“Hey!” I turned to see what had caught his attention.
A beautiful antique sconce. Perhaps Victorian, from the style of its cover. A closer examination would reveal its origin. I couldn’t suppress a grin. It was about time he revealed a chink in his armor.
“Do you like Victorian antiques?”
He nodded faintly and moved on. Wow, I wish I had that kind of willpower.
I was about to follow when I heard the clerk in the front blurt, “I’m sorry, pal, but to buy back your watch you’ll have to pay $499.”
I angled myself so I could see the exchange without moving.
A man near the counter shook his finger and said in a slurred voice, “I’ll pay the $499—after I fuck yo mama.”
I ambled to a better location to get a look at the drunken satyr slumped against the counter.
The clerk, a wizard who appeared to be in his late forties, rolled his eyes. From behind me I heard Nick whisper with sarcasm, “These kinds of customers make a pawn shop owner’s day.”
The clerk frowned and glanced at his phone. “If you’re going to use that kind of language you need to leave.”
“I’ll leave all right.” Belch! “After your mama is good and ready.”
I tried to suppress a laugh. I’d met my share of crazies at The Bends, but this was a good one for the scrapbook of memories I kept in my head.
“This is my first satyr,” I whispered back. “First drunken satyr, that is. Wow, he’s got the goat legs and the human body—so that’s what that combo looks like.”
Nick’s eyebrows rose. “You mean you can’t tell he’s a shapeshifter?”
To my nose he smelled like a goat dunked in a barrel of bourbon. Low-quality bourbon at that. “What’s a shape-shifter supposed to smell like?”
“Well, to your nose, another shifter like you would smell like the form they’ve taken. But to me, a shapeshifter is boundless energy without form. To think that he can change into anything is mind-boggling.”
“He’s like me?”
Nick offered a small smile. “Oh, no. To my eyes you’re something entirely different.”
My body warmed from his words as the drunken satyr/shapeshifter continued his diatribe about the clerk’s mother. “She wouldn’t be proud of a useless son like you. So she’ll come to a real man like me.” He thumped his chest with his index finger hard enough for me to cringe. “And I’ll give it to her right.”
I covered my mouth to keep my giggles to a minimum. I’d take this guy over the harpy in a heartbeat.
I feigned a frown at Nick as he pulled out his phone. “Oh, come on. He just wants to fornicate with the clerk’s mom and not pay $499 to get his watch back.”
Nick rolled his eyes and said into the phone, “Hi, I’m at Earl’s Fine Antiques and I need a drunk-bus pickup for a shapeshifter.”
I faintly heard the voice over the phone saying she was with the Supernatural Municipal Group. They had a drunk bus? First I learned about a magical recession, and now about secret buses for drunken supernaturals. What a smart way to stay organized and keep drunken magical beings away from unsuspecting humans.
As Nick finished his call, I joked, “Do they have a holding center for crazy banshees too?”
He began to amble toward the front of the store. “Banshees are the one thing you don’t call for help about—unless you have a powerful warlock on speed dial.”
My lips formed a smirk. “Are you saying you can’t win a fight against one?”
“I can hold my own.” He offered one of his rare smiles. “But after encountering one a long time ago, even I know when I can get my ass kicked.”
“What happened?” I’d never seen a banshee before. Not that I wanted to meet one, but, hey, even a werewolf can find other supernatural creatures fascinating.
“Another time. I’m more worried about our friend here.”
The shapeshifter took a swig from his bottle, which was in a brown paper bag, no less. When I glanced his way, he looked me up and down and said, “Meow, my pretty.” His eyebrows moved suggestively.
I bit my lower lip to stifle a laugh. Then I said to Nick, “I’m going to wait outside for the transport.”
After five minutes, the drunk bus appeared. Not exactly what I would call a bus, per se, but a delivery van with a large logo on it: Linda Leeks French Breads. Was the Supernatural Municipal Group actually using a bread company as a front for its operations?
