Lupine

by Hanleigh Bradley

  Reaching Anthony’s, Rehan opens the door for us. Anyone looking would think he’s the perfect gentleman…

  “Thanks,” I mutter.

  Jessie, the pizza delivery guy, is behind the counter.

  “Alright Lupine,” he says with a wave. “You could have called. I’d have delivered.”

  “Thanks Jessie. I just wanted to get out. Jacqueline has got the kids baking.”

  “Oh, fun.”

  “I’m not sure I’d go that far,” I tell him. “The kitchen is a disaster zone.”

  Jessie eyes the guys curiously, although I do notice that he hasn’t quite met any of their eyes. Apparently, I’m the only one stupid enough to speak my mind with them.

  “What can I get you anyway?” he asks, his eyes focussed solely on me.

  “You’re all going to join us, aren’t you?” Amon asks the six men behind me.

  Counting to five, I tell myself there’s not much I can do about it. If they come over, I’ll just have to start a leave your guns at home policy… It’s almost laughable. The orphanage is a gun free zone. I shouldn’t even have to say that. It should be a bloody given.

  “If that’s alright with Lupine,” Wren says pointedly when the others all look to him to answer.

  I can hardly say no, can I? And the smug look on his face tells me he knows it. He’s banking on my good manners.

  Shrugging my shoulders, I don’t bother to answer, and Amon clearly knows he’s won as he fist pumps the air.

  “I’m gonna need a lot of pizza,” I tell Jessie. “Like two of everything on the menu or something.”

  “Make that three,” Wren says, stepping forward and offering Jessie a black amex.

  This isn’t good… Now he’s buying us food. I don’t like this at all. The last thing I want is for him and his lackies to have something over me. I don’t want to owe him anything.

  Once he’s paid, I pull out some cash. “For me and the kids,” I tell Wren as I thrust several notes into his hand.

  “That’s not necessary,” he tries to refuse.

  “It is. Thank you.”

  It’s awkward while we wait for our pizza. Or at least, I think it’s uncomfortable. Everyone else seems to be perfectly at ease as Amon continues with his incessant questions. Fortunately, he manages to avoid the questions I’d be inclined to ask. Like… where do you put the dead bodies? The sort of questions that might get a curious kid killed.

  I’m impatient, my foot tapping on the hard floor. I want to get my pizza and get the hell out of here. The sooner we get back, the sooner I can feed these hungry wolves and send them on their way.

  “Lupine?”

  “Sorry,” I reply, turning my head towards whoever called my name.

  “I was just asking when you moved to Silver Springs,” the one with messy hair says in a quiet voice.

  He’s the only one I’ve not managed to get the name of so far. I don’t hurry to reply as I look at him. I could get lost in his eyes. They’re dark yet soft, like chocolate or something. There are laughter lines around them and he has the most exquisite jawline.

  He’s so different to the rest. The others are clearly of European descent, maybe Italian – especially Stefano… His accent is a clear giveaway. But this one, the unnamed one, he’s Asian. Usually, that wouldn’t really matter except it makes me question how he ended up with this lot.

  Wolves are known for staying with their pack.

  But that’s probably the sort of question that could get a girl killed… or would draw me in too deep. Boundaries, Lupine. Got to keep your boundaries.

  “Piny has always lived here,” Amon answers for me. “She grew up in the orphanage, just like me.”

  He says it like it makes us family and I guess it sort of does. Or at least that’s how I feel.

  No one says anything and now it’s them that feel awkward. It’s funny how regular folk always feel awkward when they hear that I don’t have parents.

  Making Nice

  The kitchen is back to normal when we arrive home, but my ears prickle as if I can sense the magic in the air. Jacqueline has a look on her face that suggests she’s done something I won’t like and what’s even better, she knows that I know.

  “PIZZA!” I call up the stairs, ignoring the way all of the shifters behind me squirm in distaste. A small part of me relishes in the fact that I’m annoying them.

