Wolf at the Door

by Christine Warren

  Until he heard her husband snarl. Then he would find the meal the waiter laid out on the desk visually fascinating, just as Quinn, Richard, and Cristos did.

  “Down, Simba,” the woman said, taking her husband’s hand and catching a hip against the edge of the end table beside him. “Give these guys a break. I am pretty darn adorable, you know.”

  She gave a cheeky grin that suited her a little too well, and De Santos answered with a rumbling purr. “I know.”

  She laughed. “Now, now. You’ll embarrass your friends.”

  Cristos grinned wickedly and reached out for the woman’s free hand, raising her knuckles to his mouth for a gallant kiss. “Not at all, senora. Please, go on.”

  “Nope, you can’t distract me.” She shook her head and turned her killer blue eyes on Quinn. “I want to talk about what Mr. Peat-Smoke and Shamrocks had to say.”

  The Felix’s mouth quirked. “Gentlemen, allow me to present my wife, Tess De Santos. Sweetheart, this is Richard Maccus and Cristos Allavero. And Mr. Peat-Smoke and Shamrocks is going by Sullivan Quinn these days.”

  “Right.” Tess shifted to perch on the arm of the sofa beside her husband and leaned with casual intimacy against his shoulder. “So, Sullivan, what’s this about witches and glitter dust?”

  Somehow Quinn got the impression that her raised eyebrow was not a good sign. He cleared his throat. “It was honestly just a . . . a figure of speech, Tess.”

  “Mrs. De Santos. And that’s not what it sounded like.” The Felix let loose something that suspiciously resembled a chuckle. Tess ignored him. “It sounded like you think magic is all about chanting and incense and sparkly little wands.”

  “I don’t recall using those terms . . .”

  “You didn’t have to. I know what you were thinking.”

  She did? Quinn froze, remembering Tess was a witch.

  De Santos burst out laughing so hard he nearly launched himself off the sofa. His wife plucked his coffee mug from his hand before it could shatter on the floor.

  “I didn’t mean it literally,” she said. “ ’Cause, ew! I know what goes on inside the average male mind, thanks, and I’m so not going there. What I meant was that you clearly share the same misconception about magic as the rest of the world. Magic is nothing but the concentrated application of will on the material world. To be blunt, it’s like thinking really, really hard.”

  The Felix smiled up at her indulgently and rested his hand against the small of her back.

  “The only time you see a physical manifestation of magical energy is when the intensity of the focus is enough to generate massive quantities of heat.” Tess crossed her legs and seemed to lean back into her husband’s touch. “That’s the whole ‘beams of blue light shot from her fingertips’ thing you might have heard about.”

  “Right, but wouldn’t shifting from one physical shape to another require enough focus to at least . . . I don’t know . . . make her glow or something?”

  She gave him a pitying look.

  “Magic is something that requires less focus the more often you use it toward the same goal. I mean, if I scrub the kitchen counter every day, it takes me a lot less time and effort than if I only do it once a year, right? So someone who, say, has been shifting between human and fox forms for twenty-odd years probably sees it as second nature by now. I mean, she wouldn’t even have to sweat. Just picture the new form and there it is.”

  Quinn rubbed the bridge of his nose and wondered if he could get the concierge at his hotel to locate some aspirin for him when he got back. And then he’d wash it down with every tiny minibar bottle of whiskey he could get his hands on. “Right. So I’m an idiot, and she’s a wizard with a bushy tail.”

  “Yes and no. You may very well be an idiot, but she’s nothing like a wizard. Foxwomen are reputed to have very specific powers, so I doubt she could just pick up a spellbook and start casting, or use any magical power she wanted. I’m betting she’s limited to shifting.”

  “And how many Foxwomen have you met in person?”

  “Two.”

  “Thanks, I’m reassured.”

  “Good.” De Santos broke in, his voice a clear indication that he’d finished with the discussion. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a square of folded paper. “This is Cassidy’s contact information. I suggest the two of you get started as soon as possible. She’s only slightly easier to convince of something than her grandmother.”