A gangly man stepped down from the driver’s seat. He wore a green jumpsuit with the bread company logo on his shoulder, and had beady eyes, and stubble on his chin. He stepped up to me and briefly sniffed. “Stay out of trouble tonight, Wolf.”
I crossed my arms. “Your pickup is inside, Warlock.” I had no idea if the man was a wizard or warlock, but the word felt appropriate. I could’ve said “jerk” or “asshole”—which was probably even more appropriate—but I wasn’t feeling that bold.
I followed him back inside, to see that the satyr had already left. In his place stood something else—a werewolf. The poor drunk shifter must’ve not only lost the ability to keep his mouth shut but I guess he was having trouble controlling his shape-shifting abilities too. What’s next? Puff the Magic Dragon? Wait, a drunk dragon? Not a good idea.
The character in question continued to slump against the counter. The bottle of bourbon lay outside its sack on the floor, empty and forgotten. The metamorphosis into his werewolf form, the very same one I’d take on tonight, was not yet complete. Instead, he stood there with clawed hands, long snout, and foul bourbon-laden breath. I shook my head while I assessed the scene.
“Mel, you can’t keep doing stuff like this,” said the guy in the green jumpsuit. “This is your fourth notice for public intoxication this month.”
“I’m busy right now, Mike.” He then issued a coughing snarl worthy of one of my intoxicated uncles. “This guy won’t buy my watch. That’s …” He searched for the word in his drunken haze. “Discrimination.”
Buy? I thought he wanted to buy it back.
The clerk rubbed his face with his hands. Nick leaned against a wall, amusement shining in his dark eyes.
“Look, Mel, it’s time to go. You’re usually so peaceful when I ask you to come down to the center. Let’s go.”
Mel snarled. I took a half step back as the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. How fast could a shifter fully complete his change? And was there really such a thing as a “peaceful” drunk shapeshifter?
Everyone stood still as Mel’s claws ground into the wood. Since my nose and eyes thought he was a true werewolf, my body reacted in turn. My fingers twitched. Deep within my belly the thirst remained, and I was eager to hunt. Eager to call Mel to my side. But this wasn’t the place, and the human side tried to quell the wolf that writhed under my skin. Then Mel jumped onto the counter. He continued to focus on Mike.
“Natalya.” A brief whisper from Nick. He’d watched me this whole time. He shook his head once. What had he seen me do?
A surge of power blossomed in Mike, and the clerk took a step back. From my position I couldn’t see any changes, or dancing light. All I heard was a hum in my ears that grew until it made me scrunch my forehead in annoyance. Ready to strike, Mike stood still. I glanced at Mel and made a subtle gesture.
“Come to the van, Mel. You shouldn’t stay here with these humans.”
Heads swiveled my way in shock. I purred, “You answer to the moon now—and to me. You will come with me to the van so that we may hunt.” I hadn’t known I could speak like this. I drew his gaze as I took a step back toward the door.
“Nat, what are you doing?” whispered Nick.
The change lingered on the surface of my skin as Mel perched, ready to pounce. I didn’t know how fast spellcasters like Mike were. But I suspected they needed to be quick on the draw to catch a crazed shapeshifter.
“Don’t come near me,” Mel growled at Mike. “I know what you warlocks do to people like me.” He blinked twice and shoo
k his head. Then he shifted his attention to me. “What are you?”
Who’d have thought our little exercise in restraint would take such an interesting turn?
“Mel, I’m like you. It’s time to go now.” When I said the words I couldn’t believe how authoritative I sounded. Only an alpha would dare to use such a commanding manner.
Mel slowly stepped off the counter. For each step I took out the door, he took one too. Just behind me, I heard Mike murmuring words. Suddenly, a veil of heavy magic flowed out like thin curtains in a summer breeze. I briefly closed my eyes as the sensation cascaded over my body. I wasn’t sure what Mike had done to us until a couple with their dog walked past us without freaking out.
Five more feet and I’d reach the van. Almost there.
“Get in the van and sit down.” He paused for a moment. Had I lost the edge I thought I had? I lifted my chin. No time to second-guess myself with pedestrians walking around. “Inside. Now.” I snarled for good measure.
