by Nova Nelson
“Only if by ‘certain creatures’ you mean weres of any kind,” I said, “then I think you’re onto something, Deputy.”
“What’s the point of all this? The Werewolf Protection Act and now Safe Haven? They both seem like solutions to problems that don’t exist. I don’t get it.”
Ah, poor Tanner. Always thinking the best of people. While he was slowly growing more cynical, which I did find incredibly sexy, he was still new to this game of identifying the worst in people. “Why does anyone try to segregate? The less time you spend with people different from yourself, the less likely you are to realize we’re all the same when it comes down to it. Once people forget that … You ever heard of divide and conquer?”
He frowned. “No, but I can imagine what it means.”
“The concept was used over and over again in my old world. When you break people up into smaller groups that refuse to work together, it’s easier to gain control of the entire populous. And what has Esperia wanted more than anything?”
“To take full control of Eastwind back from the weres.”
“Right. Which, honestly, she sort of has in the sense that she’s mayor and werewolves don’t even have representation on the High Council. But I guess the fact that werewolves aren’t completely crushed and can still enjoy their life bothers her quite a bit.” Not for the first time, I wished I knew more about her background. What could make someone dislike an entire species so strongly? What’d they ever do to her?
“Slow down,” said Tanner, as he poured two coffees in to-go cups. He stuck a lid on them and set mine in front of me on the counter. “It does seem obvious that the mayor might be behind your failed inspections, but before the inspections even took place what had to happen?”
“An attack.”
“And now there’s just been one at Sheehan’s, opening the door for another rigged inspection.”
“And both places have extremely diverse clientele. I’m right there with you, Tanner.” I paused. “Do you think Efarine and Ansel could have been forced into it? Maybe they’re being pressured like the inspector was?”
He rapped his knuckles on the counter as his expression became strained. “Maybe. Or they could have been controlled by magic somehow.” He grimaced. “No, I don’t know. That’s a serious charge to level against someone. And I’m not even sure witches could take over someone like that. Not without a complete circle.”
“Not even the High Priestess?” Why else would she have that title unless she could do some seriously freaky magic?
But Tanner took a sip of his coffee and said, “No. There are certain types of magic, and I think this would fall under that, that don’t necessarily take a lot of power to do, but require a full circle all the same. Anything that could seriously compromise another creature’s freedom or safety usually requires it. It’s sort of a fail-safe against one disgruntled witch going after others. If five witches are willing to combine their powers to achieve that end, though, there’s more of a chance it’s justified.”
“Like being committed?” I asked, and of course he had no idea what I was talking about, so I explained. “Back in my world, we had these facilities for when people would suffer from a mental illness that could make them harm themselves or others, or for when people just had a mental break and needed some care to get them back on their feet.”
“We have one of those in Eastwind.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Veris Bluff is out by the lake. Well, on the other side of the lake. They keep it as far away from the town as they can.”
“Makes sense, I guess. Anyway, sometimes an adult would go off the deep end but insist they didn’t need help. We had a law where if three other adults agreed that the person needed help, they could force the person to receive treatment against their will. The idea, of course, being that one person could do it maliciously, but if three did, it was less likely to be some act of revenge or whatnot. You’re saying that this kind of magic works the same way?”
“If I’m understanding you, then yes. That’s the rationale, at least.” I heard that new skepticism in his voice and knew what was causing it.
More often than not, groups were more malicious than individuals. One rotten and charismatic apple really could spoil the bunch. And then you simply had more people supporting the unjustified cause.
He refilled his cup then made for the door. I grabbed my cup, and Grim and I went with him. We stopped under the awning and he wrapped an arm around my waist pulling me close and kissing me. The warmth of his body against the cold spray of bouncing raindrops was like heaven.
“I have the day off,” I murmured when the kiss broke. “Maybe you can call in sick and we can stay warm under the covers all day.”
Lines formed at the outer edges of his sweet hazel eyes as he stared down at me, still holding me close. “Trust me, if I could get the time off, I would terrorize Medium Rare myself just to make that happen.” His hold on me loosened. “But now’s really not the best time to ask off.”
I groaned. “I know, I know. I’ll have to find some other way to occupy my time.”
He grabbed his umbrella from beside the door, tucking his coffee under his arm so he could open it. “I have complete faith that you can find something else to occupy your time, Nora. Just do me a favor and stick to non-life-threatening pursuits, okay?”
“But if I put myself in danger, then I get to see you sooner.” I snuck another quick kiss from him, and gave him a firm smack on the rear as he turned to leave.
“I think I’m going to wander into the Deadwoods and never come back.”
Grim had laid down with his head on his paws, staring through the rain in the direction of the forest.
“If there’s no bacon, no scraps … what do I have to live for?”
“For fang’s sake, Grim, we can swing by the butcher on the way home and I’ll make you something at Ruby’s.”
His head shot up. “Really?”
Since I was still trying to keep him close, I said, “Of course.”
“No tricks?”
“Nope.”
“What’s your angle?”
“None. I just like you.”
