Following Fabian

by Holley Trent

  “Word’s gonna get around, Billy,” the woman said. “You mark my words. Folks will hear about it. It’ll pass from one Cat group to the next, and folks’ll find out where we came from and how you left those Cats out to dry without a leader amongst them. It was all little boys and weak-ass women.” She chewed a bit more, swallowed, and added, “And Patrick. Oh, I’m sure he’ll take a bite out of your hide if he ever catches up to you.”

  Patrick? Why did that name sound familiar to Senior?

  “He’ll never find out. And what difference does it make now? He’s hooked up with that bitch detective.”

  Ah. Things were starting to make more sense. Piecing together snippets of conversation he’d gleamed at his son’s house, he knew exactly which Patrick they were referring to now. And which “bitch.”

  “He would have never hooked up with our girls, anyway. I told you he weren’t before you sent them boys out to scratch him up. You thought he’d take one look and fall in love. Ha.” She shook her head, oblivious to the glowers of the girls. Or maybe she just didn’t care.

  “So, what do you reckon we do, then, since you’re so intent on playing Monday-morning quarterback?” Billy stood and jammed his fists onto his hips. “Hmm?”

  “You don’t wanna hear what I think.”

  “I asked, didn’t I?”

  “All right then.” She set down her fork, pretty as she pleased, and pushed back from the table. Standing, she tossed her cloth napkin onto the tabletop. In just four cat-like strides, she was nose-to-nose with her husband. “I’ll tell you what I think. You ain’t gonna like it, but I’m gonna lay it on you the same way you laid it on me earlier this year when you spilled all about how you were catting around, no pun intended, with them Wolf bitches.”

  Billy tried to ease back a pace, but the driver’s seat prevented farther travel in that direction. He swallowed as his wife leaned in closer.

  “Maybe we deserve to keep runnin’ for some of the shit we’ve done, that’s what I think. Maybe we deserve to be separated from our kind for selling them out. But it ain’t fair for our granddaughters to be on the run like this, when everything that’s happened is because of your bright ideas.” She poked his shoulder with her index finger. “I say you pin I’m so fuckin’ sorry notes to their shirts, take them to the airport, buy them tickets to North Carolina, and send them to Patrick on the first flight out of this God-forsaken hinterland. We’re not snow Cats. For that matter, we’re not show Cats, and I saw the way Jacques was eyeing them like he wanted to snatch them up. Mm-hmm. You think you’re in the free and clear and that he won’t be looking at our girls again? What’s he gonna do? Put some spandex on them and teach them to walk the goddamned tightrope? See how many of their nine lives they can use up?”

  Billy swallowed again.

  What could he say, really? He probably knew his wife was right as surely as Senior did. Senior had seen it time and time again. Jacques would recruit a mother and father act into the circus only to make a grab for their children and grandchildren, too. That’s how he’d engaged the services of his muscle—the shape-shifting Visas. He’d made an arrangement with a few bodyguards thirty years ago, and now had their entire families more or less eternally bound.

  “Whaddaya say, Billy? Huh?” The woman’s hands shifted to claw form at Billy’s neck.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Eh…you’d really send ’em back for those bitches to babysit?”

  The sharp tips of her claws punctured his stubbled flesh and he let out a howl of pain, but he wouldn’t dare move. The Cat in front of him meant serious business, and Senior didn’t put it past her to scratch his throat out to have her way. She had an air of I’m through with your shit about her.

  “You can call ’em what you want, but I keep my ear to the ground. I heard about the way they took that Bear Chauncey in, and the Ridge siblings, too. Mortal enemies, right? There they went and welcomed a bunch of Bears into their ranks even when they’re at war with the rest of ’em. What you did was wrong, Billy. You started that shit. You sent them boys to scratch Patrick up, and when he wanted to fight ’em, you let ’em run. They ran straight into Gene’s territory and he would have fucked ’em up for good if those women you keep calling bitches hadn’t gone in with their guns and pulled ’em out. Now Patrick’s babysitting our Cats, and the Shrews are still dealing with the Bears. That ain’t fair. It ain’t fair for them, and it ain’t fair for the girls. Send. Them. Back.” She emphasized each word with a poke of her clawed finger, and he hissed with each.

