Perfect Love

by A.M. Burns

6

  “You guys might as well drop the illusion too,” said Toby as we passed the back of the car. “I smelled ‘ya from a block away. Don't worry. None of the witches came this way.”

  I glanced at Dusty as the illusion fell away, thankful to see my handsome man appear from behind the Lobo façade. “Were we expecting him to show up tonight? Anything you forgot to tell me?”

  Toby chuckled. “Nah, ya’ll weren't expecting me. The boss just sent me over to see if you two would mind stopping by for a spell tonight. He's got something to talk to ‘ya about. ‘Ya might say he needs a favor, but then I wouldn't be the one to say something like that.”

  Toby's boss was Coyote, Dusty's uncle Bob who ran Coyote's Place up on I-35. By all rights, Dusty should’ve been Coyote's beta. Dusty’d been in line to take over his mother's pack back in Little Rock before a rogue pack came through and slaughtered most of them, leaving Dusty in the care of one of the oldest alphas in Werewolf Society. Dusty could’ve become alpha of Coyote's pack if he wanted to, but he had no urge to lead. Werewolf politics left a bad taste in his mouth. He was more than happy to be denned up with me in marital bliss. That Coyote bothered to send Toby after us instead of calling and leaving a message with Tiffany was a concern. I wasn’t sure if it was an insult to Dusty or a more personal plea for help.

  “Is this a formal affair or can we come as we are?” Taking the other werewolf’s presence as an insult, Dusty almost growled at Toby. Toby tilted his head, exposing a bit of neck in a sign of submission. It was a strange move for the beta of the pack and it told me that Coyote had ordered him to behave himself around Dusty and not antagonize him.

  “Come as you are is fine. The boss just wants to talk is all.”

  “So does talk include dinner or do we have time to stop and get something on the way?” I asked, reaching around Dusty to unlock his car door.

  “Dinner will be on the house, in his private dining room,” Toby replied.

  “So is your car around here or do you need a lift?” I asked, waiting for traffic to clear enough for me to safely make it to my door.

  Toby laughed as Dusty slid into his seat and pushed the button to unlock the other doors. “Ah took the bus.”

  “Yeah right,” Dusty grumbled. “I suppose Blanche is around here somewhere with the car and is going to follow us back to Coyote's Place.” He sniffed the air before closing his door.

  Toby settled into the back seat, his long legs cramped a bit, but he managed. I noticed that Dusty did not bother to move his seat forward any to give the other wolf a bit more room. “She should be back by now,” said Toby. “I told her not to wait. Coyote’s short staffed tonight so she's covering the door for him.”

  “I need to check in on the way over.” I said as I put on my blue-tooth headset and flipped on the phone. There was a missed call from Tiffany. She didn't leave messages unless she wasn’t going to be near her phone. She knew that I’d call her back when I saw that I’d missed a call from her.

  “The witches must have been really short spoken for Wiccans.” she said, when she picked up on the second ring.

  “Well you know, lots of tears, a bit of fairy dust and it was over.” I suppressed a chuckle.

  “Coyote called and would like you to stop by this evening.” Her tone was light enough that she didn’t think it was a big thing.

  “We know. He sent Toby over to get us. We're on the way now.”

  There was a short pause. “How’d he know where to find you?”

  “You forget,” which was a very unusual thing for Tiffany, “Coyote knows where all the wolves of his pack are at any time.” I reminded her, without going into detail, about the blood oath that each wolf of the pack made to Coyote when they became part of the pack. It created a magical bond between them that allowed him to locate them immediately.

  “Sorry, it’s been a long day,” Tiffany giggled in an un-Tiffany like way.

  “Tiff what's going on?”

  “Nothing. Tech and I are just working with that laptop. Lots of interesting information, I'll go over it with you when you get back. We just did a pizza summoning so we'll be here for a while yet.” She sounded back to normal, but I started to put the pieces together. Tiffany’d been giving Tech the eye recently. It’d been a while since her last relationship and Tech was a good-looking guy, if you're into geeks. Maybe something was brewing behind my back. She was a big girl and could take care of herself. If he did anything to her, Dusty’d shred him and we’d apologize to the Council afterwards.

