We didn’t discuss their lateness, but I saw Sheila’s growing anxiety about Tim. She glanced up and down the street several times, and checked her cell phone in a way meant to be casual. Nonetheless, she forced a bright smile and announced she was going to order food, because none of us had the presence of mind to buy anything for dinner while we were at the grocery store. She disappeared into the kitchen to find the phone number for a local pizza place.
Carson woke up somewhere between the grocery store and the grange, so he practiced sitting up for a while until his stomach and back muscles were so tired he folded over like a taco. I put him on his stomach and he rolled this way and that, looking around the room for fun things to put into his mouth. Like pieces of leaves, a paper clip, and part of a potato chip, all of which I had to forcibly remove.
The pizza and doughknots—divine little bits of pizza dough coated in butter, garlic, and parmesan cheese—arrived before the rest of our team, a fact we did not discuss via tacit agreement. Instead, I, for one, focused on stuffing myself with pizza: sourdough crust, tons of vegetables, sesame seeds…couldn’t get this kind of pizza in Greybull, I was sure. I chalked it up mentally as another reason to use the next time Eliza brought up the joys of Wyoming and why Carson needed to live with the pack.
“What is it, Jules?” asked Sheila, and I realized with a start I’d been staring off into space with a piece of pizza half-raised to my mouth.
“Nothing,” I said and quickly took a bite. I had been thinking about how horrid I would feel as a dark moon wolf in pack territory. How extraneous I’d be. Even more so than now, even though of course I’d been thinking all day if I were a real Were, I’d be out there helping Tim and Eliza. What would it be like to be a Werewolf? I glanced surreptitiously at Newt, who always knew he had abilities unmatched by humans, who grew up in a family of Salamanders, who probably took his powers for granted. And Sheila, only twelve when her granny shared knowledge of her gifts.
Ah well. At least I’d been the one to end our Salamander pursuit, albeit through an inelegant method. Mere human that I was.
Newt turned his head and opened his mouth as if to speak. The front door opened with a bang and we all jumped, me almost choking as I swallowed a bit of crust. Sheila leapt to her feet and ran to throw her arms around Tim, who preceded Eliza into the house.
Newt shrugged and completed his sentence. “They’re back.”
Tim’s nostrils flared and the mild mask dropped off his face. “What happened? You were attacked?”
I rose, dusting off my hands on my jeans. “We’re okay. We met up with the Salamanders while driving.”
“Newt?” Tim’s voice sounded just short of a barked command.
Newt straightened in his chair. “Three ’Manders followed us in a silver sedan. They tried to cause our car to overheat and burn—it’s easy to fling heat from a distance, but harder to start a fire without throwing the flames physically from your hand, not very subtle in the middle of town. Anyway, I kept the car safe, absorbed the heat and sank what I couldn’t hold into the ground, while Sheila engaged in ‘evasive maneuvers.’ Julie saved us by throwing Sheila’s wheel lock at their windshield at a stoplight. We drove a grid around the townhouse, but didn’t find them. Not sure if they know where we are or if they happened upon us by coincidence while driving.”
Eliza stood stock-still as she absorbed the news. “No one hurt?”
I told her we were all fine, but my assurances didn’t seem to affect the tension I saw pulling tight around her body.
“What about the rogue Were? Did you find him? Are you guys okay? You were gone a long time.” I questioned Tim and Eliza, neither of whom seemed injured. Tim gave me a smile around Sheila’s head, still pressed into him.
Eliza said, “We’re fine,” without meeting my eyes. Instead, she bee-lined for the pizza and helped herself to a piece with pepperoni and mushrooms. Bolting half of it in the space of a few seconds, she poured a glass of water and drained that. Only after sating herself slightly did she sit down, choosing a chair around the kitchen table with her back to the wall. She helped herself to more pizza.
Tim squeezed Sheila one last time then gently set her aside, though he kept one hand in his.
“Pizza?” he said as if it were a question, though I’m not sure why, since we all knew his super Were senses could have told us every detail of what was on the table.
I gave Carson a few more rice puffs to practice mouthing as he sat at the high chair and helped myself to another doughknot in anticipation of the Were team’s report.