He lumbered to his feet. “We both know that’s a stinky pile of swirls, but I’m willing to go along with it for now. Ooh! You think we could get some of that mesquite smoked bacon old Crawford has been pushing in his shop?”
I sighed, locked the door behind me, and opened my umbrella. “Sure, Grim. We’ll get whatever kind of bacon you want.”
I hardly made it a step before a glowing figure appeared before me. If I hadn’t known better, I might have mistaken the accompanying chill for the ever present Winds of Change. But I did know better.
“Here’s what I don’t get,” Perdita said as the raindrops passed through her ghostly form. “I’m a witch and he’s a werewolf, so even if it wasn’t my fault that he murdered me, I should have known better than to be with him, right?”
Grim grabbed my pant leg in his jaw and tugged me onward toward bacon.
“No,” I said, agreeing to walk slowly while working with my pro bono client. “You’re getting closer, except you’re wrong on that account. There was no ‘knowing better’ because there was nothing to know. What you’re talking about is a bias, and that’s not the same as knowledge. There are plenty of werewolves who never murder anyone, let alone a witch. I would even venture to say that applies for the vast majority of werewolves.”
She tapped a finger to her lips, misjudging where she was in space so that her finger passed right through them. “You might have a point. Might. I’m going to think it over more, and then I’ll get back to you.”
“Great,” I said, and she disappeared.
Within a few minutes of leaving Medium Rare on our way into town, the rain had soaked the bottom of my pants and nipped at the hem of my overcoat. The sky was a sooty gray, and it was hard to make out anything more than ten yards off. Luckily, I knew the heart of Eastwind pretty well by no
w. It was amazing how simply walking to each place could lead to that. I’d never known what I was missing by driving everywhere. At first, the sheer volume of steps I logged each day was daunting, and my feet ached endlessly. But now I hardly noticed it. And the drawback of it taking longer to go from place to place wasn’t that much of a drawback at all. I learned to factor it in, and it was pretty horrifying how much extra time I found in my day when the Internet wasn’t around to suck me in. I had to actively keep myself from thinking about all the fun I could have had, the friends I could have made back in Texas if only I’d spent a little less time reading news articles, falling down informational rabbit holes, and being locked into social media.
There was no point in regretting it anyway. If I’d made a bunch of good friends, I would be missing them now. But as it was, I missed very little about my old life.
The butcher shop was off a back street a few blocks over from the Eastwind Emporium, a farmer’s market that was usually open at this time of day but had been shut down for almost a week due to the constant rains.
I hadn’t quite reached the market when I heard the heavy clop of boots on the street behind me. My senses awoke, including my Insight, which told me not to look over my shoulder just yet.
Was I being paranoid? It was technically the middle of the afternoon, and while the streets leading from the Outskirts toward the center of town were deserted at the moment, there was no reason someone wouldn’t be out for entirely innocent reasons. Myself, for example.
I paused and heard the footsteps behind me pause as well. I continued forward. So did they.
“Grim, can you smell who that is?”
He sniffed the air. “Nothing. These stupid rains have made me as good as nose blind outside. I can smell all kinds of things, but they mix together and I can’t tell where they’re coming from.”
I resisted the urge to look back as the steps seemed to come closer. I was only a long block away from the Emporium, where the narrow street would open up and I wouldn’t feel so trapped. Maybe I could make a run for it.
No, that was thoughtless. I didn’t know who or what was behind me, the ground was slick, and the block sloped steeply uphill.
Before I could stop him, Grim cast a look back over his shoulder. “Huh.”
“What?”
“It’s James.”
Chapter Thirteen
“James? As in James Bouquet?” I did turn then, needing to see for myself. Why would James Bouquet follow me up a side street? Sure, he was a werewolf and had probably been convinced by his wife that witches weren’t worthy beings, but that didn’t add up to why the man would be essentially stalking me from Medium Rare.
I squinted through the rain at the figure who had stopped in his tracks. He had on a yellow hooded raincoat and his hands were stuffed into his pockets. If Grim hadn’t said it was James, I wouldn’t have been able to guess at this distance and with the limited visibility, but since I already had the suggestion in mind, yeah, I could see it.
But I still couldn’t understand why he was following me. Was it something to do with Hyacinth and Ansel dancing that night? Was he trying to find answers for himself? I started down the hill toward him. “James?”
Had he been watching me and Tanner in Medium Rare? I had to find out.
I wondered momentarily if he might be dangerous, then I remembered all the sweater vests he sported while he read the paper, and the fact that, more often than not, he’d clearly shared a similar distaste for Hyacinth’s incessant gossiping. No, James was a nice guy. I didn’t need to be afraid of him. His behavior was weird, but not necessarily threatening, now that I knew who it was.
“Did you need something?” I asked, approaching cautiously.
He turned and began walking away from me, and it was so sudden and so strange, I planted in place for a moment, watching him go.
Then I got a little angry. Who did he think he was? Too good to come into Medium Rare for breakfast anymore and just thought he could follow me around and provide no explanation?
So I followed him.
When he glanced back and saw me, he hurried up. So did I.