  “Okay, we'll be there when we get done at Coyote's.” There was nothing else pressing so I hung up and concentrated on my driving.

  Since it was a Friday night and the full moon was still a week or so off, a wide variety of customers packed Coyote's Place. The food was good enough that it had won Best Steakhouse in Dallas three years running in the reader's pole of “The Dallas Voice,” the local independent newspaper, where the locals went for non-biased news, so the local mundanes showed up in droves. The location on the highway always brought in the tourist crowd. Over half of the staff were members of Coyote's pack with a couple of wererats and a werepuma thrown in for good measure.

  A giant stylized roadrunner graced the top of the building to the left of the restaurant’s neon sign. To the right of the sign, a classic southwest design coyote howled into the night sky. Heavy brass cactus handles opened the double doors leading into the entryway.

  Toby's wife, Blanche, manned the hostess station that looked similar to an old-time banker's window just inside the doors behind a series of wooden benches that were currently covered with waiting patrons. A quick glance at the wait staff surprised me. None of them were wers. Wers have a unique aura that’s easy to pick up. It often looked like a glowing representative of their animal form overlaying their human form. It’s one of those things that even a new psi needed to learn to see and once you did, you either learned to turn it off and on like a switch or you did not hang around wers much. Since I shared my life with one, it was something I turned off and on, but I always made a point to check as I entered places like Coyote's to limit unwanted surprises.

  Blanche just nodded and smiled as Toby led us past her post. She was obviously busy; otherwise she’d have been her normal happy classic southern belle busybody self, trying to pry any and all news out of us. Blanche was one of the pack members who was great friends with all of us. She and Tiffany hung out on a regular basis when their busy schedules allowed. She’s almost a classic fag hag except she no longer hung out with a bunch of gay guys since coming to Dallas and joining Coyote's pack. She’d told me once that if she were still in Atlanta there’s a really nice friend of hers she’d love to fix me up with if Dusty wasn't around. Dusty had taken it in good humor since he didn’t have anything to fear in the way of competition for my affections.

  As I’d expected, the dinning floor was jam packed. Toby led us through the crowd heading back to Coyote's private dining room. A good number of wers dined amongst the humans. I couldn’t make out the species of a couple of them because of the crowd and angles, but I spotted at least four werewolves who weren’t staff. A pair of werelions, who must have been from out of town since at last report we did not have any werelions in Dallas, were seated near the fountains. Three werebears sat near the bar and there was some kind of werebird. I could barely make out the feathers but not the rest of the aura. Again, it had to have been someone from out of town.

  As we crossed the room, I realized I’d forgotten to scan the witches to see if there were any wers among them. Wers weren’t religious as a whole, but those who were tended to stick with traditional religions. Since Wicca was the fastest-growing religion, a few had converted and I should have thought to check. I made a mental note to make sure when I talked to them as E. S. Peters.

  A small hall off the main dining room led to the private offices and Coyote's private dining room where he threw private parties on a regular basis like when Dusty formally joined the pack. There ha
d been a small party in his honor before the pack headed out for a formal hunt in the river bottom running behind the restaurant. The private dining room was large enough to accommodate up to thirty people and small enough to be cozy.

  Sam Manchester, one of the bouncers/security people, waited outside the door. She wore a black western shirt with real mother of pearl buttons that strained at the shoulders. She’d pulled her black cowboy hat down so low that it almost touched her thin black eyebrows and cast a shadow so deep in the low light of the hallway that if I didn’t know her eyes were as black as coal, I wouldn’t have been able to tell. I didn’t need to see underneath her floor-length black duster to know that she carried twin pistols, one loaded with hollow points and the other with silver. She was third in Coyote's pack and as such, his enforcer and one of the meanest women I’ve ever met. Everyone in the pack gave her a wide berth. According to pack gossip, the only reason she wasn’t beta is she didn’t want the position. Personally, I had no problem envisioning her kicking Toby's ass without breaking a sweat. She didn't say a word as she opened the door and let us into the private dining room.

  I don't know why, but for some reason I expected a dark and shadowy room, but every light shone brightly, chasing even the slightest hint of a shadow from the room. As always, the room was immaculate. The long cherry wood tables gleamed from a recent polishing, the private bar was well stocked and the brass railings sparkled in the bright lights. The dark-brown plush carpet looked new, but Coyote had to replace it every now and again after the occasional blood-spilling incident that happened in every wer group. A low fire burned in the large rock fireplace at the far end of the room and mounted on the mantle, a rampant wolf held a fallen deer in its jaws.