  Billy cut his gaze toward the table. “Well, what do y’all want? Don’t mind your grandmama’s crazy talk. Don’t feel like you need to make her happy, it’s all up to you. She’s going through the change, is all, and is probably a little emotional.”

  The woman raked her paw across her cheek and left bleeding runnels as she bared her sharp teeth at her husband.

  Billy let out a primal sounding Cat scream, and clutched his face.

  Somewhere in the distance, a vehicle door slammed.

  Maybe someone coming to check up on these loud hillbilly Cats.

  Senior eased away from the feuding couple and moved toward the bathroom again. He didn’t want anyone to accidentally walk through him. With it being more difficult for him to phase, the last thing he needed was someone else’s essence commingling with his.

  One of the girls stood, and her shifting yellow-green eyes marked her for the Creature she was. “Send me back,” she said. “I’ll grovel to Patrick and Dana if I have to. I’d rather eat kitty litter than to be in that man’s freak show when he sets it up again.”

  The other girl tossed her napkin onto the table and slid out of her booth seat. “Me, too. Cassie and me will be all right together. Just get us to an airport, and you won’t have to worry about us.”

  Billy dragged his tongue over his dry lips. “I…I can’t. I—”

  The woman brought her other paw across his second cheek, and he hissed. “You dirty motherfucker. You already promised ’em to Jacques.”

  “Ju-just for a year. Real short-term contract. It was good money, Vettie. We would have been set for life, the four of us. Could have gone anywhere.”

  Senior had heard that promise before. A man didn’t need a contract if he were already holding on to everything of importance to the person who signed it.

  One of the young women scoffed. “I’m out of here. Fuck this shit, Granddaddy.” She strode toward the small bedroom with her sister on her heels.

  “You know, I could kill you for this,” Vettie whispered, putting her teeth so close to Billy’s jugular vein that if Senior could have gasped, he would have. “And no Cat group I run to would find me at fault for it. You ain’t got the good sense to even wash the stink off your dick after you screw around.”

  “You don’t mean that, Vettie.”

  “Oh, I mean it. I’d leave you. I swear I would, but I’m gonna stick with you to make sure you don’t sell away pieces of anyone else’s soul along with yours. If you even try it, I will neuter you with my own claws. Do you understand me?”

  Billy didn’t answer.

  “I asked do you understand me?”

  The camper door swung open, and the feuding Cats paused their argument to see a tall, white-haired man in a fine wool coat filling the stairs.

  Same cold eyes. Same lack of propriety when it came to other peoples’ personal space. When Jacques wanted to be somewhere, he went. He’d always considered himself to be above knocking.

  “Billy, have the other groups checked in?” he asked. “None of the heads are answering their phones.”

  That was because by then, they were probably awaiting transport to federal prison. Just as he’d expected, some of the suppressed had risen up and helped Senior overtake their group’s enforcers. Some had chosen to flee on their own afterward, while others took up his offer to put them on a bus. They’d let immigration officials sort them out, and maybe they could get home. But, those were the strong troupe mem
bers. There were others, still missing.

  Women. Children.

  Senior’s plan had been to kill the ringmaster when he saw him, but things had just taken a complicated turn. He didn’t know those girls, but he couldn’t just leave them to suffer, no matter what their grandfather had done to disrupt the Creature groups in the North Carolina mountains. Not when they were so obviously on a side they didn’t want to be on.

  Not when there were still people Senior knew from way-back-when in need of rescue.

  Mierda.

  He couldn’t very well go and rain Hell down on this last group when there was more than one person who needed to be dealt with first. Maybe this Billy didn’t deserve killing, but he needed to pay amends for what he’d done, and it wasn’t Senior’s job to make him do it.