Mel entered the van through the back and sat down quietly. Mike came up behind me and shut the doors. With a curt nod, he said, “Thanks, ma’am,” and pulled away.
I stood there for a few minutes trying to absorb what had happened. The other Natalya I knew would’ve just stood by and watched the whole event occur.
Nick walked over and touched my shoulder. “What you did was crazy. You should’ve let Mike take care of it.”
“I know. I guess I had to do something since he was in werewolf form.”
He nodded. “Mike’s pretty powerful. He could’ve handled it. You could’ve been hurt badly.”
The look of concern on his face made me feel guilty, but at the time it had seemed like the right thing to do.
Nick said, “Anyway, it’s time to leave. Even though I don’t think you learned your lesson.”
I shook my head with a snicker. “I don’t think I did either.”
“I need to grab something to eat. Are you hungry for lunch?”
“Yeah.” The scent of food along the street made me realize that I was, even though Aggie had made a generous breakfast that had nearly cleared out my fridge. “I need something substantial though.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything different.” He chuckled. “Do you mind if we make a stop at my place? I need to pick up something, and if we eat at Ralph’s, I can drop it off.”
I smiled at the great memories I had of Ralph’s. Most supernaturals knew about Ralph’s food cart. As a magical traveling cart, though, his shop tended to appear and disappear in various places. When I’d worked in New York, I used to visit his cart often for the werewolf specials. Not that the other awesome carts here in the city didn’t have their merits. By all means, like anyone who’d lived in New York City, I could appreciate a good cupcake, piece of pizza, or even a fresh gyro. They were also much easier to find with websites, and die-hard fans flocking to them. But there was just something about the taste of Ralph’s food.
“I can practically taste his meat sticks,” I said.
Nick nodded as we strolled back to the car. “My place is not too far from here. After that, I need to cast a spell to find Ralph’s cart.”
“I envy you spellcasting folks. Most of the time I had to rely on my nose to find him.”
“Yeah, I always make sure I catch him a few times a year too since I love the sandwiches.”
After a short ride, we pulled up to a street full of brownstones. “Nice neighborhood.”
“I’ve lived in this area for a few years now. I used to live in Long Island but the commute didn’t work out that well.”
“Long Island? That’s where Aggie’s family lives. Why did you live out there?”
“I used to have a job out there as a wizard’s apprentice.”
I scrunched my nose. “How many jobs have you had over the years?”
“More than I want to admit.”
We walked up to one of the buildings as Nick pulled out his keys. “The building is divided into a few studio units. I live in the one upstairs.”
“It’s nice and clean outside.”
He rubbed his fingertips against a set of metal keys. “You can wait in the car if you like.”
“Wait in the car? Why?” I’d seen guys’ apartments before and knew what to expect. It would probably be messy, with black jeans and T-shirts strewn everywhere.
“Well, your place is—more organized. And somewhat cleaner,” he said.
“Well, I am a chick. And I thought you liked a clean environment.”
“I do, but my hoarding problem isn’t as contained as yours.”
I scratched my forehead, slightly annoyed. “I have a younger brother. And I’ve smelled and seen worse things in his room. Matter of fact, he once left a pile of clothes on the floor so high I wonder to this day if someone hid Jimmy Hoffa’s body inside it.” My nose twitched from the memory. “Actually, come to think of it, it did smell like he hid a body in there. Anyway, just let me in. I need to use the ladies room.”
“Are you sure? This place is messy.”
I wanted to choke the guy. “Yes, I’m sure. You’re mysterious all the time, and it would be nice to see that you’re a normal human being like everyone else.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m normal.”
“Oh, c’mon. Have you ever had guests? Female guests?”
He didn’t answer my question as he opened the door and led me into the hallway. Something was up with Nick. The veil that prevented me from smelling his emotions withered away, leaving him exposed. His normally sweet scent of cinnamon had turned bitter, almost as if someone had burned popcorn. Was he anxious? Underneath that, something else lingered—his true scent, a subtle aftershave.
