Owl or Nothing

by Willow Mason

  “Who did this to you?” I whispered. I’d asked the same question over and over throughout our staggering journey home. At the corner of Bench and Main, we’d been lucky enough to attract the attention of an Uber driver. My app was months out of date, but he gave us a free lift home.

  “We should call the police.” Dee raced up Caleb’s leg, staring with a worried frown into his face. “Whoever had a go at you, meant business.”

  A fist pounded against the door and Caleb jerked away, face draining to white.

  “Let me in,” Silvana demanded before hammering on the door again.

  Although Caleb relaxed his posture, I felt my stomach twist before settling back down.

  When Silvana walked in, she wisely kept her mouth buttoned. Her eyes took in the scene, saving her most concerned expression for last. For me.

  “Is he the one who beat up Heather?”

  “Don’t be silly.” I knelt, wringing out the cloth and feeling my throat clench at the darkening colour. “Could you grab a new bowl of water?”

  She refilled it and returned, lickety split. “Was it the same guy, then?”

  I shook my head. “Someone’s not saying, so I’m not sure, but he was too far away to be the attacker of the girl at the bar.”

  “Have you called PC Bryant?”

  “Please don’t get the police involved,” Caleb pleaded, grabbing hold of my wrist. “The men said if I told anyone, they’d come back for another go.”

  “Not if they’re locked up, they won’t.”

  It was hard to argue with Silvana’s logic, so I ignored her instead. With Caleb looking cleaner, if not repaired, I stood up and jerked my head for her to follow.

  “Can you keep this between us?” I asked, clasping her wrist. “When he heard you at the door, he looked terrified.”

  “Keeping quiet won’t make it better.” Silvana tilted her head back, staring hard at me, then sighed. “Fine. I don’t know why I’m being the sensible one, anyway.”

  “It’s a novelty,” Dee agreed, scampering across the floor. “I don’t think he wants to stay alone in a room with me.”

  “Unless Liv’s eased up on the Nazi regulations on her lifestyle, he’ll have no choice.” Silvana folded her arms and leaned against the kitchen counter. “I’ve already bagged the couch.”

  “There’s plenty of room to share with me,” I said. When Silvana’s eyebrows shot halfway up her skull, I clarified, “For Dee. Not Caleb.”

  “Pity. An inappropriate relationship with a shifter would be the most interesting thing about him.”

  “I don’t think he even realises that,” said Dee, climbing up a padded pole near the bench we kept there precisely for that purpose. “You flagrantly exposed my secret but never yours and I doubt he’s clever enough to twig on his own.”

  Silvana laughed silently, holding her hands against her abdomen. “Oh, that’s priceless. We should wait till he’s recovered, then transform in front of him for a laugh.”

  “Seems someone’s getting their jollies already.” I ran a hand through my hair, keeping an ear peeled on the next room. Apart from a soft groan as Caleb moved, he stayed silent.

  “Hey, Caleb,” Silvana called out. “Give us your car keys, and I’ll drive your vehicle to the door.”

  “No, you won’t,” he shouted back, in between pants. “If my car’s sitting outside, it won’t take long for anyone to work out where I am.”

  “Now he grows a brain,” Silvana grumbled. “I was looking forward to driving around for a change.”

  In another half hour, I’d stripped Caleb down to his boxers, then dressed him back up in a robe—a task I enjoyed half of. There were so many dodgy food stains on the once-white fabric that a few patches of blood wouldn’t be noticed.

  With him safely ensconced in Dee’s room, and her in mine, I stared at the ceiling rather than falling asleep. Time after time, I worked through the attack, wishing I’d been outside in the courtyard when Caleb was set upon. That would’ve given me the chance to thwart the thugs responsible with my sharp talons and piercing beak.

  Of course, he wouldn’t appreciate being rescued by a shifter. That didn’t fit his narrative at all.

  The thought added a little more spice to the daydream.

