by Anne Bishop
“Yes.”
“Well, after you make the popcorn and put the movie on, why can’t you do that?”
Now he looked at her. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“No, I wouldn’t mind.”
“Seven o’clock?”
She smiled. “I’ll see you at seven.”
She felt Simon watching her as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. She heard Sam howl. And she wondered how many residents of the Courtyard knew she was going over to her neighbor’s place to watch a movie.
* * *
Simon washed the dishes and swallowed impatience. He couldn’t wait to get out of this skin, this shape. It had a few advantages over the pure Wolf form, but it wasn’t natural, and having to remain in that skin after it began to scrape on the heart and mind could push a terra indigene into a crazed rage.
Not all that different from what had happened out west, except the crazed rage had occurred while the Others were in animal forms.
Not something a leader who had to look human so much of the time wanted to consider might happen to him.
He shook his head, as if that would send the thoughts flying.
Meg said she was all right with him being Wolf while she watched the movie with Sam. He didn’t think she was lying.
He went upstairs and got Sam out of the bath, half listening to the grand plans the boy thought would fit into the couple of hours before bedtime. He let Sam dither over which movie to watch while he went into the kitchen and made the popcorn. Even in this form, the stuff didn’t have any particular appeal for him, but it was a traditional human treat when watching movies, so he made a big bowl of it for Meg and Sam to share.
He had just finished pouring the melted butter over the popcorn when someone knocked on the front door. Sam let out a sound that was part boy squeal and part Wolf howl as he rushed to the door and pulled it open.
The boy’s words tumbled over one another so fast, they made little sense except to convey happy excitement. Then Meg’s voice, still close to the door.
Simon cocked an ear. Why was she still close to the door? Had she changed her mind about spending time with them?
No, he realized as he heard her voice in the living room now. She had stopped to take off boots and coat. Why hadn’t she used the back door? Was front door a different message than back door?
He’d worked hard to learn the rules of doing business with humans, but there could be a whole other set of rules for personal interactions.
Frustrated now—and suspecting he was making a simple thing complicated—Simon brought the popcorn into the living room. He went back to the kitchen for two large mugs of water. Placing everything on the table in front of the sofa, he greeted Meg and retreated to the kitchen to shed the clothes and shift.
He crept toward the living room, silent and waiting. Sam and Meg put the movie disc in the player and got it started. He listened to the bits and pieces about other movies, listened to boy and woman settling down on the sofa. He waited a couple of minutes longer, then slipped into the living room.
They were tucked at one end of the sofa, the bowl of popcorn on Meg’s lap, their eyes focused on the television.
A dart behind the sofa to come around the other side.
A moment’s tension. A moment’s fear. Then Meg patted the cushion and said, “I think we left enough room for you.”
He climbed up on the sofa, filling the remaining space.
“Popcorn?” Meg asked, tipping the bowl toward him.
As an answer, he turned away from the bowl, lightly pressing his muzzle and forehead against her upper arm. More tension, but when he did nothing, she slowly relaxed and began eating the popcorn.
Simon closed his eyes. Keeping his head against her arm, he breathed in the scents that were Meg. The hair was still stinky, but not so much now, and the rest of her smelled good. Pleasing. Comforting.
After a few minutes, he nudged her arm until his head rested on her thigh. Another moment of tension. Then, making no protest, she shifted the popcorn so she wouldn’t keep bopping him with the bowl.
A few minutes after that, he felt her fingers shyly burrowing into his fur.
The first time she sucked in a breath, he almost sprang up, thinking she’d heard something outside. Then he began to understand the rhythm of her touch and Sam’s comments about the story. Dozing, he could follow the story through Meg’s fingers and breathing, only half listening to the boy’s “This is a scary part, but they’ll be all right,” and “Watch what happens now!”
Pleasure. Comfort. Contentment.
Except for the hair, she really did smell good.
Simon came fully awake when Sam said, “We can watch another one.”
“You can, maybe,” Meg replied. “But I have to work tomorrow, so it’s time for me to go home.”
“But—”
Simon raised his head and looked at the boy.
Sam slid off the couch. He gave Meg a shy smile and Simon a wary glance.
“I can come to work with you tomorrow,” Sam said.
“You have school tomorrow,” Meg replied, smiling. “And I’m not going to agree to something without talking to your uncle first. So good night, Sam.”
He poked out his lower lip, as if trying to see what kind of reaction he would get. When Meg and Simon both stared at him, he sighed, said good night, and went upstairs.
Meg set the bowl on the table, then looked at her hand. “Guess I should have gotten some napkins at some point.”
He stretched his neck and swiped a tongue over her palm. When she didn’t pull away, he took another lick, and kept licking until he cleaned the salt and butter off her skin.
She smelled good. She tasted even better.
“That’s good. Thanks,” she said. She picked up the bowl and mugs, pushed to her feet, and walked out of the room.
Getting off the sofa, he yawned and stretched, then followed her into the kitchen.