  After all, they’re certainly putting me out, encroaching on my life by agreeing to come to dinner. I really can’t understand why Wren couldn’t just politely decline.

  “Welcome!” Jacqueline says eagerly with an uncharacteristic flick of her hair.

  The children rush down the stairs, following us into the kitchen, shoving each other out of the way. They behave much like a pack of wolves when there’s pizza.

  “Ariella, Evangeline, set the table, please,” I say as I put the pizzas on the counter. “Larissa, why don’t you invite our guests to sit down.”

  Usually, they’d grumble about having to help out but not tonight and I’m not completely sure if it’s because of the pizza or the fact that we’ve got visitors. We don’t get a lot of visitors at the orphanage.

  “Amon, head upstairs and find Jerome,” I tell the older boy. “Castalia…”

  “It wasn’t me,” she blurts out.

  “What wasn’t?” I ask with a smirk.

  “Whatever you’re planning on blaming me for.”

  Laughing, I say, “you tidied up beautifully but don’t let Jacqueline encourage you to use your magic for things you can use your hands for too often.”

  The usually snarky twelve-year-old witch actually gives me a smile. “So, do you kill people?” she asks, turning to look at Wren as she takes a seat opposite him at the table.

  He doesn’t flinch or reach at all that I can see.

  “I try not to,” he tells her.

  It’s hard not to notice that he doesn’t actually tell her that he doesn’t kill people. I have killers sitting around my kitchen table! Call me crazy, but I’m amazed that I’m not completely freaking out.

  Amon and Jerome come into the kitchen, Amon automatically coming to sit down, but Jerome hesitates, his attention fixed on the six burly men currently sitting at the table. His eyes dart to me and I swear he looks scared.

  Getting to my feet, I approach the little wolf. It’s my fault he’s scared right now. But I don’t completely regret it. A healthy dose of fear is probably a good thing when dealing with the mafia.

  “Come get some pizza, little wolf,” I say, guiding him by the shoulder to the seat next to mine.

  “Why are the bad wolves hear?” he whispers.

  Even though the words are meant only for me, the other wolves in the room clearly hear it. They do their best to pretend otherwise as I try to decide how to respond. I can hardly tell him that they’re not bad after all. Wren was only just joking about killing people and there’s no avoiding the fact that they run an organized crime mafia.

  Although it’s fair to say I have no clue what sort of underground deals they run. But it could be anything from drugs to human trafficking… Oh my god! What if they kidnap supe kids?

  Shaking my head, I try to stop my mind running away with itself.

  “Do you think they’re scarier than me?” I whisper.

  Jerome turns his head to look at me, shaking his head, his eyes bright with entertainment. “No one is scarier than you.”

  “Too right,” I say with a wink, “because I’m the big bad wolf and I ate granny.”

  “You ate Violet?” Jacqueline asks with an expression of mock horror.

  “Yup,” I nod my head and the children all erupt with laughter.

  “Did she at least taste good?” Jacqueline asks, shaking her head as she gives a slice of pizza to Artemus.

  “Good bones… meat was a bit tough…”

  “Who’s Violet?” the messy haired wolf asks.

  “The town librarian,” Rehan answers as Amon says, “the old lady I mo
oned.”

  “Oh…”

  “So, now that we’ve established that we’re not as bad as Lupine,” Wren says, “does that mean you don’t completely hate the idea of us being neighbors?”

  The others all rush to tell him that they’re more than happy to have new neighbors but I keep quiet and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Wren and the others.

  “What’s your name?” Amon asks the messy haired one with the gorgeous eyes.

  “Kalen,” he answers with just one word.

  “And that’s probably all Kalen will say to you this month,” Stefano jokes. “He’s not very chatty.”

  When the pizza is all gone, which considering just how much we bought is insane, Jacqueline jumps to her feet with more energy than she’s had in months.

  “We made you something,” she tells the guys. “It’s sort of tradition… when a new neighbor moves in, we bake them cookies.”

