Howling on Hold

by E. J. Russell

  “You sound like a witch,” Jordan muttered. “Blah blah blah natural consequences.”

  “Well, they did set the underage drinking spell at the Bullpen.” Chase jerked his thumb at the bathroom. “That should give you an idea of exactly how forgiving they are.”

  “Okay, but—”

  “Look, Jordan.” Chase started to run a hand through his hair but thought better of it. “It’s been a hell of a night. I want to get out of these clothes, take a shower, and sleep for the next six hours at least. Because tomorrow I’ll have to report all this to the Assimilation Board.”

  Dakota appeared behind Jordan, backed by Hector, who was chomping on a piece of pepperoni pizza, apparently unfazed by the continuing soundtrack of Gage’s, er, distress. “You don’t have to report it, do you, Chase? I mean, we won’t say anything.”

  Jordan bounced on his toes. “No! Swear! We can be silenter than those Astomi dudes, and they don’t even have mouths!”

  “I appreciate the sentiment, guys. It speaks well of your loyalty, if not of your ethics.” All of them looked down at their feet. “But what happened tonight was not a secret. There are witnesses.” Chase shot a raised-eyebrow glance at Jordan. “Aside from the fact that when Gage set off the alarm, it was logged with the Supernatural Monitoring Agency, I have to report it because it’s the right thing to do. Because it’s my duty. Because it’s my job to take care of you in public—”

  “You didn’t—”

  “We can’t—”

  “They shouldn’t—”

  Chase wasn’t sure who said what, but it didn’t matter. “Go to bed. Gage’s . . . incident should be winding down soon, so I’ll get him settled after my shower. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Okay?”

  Everyone—even Jordan—was subdued as they nodded and wandered off toward their rooms. When Hector would have taken the pizza box off the counter, Chase said, “I think that’s enough for tonight, Hector. Don’t forget you’re on short rations for pizza after last month’s binge. At your own request, I might add. You don’t want a repeat of the nightmares.”

  Hector winced. “Right. Thanks, Chase.” He abandoned the box and shuffled down the hall.

  Chase swallowed, staring up the stairs where Tanner’s room lay. I should say something to him. So before he headed to his own room with its blessed en suite bathroom, he crept upstairs and knocked softly on Tanner’s door. “Tanner? It’s me.”

  No answer. “Listen, I, ah, think we need to talk, but . . .” Wait a second. If Tanner was planning to walk home, he might not even be here yet. Chase eased the door handle down and peeked inside. The room was dark, the bed unoccupied.

  In one way, Chase was glad—he didn’t feel ready to face Tanner tonight. He wanted to be at his best, and that certainly didn’t describe his current state. In another, he was disappointed because he hated having things hanging over him. He preferred to confront problems head-on, immediately, before they had a chance to fester and grow.

  But he didn’t have that option tonight.

  Before he could lose his resolve, he called up the Assimilation Board’s incident reporting app on his phone and keyed in both events—although the drop-down list of infractions didn’t include “allowing a first-year junior to nearly get mauled in the fight pens.” Great. I’m a trailblazer. Maybe they’d name the violation after him—the Denney Disaster or the Chase Catastrophe. He glanced at Tanner’s door again. I’m not mentioning my Tanner Trouble. That’s none of their business anymore, thank the gods.

  He trotted downstairs to soak some of the night’s frustrations away in a nice, long shower. Once he’d donned clean sweats, he went to find Gage, who was still hugging the porcelain in the front bathroom, his hair sweaty and flat against his scalp, making his ears more prominent than usual.

  “Chase,” he croaked, “you were right. I think dying would have been better.”

  Chase chuckled. “You’ll change your mind in the morning. When was the last, er, event?”

  “I dunno. Ten minutes or so?”

  “Then it’s over. Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed. You’ll feel better after a good night’s rest.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” Gage tottered to his feet and let Chase help him into the shower. When Chase ran upstairs to grab some clean underwear and sleep pants for him, he knocked on Tanner’s door again. Still no answer, so he peeked inside. The bedclothes were still smooth, but a pizza box sat on top. Chase listened carefully and made out the sound of the shower in the second-floor bathroom. Good. Tanner had made it home and gotten something to eat, since he’d had virtually nothing at the bar.