“Want me to catch him?” asked Grim trotting beside me.
I knew Grim could do it. He was fast when he wanted to be, like when he was chasing a squirrel (thank goodness no one but me could hear the filth that he spewed at those little critters), or when he smelled a whiff of cooking meat two streets over. But for some reason, I didn’t think sending a hellhound charging after James would be the best way to initiate an open and honest conversation.
“Not yet.”
“Oh, but it could be fun. I haven’t chased down prey in a while.”
“No! Heel, Grim!”
While I was distracted, James had begun jogging, and I looked up just as he turned a corner. Shoot. I tried to catch up, but my umbrella was slowing me down like a cumbersome parachute. I had to make a quick decision and opted to ditch it, closing it so it didn’t blow away, and tossing it up against the side of a tall brick apartment building.
Then I ran after him, staying mindful of where I put my feet so I didn’t slip on the cobblestone and bust my head open.
He had a good lead on me, but I wasn’t worried. I’d be able to spot his yellow raincoat easily. I rounded the corner just in time to see him, two blocks further on, take a sharp right and disappear behind a structure.
“Fangs and claws!” I wasn’t in shape enough for this, that was for sure, but I pushed on through. I had the day off, and what else was I going to do besides pursue a werewolf through a series of side streets and alleys in the rain, hoping to corner him and demand answers?
I guess I could have read a book by the fire or something. But that wasn’t really my style.
When I turned right where he had seconds before, I pulled up short. I didn’t see him anywhere. He had to have turned off and I missed him. I jogged forward, checking down each cross street for a glimpse of yellow, but after three blocks, my lungs got their way, and I leaned back against the stone wall of a closed florist shop to catch my breath.
“You should have let me at him,” said Grim.
“No. I stand by my decision. Besides, I know where he lives. I’m sure I’ll bump into him again, and if not, I can drop by his place.”
I walked the route back, grabbed my umbrella, but didn’t bother opening it. I was already soaked from the time without it, and the rain helped cool me off after my impromptu workout. Ruby wouldn’t be happy about me dripping on her floors once I made it home, but I could deal with that when it came to it.
We set out for the butcher’s again, and made it there without any glimpse of James. Crawford gave me a funny look when I took a leaf out of Grim’s book and tried to shake myself dry on the butcher’s front doorstep before coming inside, but other than that, the old werebear was cheery enough.
I’d always liked Crawford, and not just because he gave Medium Rare great bulk deals on sausage, bacon, beef, and ham. He had a grandfatherly air to him and always greeted me with a smile. Would he put up a “no witches” sign in the window if the Safe Haven laws passed? Was he just pretending to be accepting until the moment when he no longer had to be?
I was just being paranoid, but it was hard not to be in this climate.
I ordered a pound and a half of bacon and four large sausage links for the next morning. Ruby would be happy for me to cook for once, and it never hurt to score brownie points with her familiar, Clifford, a dog just as large as Grim but with crimson fur.
Don’t worry, Grim would get a sausage too, so long as he had room for it after a pound of bacon.
Which, of course, he would.
I waved goodbye to Crawford and joined Grim, who’d stayed outside partially as a courtesy to the butcher, but mostly because the smells inside would be so delicious they would be nothing short of torture for the canine if he couldn’t immediately devour everything. And I didn’t put it past him to try.
“What time is it?” he a
sked.
I wasn’t sure why it mattered to him, but as we were just passing through the Emporium, I glanced up at the giant clock tower. “Two forty-eight.”
“Wrong. It’s five past bacon o’clock. Let’s get a move on.”
He trotted on, and I jogged to catch up. I’d only just reached him when I glimpsed the yellow raincoat enter from a side street into the empty circle of the Emporium. When I hurriedly stepped forward to catch up to James, my luck finally ran out, and I lost my footing on the slick stones.
I went down hard. The umbrella caught a gust of wind and tugged loose from my grip, and I sucked in air as my hip was the first thing to hit the ground. I didn’t realize I’d dropped the butcher paper packages on the ground until Grim began to howl a deep lament.
I glanced at him, taking my eyes off the speck of yellow for only a moment. The sausages had remained wrapped, but the bacon had burst open, and Grim was already tearing at it raw.
“Bad dog! No!” He didn’t listen, and I had to decide if I should save the bacon or keep James from getting away again.
Considering Grim likely would’ve taken off my hand at the wrist if I’d tried to snatch up the strips from beneath him, I opted to say, “Fine! But don’t touch the sausages,” before scrambling to my feet and hobbling across the Emporium. Pain from my hip shot down my leg with each step, but I could worry about that later.
I didn’t call after him this time. He might not have seen me, and alerting him to my presence might lead to another foot race, which I was in even worse shape for now.
But I wasn’t exactly stealthy, and when I was only a few yards away, my ragged steps caught his attention and he turned.
And when I saw his face, I pulled up short.
For the second time in under a minute, my boots slipped out from under me, and in my attempt to right myself to keep from sliding into him and taking him out at the knees, I ended up overcompensating and falling face-first into him.
