by Naomi Clark
She smiled wearily and looked me over. “Good night, by the looks of it?”
I had dead leaves stuck to my feet and my hair was disheveled and rimed with frost. The odor of barbeque and cigarette smoke clung to me. My sliced palm stung but the shallow wound was already healing. “Better than I expected,” I admitted. I prodded her with my toes, brushing the soft flannel of her pajamas. “So, why are you up so early?”
“Oh, I couldn’t sleep. I thought I might as well get up and do something productive as lay in bed staring at the ceiling.” She tapped the papers in front of her. “I’m just looking at the notes for this meeting again.”
“Is there a problem?” I craned my neck to get a look at the notes. “Missing person?”
“Yeah, not my usual field. I’ll probably end up referring her somewhere else.” She yawned. “But it’s a start.”
“Something to tide you over until you get back into the thrilling world of tax evasion and unpaid parking tickets?” I couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm from my voice. I’d helped Shannon out on a few of her cases and had quickly decided her job wasn’t for me; too much sitting around.
She shuffled her papers together and leaned over to kiss my nose. “When you’re handing out those parking tickets and filing witness reports on those tax evaders, don’t come crying to me.” She stood. “I’m going for a shower. I can’t think straight with you sat there half-naked. Put some clothes on, will you? For my sake.”
***
While waiting to hear from the police, I was working at a tattoo parlor to pay my share of the bills. I’d done the same job before and liked the environment. Inked was a new shop, relaxed and bright, pumping indie rock through the speakers. Photos of finished tattoos lined the walls: everything from complex, swirling tribal designs to tacky, leering cartoon devils. Soft sofas sat by the window, facing a display case of lip rings and navel bars. Tattoo and music magazines were scattered on the glass and metal table by the sofas, inspiring customers to plump for bolder, crazier designs.
Inked’s manager and star tattooist, Calvin, was polishing the table when I pushed open the front door. A bell tinkled as I did and Calvin glanced up to give me a welcoming grin. Despite his profession, he was free of body art and piercings and looked more like he should be helping you pick out curtain fabrics than slamming metal bars through your tongue.
“Hey, Ayla,” he greeted me. “How did last night go?”
“It was okay,” I yawned. I’d crashed out on the sofa for a few hours after getting home and now I wished I hadn’t bothered. Napping just made me more tired. I slipped past Cal into the tiny staff room. A TV blared in one corner, coffee brewed in the coffeemaker on the side. I hung my jacket on the coat stand in the corner and helped myself to coffee. “Same as every Lupercali, really.”
“Which of course means nothing to us mere humans.” He leaned in the doorway, flicking his polishing cloth at a cobweb strung across the corner. “When I was a kid, my brother used to tell me that you guys hunted humans down at Lupercali. He used to scare me shitless telling me you’d steal little kids and chase them through the woods on full moons.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “My granddad used to tell me that human hunters went after us on full moons.” I sobered quickly, thinking of Alpha Humans and Adam’s battered body. “Well, honestly I think you’d find Lupercali underwhelming. It’s basically a barbeque and a piss-up.”
We fell into casual conversation as Calvin continued cleaning and I set up the till for the day. We didn’t open for another half hour and the other two staff members—Kaye and Lawrence—would roll in just before opening. Kaye was the piercing specialist, Lawrence was Inked’s other tattooist. I adored Lawrence and tolerated Kaye, who wasn’t keen on lesbians or werewolves.
Dead on nine, Lawrence clomped into the shop, heavy boots slamming on the wooden floor, cigarette smoke clinging to his faded biker jacket.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t give me that look,” he addressed Calvin, who frowned at the roll-up in his hand. “Too hung-over for breakfast. Got to have something in my system.” Lawrence stubbed out the cigarette on the staff room table and flicked the dog end into the bin. The scent of metallic smoke clung to him and I sneezed as he ruffled my hair.
“Ayla, babe, you won’t let Calvin oppress me, will you?”
I drew back from him. Lawrence, an aging biker, always smelled of motor oil and hot rubber. Today that was masked by the smell of the roll-up. It reminded me of the stuff Oscar had been smoking last night, just slightly less acrid. “Are you smoking Silver Kiss?” I asked.
