The scent led us to a small outcropping of rocks and fallen trees with a clear eyeline to the parking lot and the Fiesta, along with the broken path in and out, but that offered good cover for anything hiding. And waiting there was a small, red plastic bucket, the kind that little kids played with at the beach. There was even a price tag still hanging off the handle. We both stared. Then I reached over and grabbed it. There was something inside—a sealed gallon-size Ziploc bag, with some light blue fabric inside. I opened the bag carefully and withdrew a woman’s button-up shirt. I leaned down and let Suze shove her eager black nose into the folds of the shirt. She inhaled deeply, and her tail whipped suddenly in surprise.
Something moved near us, a flash of black, and we both jumped apart, me swinging the gun desperately and her baring her sharp teeth. A crow scolded us loudly from a tree, spreading its black wings and cawing. I shuddered with relief, but that was definitely enough of a reminder. Stuffing everything back into the bucket, I slung it over my arm, and we hightailed it back to the car.
Even in the long and lengthening shadows, the Fiesta was in bad shape. The front bumper hung down, barely still attached, while the hood was crumpled back. My left headlight was completely shattered, and the right one drooped drunkenly. The engine continued to groan dangerously, and I could smell burned oil in the air.
However, it didn’t even merit discussion, because this was the last place in the world that I was willing to wait for a tow truck. The Fiesta was still running, and I needed to try to limp it home. I reached forward and tapped on my hazard lights (in small mercies, the Fiesta’s back end was still completely intact), tucked the deployed air bag as much out of the way as possible, then carefully let off the emergency brake, massaged the clutch, and eased onto the accelerator. The sounds that the engine made were horrible, but the car faithfully responded and rolled forward. “I’m sorry, old girl,” I said, patting the dash and feeling guilt ripple through me. “You’re a good car, and you don’t deserve this. You deserve a ride of honor on a flatbed truck straight to the nearest mechanic.”
In the passenger seat, Suze had returned to human form and was busily yanking clothing back on at near-warp speed. It was, after all, still the middle of November. “Stop anthropomorphizing your car, Fort,” she grumbled, struggling into her shirt.
“The Fiesta saved us from a bear attack today,” I said severely. “You will never bad-mouth this car again.”
“Fine.” She finally got the hem of her shirt pulled all the way down, and I glanced over. I couldn’t help but notice that she had not bothered to put on her underwear, which was still lying on the floor of the passenger seat. After noting that small, yet salient fact, I forced my brain back on target.
“What did you smell on that shirt, Suze?” I asked. “I know that way you flip your tail. It was something important.”
Leaning down, she started yanking on her socks as the Fiesta finally made it back to the main road, and I tentatively accelerated to fifteen miles per hour. “That was Dahlia’s shirt,” she grunted as she started putting her shoes back on. “And thanks to that plastic bag, all it was going to ever smell like was Dahlia. That bucket was new, too new to pick up any defining house smells or anything other than what was probably a CVS and the fifty people who likely handled it there.”
“Frame job,” I said, the pieces coming together. “Someone is setting Dahlia up to take the fall for killing the karhu.”
“We were meant to find that knife in Dahlia’s house,” Suze agreed. “Wasn’t Dahlia. Probably wasn’t even Ilona. Someone stuck that knife there for us to find.” She started wiggling into her sweater. “How much stronger is your sister’s nose than yours?”
“What?” I eased the Fiesta onto Route 147, creeping along and watching as other cars passed me, their drivers shooting incredulous looks at us.
“You smelled the blood on that knife when I couldn’t pick up anything except the diapers. It was put there for a vampire to find. Now, Chivalry is mourning his dead wife. Usually he’s the one who would investigate a murder in this territory. But he can’t right now—that leaves you or Prudence.”
I followed where she was going, slapping my forehead with one hand. “Someone killed Matias now for a reason. If Prudence was investigating, she would’ve found that knife and just killed Dahlia and Ilona on the assumption that one of them was the murderer!”
“Exactly. But Prudence didn’t get the job—you did. And you found the knife, but you didn’t point to a suspect.”