  In the morning, Caleb appeared a minimum of eighty times worse than he had the night before. The scratches I’d wiped clean of blood had hardened into crimson lines. One side of his face was swollen, puffing from his cheekbone all the way along the bridge of his nose, making his eye grotesque. The groans and moans as he stumbled into the kitchen turned him into an old man.

  “You’re not staying home today?” he asked, pursing his lips as I told him the news. “But I thought someone’d be on hand to help me out.”

  “Help yourself,” Silvana said, kicking his chair away as Caleb went to sit. “If you want to be waited on hand and foot, go to the hospital.”

  I doubted his injuries were severe enough for him to earn a precious ward bed. “Better still, go to the police.”

  “Don’t start that again. It might be a joke to all of you, but I’m genuinely scared for my life.”

  As he mishandled the butter, scrapes and bruising taking up the better part of his hand, guilt came nudging back. “Let me,” I said in a gruff voice, taking charge. “But you can’t expect us all to give up our day jobs and stay home. If I don’t keep earning a wage, the roof over my head disappears.”

  The small attention of preparing his toast appeared enough to keep Caleb happy, however. He waved his hand. “Sorry about that. I’d say I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but it feels like I never fell asleep at all.”

  Silvana sneered, and I decided it was the perfect time to grab my wallet and a light jacket for the walk to work.

  “There’s going to be a police press conference today,” Dee squeaked, the only one of us paying attention to the radio news. “At eleven thirty.”

  “We can swing that,” I assured her, waving goodbye to the patient and breathing a sigh of relief as I walked out of the house.

  The sky overhead flirted with rain, the horizon holding fast to a pink tinge from the morning’s sunrise. I zipped up my jacket and Dee kept her head well inside. A litterbug’s discarded paper cup tumbled by, the wax lip knocking on the tarseal like a hollow drum.

  When I put my hand on the bar door, my throat tightened to a pinhole. It was unlocked!

  I’d abandoned the place to Silvana but, even though she should have known better, the responsibility lay on my shoulders. I only lived a few minutes’ walk away. Would it have killed me to come back and check?

  The street frontage looked normal but there could be thieves or bully boys hanging about inside. I scanned the area for a weapon, but no gun or knife conveniently appeared for me to grab.

  “Can you make yourself look gun-shaped?” I asked Dee, rubbing my elbows as I considered calling the police. They’d give me grief if there wasn’t any reason, but a bit of ragging seemed a fair trade to not being knifed.

  “There’s a light coming out from Barry’s office door,” she whispered back. “Do you think the police are in there, searching again?”

  I peered inside again, judging the distance to the counter. There were knives there, not to mention dozens of bottles to break over an assailant’s head.

  Taking a deep breath, I walked inside, skimming over the floor as silently as I could manage. One duck under the gap in the bar and I had two feet of solid oak counter to protect me. I went to pull open the dishwasher door and saw the lights flashing to say it was mid-cycle.

  Someone broke in to do the dishes?

  For a split second, an assassin maid with a duster in one hand and a sword in the other popped into my head. Fighting crime and fighting dirt.

  My next thought made more sense. “Barry? Is that you?”

  Heavy footsteps I’d recognise anywhere clumped towards the office door then threw it open. His beard sported a few extra grey hairs, but my boss appeared otherwi
se unharmed.

  “Thank goodness!” I slipped out from behind the bar and ran to him with open arms. “It’s about time they let you go. I’ve been hassling Bryant, but he’s been obnoxious lately.”

  My arms barely fit around Barry’s giant midriff, but I clung on, even though his flannel shirt itched something rotten. Only when he cleared his throat did I let go and step back, rubbing the back of my neck and grinning. “When did they let you go?”

  “Last night,” he said, retreating to his office and gesturing for me to follow. “I still find it hard to believe they held onto me just based on what Tab said.”

  “Last night?” My indignation overpowered my speech for a second. “Why didn’t you call me? I’ve been waiting on pins and needles for any news.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Well, I didn’t know that and when I dropped by the pub to say hello, you’d closed up early.”

  Fair point. “A woman was assaulted outside, and the police chased everyone away.”

