“Well it ain’t my fault this place is fallin’ down around us, and we can’t keep a house keeper ‘cause you keep on run’em all off, Ethel.” He snapped back, a snort and honk that sounded like someone blowing their nose.
“No, it’s your fault ‘cause you’ll be swayed by anything’ with big hips and a load o‘make up on‘er face.”
“Mean ol’e biddy.” the male whispered under his breath as there came another snort followed by another honk. Gaerik imagined that eventually, that nose was going to be blown off into the tissue. Shaking his head at the uncharacteristic thought, he really was sleep deprived.
Pulling the door, open Gaerik stepped inside. The main office was set up by a counter, a back room and what he assumed was the free continental breakfast advertised on the sign by the road. Giving the interior a once over he slipped a smile onto his features and stepped up to the counter where he found the balding head of an old man. His head resembled an onion that had been left out in the sun a little too long, liver spots and sprigs of white hairs cropping out that weren’t even enough to run a comb through. Henry sat in a swiveling chair, a small portable television in front of him as he sat with his chin perched on the knuckles of his wrinkled hand. If Gaerik had to guess he’d say that the man was probably in his eighties.
“I’d like a room.” He said fishing his wallet out of his pocket.
“Rooms ‘er sixty-five a night.” Henry cleared his throat by way of speaking, nonplused by the bread and butter that had just walked through the door. Retrieving his handkerchief from his pocket he snorted, honked and stuffed the material back into his pocket before pushing the reservation book and a pen across the counter in front of Gaerik.
His cerulean blue orbs looked at the pen for a moment before picking it up and beginning to fill out the reservation book. In more modern hotels it was now impossible to sign in under an assumed name now since they wanted a copy of your driver’s license, this place looked like it did not abide by the rules of the modern world. A low, crooked smile curving his lips as he signed his name, ‘John Smith.’ The old man looked at the name with a knowing smirk, there were about seven John Smith’s lining the page where Gaerik had signed in.
“Welcome back Mr. Smith.” Henry chortled grabbing a set of keys off the rack which Gaerik had only just now noticed as he pulled out a one-hundred-dollar bill from his wallet.
“Ethel! We got towels in them rooms, or you gonna wait ‘til the Savior comes back on a white shinny horse?” Henry bellowed holding his hand up as he then licked his fingers, rubbing the bill between them, held it up to the lamp, scrutinizing it sharply before slashing a marker through it and stuffed it into the cash box at the counter as he then began to count the change back out, again licking his fingers and scrubbing each bill between his hard and calloused fingers.
“You wanna crawl out from under my hind-end here, I’m doin’ the best I can without that girl o’yours.” the sound of her house slippers flapping proceeded the appearance of a woman just as old, if not older looking than the man, rollers in her blue hair and a pink house coat over her night gown. Jumping she grabbed her chest, pulling her house coat closer together seeing the man in front of the counter.
“Henry, you didn’t tell me we had’a guest.” Ethel scolded the old man grimly.
“Well if ya’d wear that damn hearin’ aid half the time ya might’a heard the damn bell ring when he came in, woman.”
Ethel gave another exasperated sound as she threw her hands up, her double chins wobbling as she shook her head.
“Hold on young man, and I will get you some fresh towels. I just got’em outta the dryer.” Ethel waved dismissively at her husband as she turned to the other room and disappeared. No more than ten minutes later she came out again though her hair curlers were out and she’d combed her hair into a fluffy B-hive of a nest on top of her little turnip head. She brought a white plastic bag with Alpine Motel printed in green over the front.
“Here ya go honey, enjoy yer stay.”
Nodding he took the sack and exited the office making his way to the door marked number five and let himself in. Another one of those modern convinces, no key cards for Mr. Onion and Mrs. Turnip. Just plain keys that he didn’t have to jiggle or slid in and out in an attempt just to get inside the room. Speaking of which the temperature was slightly colder than he wanted as he looked around at the dated television set and the modest double beds against the wall. There was a small round table to one end hiding the heater which he knocked up to seventy before going to inspect the bathroom, and by inspecting he meant Christine the toilet with his piss.
Relieved for the first time since this journey began his jaw wasn’t clinched in tension, and he intended to surrender his sore muscles to the hot shower as he leaned into the bath tub and turned the hot water on full blast. After a shower and some clothes that didn’t smell like he had been wearing them for the last twenty-four hours he would be making some calls, but for now, the wolf needed this. Hot water cascading down his body and a few hours’ sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
His cheek slipped from his hand, dropping onto the desk jerking him awake. Disoriented Gallen looked around, reaching for his phone he looked at the time seeing that he had no missed calls. Clearing his throat Gallen sat up from his chair, his knees were stiff, and his spine begged for mercy as he looked at the journals that laid open on his desk, journals which had once belonged to his father.
Hearing noise from the kitchen, he turned his feet to move in that direction as he scrubbed a hand through his hair making the coarse manly hair stand up on end from the slight buildup of grease in his scalp.
“Jamal.” Gallen asserted as he looked the young wolf over as he stood pouring himself a cup of coffee. “What brings you here?” He asked moving around to the cabinet and getting a mug out for himself.