“Which must’ve completely frazzled the person doing this setup, since they must’ve assumed that we missed the knife. Until we went to the funeral today and told one of the metsän kunigas that we had found it.”
“That same guy who seemed awfully fixated on us checking out the woods today.”
“Gil,” I said grimly. I was really looking forward to shooting him. “I thought I saw a pair of balls on that bear.”
But Suze shook her head. “That wasn’t Gil that attacked us. I’ve gotten a few good, close whiffs whenever we talked to him, and that wasn’t him.”
“So we’ve got more than one—shit!”
The Fiesta’s horrible rattles had suddenly gotten much louder, and the heat sensor had just whipped right up to the highest possible marking. It was hard to tell in the dark, with only one barely functioning headlight, but I realized that there was smoke billowing out of what was left of my hood.
I pulled the Fiesta hard into the breakdown lane and tumbled out of the car. The smoke was now dense and black, billowing out of the front as I scrambled out, ran to my trunk, and started hunting for my fire extinguisher. On the other side, Suze was also out, and she set to work immediately, grabbing stuff out of the car (starting first with the duffel bag that contained the Ithaca and the Colt) and tossing it into the grass, well away from the Fiesta. Everything in the trunk was still all tumbled around from the bear-ramming impact, and everything that wasn’t the extinguisher I threw out over my shoulder. Finally I laid my hand on that blessed red canister, and ran back to the front of the Fiesta. Flames were licking out from it now, and the heat was incredible. With my hood already pushed back from the crash, I just aimed the nozzle at the engine and deployed.
There was a tiny hiss, and about a teaspoon of foam emerged. I stood there, stunned, for a second. The extinguisher had been in the car when I bought it, and had probably been waiting twenty years for its heroic moment to arrive—and now had completely failed.
Suze grabbed my arm and yanked me backward as the fire spread, until we were standing on the dead grass beside the road, surrounded by the pile of all the stuff that she’d pulled out of the car. She had her phone against her ear and was discussing the situation with the fire department, but I knew that they weren’t going to get here in time, and there was nothing to do but watch as my faithful Ford Fiesta died in a pyre.
* * *
Hours later, after talking to the fire department, and the police department, and after watching the steaming remains of the Fiesta be hauled away to the dump, then waiting for Dan to drive over and pick us up, I lay prone on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling and mourning my car. The police had definitely taken notice of the crumpled front end. We’d explained by lying, claiming that we’d hit a deer near the state park area, and after the deer had run off into the woods, we’d tried to limp the car home.
My hair was still wet—it had taken two straight shampoos in the shower to get rid of the scent of burning metal, plastic, rubber, and oil. I’d thrown my clothing and Suze’s into the wash along with a double dose of detergent, and was hoping that it took care of the odor. I heard the pipes stop rattling—Suzume must’ve finally finished with her own shower.
There was a scuffing at the door, and I was sitting and aiming the Colt all in one motion. I waited, frozen, as the door opened to reveal Dan. He glanced at the gun I was currently pointing at him, and raised his eyebrows. I tucked it back onto the coffee table, where it sat next to the Ithaca. Bot
h were fully loaded.
“I just checked on your laundry,” Dan said. “All done, and the worst of the funk is out. I tossed everything into the dryer, so Suze will at least have something to wear tomorrow when you guys head out.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Listen, some bears might come and try to murder us in the night, so you might want to go crash at Jaison’s.”
Dan looked remarkably calm about my statement, and simply crossed over to the fridge to take out the ice cream. He set it on the counter, then removed two bowls and commenced scooping. “Fort,” he said, “firstly, I knew that rooming with you was going to entail a certain level of being in the shit.”
“You did?”
He paused in the act of scooping ice cream, and gave me a very level stare. “Your last roommate got murdered, Fort. Exactly how dumb do you think I am?”
“Sorry,” I apologized meekly. “Continue.”
“Like I said, I knew this kind of thing might come up. At least you wash your dishes and clean the bathroom when it’s your week, so it’s not the end of the world. And as for Jaison, the guy lives with his grandma. That’s not a morning-after walk of shame that I want to experience.”
