“You’re in Orange County, in the State of California, yes,” Benny said.
“I had not troubled myself to learn the local names,” Zeus remarked. “Interesting. Califía was deified, was she not?”
“I haven’t…” Benny began.
Bambi interrupted him. “You bet Califía was deified—you’re not the only god around here, Zeus!” As Benny tried unsuccessfully to quiet her, she shouted, “Maybe you’d better trouble yourself a little more in the future. You think you can just go where you want and do as you please, and not pay any attention to the consequences? Well, think again! I’m not just any bimbo, Mr. Lightning Bolt, I’m a true Californian and proud of it—a daughter of Califía!”
“And I am King of the Gods, the lord of Olympus,” Zeus said in reply—not shouting, but firmly, in a voice that brooked no dispute. “I will do as I please. And I accept the consequences of my actions. You say the laws of your people require me to support my son; it is a just law. I will see that he is provided for. I cannot make payments in your currency, however. I have no earthly wealth.”
“Uh huh,” Benny said. “And just how will you provide for him, then?”
“That is what we are here to resolve.” He turned to Bambi. “Beloved treasure,” he said, “what would you have of me? I give you my blessing; good fortune shall be yours. What more do you ask?”
“I’ve got all the blessing I need from my mother,” Bambi grumbled, her arms folded across her chest. “What I want is someone who’ll help me raise the kid—but you, you’re going back to your wife!”
“I must,” Zeus said. “Hera is not to be dismissed, not even by me. And for your own safety she must never know of our liaison; she would take vengeance upon you, and upon the child, for she has not the power to strike against me directly.”
“So I get to raise a demigod by myself. A single mother in a tract house in Gardena, no support payments, gotta get daycare whenever I’m working…”
“Perhaps other arrangements can be made,” Zeus said thoughtfully, with a glance at his brother.
“Like what?” Bunny demanded, before Benny could intervene. “You going to take us back to Olympus with you?”
“No; Hera would find you. But perhaps there’s another possibility.” He gestured at Hades.
Benny and Bambi both turned to stare at the dark brother.
“Him?” Bambi said. “What, he’s going to come live in Gardena and play babysitter?”
“No. But for half the year you could live with him, in his own shadowy home, as his honored guest, your every need attended.”
“Half the year?” Benny asked.
Zeus nodded. “In the summers, when his own wife is away visiting her mother in the daylight lands. In the winter Queen Persephone is at home, and were she to know of this arrangement she might well let a word slip—if not to Hera herself, then to Demeter, or some other.”
“And you don’t think your brother himself might blab?” Bambi asked.
“As you may have observed,” Zeus said drily, “he does not speak o’ermuch. That was why I trusted him to accompany me here, as advisor.”
“So you didn’t already have this planned out?” Benny asked suspiciously.
“Do not question me too closely, mortal,” Zeus said mildly.
“How do we even know he agrees?” Bambi asked.
“I agree,” Hades said, in a voice that sent chills down Benny’s spine—but which apparently touched Bambi somewhere else, as her mouth came open slightly, her breath quickened, and her eyes grew big and dark.
“So do I,” she whispered. Then she shook herself. “But my mother’s gonna hate it,” she said. “She hates it if I go out of state, even for a minute.”
“Don’t agree to anything yet,” Benny warned Bambi. “We’re still talking.” He thought, but did not say aloud, that the suggested arrangement didn’t cover his fee, and he wasn’t about to consider anything settled until that was taken care of.
But the rest was simply details.
* * * *
Hades was waiting by the ferryboat as Bambi hurried down the ramp dragging an immense suitcase. Benny was a few steps up the slope, making sure that everything went off as arranged; he took the suitcase and accompanied her to the boat.
She was just beginning to bulge a little around the middle, but was still gorgeous; her golden hair stood out like a beacon in this rather gloomy place.
“Your mother’s not seeing you off?” he asked, as he handed the suitcase to Hades.
“No,” Bambi said. “She’s too upset. I’m sorry about that; you’ll have to live with whatever she does about it.”
Benny had yet to meet Bambi’s oft-mentioned mother, and had no intention of changing that any time soon, so he thought he could bear up under her displeasure—especially since he had, indeed, negotiated himself a good fee, in the form of certain divine assurances of good fortune.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” he said.
“Well, I’ve warned you,” Bambi said doubtfully, as she took Hades’ hand and stepped onto the ferry.
“Sure,” Benny said. “What’s your mother’s name, so I’ll know if she calls?”
Bambi stared at him open-mouthed. “Didn’t I tell you? I’m sure I did, when I got so mad at the meeting!”
“I don’t remember it,” Benny admitted.
“My mother’s name is Califía,” Bambi said as Hades pushed the boat off.
Benny blinked.
“See you in six months!” Bambi said with a wave, as the ferry vanished into the shadows.
“Six months!” Benny called after her. “Have a good time!”
Then he turned away and walked slowly up the ramp, out of the dim netherworld into a California May…
Where it was already starting to snow.
