Chicago: there were a lot of them and most of them served pretty good food.

Just inside the door lurked a life-sized, wooden Irish wolfhound. It was, Anna judged, only a little smaller in height than Charles, but about a quarter as broad. Around his neck was a sign that read WELCOME FRIEND.

Isaac waved one hand at the hostess and, with his other hand at the small of Anna's back, directed her to a rough-sawn wooden staircase. At the top of the stairs, just past the restrooms, was a door marked PRIVATE PARTY.

Through the door was a big room with four trestle tables with chairs and benches mixed in, filled with people, most of whom Anna didn't know. Celtic music filtered in through speakers in the ceiling, and there were pitchers of beer and water on all the tables.

A waitress came in through a door in the back of the room. She put her fingers to her mouth and whistled. Anna had plugged her ears as soon as the girl's fingers touched her lips, and the piercing noise still hurt. She could pick out the werewolves, because they were the ones with grimaces on their faces. She recognized Malcolm, of course, but there were three others in the room, too.

Quiet descended.

"All right, gents and ladies all. There's beer and water on the table and we'll keep the pitchers full until nine p.m. If you want something different to drink, our Isaac says he'll cover it, too - " She broke off, interrupted by cheers. Isaac bowed, and nodded for the waitress to continue. "Again until nine, after that your food and drink comes out of your pocket. We'll be coming around for orders for food. Our specialty is bangers and mash, but we have a great stew tonight and the fish and chips are to die for. Enjoy!"

She retreated through the door at her back to another smattering of applause, and two young men and a middle-aged woman came in through the same door and started to take orders.

Anna looked around. There were maybe thirty people in the room - if seven were werewolves, that meant that there were twenty-three police officers. Which seemed like a lot until she laid eyes on Leslie. The FBI agent was sitting beside a giant of a man who looked as though he could do his share of shoving people into lockers. He made two or maybe even three of Leslie and, while she talked to a pair of plainclothes police officers, he kept a big hand on the back of her neck. This must be the football-playing husband Leslie had talked about.

If everyone had brought a date, the numbers made more sense. She caught sight of one of the two Cantrip agents, the one who was not Heuter. His name had started with a P. Patrick...Patrick Morris. He was talking to Goldstein. So it wasn't just police officers here. She decided to avoid him if possible, just in case he shared Heuter's views on werewolves.

Leslie looked up, saw Anna, and waved her over. In the two hours that followed, Anna found herself shuffled around from one table to another, answering questions about being a werewolf. In a quiet moment, she pointed out, rather grumpily, to Leslie that there were six other werewolves - Isaac and his five pack mates - in the room. So why was everyone asking her questions?