  He’d have to call the Shrews. If anyone should take a chunk out of his hide, it was they. He’d watch, then wait his turn to deal with the ringleader.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Astrid had just heeled off her sneakers and dimmed the lights in her apartment’s living room when her cell phone buzzed. It threatened to vibrate right off the coffee table, and she barely caught it before it hit the floor. Shrews were pretty hard on their phones given their line of business, and this was the fourth smartphone she’d acquired in the two years since her contract renewal. The phone company kept threatening to pull her phone insurance plan because of her supposed recklessness, so she was being extra-cautious just in case.

  The display screen flashed blue with the incoming text messages. She’d expected more frantic messages from her brother who had last complained about his vision changing back and forth from extra-sharp to a bear’s more nearsighted gaze. One of Bryan’s made-Bears was on hand to help Eric through the transition, but it wasn’t like family.

  It wasn’t Eric getting in touch again, though. She furrowed her brow upon reading the name. Felipe never called her. Never had a reason to. “Maybe Sarah has his phone,” Astrid muttered.

  Sarah had destroyed almost as many phones as Astrid in two years.

  Astrid squinted at the text message.

  Can you ask the gate guard to let me in?

  “Nope. Not Sarah.” Sarah was on the permanent guest list. The guard would have recognized her on sight.

  Okay, she texted back, followed by, Not to be rude, but why are you here?

  She didn’t expect a response if the man was actually driving, so she called the guard to relay the approval, set the phone back on the table and shuffled down the hall to the kitchen. It was nearly midnight, but she wasn’t tired. Still hadn’t adjusted to being back in the Eastern time zone, probably.

  Humming to herself, she opened the cabinet over the stove exhaust fan and reached for Maria’s box of herbal, sleep-inducing tea. If she had to be at the gun range in the morning, she would need to get a good night’s rest. Her aim was generally astounding, but testing it on so little sleep seemed like an experiment she didn’t want to risk.

  Her phone rattled on the table in the living room again, and she turned the heat on beneath the kettle before returning to it. Before she could reach it and read it, there was a knock on the apartment door.

  We’re coming up, Felipe had said.

  “We who?” She tucked the phone into the pocket of her flannel shirt and moved the few feet to the door. Standing on her tiptoes, she peered through the peephole to find two identical blond heads.

  “What the hell are they doing here?” Quickly, she patted her messy ponytail into submission and wrenched the deadbolt open.

  “What are you doing here?” She said, looking from one Castillo to the other. Standing that close and both wearing Felipe’s clothes, she couldn’t tell which brother was which, and she felt scandalized for it. Being attracted to one meant being attracted to both, at least physically, and she couldn’t suppress the feeling of guilt of admiring her friend’s husband’s assets.

  Husband. Right. She scanned down their arms to their left hands and found the right-side Castillo to be Felipe. Seemed obvious now that she’d located the wedding band. Felipe had a slight crook in his nose from that ill-fated trapeze stunt.

  “You could have just asked,” Felipe said, and his lips quirked up at one corner.

  Ass.

  “And admit I sometimes can’t tell you apart? A girl’s got to have some pride. Come on in.” She moved out of the way of the door, but only one brother stepped in.

  “Thanks, but I can’t stay. I drove him because he doesn’t have a driver’s license,” Felipe said.

  “Why did you drive him here?”

  A shrill whistling sound pealed from the kitchen, and as she jogged toward it, Felipe called after her, “I’ll see you at the range.”

  She turned and walked backward, calling, “Wait!” but the door closed. Felipe was gone, and Fabian paced in her living room.

  Shit.

  She continued to the kitchen and flicked the burner’s knob to its off position. “Forgot the tea.”

  Fabian had his hand extended before Astrid reached him.

  She put her hand in it. “What are you doing here?”

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  Must have been something in the water.

  “It’s only midnight,” she said. “That doesn’t seem long enough for Felipe and Sarah to get impatient and pass you off.”

  “Perhaps I should rephrase. I tried to sleep, but I was anxious.”

  “Why?”

  “The empty room. Can’t exactly bunk with my brother anymore.” He smiled, but she could tell his heart wasn’t really in it. “Felipe offered to stay up with me, but I asked him to bring me here. I hope you don’t mind. Or Maria.”