  “Lucky for me,” Barry said, reaching into his bottom drawer and pulling out an aged whisky. He shook it, dislodging some dust. “Want to join me?”

  “As long as you don’t tell my boss I’m drinking on the job.”

  Dee poked me in the side. “How about one for me? I’ve been worried sick.”

  Barry obliged, tipping a smidgeon into a pen lid.

  “Did the police tell you much about the case?” I asked with the scotch burning a pleasant trail of fire down my throat.

  He barked out a laugh. “They told me nothing. After the first day, they didn’t even bother visiting to ask questions. The whole thing felt like a sham.”

  Not one for small talk, I soon returned to the front of house, smiling as I prepared the bar for a day of normal service. It was only Dee tugging on my top that reminded me the police had a press conference on its way.

  When I asked for a break, Barry came along with us. Silvana was standing near the podium when we arrived in the nick of time and helpfully waved us through to the front.

  “There’s a lot of people here,” Dee commented. “I mean, I know why we’re interested but surely Gabby’s not that famous.”

  From the way Dee winced, I guessed Gabby’s ghost was back and letting the expletives fly.

  PC Bryant shuffled to centre stage and grabbed hold of the podium with both hands, like an elderly patient clutching their walker. With an audible gulp he pressed his lips near the microphone and exhaled, sending a vibratory tingle rushing across my scalp.

  “I’d like to—”

  A feedback whine shrieked across the assembly and I wasn’t the only screwing up their face.

  “Detective Mallard,” Bryant managed before walking on shaking legs back to the relief of the sideline.

  “I called this conference to talk about the vicious murder of a peaceful young woman in our community.” Detective Mallard was oblivious to fears of public speaking. He stood proud and tall, the heroic countenance only marred by his intense blinks.

  “Peaceful?” Silvana asked under her breath. “Where’d he get that from?”

  I shook my head, but a thread of unease pulled at me. The wording was off. Public announcements should be bland, perfunctory, not stuffed with emotive terms.

  “We’ve kept many details of Gabrielle Mulligan’s grievous murder secret until now. However, with the assault on Heather Willoughsby taking place last night, we feel it’s in the public interest to reveal all we know.”

  “At least Gabby will be relieved to understand what happened,” Dee commented. “She’s still oblivious.”

  “We should organise a chat with that witch,” I said, trying and failing to recollect the name of the one who’d burdened Dee with this particular gift. “See is she knows how long ghost amnesia lasts.”

  “If it takes IQ into account, we’ll be waiting a long time.” Silvana rocked onto her toes, peering over the heads of those in front of us.

  “We should ask the witches how long it takes before a wolf has something nice to say about anybody,” Dee snapped, probably receiving another earful.

  “Both Gabrielle and Heather were viciously assaulted by members of the shifter community,” Detective Mallard stated. “The only blessing is that a man disturbed the attack on Heather, so she could escape with her life.”

  Isolate murmurs from the crowd grew into a roar, half of those gathered baying for blood while the rest denied their responsibility.

  “Can he say that?” Silvana demanded, turning back to me and Dee. “Surely, that’s incitement.”

  “If it’s a fact…” I trailed off as the detective cleared his throat.

  “I understand some of those in the shifter community are not as aggressive as these cowardly assailants. However, until we have the—”

  “Some,” Silvana burst out, pounding her thigh. “Some!?”

  “Shh.” Dee jumped from my shoulder to the wolf’s, nestling into the curve of her neck. “We need to hear this.”

  “We’ll be instituting a curfew and mandatory registration.”

  Although Mallard’s mouth continued to move, jeers from the assembly drowned him out. He stepped back, glancing over to the side of the stage and raising his eyebrows.

  I followed his gaze and saw Mayor Tomkins standing there, shuffling papers. My rising temper turned into an ice-cold block of fear. What was he planning?

  With a surge of adrenaline, I pushed closer to the stage, trying to signal to PC Bryant who still stood on the other side. Before I gained more than a metre in progress, the detective spoke again.