  We’ll talk tomorrow.

  Maybe by that time, Chase would have located his courage and figured out what to say.

  Before he got to his room, though, his cell phone pinged with a message from the Assimilation Board, ordering Chase to present himself at their offices by 6:30 a.m. So much for a good night’s sleep.

  The next morning, Chase was ready to leave by five thirty so he could make his six thirty appointment with time to spare—it didn’t pay to be late when the board ordered you to get your ass to their presence.

  The house was quiet. Well, mostly. Hector’s snores bled through his door. Faint, muffled yips came from Jordan’s room. Since his door was ajar—Jordan still hadn’t grasped the concept of space that wasn’t communal—Chase peeked in. Jordan was curled on his bed, one leg twitching under the blanket. Dreaming again.

  The top of Gage’s head was visible under a jumble of blankets on the living room couch—he’d opted to stay close to the downstairs bathroom, just in case. Dakota’s and Tanner’s doors were closed, the hallway silent. Chase sighed and let himself out of the house. Maybe by the time Tanner had gotten a few more hours’ sleep, he’d be willing to listen to Chase’s excuses. And maybe an invitation to dinner? Chase snorted as he hiked to the MAX station. Now who’s dreaming?

  When he got to the board’s offices, the grandmotherly were at the reception desk was just pulling her purse from her desk drawer. Since the board governed the assimilation protocols for all supes, including the helio-sensitive races, they were only open during the graveyard shift. Chase was probably their last appointment of the day.

  “Oh good. You’re on time.” She typed something into her computer, then pulled an orange badge out of a drawer. “Please sign in and clip this to your shirt.” She gestured to her purse. “You don’t mind, do you? I need to leave a bit early.”

  “No. Please go ahead. I’ll just wait here.” He brandished the coffee he’d picked up at Peet’s on his way from the train. “I’ve got the essentials.”

  She beamed at him. “I do like a supe who’s prepared.” She bustled over to the door, then paused, gazing at him with what he thought was sympathy. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.” Chase fervently hoped he wouldn’t need it.

  But after a solid hour of interrogation from a were, a glaistig, a bored-looking angel, and a sphinx, he was seriously wondering if he should call his pack’s lawyer.

  “I’ve explained that the first-year slipped down to the fight pens while I was in the restroom. I wasn’t away from the group for more than ten minutes. I had warned them all that the lower levels were off-limits. But Jordan is still working on his impulse control.”

  The sphinx stared at him, inscrutable. Of course, sphinxes were always inscrutable. Chase wasn’t sure their faces were capable of any other expression. “If you suspected he might slip his leash, why didn’t you insist he accompany you to the restroom?”

  “That’s a little, um, creepy, isn’t it?”

  “For that matter,” put in the angel, “why did you take a pack of underage weres to the Bullpen in the first place?”

  “One of them had just turned twenty-one. It’s a tradition—”

  “Sacred tradition,” the were muttered, earning an irritated glance from the angel.

  “—that the boys were anxious to experience. I believed that the Bullpen’s underage drinking
spells were a sufficient deterrent.”

  “Yet they were not,” the sphinx drawled. Inscrutably.

  “Apparently they didn’t fully understand that the consumption of alcohol was also covered by the spell, not simply the attempt to purchase it.”

  The were fixed him with a jaundiced eye. This guy needs to get out in the sun more. “So you admit that you didn’t instruct your charges fully?”

  “I—” Chase swallowed a tart rejoinder. Getting belligerent wouldn’t help his case. “I believed I had.”

  “Circumstances appear to contradict that, Mr. Denney,” the glaistig said. She glanced at the other board members. “However, I’ve received very complimentary reports on your performance with the young weres at your house from Dr. MacLeod, which we have taken into consideration in your case.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes.” She rapped the table with a gavel carved in a seashell motif. “Since nothing in your testimony this morning is sufficient for us to reconsider our initial evaluation, Chase Denney, you are hereby removed as RA for Howling Residence Seven—”

  “Removed?” Chase’s belly cramped. “But—”

  “—for three-months.” Her voice turned even chillier after his interruption. “Followed by six sessions of peer counseling and two weeks of retraining.”