“I’m not sure if popcorn goes in with the compost or in the incinerator bag,” Meg said. “So I’ll leave that for you.”
Retracing her steps, she put on her coat and boots.
It was hard not to crowd her, hard not to jump, hard not to invite her to play. But it was almost time to sleep, and he didn’t want Meg to get riled up or worried about being around a big Wolf. He could go for walks with her and Sam if she wasn’t afraid of the Wolf.
He went out with her and walked her up to her own door. He waited until she was inside, then took a thorough sniff around her porch before going down and checking the rest of the complex.
As he reached the road, Allison hooted a greeting and glided past him on her way home. Lights were on in Vlad’s apartment, which meant the vampire had returned from his evening in the Chambers.
No unfamiliar scents. No sign of danger.
For tonight anyway, they were all safe.
Satisfied, Simon trotted back to his apartment and the boy who was waiting for a story.
* * *
“Hello?”
“The messenger you hired to retrieve your property got careless. The Wolves got him before the police did.”
“Who is this?”
“Someone who has a better chance of helping you reacquire your property—for the right fee.”
“How did you get this number?”
“Like I said, your messenger was careless.” A pause. “And I thought it might be inconvenient if the police found this number when they searched the man’s apartment.”
“There are several messengers looking for my property. Which one got careless?”
“The one in Lakeside.”
“Are you sure you’ve found my property? Describe her.”
A hesitation. “Short, delicate, has gray eyes.”
Silence. T
hen, “How long will it take you to retrieve her?”
“A few weeks.”
“Unacceptable. Too much profit will be lost in that amount of time.”
“Your property is stashed in a very inconvenient place.”
“I can help with that by providing some muscle and accessories.”
“I prefer to rely on my own accessories, but the muscle will come in handy.”
Another silence. “I’ll give you a week to come up with some useful information that will assist me in reacquiring my property. If you prove to be a valid source, we’ll discuss fees and bonuses.”
Click.
* * *
Asia listened to empty air for a few seconds, then hung up the phone and watched her hands shake. She’d pulled it off, made the contact, sounded like a pro who reacquired property every day. Sounded like someone who wouldn’t flinch about reacquiring living property when it was necessary.
So no-looks Meg wasn’t just the thief; she was the stolen property? Someone worth enough that several people had been hired to find the feeb?
“If Asia Crane, SI, had this information, what would she think?” Asia muttered.
She picked up the phone and called Bigwig. “What kind of person could be stolen property?” she asked as soon as he answered the phone.
A crackling excitement filled the phone line. “We’ve picked up a couple of whispers that a blood prophet wandered off,” he said. “Men have been searching the Northeast Region for some sign of her. You think you’ve found her?”
Asia’s thoughts spun so fast, she could barely think at all. Meg was a cassandra sangue? No wonder White Van had tried to grab her. No wonder someone had pressured the Lakeside government to help find her. That skin must be worth thousands and thousands of dollars. Maybe even a million!
And it was surrounded by fangs, claws, and beaks that could render it useless.
“Do you think you’ve found her?” Bigwig asked again.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Asia hesitated, trying to figure out who would give her the best offer for her help. “Someone tried to abduct the Courtyard’s Liaison today, so I’m going to have to be careful about asking questions.”
“You think she’s there? In the Courtyard?” A pause. “Yes. Yes, that makes sense. The mayor has been quite frustrated by the lack of progress the police have made with regard to the thief I told you about. So the prophet and thief are one and the same.”
Have to decide now, Asia thought. Gamble on someone who might make good on his offer, or stick with the men who can guarantee I’ll have a show that lasts enough seasons to make me a very rich woman? “Yes, I think they are.”
“Even if we can’t find the original owner, there are others who—”
“I already found him.” There was a weight to the silence that followed her words, so she pushed on. “I did some investigating and searched the apartment of the would-be abductor. I found a phone number. I got off the phone with the interested party just before I called you. He’s sending in his own people, but we’ll receive a finder’s fee and some compensation for continued assistance.”
“I guess you do want to star in your own TV show.”
She grinned. “I guess I really do.” After promising to give him daily updates, she hung up and moved around her apartment, unable to relax.
Something in his tone of voice. A lack of confidence that hadn’t been there until she told him she’d already made contact with the man she assumed was Meg’s Controller.
Had Bigwig hoped to sell Meg to the highest bidder? Or had he hoped to tuck the feeb away somewhere, to be used exclusively by his chosen few?
Didn’t matter now. The hired muscle was heading for Lakeside. Time to change her focus. And that meant Darrell was going to get lucky after all.
And her luck was changing too. Bigwig and the other backers might be unhappy about a blood prophet slipping through their fingers, but she would bring them something even better: a small, furry bargaining chip.
CHAPTER 17
When Meg stepped into the office’s front room on Moonsday morning, she found a Wolf staring at her from the other side of the counter. A glance at the go-through confirmed the slide locks were still in place. That didn’t instill any feeling of safety, especially when the Wolf stood on his hind legs and plopped his forelegs on the counter in much the same way a man would rest his forearms.