One of the other tenants opened the door to his unit, an elderly gentleman with his German shepherd. The dog tried to lick my hand, but I stuffed it into my pocket. Nick said, “Afternoon, Mr. Blacklowski.”
“Hey, Nicky.” He glanced my way with suspicion. “You have plans for Thanksgiving?” he asked.
“No, Sir.” As Nick tried to push me down the hall, I heard him say, “But I do plan to head out of town to visit family. Tell the missus I send my regrets.”
The elderly gentleman left with a gruff, “Suit yourself.”
I laughed. “What was that all about?”
“Ever since I moved in, the Blacklowskis have tried to hook me up with their daughter.”
“What, she’s not your type?”
“Well, I have nothing against witches, but this one is old enough to have seen the Pilgrims land on Plymouth Rock.”
At the doorway, he hesitated again.
“Oh, come on. I have to use the bathroom.” I reached for his keys. “Are you going to make me go find a public restroom?”
He shook his head and put the key in the lock. “This is the first time I’ve had company at my new place. It isn’t in the best shape today. Well, for the past couple of years, none of my apartments have been in the best shape.”
My bladder protested at the ongoing delay, so I jabbed him in the arm. “Enough of the small talk. I know this bothers you. I can sense your stress. But I promise I won’t say anything critical.” I made the gesture to zip my lips. “I promise like a good Russian Catholic girl.”
“You’re Catholic?”
“Not really, but I thought it would help you open the door faster.”
Reluctantly, he turned the key and opened the door slightly. When I peered into the apartment behind him, I thought I’d drop where I stood. My mouth gaped and I tried to keep words from spilling forth.
Beyond the doorway lay an apartment filled to the hilt with stuff. There was so much, I couldn’t fathom how he managed to store it all inside the small space. From one side of the room to the other, there was only a narrow path to walk through the junk. Broomsticks, wands, a tire inflator, and a pile of books lay in one pile. In another, I spied mounds of teapots, boxes of teabags, and a large serving tray.
Nothing smelled dirty. Even with the pre
carious heap of watches on an antique old dresser, the desk covered in papers, and an overwhelmed coat rack. I peered at an ornate mahogany coffee table, barely visible under the folds of a few dark blue quilts. Engravings, in some language I didn’t know, had been carved into the sides. How beautiful. Too bad he covered it up. Out of all the things he had, what I didn’t see were old containers with food or dust. Matter of fact, it was clean chaos, if one could call something that.
I didn’t speak as Nick led me inside. What could I say without hurting his feelings? He seemed ready to blurt out apologies, but he busied himself by heading to the back of the apartment. I followed him until I spotted the door to the bathroom.
How can he possibly live like this? But I knew the answer to my question. This was exactly like my own existence—but in a more extreme form.
With my foot, I shoved a box of worn leather hats to the side and pushed the door open. I prayed the room was free of junk and clean. Hopefully I’d only find the items one usually sees in a man’s bathroom. To my relief, the only clutter in his bathroom was a T-shirt on the floor. On the sink sat the usual manly stuff: shaving cream, cologne, and an aftershave bottle. The pleasant scent of his aftershave drew my nose. So that’s what I smelled. Nick must wear it every day. Definitely an enjoyable scent.
I didn’t linger at the sink due to the incessant cries of my bladder. I raised the lid of the toilet and leapt back as the water gurgled.
“Oh, shit!” I squealed. A growl emerged from my throat when the water stirred again. There was something living inside Nick’s toilet.
I heard footsteps coming to the door. “You okay, Nat?”
“The water in your toilet is moving.”
“Oh, you found my pet. I was looking for her and she wasn’t in her aquarium.”
I used my heel to lower the lid and I sat on it to hold it closed. “So she hangs out in here? You let her do this? What is she?”
“She’s a water sprite. I used to have a familiar, but keeping a regular animal isn’t easy with all this stuff in my apartment.”
So why couldn’t he lock the lid or something? “You do realize toilet water isn’t the most sanitary thing, don’t you?”
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