  “Three months? But they can’t be on their own for three months. Jordan can barely control his spontaneous shifts. And Hector—”

  “We’ll assign a substitute RA, of course,” the sphinx said, their wing feathers rattling in what might actually be agitation. “We know our duty. Unlike some.”

  Chase fought the urge to shout, to spout a dozen other reasons why he needed to be back at his house. Hector’s pizza limitations. Jordan’s toy moratorium. Tanner— Tanner. Gods, by the time Chase was allowed to live at the Doghouse again, Tanner might not even be in residence anymore. All the more reason to talk with him today.

  “All right. I’ll arrange to move out today.”

  “No.”

  “No? Tomorrow?” Would they be that lenient? Could he push it? “End-of-week?”

  The sphinx stared at him, unblinking. “Effective immediately. We cannot allow your detrimental influence on impressionable minds until you’ve been properly cleared. You are lucky, Mr. Denney, that we’re allowing you this second chance. I suggest you do not squander it by questioning our authority.”

  The glaistig nodded to a trow who stood inside the door. “Grrgathr will escort you back to your pack compound.”

  “But my clothes. My laptop.” My friends.

  “Will be transported to your compound by dusk this evening. That is all, Mr. Denney. Please shut the door firmly on your way out.”

  Three Months Later

  Six thirty in the morning at the beginning of March looked far different from six thirty at the end of November. When Chase had walked out of the Doghouse the last time, it had been completely dark, rather like his mood. Today, although the sun hadn’t risen yet, dawn was already lightening the usual Portland gray. Also like my mood?

  Chase stood on the front walk, clutching the strap of his messenger bag. Buds swelled on the plum tree next to the door, and the crocuses in the flowerbeds edging the porch were already starting to fade. Three months. It had felt like three years, especially since the Assimilation Board was too damn efficient—they’d blocked all his communication with the house and the guys. To save them from my evil influence.

  Chase let himself in the front door. A battered nylon duffel stood in the entryway, and a were who must be the substitute RA emerged from the kitchen holding a toasted bagel.

  “I take it you’re Denney. I’m Andrew.”

  Chase let his messenger bag slide to the floor. “Chase Denney. Yes. How are things? Is Jordan controlling his shift better? Is Hector eating his vegetables? Has Gage passed his calculus exams?” Is Tanner okay? Chase craned his neck, looking down the hall and up the stairs, hoping for a glimpse of one of the guys, but everything was quiet. Well, it is six thirty.

  Andrew shoved half the bagel in his mouth. “’Old y’r ’orses,” he said. Chase was surprised he could be marginally intelligible around half a bagel. He swallowed and pointed to the dining room with the remaining half. “Got all the stuff in here.”

  Chase followed him into the room and sat at the battered trestle table where he’d spent so many chaotic—but wonderful—meals with his charges. My friends.

  Andrew dropped into a chair and slid a stack of manila folders across the table. Chase caught them before they could topple onto the floor. “There you go. Forms filled out in triplicate.” He grimaced. “Can’t wait for the Luddite board to convert to digital charts, am I right?”

  “Right. Sure.” Chase rifled through the files, all labeled in black, block print. Dakota. Hector. Jordan. Gage. “Where’s Tanner’s file?”

  “Tanner?”

  “Tanner Araya. Wallowa Pack.”

  “There wasn’t a Tanner on the roster.”

  “Surely he—” Chase closed his eyes. Of course. Tanner wouldn’t have shown up on the case list because he’d turned twenty-one. He was no longer subject to the requirements of an underage were. But surely he should have been on the residency list. “You didn’t notice—” How could he notice somebody who wasn’t there if he didn’t know to look? “At meals, did you—”

  “Hey. I slept here and conducted their weekly counseling sessions. That’s all that was in my brief.”