Backing through the Private doorway, she eased the door closed, turned the lock, and bolted for the telephone in the sorting room. Her hands shook, making it harder to dial, but she got through to Howling Good Reads.
“There’s a Wolf in the Liaison’s Office!” she shouted.
Bewildered silence filled the phone line before John Wolfgard said, “Isn’t there supposed to be?”
“Not a furry one! Where’s Simon? I need to talk to Simon!”
More silence. Then, warily, “He’s there, at the office.”
“No, he’s not. I know what Simon looks like as a Wolf, and that’s not Simon!”
“That’s Nathan,” Simon said, walking in from the back room. “He’s on duty this morning.”
Meg hung up the phone, then picked up the receiver, said, “Good-bye, John,” to the dial tone, and put the receiver back on its cradle.
“Did you open the front door?” Simon asked, fishing in a drawer for the office keys. Finding them on the counter next to the phone, he picked them up and took a step toward the Private door.
“No, I didn’t open the door. There was a Wolf in the way!”
He stopped and studied her. Gave the air a little sniff. “You’re acting strange. Is it that time of the month?”
She shrieked. His human ears flattened in a way human ears shouldn’t, and he backed away from her.
In the front room, the Wolf howled.
Then Simon seemed to remember who was the leader. He stopped backing away, and his amber eyes suddenly had that glint of predator.
“You weren’t afraid of me when I was Wolf,” he said. “Why are you afraid of Nathan?”
“He’s got big feet!” Which was true, but beside the point. It was just the first thing that popped into her head.
“What?”
An insulted-sounding arrrroooo came from the other side of the door, a reminder that Wolves also had big ears.
Meg closed her eyes, then took a deep breath and let it out. Took another one. She wasn’t going to get anywhere with either one of them if she kept sounding like a ninny. And she was having some trouble explaining to herself why she had that moment of panic. “A strange Wolf is scarier than a familiar Wolf, especially when you’re not expecting any Wolf at all.”
Simon waved a hand, dismissing what she thought was a perfectly logical point. “That’s Nathan. He’s staying. As the Courtyard’s leader, I made that decision.”
“As the Liaison, I should have been informed before a change was made to this office.”
Simon took a step toward her. She took a step toward him.
“Arrrooooo?” queried Nathan.
“Someone paid that man to take you away, Meg,” Simon growled. “Someone tried to hurt you. So a Wolf will be on guard when the office is open. Nathan is an enforcer for the Courtyard. He’s one of our best in a fight.”
“But—”
“It’s decided.”
She wasn’t going to win, wasn’t even going to sway him enough to have Nathan stay out of sight. She glanced at the Private door and lowered her voice. “What happens if he bites a deliveryman?”
“That’ll depend on whether he’s hungry.”
She wanted to say, Ha, ha. Very funny. But she was pretty sure he wasn’t joking.
And she was sure he was right about the man who grabbed her. Sometimes dealing with the Others filled up her head so much, she forgot about the Controller.
“I should have been consulted.” She tried that tack one last time.
His only answer was to open the Private door, then unlock the front door and flip the
sign to OPEN.
At least he had to use the go-through, since there was a Wolf clogging up the counter. When he came back into the sorting room, he tossed the keys in the drawer—and tossed her a look that made her want to slug him.
“Mr. Wolfgard . . .”
He turned on her, baring teeth that lengthened as she watched.
“If you say another word about this, I will eat you, and I won’t leave so much as an ear for him.” He jerked his head toward the front room.
Then he was gone. She flinched when the back door slammed.
She peered into the front room. Nathan was no longer hanging over the counter. He was lying on the floor, staring at the Crow perched on the wooden sculpture outside. As soon as she stepped into the front room, he looked at her.
She tried a smile. “Good morning, Nathan. Sorry about the confusion.”
He lifted a lip to show her some teeth, then pointedly turned his head and went back to staring at the Crow.
Yep, Meg thought. He’s insulted, and I’m not going to be forgiven anytime soon.
Retreating to the sorting room, she flipped through the Pet Palace catalog to see if there was anything she could order that would change that.
* * *
“Harry, Nathan. Nathan, Harry.”
The deliveryman looked at the Wolf and paled. The Wolf looked at the deliveryman and licked his chops.
Meg figured the morning was going to go downhill from there. But Harry surprised her.
“Heard on the news that there was some trouble here,” Harry said. “No details, but there never are about such things when it involves the Courtyard.” He studied her. “That trouble was here, in this office?”
For answer, she pushed up her sleeve enough to show him the bruise on her wrist. “A man pretending to make a delivery grabbed me. Mr. Wolfgard showed up before he could do anything else.”
Harry pursed his lips and made a peculiar sound with his teeth. Then he huffed out a breath. “The Crows out there are good for warning you about trouble, but they don’t have the muscle to take care of trouble once it gets through the door.” He rapped his knuckles on the counter. “You take care, Miz Meg.”
