The Accords Triptych (Book 1): Wolves Without Teeth

by Thomas, Ian

  The realization jolted him.

  No, wait, that was the guy behind him.

  “Sorry, mate,” a guy said as Dylan turned around.

  “No problem,” Dylan murmured. He returned to his beer unsettled. The guy was familiar. Casting an eye over his shoulder, he saw the man settle into a booth with another couple of guys. Surreptitiously each had stolen a glance at Dylan as they sat down. They all looked familiar. They’d been at the last pub. Possibly the one before as well.

  Remembering the airport, Dylan wondered if any of these men had been there. Emboldened by the alcohol, which a part of him knew was a terrible idea, he walked his beer over to the table and slid into the booth.

  “Evening gents,” he said. “Good night? Getting on it? Having a blinder?” Even after this long, he still couldn’t fake a decent British accent.

  “You right there, guv’ner?” one of them said.

  “I’m as happy as Larry. And Larry here,” he clapped a hand on the guy’s shoulder next to him. “Well he’s pretty fucking happy.”

  “Uh, fink you got the wrong idea,” another said. “We’re just after a quiet drink.”

  “Hey, no I get that. Same as my friends and I. Problem is can’t say as I like being stalked.”

  “Stalked? You?” the guy who jostled him asked.

  “Yeah, perhaps you can go back and tell the Ice Queen we’re done. It’s over. Through. Audi. Ended. Finite. Kaput. O-V-E-R. Done. Expired. Ancient history. A footnote in the annals of things that are over.”

  “Sorry, guv, but doesn’t really sound like it.”

  “Oh, no, we are. So through. Couldn’t be more through if we were a tunnel. The Chunnel in fact.”

  “That’s all well an’ good my son,” the burlier one said, leaning forward. “But I have no bleedin’ idea who this Ice Queen is s’got you all cuckolded like. But maybe you can do me a favor and give us ten minutes alone with that pretty boy you’re wiv who likes knobbing his way into ‘nother man’s woman.”

  “So you’re not with Julie?”

  “Who the fuck’s Julie?” another one asked. “This is about Debbie?”

  “Who the fuck is Debbie?” Dylan asked.

  “My missus. Light o’ my life. Or was until your pal put his knob where it don’t belong.”

  Dylan paled. “And that’s why you’ve been in each pub we’ve been in tonight. Not following me. Not sent by Julie.”

  “Sounds like you need to give her a call. Don’t fink things are as over as you fink they are.”

  “And with a full bladder, I will leave you gentleman to your evening,” Dylan said, getting up.

  “What about your pal? Him with the face?”

  “He, uh, has a condition. Completely uncontrollable. Medically proven. If he doesn’t have a vagina around his penis, he’ll die. Quite sad really. Hugely rare. Like one in a trillion. Not actually his fault.”

  Walking away, he saw Freddie dragging James toward their table still doing up his zipper. A young woman came out of the bathroom readjusting her clothing.

  “What’s that about?” Freddie asked, having seen Dylan talking to the three men.

  “James. Told him sticking his dick in anything and everything was gonna catch up with him. I’m gonna hit the head.”

  “Wait? What?!” Freddie asked as the three men slid out of the booth and squared off on Freddie and James.

  Dylan continued into the bathroom, the pressure in his bladder blocking out everything else. Including the observations of the gentlemen in the booths. As he stood over the urinal, he felt a hand grab his collar and jerk him backwards, urine splashing down his pants.

  Expecting to see Freddie behind him, desperate to leave given James’ penis-related misadventures, Dylan was shocked to come face to face with one of the surly East End types from the table in the corner.

  “Okay so Julie sent you guys?” Dylan let go a stream of piss onto the man’s pants.

  “Damn right you little fucker.” When the man saw he was being urinated on, he punched Dylan in the gut. “Lady pays well too.”

  “I can pay,” he gasped between blows.

  “Oh and you will, my son. You most definitely will.”