  “But—but—”

  Andrew stood up. “Look. You seem like a nice enough guy, Denney, but you’re not very bright. The RA gig isn’t supposed to be a real thing. It’s lip service. A way for the pack council to pretend they’re giving juniors ‘supervision.’” He sketched air quotes, which made Chase grit his teeth. “Don’t put your life on hold for these pups.” He finished the last of his bagel. “They sure won’t do it for you.”

  “But—”

  “They’ve got their own packs to return to. That’s where their loyalty lies. Not with you. Not with each other. So do your time and be glad when your service years are in your rearview.”

  Heat built behind Chase’s eyes, and his skin tingled with the urge to shift and pin this asshole to the ground. “Don’t you think we owe it to young weres to ensure they make a successful transition to full adulthood?”

  Andrew snorted. “Ask them. All any kid wants is to keep the ‘adults’”—more air quotes—“out of their faces so they can party for three years before they have to go back to their compound.”

  “Really.” Chase kept his voice level with an effort. “What did you learn during your Howling?”

  Andrew grinned. “Just the necessities. How to cheat at GTA and how to chug beer without barfing.”

  “Chug beer? But the monitoring spells—”

  “Are only in effect in public spots. They can’t stick alarm spells all over the Residences. They’d be going off every five minutes, and trust me, none of the ‘adults’ wants to deal with that shit. Why do you think they ship juniors off until they can fake it for humans anyway?” He gave Chase a pitying glance. “Maybe you need to repeat your own Howling if you don’t know how to work the system.” He pushed himself out of his chair. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll tell the board we ‘debriefed’”—just let this guy make air quotes one more time—“and you can get back to it. Hold your palm on the door to your room for five seconds to release the MagiLock.”

  Chase forced himself to stay in his seat so he wouldn’t grab Andrew by the scruff of the neck—with his jaws—and shake him until his teeth rattled.

  But as soon as Andrew left the house, Chase shot out of his chair and ran upstairs to Tanner’s room. If Andrew was only ever here to sleep and to conduct the counseling sessions—which Tanner wasn’t required to attend anymore—then it was possible Tanner had avoided him since the guys returned from winter break at the end of January. Unless . . .

  Chase knocked on Tanner’s door softly, and when there was no answer, he e
ased it open a crack and peered inside. Tanner’s blue comforter lay on the bed, even if it wasn’t as smooth as Tanner normally kept it. Chase sniffed. Tanner’s scent was present, although it wasn’t quite as sharp and bright at Chase remembered. Maybe he’s still upset about our last, um, chat. Chase cursed the Assimilation Board for isolating him before he’d had a chance to explain.

  The other guys’ scents were present too. Jordan’s and Hector’s were more distinct, which made sense: Hector was closer to Tanner than most of the guys, and Jordan was always everywhere, obviously not yet grasping the concept of private space—or why anyone would want any. Chase caught a whisper of his own scent, although the smell of pepperoni—the ghost of pizzas past—was stronger.

  He peeked in the closet. All of Tanner’s clothes and shoes were there—along with a stack of mutilated Frisbees. Chase frowned. Tanner hadn’t ever had a toy addiction, not like Jordan, not even in his first days in the house. Maybe Chase’s stupid brush-off had had a more detrimental effect than he’d ever imagined.

  He crept to the desk. Tanner’s laptop was there, as was the book Chase had given him for his birthday. Chase scanned the rest of the room. Something was poking out from under the bed, distending the corner of the comforter. Chase knelt down to check, lifting the blanket to reveal more than a dozen pizza boxes piled haphazardly under the bed.

  He sat back on his haunches. Had Tanner just not wanted to bother taking the empty boxes down to the trash? That wasn’t his standard behavior. Unlike Hector, who was careless with where he threw things, and Gage, who was an unabashed slob, Tanner kept his room almost unnaturally neat. Chase had wondered if it was Tanner’s nature or a habit ingrained from his upbringing. But there was no reason for him to hide the boxes—he wasn’t on pizza lockdown like Hector.