“Haven’t heard from Marik since yesterday, thought maybe he might be here,” Jamal answered, taking a sip from the steaming mug in his hand.
Jamal and Marik had been almost inseparable as teenagers, best friends all through high school and into college. The Chaliceman home was always open to the young man and even more so after Marik had accidentally sired him. Of course, it was all an accident, a stupid petty argument that lead to a fight over a girl who was in and out of their lives as quickly as thunder storms worked their way through the state, being pulled out to sea. The end result was a tiny scratch that on the first full moon changed Jamal’s life forever. For a while, their friendship had suffered, but as the truth came out, as it was prone to do, Marik and Jamal came together again forever bonded by their shared secrecy.
“Probably home. Sulking.” Gallen mumbled pouring his coffee.
“So he was here?” Jamal assumed with a raise of his brows looking at the older man.
“Yeah, he came by here. Talking like a goddamned lunatic.”
Jamal ran his tongue over his lips nodding slowly already understanding what the man was talking about.
“He still thinking about going after Gaerik?”
“Thinking? He’s really doing it.” Gallen confirmed.
“What are the chances you think he will actually bring Gaerik to the Council?”
“When it comes to my sons I know that once they get their mind set on something, there isn’t a lot that is going to stand in their way.” And this was what troubled Gallen the most as he took his coffee, leaving Jamal to his own private thoughts as he went upstairs to freshen up for the day ahead, a tight knot in the pit of his stomach telling the man to ready himself for the worst.
“He’s what?” Elle asked.
Her head was throbbing, her nose was running like a hot water faucet, and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why Marik looked so amused about this. He looked like he was about to collapse he was trying so hard not to laugh.
Looking at the dead birth at her feet Elle wondered how she was supposed to get rid of it without Gregory seeing her. Her grandmother had always been so
much better at this, and now it looked like she was going to have to learn those tricks too.
“Courting you,” Marik repeated, his eyes glowing with something akin to glee as he dipped his chin down at the dead bird. “Its what wolves do to their perspective mate to show them that they would be a good mate. They can provide and protect you.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve seen animal planet a few times.”
Elle scrutinized him for a second unable to argue at the moment that what he’d said was the truth. What she knew about wolves was diddly squat. Her grandmother told her stories about werewolves, not actual wolves and on top of that Gregory was just a dog. A mixed mutt but still a dog, long descended from his lupine brothers. Getting a napkin from the wicker basket in the middle of her table she used it to blow her nose while she thought. Her brain was a box of Mexican jumping beans, each one on a different topic. While she thought about what she was going to do about the dead bird she was also considering doing some research on real wolves and how she could integrate that into her novels.
“Would you mind terribly taking him for a walk perhaps?” Elle asked as she wiped her nose.
“He just came back in.”
Elle widened her eyes slowly pressing the emphasis for the need for a walk right now as she straightened her shoulders hoping that she was making her point clear without the need to say it out loud.
“A walk, sure.”
Marik looked at the guardian a moment before shifting his head in the direction of the door. The collie turned and trotted out before stopping at the door waiting for it to be opened, Marik grabbing his coat on the way before letting the beast out onto the porch where he stopped at the first porch step. If the truth was going to be known Gregory wasn’t happy having Marik around. He presented a danger to his mistress. Closing the door behind them, Marik tilted his chin towards the animal for a moment. He understood the guardian didn’t want him here but until he got what he needed from Elle the animal was just going to have to get used to seeing his face around.
“You know that she is throwing away your little gift,” Marik told him, a little smugness in his voice and for what reason the man-beast wasn’t entirely sure of.
Gregory simply rolled his eyes up at him by way of expressing his feelings about the news. He knew when he brought gifts to his mistresses that they didn’t actually cook them, but it was in his nature to do so. What they did with a catch was entirely up to them, the guardian could only be satisfied in the fact that he had done what he needed to and leave it at that. Issuing a snort of his nose, he stepped out into the snow making fresh tracks in the unspoiled White Sea as he sniffed around the Range Rover’s tires before hiking his leg against one. ‘Piss on you.’ The guardian’s sentiment was not lost on him as he smirked.
Feeling his cell buzzing in his pocket he forced himself to ignore the ‘dog’ as he slid the screen and put the phone to his ear.
“Hey, where are you?” Jamal’s voice rang crisply in his ear.
“Just running some errands.” He lied. He wasn’t ready to tell Jamal everything about last night, nor did he have the time to explain all of it. “I might have a lead on my brother,” Marik said leaving the subject there.
“Yeah? What did you find?”
“I can’t say for sure just yet, but when I know, you’ll know.”
“I’m always here when you need me, Marik.”
“Thank you. Keep in contact, and I will do the same.”