“So what’s your news? Did you find the Were?” I asked again.
Tim shook his head, mouth full of pizza then swallowed. “No. I went downstream for several miles, checked both banks, but found no trace of the rogue Were. Not sure if he is particularly good at covering his tracks or if he’d gone another direction.” He glanced at Eliza, busying with eating, and continued. “Eliza took the upstream direction, but says she didn’t find him either.”
Surely, I imagined that faint emphasis.
Newt pursed his lips thoughtfully and glanced around the table.
“Well,” he said brightly, after a moment. “What’s on the agenda for this evening, then? I’ll take first watch.”
“No, I’ll do it.” Eliza pushed back from the table. “I can’t relax right now and my sense of smell is better.”
I didn’t know if Eliza actually decided to accept Newt or if she was just too stressed to bother, but her last comment didn’t even sound like a pointed insult to our Salamander.
Without waiting for anyone’s acknowledgement, Eliza cracked open the back door, wreathed herself in shadows, and slunk out the door in her buff-colored fur.
“I hope the neighbors don’t see her,” I said, noting darkness hadn’t quite fallen yet. Tim quirked an eyebrow at me and I remembered Eliza could call on the moon for concealment. Super Were abilities again. I huffed a small breath.
I left a half-eaten piece of pizza on my plate, suddenly not as hungry. Carson rubbed his eyes even with his late nap; we’d had a rough few days. Grateful to have something to do and some reason to escape the group, I stood and announced, “I’m going to put Carson to bed.”
“Julie.” Tim’s voice commanded my instant attention, even though I wanted nothing more than to flee all of this for a short while and pretend things were somewhat normal while I tended to my baby. He waited for me to look at him before continuing. “Do you trust Eliza?”
“What? Yes. Yes, of course.” I looked at Sheila for agreement. After a moment, Sheila nodded, but then spoke, words tripping over her tongue.
“She has been acting awfully strange. Withdrawn. Angry. Tense.”
“Oh yeah? Well, I feel withdrawn, angry, and tense,” I said. Sheila made a shushing motion with her hands and I dropped my voice, conscious Eliza might be right outside. “Do you trust me?”
Tim sighed and I thought he was going to drop the subject. Instead, he leaned forward. The intensity of his presence made the hairs on my arms and neck raise, but I stubbornly ignored the prickles. “Eliza’s the strongest full moon in her pack, right?”
“Right. And?”
“Except for Carson.”
I opened my mouth to point out Carson wasn’t exactly part of her pack, then realized the implications of his observation. “You think Eliza’s jealous of Carson? Threatened by Carson?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Tim said. “Just pointing out possibilities.”
“So what, you think Eliza wants Carson to be killed?” My voice rose again, but I didn’t care. “She saved his life two months ago in Las Vegas. If she’d wanted him dead, he’d be dead. We’d all be dead. She saved your life, Tim.”
Tim spread his hands. “I don’t have any answers, Julie. Just asking questions.”
“Mac was her best friend—practically her brother and Carson is his baby and part of her pack.” I shook my head as Sheila started to say something. “I know I keep sayi
ng Carson and I aren’t exactly pack, but that’s just the point. I say it because Eliza truly believes we are—in her mind, we’re part of her pack and that’s half the reason she wants to protect us. You know how she is. Loyal. Completely and utterly. She would never…” I didn’t even know how to finish the sentence.
“I agree with you, Julie,” said Newt, startling me as I’d nearly forgotten his presence. “Eliza’s loyal to a fault, both to you and to her pack, and I don’t think she’d ever betray you or Carson. Certainly not by allying herself with a group of goddamned firebugs.” I reflexively returned Newt’s smile.
“But…” The note of humor dropped from his voice. “Eliza is lying.”
Tim sighed and dropped his head into his hands. “I know.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Scent.”
“You can tell she’s lying by scent?” Jesus Christ, I didn’t know if that made me want to be a Were even more or run away screaming from all my paranormal friends. I frantically searched my mind for anything I might have lied about in the past, but stopped myself with an internal shrug.