I winced, then nodded in understanding, and watched as my roommate re-covered the ice cream and put it away. “I’m sorry your car died,” Dan said, and handed me one of the bowls.
“It was a really good car.” Ice cream seemed small solace for losing my car, but it was certainly better than nothing. I ate a bite.
Dan paused, and seemed to be considering my statement.
“It was,” I defended. “It rammed a fully grown werebear in defense of our lives.”
“At least it died in battle, then,” Dan noted. “Gloriously, even. And then got a full Viking funeral.”
“There is that,” I acknowledged.
Suze walked into the room. Her hair was still wet from the shower, and she was wearing my Doctor Who T-shirt, which hit her around midthigh, and apparently nothing else. I looked at her and blinked a few times, feeling my brain shudder to a full stop. It completely tented her in a swath of Dalek-emblazoned fabric, covering her arms down to the elbow, and I knew that logically I’d seen her in outfits that showed more skin (and, technically, that I’d also actually seen her naked multiple times pre- and post-shifting), but somehow this just seemed naked-er. And really sexy.
“So, what are we talking about?” she asked.
“How I’m going straight to bed, and you kids have fun catching a killer tomorrow,” Dan said, clearly able to read a room. He grabbed his ice cream and retreated.
“Watch out for bear assassins climbing up the fire escape,” Suze called after him, and he gave a wave of acknowledgment before closing his door firmly behind him. She looked over at me and gave a small smile. “Subtle of him.”
“Screw subtle—he just won best roommate of the year,” I said, watching her closely.
At that, she grinned widely, and sauntered over to the couch before tucking in beside me comfortably and reaching over to confiscate my ice cream. I let her have it, enjoying the feeling of her soft body pressed against my side. Until that moment, I’d felt ready to conk out and sleep for a week, but with her here, I decided that plan could wait a bit.
“So, are we all set for tomorrow?” she asked, snuggling close and spooning some ice cream into her mouth.
I watched as she swiped her tongue over her bottom lip. “We catch a few hours of sleep, then wait until Kivela Mutual Insurance is open for the day. We head down there and corner Gil at work, with lots of superior firepower, and beat a confession out of him,” I recited, then paused. “Not that I want to move right now, or possibly ever again, but are you sure it’s not a good idea to do it tonight?”
She shook her head, her wet hair flicking me with water droplets. “He sent that bear after us, but right now he doesn’t know that we know he’s trying to frame Dahlia, so he won’t be trying to run. We wait, and then we can get him when we’re surrounded by other bears, rather than at his house where we won’t have backup.”
I nodded. “Okay, seems like it would work.” I looked down at her, feeling my pulse pound in my ears, then said slowly, feeling the heaviness of the possibilities in the room, “So now we just go to sleep.”
Suzume’s eyelids dropped down slowly, nearly shutting, and she gave a very slow nod. “That’s the plan.” Her voice was low and throaty. She stood up smoothly, then handed me back the now-empty bowl. “Guess we should head to bed, then.” She turned and strolled into my bedroom. I stared for a long second, then hurried to rinse out the bowl and set it in the drying rack. I ran my hands over my hair, wishing that it wasn’t drying in weird little shapes and cowlicks, but definitely not willing to make a pit stop in the bathroom to make a styling attempt. I breathed experimentally into my palm, but all I could smell was chocolate ice cream, which I believed would count rather firmly in my favor. I carefully straightened my T-shirt and adjusted my sweatpants, and followed Suze into my bedroom.
She was lying naked on my bed.
Well, naked except for her fur. The black fox wagged the snow-white tip of her tail in greeting.
I couldn’t help but laugh at the foxy look of amusement on her face. I walked over and leaned down to rub the soft fur behind her ears, watching as her fluffy tail twitched with enjoyment.