IN FOR A POUND
The moment she was absolutely sure they were out of earshot of anyone else, she hissed at him, “Are you nuts?”
He smiled at her as he held open the car door. “I don’t think so,” he replied.
“But running for mayor?” She stood beside the car, not willing to interrupt the discussion even long enough to take her seat.
“Why not?” he asked, still smiling that toothy smile of his. “Seriously, Jen, do you see anyone better suited to the job? I’m an upstanding member of the community, I’ve had a good education, I have a career in public service…”
“Dave, you know why not!” She pointed at the sky. “You’re going to have a demonstration of ‘why not’ in another hour or so!”
His politician’s smile vanished, and he looked at her with an expression that just reeked of sincere concern—an expression she was quite sure he had practiced for hours in front of the mirror. “And why should that disqualify me from serving as mayor? Surely you realize it’s just an occasional inconvenience. So I’ll be unavailable a couple of nights each month…”
“Inconvenience?” She stared at him, astonished. “Dave, you’re a werewolf, remember? You inherited a genuine gypsy curse. That’s a bit more than an inconvenience!”
“Why?” he asked mildly.
Her jaw dropped.
“Really, Jen—it’s not as if I’m running for president. It’s just mayor of Eltonburg. So I’ll want to spend a couple of nights a month in private; so what?” He patted her on the arm, urging her into the car.
Stunned, she sat. She watched through the windshield as he walked around and climbed in the driver’s side.
“Dave,” she said, “suppose there’s a City Council meeting on a full moon? Suppose there’s a disaster—a blizzard, say—on the night of a full moon?”
He shrugged. “I’ll be ill, or unavoidably detained. These things happen; people will understand. It hasn’t been a problem for me before.”
“Before you were just a police lieutenant, not t
he mayor!”
“Detective lieutenant,” he corrected her—he was touchy about the distinction between the two sides of Eltonburg’s police department, enforcement and investigation. He started the car and looked over his shoulder to be sure the street was clear.
“Whatever. Don’t you think that even in Eltonburg, some reporter might stumble across the truth? Old Bill Beasley isn’t going to give up his job without a fight, despite the indictments—he’s going to have his people checking up on you all through the campaign, just looking for some little flaw. What if he notices you’re never around at the full moon? How are you going to explain that? Suppose he says you spend a couple of nights a month at the strip clubs down on Route 8—how are you going to prove you don’t?”
Dave frowned as he swung the car around the corner onto Main Street. “He couldn’t prove I do.”
“He wouldn’t have to prove it—what are you going to say instead? That you grow fur and go running through the streets on those nights?”
“Well, why not?” Dave asked. “I’ve never hurt anyone. Sure, I’m not quite myself when I’m a wolf, but I’m no ravening monster. Even real wolves aren’t, and I never completely forget who I am. I’ve chased a few cats, sure, but I never bit or clawed anyone—not even the cats. Not even that damned spitting Persian down on Third Street.”
“So you’d just admit the truth? And you think people will vote for a werewolf? You know how old-fashioned some of the people in this town are—and they’re Mayor Beasley’s biggest supporters. You don’t see Beasley standing up in front of the congregation at Calvary Baptist and getting them worked up about the spawn of Satan?”
“I’m not the spawn of Satan…”
“Tell Reverend Henry that!”
He settled into an angry quiet for the remainder of the drive home.
When they were out of the car but still in the garage he burst out, “Damn it, Jenny, I am running for mayor, because somebody has to to get that crook Beasley and his weaselly flunkies out of office! Yes, I’m a werewolf, and it is a drawback, and an inconvenience, and we don’t want anyone to find out, but I don’t think it’s going to come out—maybe Beasley will find out I’m never around at the full moon and will try to make something out of it, but who’ll believe him? I’ll just say it’s private business, all in the family, and you’ll back me up, and my mother will, and the voters’ll believe us. Why shouldn’t they?”
“Because they’re human, and they want to believe the worst of any politician they hear about.” She sighed. “But if you want to risk it, I won’t stop you. You’re right, you’d be the best mayor Eltonburg’s ever had, and someone has to run against Beasley. But I don’t like it, Dave!”
“No one’s asking you to like it,” he muttered. He twitched and stumbled as he reached for the door to the house.
Jenny knew the signs. “Get those clothes off,” she ordered. “We don’t want them torn. That suit cost $600.”
He sighed. “Right,” he said, pulling off his tie. “I guess I cut it closer than I meant to.” He slipped off his jacket and handed it to her.
His fingers were already shrinking by the time he started on his shirt-buttons, the nails thickening into claws. Jenny hurried to help.
Undressing him was a lot more fun the other twenty-odd nights of the month, she thought—he’d be returning the favor, and when the clothes were off he wouldn’t drop down on all fours and run off howling.
He might howl a little, or drop to all fours, but he wouldn’t run off. And he wouldn’t be furry and wagging a tail.
By the time his pants were entirely off he was more wolf than man, and a moment later he was all wolf. He trotted to the overhead door and glanced back at Jenny expectantly.
“Oh, all right,” she said. She pushed the button, and the door lifted. She stopped it once it was high enough for him to slip out.