  There were four of them in total. Two behind him, holding his arms as the first pummeled him. The fourth stood at the door, keeping watch.

  “Clear,” the lookout said.

  “Move ‘im,” the first said. Bodily, they hustled Dylan out of the bathroom and through the back door into a cluttered, narrow street lined with dumpsters. Throwing him to the ground, Dylan grunted as the wind was knocked out of him. “Nice ladies shouldn’t have to worry ‘bout dodgy ex-boyfriends stalking ‘em.”

  “Wait,” Dylan said as he was dragged onto his knees. But his plea was cut short by a fist. Then another. Hanging like a ragdoll between the two men, Dylan took the blows with little recourse. Limp and bloodied, they dropped him to the cobblestones once more. “It’s a lie.”

  “Take a fucking hint,” the man moaned, kicking Dylan in the gut. “This is us putting a little yank shit-heel like you down. So stay down.”

  “Problem is,” Dylan said, trying to get to his feet. “Enough CCTV cameras about to record this assault. And it is assault. Bet she didn’t tell you I’m a lawyer. Good one too. And you idiots have been played. But that’ll come up later. After I’ve laid charges. So either finish me or go on your merry way.”

  Three of the men looked to their leader anxiously. He snarled and strode forward. “Do your worst you little twat.” The man swung to hit Dylan, but he caught the fist in his hands.

  The door flew open behind them, Freddie and James suddenly at his back.

  “I’m not gonna come at you,” Dylan said soberly, his voice measured. “Doesn’t mean I won’t if something like this happens again. However she hired you, be a good idea to send a message back along that chain that she set you up. Do that, and this little assault goes away.”

  Waiting, Dylan braced himself for another attack. Then he felt the man’s arm relax and he released the fist, but stood his ground. Realizing he was being offered a way out – one that likely didn’t end in his arrest – the man stepped back from Dylan.

  “And sorry about pissing on you,” Dylan called out as the men skulked off down the street.

  “What the hell was that about?!” Freddie yelled.

  “James, here, put his dick in the wrong place,” Dylan replied unfazed.

  “Not that!” Freddie gestured to the door of the pub, then pointed at Dylan. “That. This. All the blood on your face.”

  “The broken rib,” James added. “Multiple contusions. Head laceration. Possible broken nose.”

  “Thank you, Casualty,” Freddie said, his voice rising. “Dylan, what the bloody hell happened in New York.”

  Dylan shrugged, tucking his shirt back in. He realized his zip was still down and saw to that. He started walking away. “Not much really. You wanna get a kebab? I wanna get a kebab. I’m starving.”

  “Dylan!” Freddie almost shouted. “For fuck’s sake, what the hell is going on?”

  Dylan turned around, his face bloody, shirt ruined and looking a right state. “Let’s just call it a bad break-up and go get a kebab, okay?” When James ambled alongside Dylan, he knew Freddie had little choice but to follow. As friends went these were the best he’d had. And what worked between them was the healthy respect and distance they gave to each other’s…affairs. Problem was some of those affairs were no longer healthy or distant.

  XXXIX

  As Rebecca closed the door, McLachlan looked up from his book.

  “The kids asleep?”

  Taking a breath, she tried to ignore the question. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Just little things. A comment here, a look there. Talking to Rowan had helped her a little but it didn’t dispel the oddness when it happened. She’d just taken to not letting it bother her. The chapter house or whatever might be of some help.

  In truth, Rebecca’s desire to learn ab
out the supernatural had somewhat consumed her over the past few days.

  Oh and there was the sex.

  Praise any and all gods for the sex. To his credit, McLachlan had been as present as he could be. And maybe the false life memories were a good thing. Especially given his lacking confidence. Not that he was some blushing virgin. She had been spared that small mercy at least. Rather this was sex with emotion, strings…the L word even. While quite the eligible bachelor, his stain had kept him from becoming romantically involved. Yet these recollections buffered any potential awkwardness. He knew how she ticked, how she felt about him, how he felt about her, and that worked for her.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s alright.”