  Quinn took the paper with a sigh, looked at it, then looked back at De Santos. “I haven’t known you long enough for you to hate me this much, boyo.”

  De Santos threw back his head and laughed, which Quinn found oh so reassuring. “I don’t hate you, Quinn. In fact, I think you’re going to find your time with Cassidy Poe to be very rewarding.”

  Ten

  Cassidy knocked on her cousin’s door just as her cell phone started beeping “Ride of the Valkyries.” Sighing, she flipped the thing open and lifted it to her ear. “Good morning, Nana.”

  The door swung inward and Miranda—who answered almost exclusively to Randy—waved her into the apartment with much rolling of the eyes. She must have heard Cassidy say “Nana.” Adele and Randy shared a mutually satisfying love-dislike relationship. Calling it hate would go too far, but the less time they spent in each other’s company, the happier the entire family was. That’s what came of Adele playing favorites with her grandchildren. She made it no secret that she felt the human one was a bit of a disappointment, and Randy reacted with a very mature, if unspoken, “Oh, yeah?”

  Cassidy let Randy take the bakery bag she offered and shut the door behind her. She followed her cousin through the disheveled living room and over to the island separating it from the kitchen, all the while listening to the third lecture her grandmother had chosen to deliver in the last twelve hours.

  “I know, Nana,” she said, pulling out a stool and sliding onto it while Randy set a cup of coffee in front of her. She mouthed a heartfelt “thank you” and gulped gratefully. A full-fledged caffeine addict, Cassidy could barely manage to face a shower without coffee, let alone one of Adele’s lectures. “Again, I’m sorry, but the Council was very understanding and no one even mentioned my clothes. I think things went fairly well.”

  She looked up and met Randy’s expression of amusement with a grimace. Sometimes she envied her cousin for not being Nana’s “favorite.” All being the favorite seemed to get her were biting lectures and much too much attention to her personal life.

  “I realize that, Nana, and I promise I’m going to take this very seriously.” She paused to sip her coffee and listen to more ranting. “Of course not. You know I disagree with the entire concept of Unveiling at this time. I’ll find out whatever I can for the Council, but that’s the end of it.”

  Randy snickered, set down her mug and dug through a drawer, coming out with a bread knife that she used to dissect two of the bagels Cassidy had brought. She popped one into the toaster oven and bent to rummage in the refrigerator. She held up a tub of cream cheese and mouthed a question. Cassidy shook her head and pointed to the butter dish.

  “Nana.” Cassidy rubbed her forehead and flipped Randy the finger when her cousin delivered the butter, a small plate, and a quiet “nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah” in the background. “Yes, Nana. I understand.” Pause. “Yes, I promise. Yes.” More eye-rolling. “Fine. You, too. Bye.”

  “And how is the Queen of the Universe this fine Saturday morning?” Randy plunked the golden-brown bagel down on Cassidy’s plate and stuck the second in the toaster.

  “Fine. She said to tell you hello.”

  “Liar.”

  “Okay, maybe not. But she should have.”

  “Put down the crop and step away from the deceased equine, cuz. I’m not crying into my city roast.” Randy grabbed a jar of strawberry jam to doctor her bagel. “But I am curious what bee got into her bonnet today. She usually waits until after brunch to harangue you on the weekends.”

  “Ugh. You
don’t want to know. It’s political crap.”

  “Hey, just because I’m not the one in the family with a tendency to get furry doesn’t mean I don’t care about the politics. If I need to chain myself to an iron fence to protest for Other suffrage, I’m all for it. Just let me make sure the leg irons won’t chafe. I hate chafing.”

  “Randy—”

  “No, really. It drives me crazy. I won’t even use chafing dishes on Thanksgiving . . .”

  Cassidy swallowed a bite of bagel. “Ha-ha. I see your career in standup is really beginning to take off.”

  “I’m in negotiations with the networks.”