“You better not be!” Calvin warned. “I don’t want any funny shit in my shop.”
Lawrence held up his hands in a who me? gesture. “It’s not funny shit. It’s not even illegal. Just a little herbal high, that’s all.”
“It had better be,” Calvin said sharply. He disappeared into the basement section of the shop, where the tattooing was done. Lawrence gave an exaggerated sigh.
“It’s like working with my ex-wife sometimes.”
“What is in Silver Kiss?” I asked. “Some of the kids were smoking it last night.”
“Herbs,” Lawrence replied. “You know, cloves and stuff.”
I wrinkled my nose and carried on emptying change into the till. A few seconds later Kaye strolled in, along with a man who apparently couldn’t wait another second to get his frenulum piercing done.
It was a quiet day and I split my time between manning the till and flicking through the TV channels in the staff room. I sent Shannon a text to check in and see how her meeting had gone, but got nothing back. That wasn’t unusual—she was pretty strict about not dealing with personal messages during her office hours. Too distracting, she said. It never stopped me from texting her though.
I had a couple of bitchy messages from Vince about how busy work was and how many people had called in sick. I was replying to him when Kaye sashayed in, stiletto heels clicking on the wooden floor. She snatched the TV remote up from the coffee table and put the news on.
“Anyone catch the tennis at the weekend?” she asked. “My new boyfriend kept me busy all afternoon and I missed the results.”
Kaye had a new boyfriend every week. I wasn’t sure she always got rid of the old ones first, but I didn’t care enough to ask. I focused on my phone, not wanting to be drawn into conversation with her.
Lawrence joined us, flopping down into the chair next to mine. “Don’t watch tennis. Not really a man’s game, that. Now boxing, that’s a proper sport.” He nudged me. “Right, Ayla?”
“I don’t watch sports at all,” I said. “I don’t see the fun in grown men hitting balls at each other.”
“Well, presumably that’s why you hook up with women,” Kaye purred. Lawrence cackled like it was genuinely witty and I glowered at the pair of them. As much as I liked Lawrence, he and Kaye together was an unpleasant mix. I suspected her skin-tight trousers and plunging necklines were to blame.
I sent my text to Vince and glanced at the TV, watching the highlights of the tennis flick by. A yellow band scrolled along the bottom of the screen, displaying breaking news headlines. Stock market crashes, celebrity scandals and football scores flashed by, totally uninteresting to me; although I was sure Shannon would want to know her favorite actor had been caught drink-driving. Then the final headline went past: Teen werewolf still missing in Yorkshire.
“Oh shit,” I said, a little pang of sadness tugging at my heart. “They still haven’t found that kid.”
“It’s been two weeks now,” Lawrence said, stroking his greying beard. “They’re not going to find him, are they? Runaway kids don’t really come home safe and sound.”
“Maybe he went feral?” Kaye said. Now that the tennis highlights were finished, she was rearranging her corset, jiggling her boobs about with a frown of concentration. In about five minutes she’d be complaining about how hard it was for her to find tops that fit her cleavage. “You guys do that sometimes, don’t you?”
Yeah we did, but it wasn’t that simple. Not that Kaye really wanted to know. The doorbell tinkled and I went back into the shop to greet a young girl who was after a new belly ring. Over the blabber of the TV I could hear Kaye moaning about how she was sure her breasts had grown since she bought her corset.
***
Shannon was cooking a stir-fry when I got home that evening. The smell of pork and ginger permeated the house, making my mouth water. I came up behind her at the stove and wrapped my arms round her waist, kissing her neck. “How was your day?” I asked.
She prodded a few mushrooms around the wok and shrugged. “I met the client, Tina Brady. It was…difficult, actually. I mean, I was all ready to refer her, you know? I explained how I didn’t do missing person cases and probably couldn’t help her.”
“Hmm.” I pinched a piece of pork. It wasn’t cooked yet, but I loved the fleshy feel of raw meat in my mouth. “So?”