Elle gently frowned staring at the poor dead bird, its black glassy eye staring up at her. He’d probably never even seen Gregory coming, he was a very efficient killer. Standing she went into her bedroom, stuffing her feet inside of her pink bunny slippers, the ones she’d been wearing for years that were nice and broken in and had the floppy ears on them. Going to her closet, she found an empty shoe box. Wrapping the bird in paper towels, so she didn’t have to touch it she gently picked it up and nestled it inside the shoe box, wrapping scotch tape around it. She didn’t want the box to accidentally open. Unfortunately, the tape didn’t exactly scream beware dead bird inside. It had pink flower decals on it for crying out loud. Elle shook her head. She didn’t have time to worry about presentation. She would buy more grown up tape later. Now that she had a casket for her feathered friend where was the deceased supposed to go? This just felt completely wrong as she took the shoe box to the trash can and gently stuffed it inside before pulling the tabs up. This was not a proper burial, but it wasn’t like she could go out to the back yard and dig a hole in the ground, tying up the trash bag she hustled to the back door and wedged it open. Her bunny slippers looked like pink silent villains carrying out their dirty deeds as she deposited the bag into the trash can in the garage. Hopefully, by Tuesday, the trash would be running so she could get rid of the body. Elle’s eyes widened before shaking her head at herself and not for the first time today. She felt completely off kilter with the way she usually was, and whatever it was she felt like it had something to do with a cell phone and the man who’d shown up at her door the night before. Elle just couldn’t seem to make herself afraid of Marik anymore though after last night. He hadn’t killed her in her sleep or tried to rape her so that had to mean he could be trusted, to an extent at least or there was also the possibility that he was gay, good looking men always turned out to be more interested in the same sex. Elle had figured that out the hard way with her last legitimate boyfriend. In the end, they were still really good friends, but she knew better than to travel that road again.
Peaking her head out of the front door she caught a whiff of Marik’s aftershave, why was it men could give themselves a good douse once, and the smell stuck with them like the scent was permanently embedded in their skin and Elle couldn’t even get the scent of her lotion to stick around for longer than it took to apply it to her skin. It just didn’t make sense. Not that a whole lot was making sense to her these days.
Marik was standing on the porch watching Gregory troop around the snow, his nose to the ground sniffing and snorting whenever the snow got up his nose.
“Ya’ll can come in now.”
Marik smiled, looking amused and quizzical at the southern slang she’d used before he decided it suited her. He’d never thought of people from Arkansas having such a pronounced accent.
“Ya’ll?” Marik raised his eyebrows at her, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he examined her closely. He couldn’t not tease her about her accent just a little bit considering he hadn’t run into very many southerners in his life.
“Shut up,” Elle said her eyes narrowing in warning.
“It’s cute.” He said hoping to defuse some of the defensiveness that had immediately filled her stance. To further the truth of his words he tapped the tip of her red nose with his finger as he moved past her into the house. “Don’t be so touchy, kitten.”
There was that name again, ‘Kitten.’ That was the second time he’d called her that. Elle didn’t know whether she liked it or she would eventually rip his tongue out for it. She wasn’t that helpless, in fact, if she recalled, and she did, she kicked his ass pretty sufficiently last night in her yard.
Releasing a low sigh, Elle rolled her eyes at him as she watched Gregory literally frolicking in the snow. Apparently, he didn’t hate it, yet. Patting her leg for him to come inside she pulled her robe closer around her body while she shivered.
“Come on baby, time for breakfast.”
At the mention of food Gregory immediately ran up to the porch and shook himself off before stepping inside the warm living room, trotting straight into the kitchen before sitting down in his assigned spot next to the stove as that was where all delicious things seemed to come from whenever humans were involved.
It occurred to her that she still didn’t have any dog food which would have made this ritual a whole lot easier on her part as she opened the fridge and looked inside before grabbing a plastic container of left over taco meat from a few nights be
fore when she’d decided she could no longer suffer what Connecticut called authentic Mexican food. Of course, her tacos were nowhere near the real thing either, but it didn’t have the very distinct Italian flavor that almost everything in the state did. Even cheese burgers had a faint goombah taste to them. Technically she still wasn’t sure what a goombah was, but she knew it was an Italian slang word, so she was going to use it anyway until someone informed her of her error.
“Since you have your brother’s phone, have you thought of going through his contacts? It might yield some leads as to his location.” Elle commented as she poured the left overs into a bowl and tossed it into the microwave letting it warm up.
Whether it was the cold medicine or the excitement, it felt like her nasal passages were beginning to clear enough that she could breathe through both nostrils without whistling at the same time or needing to snort snot back into her skull before it went dripping down her top lip. Blowing on the meat, she set the dish down on the floor in front of Gregory watching him begin to dig in. Heaving a much-needed breath, her chest still felt congested, but she couldn’t expect a miracle. Elle knew that in most of her stories the werewolves were a community, some were bad, and others were good, just like all of the humans roaming around the world, but the world she created in her books usually a neighboring pack would take in a straggler.
“I never got a chance last night,” Marik admitted as he watched the guardian slopping taco meat onto the floor.
“What you mean to say is you hadn’t thought of that. Let’s face it, in this operation, I’m the brains you’re just the muscle.” Elle laughed to herself for a minute and while she was joking she was half serious too. The smartest thing Marik had done so far was find her other than that she couldn’t exactly praise his detective skills just yet.
LRR Hood Page 9