“Best lie detectors ever.” Tim tapped his nose and barred his teeth in a smile.
“I don’t need to have a Were’s sense of smell. I can just tell. She’s lying about something.” Newt looked back and forth between Sheila and me. “You two know her. Can’t you tell she’s lying?”
Surrendering, I sank back into my chair and wondered aloud, “But lying about what? And why?”
We all sat there for a minute, thinking about Eliza’s recent behavior.
I said. “When she got here, she seemed really tense and worried, but that seemed normal. I mean, normal given the circumstances. Then, when she heard we were going to work with a Salamander—no offense, Newt—she was angry. After we were at the site and smelled them and saw what they’d done, it got worse. I think she realized how close it was. That Carson and I really almost died.” I cleared my throat. “When she scented the Were, she just took off. She was furious, I think. Really upset.”
Sheila said, “Should we just ask her?” When Tim and I looked at her, she elaborated. “Let’s just tell her we know she’s lying. Tim, she must know you, at least, can tell for sure. Threaten to send her back to Greybull if she won’t come clean.”
When I made a surprised noise, Sheila said, “Well, Tim is the leader of this investigation. If he says she goes, she goes. Right?”
“Right.” Tim’s voice was flat, as if he didn’t like to imagine that scene any more than I.
“My brain hurts,” I said.
“Not to mention your lungs, hey Jules? You sound kind of wheezy.”
“Gee, thanks.” I left the table and picked up Carson. Sheila was right; I needed my inhalers. “Carson needs to sleep. Let me know if you paranormal superbeings figure things out while the human puts Carson to bed.”
Chapter Eight
I must have been more tired than I thought, because I accidentally fell asleep with Carson and didn’t wake up until two a.m. when he started crying. I rolled over and nursed him, then managed to get out of my clothes and into pajamas before falling back into bed. I flirted with the idea of getting up to brush my teeth, but couldn’t find the motivation. Carson roused briefly a few more times in the night and I dealt with him in a half-awake trance. At five a.m. I looked at the clock and thought, “Please, just sleep until six, please pretty please.” Imagine my surprise when I opened my eyes next and the clock read eight thirty. Carson stretched out next to me, pacifier next to his cheek, his tummy rising with the sweet and even deep breaths of sleep. An altogether peaceful picture. I stretched for a while, listened to the throaty rasps of a scrub jay outside the window, and finally sat up.
Carson opened his eyes and smiled at me, then reached up into his own little stretch. After nursing him, changing his diaper, and dressing him in his newly-bought-and-freshly-washed-thanks-to-Sheila clothes, I pulled on my jeans and a clean t-shirt, and headed downstairs.
The living room was quiet, but I found Sheila in the kitchen, sipping a mug of tea and reading some abstruse academic article about feminist rhetorical strategies. That was Sheila: the world in chaos with rogue paranormal beings running around trying to kill us, but if she had a few free minutes, she’d find something to read.
“Hey, sunshine, you slept in.” Sheila smiled at me, made a funny face at Carson, and got me a cup of coffee without asking. That’s why she’s my best friend.
“I know. Can you believe it?”
Sheila moved on to making Carson rice cereal and asked permission before mashing him a bit of banana. I devoted myself to coffee before anything else.
“Where is everyone?”
“Newt’s on the front steps with a phone call to his master. Tim’s sleeping, after taking most of the night on watch. Eliza went for a run.”
“Is she still…acting strange?”
“Mostly quiet. The same, I guess.”
As if summoned by her words, Eliza opened the back door and stepped into the kitchen. She wore running shorts and a blue t-shirt, with her fawn-brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She gave a short smile as a hello and pulled up the neck of her shirt to mop sweat off her face. Breathing deeply—though not seeming winded—she tilted her head from side to side, rolled her shoulders, and dropped gracefully into a kitchen chair, only to bound up again and get a glass of water. Settling down for the second time, she drained the glass and finally said, “Morning.”
“Good morning. Did you have a nice run?” I asked, even though I personally thought the words “nice” and “run” should never be used together. Ever.
“Yes. Beautiful around here.”