  “I heard it as it came out and regret it,” he said, a thread of pain in his voice. “It’s not alright. It’s kinda wrong actually.”

  She slipped onto the sofa next to him, grabbed her cup of tea and looked at him carefully.

  “What are we like? In that life?”

  He took a second to reply, for once actively looking at the false memories.

  “Well, there’s none of this supernatural bullshit for starters.”

  She made an abrasive buzzer noise. “Speaking of bullshit starters.”

  He laughed, relaxing. “We’re good. We’re happy.” Seeing she wasn’t content with that response and realizing he did know how to answer the question given their marriage in the other life.

  “The mortgage is under control. You love your job. You struggled taking so much time off with the kids, but then felt that pressure was coming from all the mommy books, the talk shows, the literal mother fucking baby industry. Literal because they were fucking over moth-”

  “No, no I got it,” she laughed, pleasantly taken aback. “Just never heard anyone articulate my thoughts before.”

  “But you love your work so much. And frankly you’re too good at it.”

  “And you?”

  “I don’t mind being a teacher.” His tone rose making came out as more of a question than a statement.

  “Clearly.”

  “Gotta be better than my demon-stained…this,” he replied. “Like the kids are pretty good, Matteo over there is great, minimal dramas other than him and Rowan.”

  “So weird.”

  “I know right?”

  “Go on.”

  “Like I’m okay with the job because of him and Rowan and all. Good school, the holidays, but kinda want more than grading papers and feeling like the students are getting dumber.”

  She laughed again.

  “But us. We’re good?”

  He looked at her. As in really looked at her, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. “Yeah. We have a lot of time. Before Cait – when you were still working – there was a rough patch. I think you were trying to make up for maternity leave, but you said it was just new exhibits and stuff. Anyway, we had this ridiculous fight over nothing. Laundry or some shit. I don’t know. I think I’d shrunk a top of yours or something. But – as with most arguments – it devolved into some pop cultural rampage with you yelling at me that laundry symbols were not exactly the da Vinci code. There was more colorful language. I’m paraphrasing.”

  “What happened?”

  “I started laughing. You told me to stop. Which only made me laugh harder. So you went into the study, found a copy of the Da Vinci Code and threw it at me.”

  “I threw a book at you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I yelled ‘what is a copy of that doing in the house? There are children present.’ So you started laughing. And then I started laughing, and we had sex right there on the washer dryer.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And after that?”

  “We reconnected. Took time out most nights for us. Sometimes it was watching a movie, other times a walk if we could get a sitter, just talking, whatever – we started looking forward to those times each night. I’d resent it if we had company over or were out with people, but even then we’d take time afterward for us. Seemed to work.”

  “So like now?”

  “I guess.”

  “You get this is the oddest relationship I’ve ever started, right? Supernatural bullshit notwithstanding.”

  “Oh no I get that. Seems to be working though.”

  “Don’t jinx it.”

  “True.” He looked at her again, that same open directness from before and she felt her face flush with anticipation. “Do wish I didn’t have these other memories in my head though.”

  “Then Ben wouldn’t have broken your back.”

  He leaned over and kissed her. “Not what I meant.”

  “I know but you were looking at me. Hard. And…”

  “S’okay,” he said, kissing her again. “Where’s Hayley?”

  “Why? You want her to join in?” The question was dumb. Total mood killer.

  “No,” he replied, smiling. “Just wondering if we really want to be boning on your couch where she could walk in.”

  “You get we’re not teenagers, right?”

  “Oh so you’re into the whole public thing?” he asked, stripping off his shirt. “This is new.”

  “Whoa, no, I just – bedroom’s right there.”

  “Was kinda liking the risk of getting caught,” he muttered, following her into the bedroom.