“Don’t be all night, okay?” she called. “I’d like to get to sleep at a reasonable hour.”
He didn’t answer; instead he ran off, tongue lolling, down the street.
She sighed, pushed the button to close the door, then stooped and scooped up his clothes. It would serve him right if she didn’t wait up, and he turned back on the front porch.
Of course, then the neighbors might see him out there naked, which would be hard to live down—and his mayoral hopes would be completely dashed. She trudged into the house and up the stairs, the bundle of clothes in her hand.
An hour later she was in the kitchen, treating herself to a glass of wine, when she heard the growl of a truck’s engine and glanced out the front window.
She froze, and set the wineglass down carefully. Then she rounded the corner to the foyer and stepped out the front door onto the porch.
The Animal Control van was cruising slowly down the street; as she watched it stopped under a streetlight, and a man in a gray uniform jumped out, holding a pole with a loop on the end.
A second man came around the front of the van. “There he is!” he called, pointing at the Rosenthals’ bushes.
Her heart sank. Dave had been careless, and had been spotted.
She tried to think what she could do. If she claimed he was her dog…well, they had discussed this. He had no collar, no registration, no vaccination tag, and the Animal Control people would insist, quite reasonably, that she take her dog in and get him a license and get his shots taken care of.
Except he couldn’t come in for a rabies shot unless the full moon was in the sky, and the vets weren’t generally open then.
The two men were rushing for the bushes, one to either side, trapping their prey between them. She saw a flash of gray fur, and the two men dove, pole sweeping around, and then the three were all in a heap on the Rosenthals’ lawn, and a moment later the two men were dragging a snarling, struggling wolf toward the van.
“Hey!” she called, stepping down from the porch—she’d find a way around the problem with the shots; maybe she could claim religious grounds for not having it done. “Hey, that’s my dog!”
The two men ignored her as they heaved Dave into the cage in the back of the van and slammed it shut. She hurried toward them.
Once the cage was locked, one of them turned to face her.
“That’s my dog,” she said, pointing.
“He hasn’t got a tag,” the uniformed man said.
“We hadn’t got around to it yet.”
“Well, you can’t let him run loose with no tag, lady. Eltonburg’s got a twenty-four-hour leash law.”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry—we’ve just been so busy…”
“The law’s the law, lady. You want him back, you can come down to the pound and claim him, first thing in the morning. And bring your checkbook.”
“In the morning?” A vision of Dave waking up naked in a cage at the pound appeared before her. “Can’t I have him back now? I…I don’t feel safe without him watching the house!”
The man shook his head. “Sorry, lady. We got rules—we find a dog running loose with no I.D., we take it to the pound. No exceptions. Look, it’s just one night.”
“But…” She stared at Dave, who stared back at her with frightened yellow wolf-eyes.
The other man slammed the van door. “No exceptions,” he said.
The first man said, a bit more kindly, “Look, lady, we used to cut folks some slack on this, but we just got tired of people who let their dogs run around wild, and promised every time oh yeah, we’ll be down first thing tomorrow and get a license, we’ll put a collar on him right away…and then nothing, and two or three days later we’d pick up the same dog chasing someone’s cat up a tree, or digging in someone’s lawn, still with no tag. So now we have to be tough about it—some people ruined it for the rest of us, y’know?”
“I know, but…”
“I’m sorry, lady.” He turned away.
She watched helplessly as the two men climbed into their vehicle and drove away.
This was a nightmare. They were taking her husband away! And tomorrow morning, when the moon set, he’d turn back to himself there in the dog pound, stark naked, and they’d find him there, and it would be in all the papers, and they’d assume it was a prank, or that he’d been drunk, and any chance he might actually be elected mayor would be gone…
And besides that, it would just be so embarrassing!
She couldn’t let that happen. She had to get him out of the pound tonight.
But how? She supposed there must be someone there at night, but it would just be a guard, and she wouldn’t be able to claim Dave—the night watchman, or whoever was there, would just tell her to come back in the morning.
She’d have to force them to free Dave.
And how was she going to do that? Walk in there with Dave’s service weapon and order them to free her dog?
She blinked as she stood on the lawn, watching the Animal Control van round the corner onto Armistead Avenue.
Why not just walk in with the gun and demand her dog?
Well, for one thing, they would recognize her, and the night watchman probably had a gun of his own.
But she could get around that…
She stood, thinking hard, for a moment, then turned and went inside.
A few hours later, somewhere between 2:00 and 3:00 in the morning, she cruised down the deserted streets and parked the car in an empty lot two blocks from the pound; she didn’t want anyone getting her license number. Then she got out and opened the trunk. She was trembling; it took three tries before she could get the key in the lock.
It opened at last, though, and she reached in and pulled out Dave’s bulletproof vest.
She’d never worn it before, and it was too big for her, but she got it on and tied it in place, the kevlar panels pressing uncomfortably on her breasts—it was meant for a man, not a woman, and she was big-chested.
The Lawrence Watt-Evans Fantasy Page 29