Sheila nodded. “In southern Orgeon, we can’t complain about the scenery or the climate, that’s for sure. In fact, when I was interviewing for the job at the university and heard about the low salaries, people kept telling me, ‘But the scenery’s worth twenty thousand dollars a year.’ ” Her voice aptly mimicked the naïve enthusiasm of established faculty who didn’t need to worry about mortgage payments or student loans.
I snorted, Eliza grinned at me in return, and for a moment, things seemed almost normal.
The rapport broke as a phone rang in the living room.
“That’s my cell,” said Eliza, a note of puzzlement in her voice. I watched as she crossed into the other room to pick up her phone from the coffee table. She glanced at it and her mouth set into an expressionless line as she registered the caller. After a moment’s hesitation, she answered the call with a jab of the finger.
“Yes?”
I looked at Sheila, surprised. If Eliza answered me with that tone, I thought I might hang up. Sheila made an I-don’t-know expression. We both dropped any pretense of not listening.
“Uh-huh. I’m busy, you know.” Eliza turned her back to the kitchen. “We discussed that. I don’t have anything more to say.” After another moment. “This is pointless, okay? Please don’t call again. Just move on. I wish you well.” She disconnected and looked at her phone for a second, before she placed it down and walked back to the kitchen.
“Who was that?” I asked, even though I could tell by her scowl she didn’t want to talk about it.
Eliza moved to the cabinet to get a bowl for cereal. I watched her sleek ponytail twitch with her abrupt movements. “Just someone I dated for a while who has a hard time understanding ‘no.’ ”
“Ah-ha.” I hoped some light-natured teasing might get us back to our moment of ease. “Who’s the unlucky guy?”
Eliza set down the cereal box with a thump and Sheila raised one hand as if that were supposed to mean something to me.
“The unlucky girl,” Eliza said, “is a friend of a friend from a pack in southern Wyoming near Rock Springs. It turns out she’s not my type.”
“Oh,” I said, then stopped, utterly blank about what to say next.
“Excuse me, I’m taking my cereal out on the porch.”
As the kitchen door closed b
ehind her, I turned on Sheila.
“What the hell? Did you know Eliza was a lesbian?”
“Yes, of course. How did you not know?”
“What, I’m supposed to be able to tell? To just know without her mentioning it?”
“No.” Sheila’s eyes flashed. “I’m just surprised you never even thought to ask about her love life before. It’s not something she hides, Jules. She’s private, but she talks when her friends ask her normal questions.”
“Shit.” I rubbed my forehead. Without prompting, Sheila got up and poured me more coffee. “Shit. I can’t believe she and I never talked about any of that—about relationships at all. I just assumed…shit. And now she probably thinks I’m some kind of obnoxious heterosexual, with my heterosexist assumptions, or that I have some kind of problem with the fact she’s gay, or…I was just surprised.”
“Shit,” I said, again. “I am the worst friend ever. Sheila, I am a horrible, horrible friend! I never even asked Eliza if she was dating anybody! I am a lousy, rotten, self-preoccupied friend and Eliza is probably mad at me and has now realized I’m an awful friend.”
“Jules. Shut up.” Sheila reached across the table and cuffed me on the arm. “Now you’re being a selfish, preoccupied friend. Sitting here worried about whether or not you’re a good friend when Eliza is out there.” She pointed at the door. “Go. Go talk to her and clear it up. I’ll stay with Carson.”
“Shit,” I said once more to just myself this time. “You’re right.”
I downed half my coffee for fortitude, ignoring the slight burn in my mouth. After reflecting, I also prepared a mug for Eliza—with cream and sugar the way she liked, although I cringed a bit—and hoisted the mug as a peace offering.
She sat on a folding camp chair at the end of the back patio. I held out the mug to her and she took it, blowing on the coffee and sipping before setting it on the ground.
“I’m an idiot,” I said, pulling another chair up. “I can’t believe I never asked about your love life. I don’t care, you know. I mean, it doesn’t bother me that you’re a lesbian.”
Eliza quirked her mouth. “Some of your best friends are lesbians?”
Waxing Moon Page 8