  “Maria’s on a stakeout. I don’t know when she’s coming home, but I don’t mind that you’re here. I was going to have some tea and watch a movie.”

  He dragged his thumb over the back of her hand, never pulling his gaze from her face.

  The way he looked at her…well, she didn’t know what to think.

  No man had ever looked at her that way, and maybe that look didn’t mean what she thought it did. So much of what they did was lost in translation. Maybe he was just a nice guy and looked at every woman that way…or maybe there was some truth to what Sarah had said. She’d said he was interested. He’d said as much back in South Dakota, but for some reason, Astrid found the secondhand information to be more trustworthy.

  Apparently, she had a hard time taking men at their word.

  Go figure.

  She didn’t want to feel like that, though.

  He extended his free hand toward her face and brushed her long bangs away from her eyes. “There you are. I see you know. What’s with the heavy curtains, anyway? I want to see your eyes.”

  “Why?” Her voice had gone breathy as if she’d just made a dash toward a ringing phone. She really hoped he didn’t notice, because she didn’t like this feeling that he could not only walk through her, but see right through her, too.

  “Because when you’re looking me in the eyes, you’re paying attention to me.”

  As if she wouldn’t pay attention to him when he was in a room. It was impossible not to.

  She forced down a swallow and willed the burning in her cheeks to subside. “Do you want some tea? Like I said, I was making some when you knocked.”

  “No. Thank you.”

  “Then I’ll skip it, too. I was going to watch a movie.”

  “Something with subtitles, perhaps?” The skin at the sides of his eyes crinkled at the corners with his amusement, and she couldn’t help but to smile back.

  When was the last time a man had made her smile just from the fact that he had? Someone besides Eric or her grandfather? She certainly couldn’t remember anyone else managing the feat.

  “Something with subtitles,” she said breathily. “I can arrange that. Come on.”

  He didn’t let go of her hand as she walked toward the armoire.

  She pulled the doors open with her free hand a
nd slid out the bottom drawer where she and Maria stored their commingled Blu-ray collections. “Do you want something funny, something action-packed, something bloody…what’s your preference?”

  “Hmm.” He knelt down and riffled through the selection. Way at the bottom, he found one that still had the plastic wrap sealed around it. “How about this one?”

  Astrid nudged up an eyebrow as she took it. Must have been one of Maria’s. It was some documentary about Central American ruins. She loved to travel, so that was probably one of her trip-planning, research aides. Astrid didn’t think she’d mind.

  “Are you sure you’re not in the mood for something fictional and scripted?” she asked as she bumped the drawer closed.

  He shook his head. “I’ve traveled a lot but have seen very little of the world. I feel like I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  “I recall Felipe saying the same thing about six months ago. Can’t really do much about it with Sarah being off her feet, though. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable on the sofa, and I’ll pop this in?” She eased her hand out of his so she could work the plastic off the Blu-ray case.

  Reluctantly, it seemed, he drew his hand back and eased toward the sofa.

  She looked up to find him untying his shoes and stepping out of them. She was going to ask if they were Felipe’s, but figured he wouldn’t understand. She’d meant to study that dictionary, but hadn’t gotten around to it. They’d never learn to communicate verbally if they kept touching each other. God forbid he ever needed to call her with some emergency.

  The very idea made a jolt of panic ripple down her spine. What if he deed need to call her for help? Would they understand each other? Understanding each other seemed to be a more and more critical thing. She wanted nothing lost in translation.

  He’d eased onto his right side and stuffed a couple of throw pillows under his head by the time she approached the sofa. He patted the space in front of him, and for some reason, she obediently sat on the middle cushion near his waist. Normally, she would have wanted her own space. She would have sat in her favorite recliner and pulled the afghan up over her knees, but she was drawn to Fabian in a way she’d never experienced with anyone else before. She didn’t feel like she needed to work so hard around him. When he watched her, she didn’t feel like she needed to perform. Or hide.