  Coyote stood in front of the fireplace with a brandy snifter in his right hand and a pipe in his left. The fact that he was standing immediately told me something major weighed on his mind. Even though he was Dusty's uncle, there wasn’t a lot of resemblance. Coyote wasn’t as imposing as you would think of for a werewolf pack leader. He was almost on the small side, standing barely five foot five. His body wasn’t large, either, but he was one of the most ferocious fighters in the werewolf community, and had been for several generations. Only his roan-colored hair and green eyes resembled Dusty. Coyote was one of those businessmen who only appeared in suit and tie when absolutely necessary. Tonight, he was dressed normally in skin-tight black jeans and a blue western shirt. The cut wasn’t as fancy as Sam's, but it was finely-starched with perfect creases running up the arms. A bolo tie with a golden wolf clasp rested at the base of his throat.

  Coyote turned toward us as the door opened and set his pipe in the pipe rack. After another sip, the brandy snifter joined it.

  “Dusty, Ethan, good of you to join me,” he said as he walked over and gave us both a big hug. “Dinner should be here in a moment and then we can talk.”

  While werewolves, and wers as a whole, tended to be very physical, I could count the number of times Coyote hugged me on one hand. He’d shake hands, but hugging was rare. He’d hugged me a couple of years ago to welcome me into the family—not the pack, but the family. He recognized me as Dusty's life partner even if he didn’t completely understand it. He hugged me last year at his wife's funeral and that was about it. That reinforced that something was definitely up and it was something big.

  “Toby would you please make sure dinner is coming,” he said, dismissing Toby with the flick of his hand. Without a word or a look back, the beta wolf turned and headed into the hallway. Coyote took another sip from the brandy snifter.

  “He's a good wolf, strong, loyal,” Coyote muttered more to himself than to us.

  “Coyote, Uncle Bob, is something wrong?” Dusty asked laying a hand on the shorter man's shoulder.

  Coyote definitely looked worried. He turned and smiled up at Dusty. I could hardly remember the last time I’d seen him smile and his smile, like his eyes, were similar to Dusty's. But it was Dusty's sad smile.

  “Let’s eat first and then we can talk about what made me call you here tonight.” He turned to me. “So have you two had anything interesting going on lately?”

  We spent the next few minutes discussing the little things in life, the redecorating that Dusty and Tiffany always seemed to be doing to our offices and the latest pack news. He told us about the latest births, how the first full moon had gone for the newest pack member, a local girl who had been attacked by a rogue wolf while camping out in west Texas last month. He mentioned how impressed he’d been with the Lubbock pack in handling the situation and getting the girl back home to Dallas and under his wing. He was fairly certain she would adjust well. She’d been seeing both the pack councilor and the Council shrink.

  About then, Toby returned carrying one of three plates filled with food. I didn't recognize the waitress with him, but then I didn't know everyone in the pack.

  “Here's the food sir,” said Toby, sounding apologetic, which was most unlike him. “Sorry it took so long. Blanche needs some help at the front, so if it’s okay?”

  Coyote dismissed him again with the wave of his hand. “Yes please, make sure everything runs smoothly. I’m fine here. Please remind Sam that we’re not to be disturbed unless there’s blood spilled in the dining room.”

  “Yes sir.” Toby turned and followed the waitress out the door.

  Coyote motioned us to the table. “Please boys, let’s eat before it gets cold.”

  I don’t want to sound redundant, but Coyote’s Place definitely makes some of the best steaks in the state. The only reason I had thought about going to Roadies was the fact that we’d eaten here last night, but free steak cooked the way I like it without having to tell the cook is always welcome. In fact, we came here so often that even when we just stopped by, unless we wanted something out of the ordinary, the cook knew what to make and how to make it for both of us. Family has its privileges.