  “Isn’t that like a tradition everywhere?” Camden asks light-heartedly.

  “I suppose it might be… yes…” Jacqueline replies.

  “You’ll all have to help us eat them,” Wren says. “If this lot get fat, we’ll lose all our business at the gym.”

  “Yeah… no one wants a pudgy personal trainer.”

  “A pudgy hit man however…” I mutter too low for most of the table to hear but I know all six of the guys hear.

  Vaughan is spluttering, choking on a cookie, and Stefano is patting him on the back while trying not to laugh. The other four don’t seem to find my comment as entertaining as Stefano, however. If I had to make a guess, I’d even say I might have hurt their feelings.

  Whoever even knew the mafia have feelings? I’m probably being unkind. I’m not completely sure why I feel so ill at ease around them. There’s something though, a reason… a voice at the back of my head saying it’s not safe to get comfortable around them.

  It’s unexplainable and completely illogical. I’d probably have to spend several hours with the town shrink to even scratch the surface of whatever feelings I’m suddenly feeling.

  “We’ve overstayed our welcome,” Wren says, getting to his feet.

  “No! Don’t go,” Jacqueline and several of the children say in unison, but Wren’s eyes are on me.

  “I need to give Artemus a bath,” I say with a grimace. “Eat your cookies.”

  It’s as close to an invitation to stay as I’m going to give and I’m doing it more out of neighborly politeness than because I actually want them here. No matter how beautiful their faces are, or how much they resemble an Adonis, they can’t be here. The children absolutely should not be encouraged to befriend criminals.

  “I could do that,” Jacqueline offers, but it’s a hollow offer. Her focus is on Vaughan and Stefano as they argue over a cookie, completely ignoring that there is a tin full of cookies identical to the one they’re fighting over.

  They might actually be worse than the children.

  Leaving the room with Artemus, I go about my responsibilities, silently praying that they’ll leave before I have to go back downstairs but even with half the house between us, I can still feel them… smell their scent in the air and there’s absolutely no way to avoid that there are a handful of sexy (although completely off limits) wolves currently making nice in my kitchen.

  It’s Suppose to be My Day Off

  Last night when they left, Camden had been quick to tell us that if we needed anything doing about the house, we only had to ask. I’d been just as quick to refuse. But now, looking at my To Do list, I’m beginning to regret that decision.

  It’s supposed to be my day off.

  The one day of the week where I don’t have to think about children, or schedules, or play dates… where I don’t have to tell bedtime stories or wake up early if I don’t want to and what am I doing?

  Painting a fence!

  It’s not that I resent it, except I sort of do. I still haven’t read that damn book. Knowing me, it will probably just end up on my bookshelves, completely forgotten about and unread.

  The one positive thing about painting this particular fence is that it gives me a good vantage point to watch the comings and goings across the street. I probably shouldn’t be so nosey and if anyone were to ask me about it, I’d definitely deny it.

  “Do you want a hand?” Camden asks from where he’s standing on the other side of the road, his voice too quiet for most people to hear at this distance.

  Shit! He’s caught me staring.

  Blinking, I shake off my unease. So what if I was staring? It’s not exactly news to them that I’m unhappy about them being here.

  “It’s alright. I’ve got it.”

  “Yeah, I can see that,” he replies, coming towards me.

  I really need to stop meeting his eye, if I want to keep my sanity. There’s something about these shifters that has me losing my common sense. That’s the only explanation I can find for why I’m not saying anything as he picks up a paintbrush and comes to sit next to me on the lawn.

  “You don’t like having us here,” he says, not looking at me, his eyes on the fence.

  “I don’t know you,” I retort. “There’s nothing to like or dislike.”

  It’s bullshit and I get the feeling he sees right through it.

  “I know you probably won’t believe it,” he tells me in a whisper, “but we’re really not that bad.”

  “Are you or are you not a member of a crime syndicate?”

  “Yes, and no.”

  His answer irritates me, bringing a growl to my throat.