  Grabbing the carafe a split second before her cousin, Cassidy refilled her coffee cup, then relented and topped off Randy’s, as well. “Well, I suppose it’s silly not to tell you, since if I screw this up, it’s likely to be all over the news.”

  “What is?”

  “Last night at the Council meeting—”

  “The Council of Others? Since when do you sit in on that kaffeeklatsch?”

  “Since I got an imperial summons from Nana.”

  “Okay, so what happened last night?”

  Cassidy sighed and leaned her chin on her palm. “The Others in Europe think we need to Unveil within the next few days.”

  Randy’s brows shot up over the rim of her mug. “That’s a hell of a revelation.”

  “Tell me about it. And that wasn’t the half of it.” She summarized the news about the vampire’s kidnapped mistress, the religious wackos, and their spread to closer environs. When she was done, Randy gave a long, low whistle.

  “Wow. I’m sure the Council was thrilled by that bulletin.”

  “Right. Just as thrilled as the Faerie Queen when she threatened to toast us for insulting her nephew two years ago.”

  Cassidy remembered the mess that had been. The Fae weren’t supposed to enter the human world without the Queen’s permission, but somehow the Council of Others had ended up the fall guy in that one. Of course, no one had ever accused the Fae of being logical.

  Randy dusted off her fingers and pushed away her plate to lean her elbows on the counter. “So how did a nice girl like you get mixed up in the hoopla?”

  “A freak genetic accident. Don’t think I’m not bitter that you aren’t hip deep in this with me.”

  Randy grinned like a Cheshire cat. “That is why I’m glad to be my daddy’s little girl, cuz. His sister was nice and all, but I wouldn’t take her genes on a bet.”

  “Thanks for rubbing it in.” Cassidy scowled. Randy’s father and her mother had been siblings, though Adele viewed her human son with a sort of bemused apathy. When she’d been younger, Cassidy had instinctively tried to make up for it by loving her uncle fiercely, as if she could somehow replace Adele’s missing affection. Uncle Matthew had just smiled and told her she had a heart as big as her mother’s, but that he’d made peace with it years ago.

  Cassidy thought she’d gotten over her teenage resentment of the differences between herself and her cousin, but every once in a while she harbored a secret wish that the DNA that made a Foxwoman could pass along the paternal as well as maternal lines. Then even if she had to be in this mess, Randy would have to join her. Instead, since Randy was the daughter of Adele’s human son, the jerk was excluded from the family legacy.

  “So, once again, all this involves you how?”

  Cassidy sighed. “Apparently, I’ve become an expert on cultural relations and the growth and impact of fringe cultural groups.”

  “Didn’t that happen when you got your Ph.D. from NYU?”

  “You’re not helping.”

  “Why should I start now?” Randy slapped her hand over the top of Cassidy’s coffee cup and slid it out of her reach. “Spill, fuzzbutt.”

  Cassidy grumbled. “Nana’s years of uncontrolled bragging have convinced the Council that they should consult me for my ‘expert opinion’ on whether these Light of Truth people really are over here, and if so, what sort of threat we’re looking at. And I got the impression they might ask about the possible consequences for the American Other community if the Europeans do actually come out of the closet.”

  “You mean out of the crypt and the kennel, unless the bogeyman is real, since he’s the only thing I remember hearing lives in closets. And if he is real, by the way, please don’t tell me.” Randy pursed her lips. “So in your expert opinion, what are the possible consequences?”

  “Do the Salem witch trials ring any bells?”

  Randy looked serious for the first time since she’d opened her front door. “Do you really think it would be that bad?”

  “What do you think?” Cassidy shook her head and smiled without humor. “People who claim to be Wiccan are still fighting custody battles over their kids when an ex claims they’re unfit to parent. How do you think a human judge would react to a parent who actually could cast a hex if she tried? And do you think a human parent wouldn’t protest to a school board if he found out his daughter’s biology teacher was a werewolf? When the only thing most humans know about lycanthropy is what they get from midnight re-showings of The Howling? Humans would be bringing torches and pitchforks back into style before the week was out.”