“Trickster,” I whispered affectionately, then turned off the light and slid under the covers. After a moment, I felt her get up, turn around a few times, then settle down again, this time with her furry body pressed against my arm. In the soft glow coming through my window from the streetlights, I could see the prick of her furry ears and the glint of her eyes, and I knew that she would be on guard in case bear assassins actually did break through the door. Feeling safe and comforted, I slipped into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter 8
By seven in the morning, Suze and I were both dressed, fed, and engaged in the serious business of figuring out exactly what the line was between concealing weapons in winter clothing yet also keeping them accessible. Parkas were turning out to be problematic, so I’d had to break out my zip-up hoodie. It had enough bagginess and drape to conceal the Colt when I wore it in a belt holster, but it also was easier to flip up and maneuver than my parka. For the Ithaca, I’d been a bit flummoxed, until Suze told me to just calm down and stuff it in my laptop bag. Well, actually she’d used the term man purse, but the outcome was the same.
As for Suze, she’d turned out to have an impressive array of knife sheaths in her car, which she could strap to her forearms, lower legs, and various other spots in addition to the traditional ones at her waist, or the near-scabbard that she strapped to her leg to contain the twelve-inch single-edged terror that was Arlene. Her fox tricks would enable her to walk around without anyone suspecting her of being a one-woman alternative to a Cuisinart, but the sleeves on her corded sweater from yesterday had been a little too tight for the fast access to all of her knives that she apparently preferred, so I’d lent her one of my button-down flannel shirts. When I’d asked whether she’d be cold, since after all it was still November, and she only had a long-sleeved cotton shirt under the flannel, she just shook her head and looked amused, commenting that any woman who wore evening attire on New Year’s Eve got used to being chilly for the sake of fashion, and that if she got really uncomfortable, she could at least stab someone to make herself feel better.
I’d just tucked the last few boxes of extra ammo into my laptop case (which had not been what I’d had in mind when I purchased it, but I was suddenly appreciating its roomy and convenient pockets in a whole new way) when Suze’s phone rang. She looked down at the number, raised her eyebrows, and handed it to me.
It was a Newport area code, and I flipped it open. “Hello?”
“Good, Fortitude, I was hoping I’d reach you at this number.” Loren Noka’s voice echoed in my ear, and she sounded relieved. “You aren’t picking up your phone”—the phone I had destroyed the other day, I suddenly
remembered—“and the metsän kunigas just called in an emergency.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, my heartbeat picking up significantly. Maybe Gil Kivela had figured out that we were on his trail and had made a break for it.
“An early-morning employee at Kivela Mutual Insurance found the body of a young man in their office. It’s one of the bears, and they think it looks like the same type of attack that their karhu suffered.”
“Give me the address, Loren,” I said, grabbing my laptop bag and heading for the door, Suze following in my wake. “We’ll be heading over there immediately.” I rattled off the address to Suze as we pounded down the stairs—she had an incredible memory for those kinds of things, and ended the call to Loren.
“Why would Gil Kivela kill again?” I asked Suze as we jumped into her Audi Coupe. I missed the Fiesta almost viscerally as I tucked my laptop bag at my feet. There was little that the Fiesta could boast, but at least it had had four doors and a sense of scruffy comfort. The interior of Suze’s car was nothing but immaculate leather, and I was terrified to so much as think of bringing a soda into it.
It was also an automatic. As Suze merged into traffic and began an extremely aggressive style of driving, I couldn’t help but think about how much better her gas mileage would’ve been with a manual transmission.
Meanwhile, Suzume was actually answering my question. “Maybe the kid got close and saw something Gil didn’t want him to see. Maybe he was actually involved, and got scared, and Gil had to eliminate him. But after what happened yesterday, I can tell you what I’m sure we’ll find.” She looked over at me as she merged across two lanes of traffic with a single turn-signal. “Something of Dahlia’s.”
“You think he’ll still be trying to pin this on her?” I asked, one hand automatically wrapping itself around the “oh shit” handle of the car as Suze blew completely through a red light.
“With a second body on the ground? I’d say he’s pretty committed.” Suze’s speedometer was flirting with ninety, and I decided to let her concentrate on driving.
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