  “Fine,” she said, turning around and walking into him. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her into a kiss. The same weightlessness. Never would she tire of that feeling. Pulling off her own shirt she then started on his jeans as his lips found her neck. A shiver of delight rolled through her, the air sighing from her lungs. At the sound he drew back a few inches. Head bent he looked into her eyes, a hungry glint in his. This was her McLachlan. Not the one from the false life. Hers. And he was right there in that moment with her.

  His lips found hers as his hand slipped behind her waistband. Weightless was okay with his arm around her back. Nothing else existed but them.

  Hence she didn’t hear the key in the lock and the door open.

  “Knew I’d find you two screwing,” Hayley said suddenly. “Text me when you’re done.”

  Inches away from her face, Rebecca could tell McLachlan wanted Hayley to leave. She wanted Hayley to leave. But friends came first – well Hayley did anyway.

  “No, no, all good,” Rebecca said. Quietly McLachlan cursed behind her as he refastened his jeans, very aware his shirt was closer to Hayley than him. “How was the movie?”

  “Okay I guess.” Hayley retrieved a bottle of wine and glasses from the kitchen. “I mean I liked it but then Mouth pulled it apart and now I’m not so sure.”

  “Thought you were going out with Eddie?” Rebecca asked.

  “I was.” Hayley deliberately sat on McLachlan’s discarded shirt, putting his modesty to rest. Her tone suggested that going to a movie with Eddie and Mouth was the most natural thing in the world.

  “But Mouth?”

  “Was the buffer,” Hayley explained, pouring them each equal shares of what was left in the bottle. “I’m not ready to date Eddie.”

  “But you two slept together,” McLachlan said.

  “Is that what he said?” Hayley asked, a dangerous edge to her voice.

  “No, I just–” He looked in vain to Rebecca for help. “I heard– Someone said–”

  “Relax,” Hayley said with a laugh. “Think I found my new favorite thing. Anyway, technically we did sleep together. In the same bed. Just no sex. He was a real gentleman. And that bed.”

  “You are such a whore for soft furnishings,” Rebecca said, sipping her wine.

  Soon, they were sitting in the small living room, folk rock playing softly from the stereo as Hayley recounted Mouth’s critique of the film. For the most part, his assessment seemed fairly articulate and well-informed. Amid the story, Rebecca could tell that Hayley was in fact relieved Mouth had been there. Whether he was aware or not of his status as a
third wheel, Mouth wouldn’t have cared. He was perceptive enough to work it out and not draw attention to the fact.

  “Hold on.” McLachlan sat up, causing Rebecca to shift from lying against his bare chest. “It’s the full moon. How was Eddie just casually going to a movie? He’s a werewolf.”

  “Is he?” Hayley asked.

  “News to me,” Rebecca chimed.

  “You’d think someone would tell us mere mortal women such important things.”

  “Oh, wait, no they did. About a million times already.” Rebecca looked at McLachlan reproachfully. “And to think I was going to have sex with you.”

  “Sorry, sorry, okay, yes I get it. That was demeaning.” He held his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t mean it that way though.”

  “We know,” Rebecca said, patting his leg. “This is just us. Get used to it.”

  “I meant he was being reckless. Being out in a public place like that so close to the change. Especially with – well you know – not having had all the sex as such.”

  “So subtle,” Rebecca said.

  “He took something,” Hayley replied. “Wolfsbane. Didn’t go into detail.”

  “Wow,” McLachlan said, his eyes wide.

  “What ‘wow’? Don’t say ‘wow’ and not back it up,” Hayley challenged.

  McLachlan took a second. “Wolfsbane delays the change. Not always foolproof but for someone of Eddie’s age, it works fine.”

  “But…” Rebecca prompted, drawing the word out.

  “But when he does change it’s gonna hurt like hell. He must really like you.”

  Rebecca watched Hayley process the admission. In so few words it was both a blessing and curse for whatever was blossoming between them. Normal was gonna be up for discussion at some point soon, Rebecca could just feel it.