  Randy sat for a moment in silence, then pursed her lips and shrugged. “Well, in Manhattan, they wouldn’t. I mean, where’s the sense of style in that? Pitchforks are so not trendy. But I think I do have a Maglite and a fondue fork in the junk drawer.”

  “You grew up knowing about the Others, Randy. You’re related to some of them. You’ve seen that we’re not homicidal freaks of nature. But you’re not the average human.”

  “True. No one’s ever accused me of being average. And of course your freakishness has nothing to do with homicide. Occasional bunnycide, but I prefer not to think about that.”

  Cassidy ignored the smart-assed remark. “Humans like you are so far in the minority, I don’t think your existence is even statistically significant. Ninety-nine point nine percent of the human population in this country is going to be running through the streets screaming that the sky is falling. And even if this starts with a bunch of religious fundamentalists, I’m pretty confident the nonfundamentalists won’t be in a hurry to disagree. How will you feel when they start rounding up me and Nana?”

  “Can I have time to think about the Nana half of that question?”

  “And even if by some miracle the zealots don’t come after us, I’m pretty certain the scientists will,” she continued, on a roll now. “We’ll be the next great lab rats. When they discover we heal hundreds of times faster than them, they’ll vivisect us just to see what happens. They’ll try to decode our DNA and use it to make a profit. We’ll be rounded up for scientific studies and have about as much right to protest it as the average chimpanzee.”

  “Cassidy—”

  “And the military will be all over us when they find out Others can do things ordinary soldiers can’t. We’re stealthier than humans, so we’d make great scouts and spies. We can take more damage, so we’re the perfect cannon fodder. And we’re stronger and do more damage in hand-to-hand combat, so we’ll become the soldier of the future. But we won’t need to enlist. We’ll be drafted, and because we’re not human, the laws that protect them from that kind of treatment won’t apply to us.”

  “Well,” Randy finally said. “Aren’t you just a bright little ray of sunshine?”

  “What about when they come for you?” Cassidy wasn’t in a joking mood anymore. “No one is gonna believe that being related to a monster doesn’t make you one, too.”

  Randy shifted on her stool. Apparently, this was something she’d never thought about before. To her, Others were normal, and she’d never considered what it meant that most humans didn’t agree. “All they need to do is watch me for a while, and they’ll see that I don’t sprout a tail on the full moon.”

  “Ever try to prove you’re not something? It’s like trying to sled uphill. Just doesn’t happen.”

  “So wh
at are you going to do, then?”

  “What can I do? I’m going to try to find out what the Council wants to know. And I’m going to have to start by dealing with that Neanderthal furball again.”

  “Ooh, ouch. I guess the famously suave Don Rafael really got your goat with this request, huh?”

  Cassidy frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You just called the head of the Council a ‘Neanderthal furball.’ I thought you might be a bit miffed with him.”

  Cassidy felt her skin begin to heat. “No. I mean . . . I wasn’t talking about Rafael De Santos.”

  Randy looked intrigued. “Then who’s the Neanderthal furball you were talking about?”

  Her blush deepened. “No one.”

  Randy grabbed her cousin’s mug again and grinned like a loon. “Ah-ah. I sense a story here, cuz, and I think this one is a hell of a lot more interesting than the politics of the preternatural. Spill.”

  Why, oh why hadn’t Nana waited to call her until after brunch? Then Cassidy would have already been gone from Randy’s apartment and her cousin never would have heard this story.

  “I’ve got nothing to spill,” she said, hunching her shoulders and squirming in her seat. “I wasn’t talking about anyone. It was, you know, metaphorical. I . . . I have . . . a lot of conservative people to work with on this. That’s all.”

  “Uh-uh. Not buying it.” Randy lifted the coffee over her head where her shorter cousin couldn’t reach it and pressed. “You distinctly mentioned a figure of the male persuasion. So who is he?”

  “No one.”

  “ ‘No one’ has never made a woman blush like that. Tell me. Now.”