“So then she burst into tears and said I was the only person who could help her because of my ties to the wolf community.” She shrugged again, shaking me off so she could turn and face me. “Because of you, basically.”
I frowned. “I don’t get it. What do I have to do with it?”
“She’s a wolf. Her daughter ran away just over a week ago and she’s convinced I’ll be able to help her because I’ve got an in with the wolves through you.”
I sat down at the kitchen table to take off my boots. “The police aren’t doing anything yet, I suppose? And the Pack?”
“Tina filed a report with the police, but there’s not much they can do. Molly is a wild child, according to Tina, and this isn’t the first time she’s pulled the vanishing act. She’s got a criminal record already—vandalism, assault—she’s only fourteen, for God’s sake!” Shannon shook her head as she turned back to the food.
I racked my brains for the name Brady, but I’d been away from home too long for it to ring any bells. “Well if the police can’t help, the Pack should,” I said. “We look after our children. This Tina should know that.”
“It’s a delicate issue,” Shannon said. “She’s an outcast.”
“Oh.” That was delicate. Tina had done something somewhere down the line to get herself kicked out of the Pack. It was different to my situation—I’d chosen to leave and therefore could choose to return. Tina didn’t have that choice. “Even so, when it’s a child involved… What did she do to get made outcast anyway?”
“She didn’t say and I didn’t ask. It wasn’t really relevant.”
“So will you take the case?”
“I shouldn’t.”
Which meant she would. “Well, I can ask around if you like,” I offered. “Vince and Joel might know something useful.”
“I’d appreciate it.” She smiled sweetly at me over her shoulder, a gesture belied by the tight set of her shoulders. “Although, if she’s been outcast a long time, people might not remember her.”
“Someone will.” I tapped my nails on the tabletop. There were all sorts of reasons a wolf might be made outcast, none of them pleasant. I suddenly felt bad for the missing girl, Molly.
Shannon dished up the stir-fry and joined me at the table. “It’s probably a good thing,” she said.
I looked up from a mouthful of mushrooms and frowned at her.
“Not the girl being missing,” she clarified. “Me taking on something new. There’s only so many nights you can spend tailing cheating husbands to strip clubs before you start to feel a bit sleazy.”
“Always good to challenge yourself,” I agreed. “I can’t wait to get out there on the streets and start dispensing justice.”
She laughed. “You’re going to be a community support officer. Don’t get overexcited.”
“Alright, so it’s not saving the world.” I rose to grab a bottle of white wine from the cupboard and poured us a glass each. “But it is making a difference and it’s more worthwhile than being a cashier in a tattoo parlor.”
“You loved working in Skin Deep back north,” she said, accepting her wine.
“I like working in Inked too. But...I don’t know, it just feels a bit pointless now.” I sipped at the crisp peachy wine and poked my noodles around my plate. “You help people, don’t you? You go on and complain about the sleazy husbands and benefit cheats, but you make a difference to people, don’t you? I don’t. I want to.”
“You make me sound like a superhero,” Shannon teased, but there was a hint of concern in her eyes.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. I just...I know you’re still upset about Adam. And I understand that. But I don’t want you running off and joining the police on some quest for revenge.”
“It’s not about that!” I paused and reconsidered, remembering the Alpha Humans symbol splashed on the wall at the scene of Adam’s murder. I couldn’t pretend that didn’t still haunt me, not to Shannon. “I just don’t want to waste my life,” I said finally. “I feel like I should be doing something more than I am.”
She reached across the table and laced her fingers with mine. “And I’m proud of you for doing it. I just worry about you.” She shrugged. “Silly, really, all things considered. You could snap me in half without breaking a sweat and I worry about you getting hurt by some homeless druggie.”
I raised her fingers to my lips and kissed them. “I’ll take care of me for you. Promise.” My wolf rumbled her agreement.