  “We’re a family… a gang… a syndicate, sure but we’re not criminals, at least not in the super terrible sense of the word.”

  He can’t seriously be trying to tell me that it’s okay because they only break the little unimportant laws.

  “Do you or do you not break the law?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” he counters.

  I bristle, “I don’t.”

  “Sure thing, princess. We pick the laws we break, and we break them for good reason.”

  “Such as?”

  “To rescue someone… to help others… to protect the person we love.”

  How does he make it sound so honorable? He shouldn’t be able to do that. His tone is sincere, and he makes me want to believe him but… But his words don’t change the facts.

  “Have you ever killed anyone?” I ask, even though I’m scared I already know the answer.

  He doesn’t rush to utter the words and I see pain in his eyes but then he says, “yes… once.”

  “Why?” I ask coldly. I’m not even sure I have the right to ask for the information I’m demanding, except for the fact that if he’s a murderer, that’s a public welfare issue.

  I wait for his answer, hoping that he’ll have a good reason. Not that it really matters. I don’t think there’s any reason he could give me that I’d be able to accept. Is there such a thing as a good reason to commit murder? I don’t think so…

  “There was a debt,” he tells me.

  “Money?” I ask, my face contorting in distaste.

  “Not that sort of debt,” he whispers. “A life debt. The sort that had to be paid.”

  I want to ask more, but I know I won’t like the answer. It doesn’t matter what that person did, he shouldn’t have killed them. It’s morality 101.

  “I’m not a bad guy, Lupine,” he says.

  I can’t resist saying, “Good guys don’t have to say that though.”

  “Maybe… Get to know me… Get to know us… and then once you really know us, you can be the judge. If you still think we’re…”

  “Dangerous criminals…”

  “If you still think we’re dangerous criminals, then we’ll disappear from your life and you’ll never have to see us again.”

  I don’t really understand what he’s saying. Will they leave Silver Springs if I ask them to? Why would they do that?

  His gaze is hypnotic and I want to do as he says but I can’t. It’s too
dangerous. Perhaps if I wasn’t responsible for a whole household of tiny supes, I’d give him the chance he’s asking me for. Maybe if I was a little bit younger, a little bit stupider…

  “LUPINE!” Jacqueline rushes out of the house, breathing heavily.

  “What? What’s wrong?” I ask, getting to my feet.

  “The school just called.”

  “Again? What did he do this time?”

  I brush myself down, trying to get rid of a couple of stray blades of grass. I really thought we were turning a corner with Amon. Sighing, I shake my head, feeling even more disappointed than I usually do.

  “Not Amon,” Jacqueline says. “Although… he is playing truant…”

  “WHAT?”

  In what world is that not the headline story in this conversation?

  “Castalia got into a fight with one of the other girls in her class…”

  “And?” There is no way that’s all there is to this conversation. If that was all there was, Jacqueline wouldn’t look so panicked.

  “She may have turned her classmate into a pig.”

  I shouldn’t be impressed. I try to control my facial expression as my lips begin to turn up. Castalia’s magic always amazes me. She has brilliant control for someone so young. I know witches twice her age with half her talent.

  “You need to go to the school.”

  “I do?” I ask. Why me? It’s my day off… Isn’t this why Jacqueline and Lewis work here too? Then again, this isn’t the sort of situation that Lewis would be helpful in.

  “Do you need help finding Amon?” Camden asks.

  I don’t want to accept his help, but I have very little choice. Unless I want to just let the little hell spawn get away with it and there’s no way that’s going to happen. Instead, I’m going to think up the worst possible punishment known to man and supe and then torture him with it.

  “Please,” I reply.

  “Give me your number?”

  “Why?” I ask, hesitating.

  “So, I can tell you when we find him,” he explains, passing me his mobile.

  This is exactly what I am supposed to be avoiding! Boundaries, Lupine! I take his phone, hurriedly dialing my number. Then I’m making my way down the drive to my car, still covered in paint.