  “Silence! If you keep interrupting me with these outbursts, it’ll take twice as long.”

  Like a child being slapped mid-tantrum, the crowd fell silent. I hadn’t been spoken to with such pedantry since I was five years old. From the stunned expressions, neither had anyone else around me.

  “The curfew is effective immediately. Eight o’clock. No exceptions.”

  Although muttering began again, it was muted. I shook my head in disbelief. They didn’t mean working shifters, did they? If I had to leave the bar at eight, I’d be out of a job.

  “We’ll also open registration booths in the community buildings around town. This is mandatory. Anyone who fails to register by the end of the week is subject to an instant fine.”

  “We won’t pay,” a bear shifter near me growled out. The chant was caught on the wind and carried throughout the group, many adding their voices.

  “If you don’t pay the fine, you’ll be arrested and held for twenty-one days.”

  “How’s this meant to help you find the killer?” a woman screamed nearby. “Or do you plan to lock up every shifter in Beechdale?”

  “I’ll now hand you over to Mayor Tomkins who can answer specific questions relating to the curfew.”

  Detective Mallard strode off the stage, head held high. I lunged in his direction but met a wall of resistant bodies. He got into a car with Bryant and drove away while I struggled.

  With fear gripping my heart, I returned to Silvana’s side.

  “They can’t do that,” Dee wailed.

  I shook my head. “They already have.”

  Chapter Ten

  Barry had been downcast as he let me go. “You can rejoin the staff any time, once this situation’s over,” he assured me. Since it followed two minutes after my sacking, the words didn’t bring a lot of comfort.

  “I can nibble into the bank vaults, if you need some money,” Dee offered when we returned home. “Or break into rich houses and steal all their jewellery.”

  “I’d prefer to take the moral high ground,” I said, smiling at the thought. “At least for a few weeks.”

  “Gabby’s rather distraught at news about her death.” Dee ran up her pole and sat on the kitchen counter, staring into space. “And she’s still rubbing her stomach all the time.”

  “Perhaps she was pregnant,” Silvana suggested. While I’d held my hard discussion with Barry about the impending curfew, she’d disap
peared. The sly smile on her face when she turned up later didn’t lend me hope she’d been behaving.

  Well, good on her. The shifters would need someone to stand up and protest our unfair treatment.

  While you just capitulated.

  “Gabby would like to assure you she’s not some backwoods hick without the faintest idea of birth control.”

  “It’s lucky Gabby is a ghost,” Silvana said with an arched brow. “Otherwise, Gabby might find herself on the wrong end of a sharp tirade.”

  “I’m sure she’s used to that.” I lay down on the sofa, putting my arm across my eyes. “Still, it’s weird she can’t remember being attacked. You’d think it’s what would stick in your memory.”

  “Car accident victims often don’t remember driving,” Caleb said in a small voice. He’d been remarkably quiet since we returned home, and I guessed he’d tuned into the announcement online or over the airwaves. “They wake up in hospital without the slightest idea of how they got there.”

  “Why’s she a ghost, anyway?” Silvana propped her elbows on the counter and stared at Dee. “Not everyone who dies hangs around, do they?”

  “Unfinished business,” Dee said promptly.

  “Is that another version of ‘I don’t know?’”

  Dee’s only reply was to start grooming.

  “So, you’re all shifters, then?”

  I pulled my arm away and stared at Caleb in surprise. “Well, sure. Did we forget to tell you that along the way?”

  He sat perched on the edge of a dining chair, not the most comfortable option available. Even through the layers of bruising and swelling, it was easy to see his dismay.

  “Hey, did I tell you the one about the lost hiker who I ate?” Silvana said, licking her lips and laughing. “Or the one where we tore apart the local townsfolk in the hope we’d become second-class citizens.”

  “Third class,” Dee piped up. “I’m pretty sure we were second class, yesterday.”

  “We’re no class.” I replaced my arm, shutting out the view. “Just a bunch of animals, isn’t that right, Caleb?”