THREE
Inked was dead the next afternoon. For whatever reason, Tuesdays were always quiet. Lawrence was down in the basement tattooing a dragon onto a punk rocker’s back. The even buzz of the needles was just audible under the current of music pumping through the shop. Calvin combed through the magazines looking for fresh design ideas, while Kaye sat in her piercing booth at the back of the shop, hidden away behind a white curtain. I had no idea what she was doing back there, but it probably involved adjusting her bra straps. I was rearranging the various hoops and spikes in the display counter, shifting all the plain stainless steel jewelry to the back to show off the sparkly, gem-encrusted stuff.
“Ayla, you want to learn body piercing?” Calvin asked suddenly.
I glanced up. “You’ll show me?” I’d been strictly a cashier back at Skin Deep. At the time I’d longed to become a tattoo artist, but I had no artistic flare whatsoever. Stick men were about my level. Body piercing didn’t really require any creativity: you just shoved the hoop in the chosen hole.
“Kaye will.” Calvin’s blue eyes gleamed, as if he took pleasure in the grimace I couldn’t quite suppress. “Kaye, you’ll give Ayla a crash course, won’t you?”
Kaye peered out from behind her curtain. “Yeah, I suppose. If she really wants to know.”
“Why not?” I abandoned my glittery earrings to squeeze into the booth with Kaye. It was a small space, just big enough for the dentist-esque chair and cabinet of piercing paraphernalia kept there. Kaye frowned at me as I entered. “Hands where I can see them, Ayla.”
I obligingly gave her the finger. “Where do we start?”
She looked at me consideringly, eyes lingering on my lip piercing. “Where does that go when you shift?” she asked, sounding almost worried. “Does it fall out?”
“It stays in.” I toyed with the piercing, edgy under her sudden scrutiny. “Does it matter?”
She flipped her dark curls, a nervous gesture to match my own. “I never thought about it, really. In the books it always makes out that piercing is this big taboo for werewolves—that only the really kinky masochists get it done.”
“Maybe I am a kinky masochist,” I said. Kaye’s eyes widened and she sat down in her chair, putting a little distance between us.
Being this close to her wore at my temper. To my wolf, she smelled equally angry and nervous, a mix of cold sweat and hot adrenaline. It surprised me. I’d put her antagonism down to my sexuality more than my species, never figuring she was just plain afraid of wolves. It made me feel a little sorry for her and a little i
rritated. I was suddenly no longer interested in learning the ancient art of body modification.
I made a show of checking my watch. “Almost lunch time,” I announced. I poked my head round the curtain to catch Calvin’s eyes. “Is it okay if I go now? I’ve got to meet Vince.”
“Sure,” he said. “You can both go if you want. It’s like the Marie Celeste in here today.”
“Great.” Kaye barreled past me like she had a burr in her tail. “I’m meeting Gareth for lunch.” She flashed me a too-sweet smile. “I guess your girlfriend is too busy to meet you.”
My sympathy for her evaporated.
“Yeah, my girlfriend has a full-time job,” I said, pulling on my battered jacket. “I guess your boyfriend doesn’t?”
“He’s rich enough not to have to work. He’s a financial consultant.”
“No accounting for taste then.” It was a crap joke, but it let me get the last word in as I shot out the door before Kaye could fire anything back.
Although it was nearly midday, a thick mist filled the streets and the roads were slippery with black ice. It was one of the nastiest, longest winters I could remember. My breath fogged in the air and I tugged my coat tighter around myself. Vince was a sous-chef at the Tipsy Fox, a gastro pub in the city center. I was already daydreaming about steak sandwiches as I headed there. Maybe even a Scotch to chase the cold away.
The Tipsy Fox was nestled between an antiques shop and one of those fancy boutiques that sold frilly, impractical underwear. The smell of yeasty beer and steak and kidney pie greeted me as I pushed open the door and the mixed sounds of low chat and loud yelling hit my sensitive ears. The yelling was coming from the kitchen and I recognized Vince’s voice as the one doing the shouting.
I didn’t even pretend not to be nosey. Vince wasn’t a raise-your-voice type. I strolled to the bar and leaned over it, straining my ears to catch the words.
“–bloody zombies! It’s not fair, Greg, and I’m not putting up with it!” Vince sounded genuinely pissed. I heard metal slamming on metal, then a shimmying echo, like he’d thrown a pan across the kitchen.