  Other than the sounds of forks and knifes moving swiftly against the plates and a bit of chewing, silence filled the room for almost ten minutes. Just like at home, I was the last one to finish. Werewolves may be somewhat civilized, but they still inhale their food. They just do it with a knife and fork and without the growling and snapping that you would get from a wild wolf pack. That is unless you tried to take their food, then you get the growling and snapping. I only tried to swipe food off Dusty's plate once. If you look just right, you can still see the slight scar on the back of my hand. He felt just awful about stabbing my hand and explained it’d just been reflex, but it’s something that I never wanted to happen again. His plate is off limits.

  After Coyote pushed his plate to the side, he got up and refilled his brandy snifter. “You boys want anything from the bar?”

  We both declined and he returned to the table with his half full brandy snifter. It looked like he resisted the urge to pace and talk, but he settled back into his chair and almost seemed to shrink in on himself.

  “I guess I can't put this off any longer,” he said, an unmistakable note of sadness in his words. “I need your help. This has to stay very quiet. I don't even want the Council knowing. If too much of this gets out it could weaken my standing in the werewolf community and no telling what kind of chaos would break out. Most of the pack doesn’t know about this.”

  He took a long pull of the brandy.

  “You have our word Uncle Bob,” Dusty said, reaching a hand across the table to Coyote.

  Bob patted Dusty’s hand. “I know I can trust you two. Dusty, I so wish you would be my beta. This pack should be yours when I’m gone.”

  Before Dusty could speak, Coyote raised a hand. “I know you won't leave Ethan and I’d never ask you to and that’s not why I called you here.”

  He took a deep breath. “Someone’s trying to move in on my territory.”

  “Do you know who sir?” I asked. I pulled my notebook and pencil out of my pocket.

  “No, that’s the weird thing. There hasn’t been a formal challenge yet. I�
��ve run discreet checks and none of the potential alpha werewolves are anywhere near here. But over the past moon, several of the pack have been attacked, three fatally. It’s like they know where everyone is and hit them when they’re alone. It’s not a werehunter, since whoever it is doesn’t use silver bullets. All of the attacks have been either from another wer or an OD. I checked with the Council and they told me that there have been some unusual OD activities lately, but wouldn’t confirm if any of it tied in with the attacks on my wolves. I had Toby ask around with some of the other wers and no one else is losing people like this. They must be after the wolves and my territory. Like I said, I need to keep this quiet both to prevent a panic and to stop others from seeing this as a sign of weakness.

  “Now I’ll pay you your normal fees for investigating this for me.” Coyote pulled a checkbook out of his back pocket.

  “Uncle Bob, you don't need to…” Dusty started to object, but Coyote raised his hand to cut him off.

  “No, Dustin, I’ll pay you for this,” he said as he wrote out the check. “You and Ethan pay for your food when you come to my restaurant. I’ll pay for your services in this case. I checked with Tiffany tonight on the current rate. This should cover the first week of your services.” He tore the check out and passed it to me along with a folder that he picked up off of the chair next to him. “Here’s all the information I have on the killings. Where they happened, when they happened and all of the official pack information on the victims and everything that’s unofficial on the victims as well.”

  The check was more than it needed to be, but I knew better than to object. I folded it up and put it in my pocket with my notebook and pen. “Thank you, sir. We’ll go over this and get right on the case.”

  “I'm sure you will. Now I expect reports as soon as you get any information. Also I don’t want you thinking you need to handle this on your own. Once you know who’s responsible, let me know and we’ll decide how to handle it. If you feel the need for physical protection, call me and I will send Sam right over.”

  “Of course, Uncle Bob,” Dusty said.

  “So then unless you two boys just want to sit here and chew the fat some more with this old wolf, why don't you head on out and see what you can find.” It was a dismissal, a gentle one, but a dismissal nonetheless. Coyote was a busy man and there were enough factions in the political field that if he were noticed missing from his normal high-profile habits walking around the restaurant and being very hands on with his business, and it not being a full moon night, word would get out and fast.

  “Thanks for the meal, sir, your kitchen is superb as usual,” I said, scooping the folder up from the table.

  Dusty walked around the table and gave his uncle another hug. “If anything new comes up, call us ASAP and we’ll be here.”

  “I know, you're a good kid, Dustin, good family. Families need to stick together.”

  He saw us into the hall, then closed the door behind us. Sam only looked at us as we headed for the front door of the restaurant.