Captive Moon
Page 8
Another round of stuttering followed without making any sense. Finally, Bruce’s companion, Larry Medina, explained, “W-we did. But we were both too c-c-cold from walking from where our car stalled to knock loud enough.”
Antoine noticed that Grand-mère and Tahira both furrowed their brows, but they let the comment go. There was no scent of either of the two lying. But it did seem odd that they would hear the rattling knob before knocking. Still, it didn’t matter. They were here—for whatever reason.
“You must get out of those wet things immediately.” Grand-mère took control of the situation. She stepped behind the men and pushed them toward the great room and the fireplace. She barked orders over her shoulder. “Matty, please go fetch clothing for them. Antoine, gather some blankets. Margo, be a dear and boil some water for tea, please.”
“And I’ll get some of the stew,” Tahira added. “They must be hungry.”
It was only a few minutes before the men were in dry clothes in front of the roaring fireplace. The group gratefully ate spoonfuls of the stew and sipped hot tea with honey.
“I can almost feel my fingers again,” said Bruce. “Man, that storm is brutal.”
Antoine squatted down next to the fire so the others could have the second couch. “Why on earth are you still in Germany, and how did you find us here?”
Bruce released the blanket long enough to motion with his thumb to the other man. “Larry thought of checking Charles’s house. We decided to stay over an extra day in Stuttgart because Larry had an aunt on his mother’s side who had invited us if we ever visited. But when we got there, she’d gone out of town. She left a note with a neighbor with a key, telling us we could stay over and perhaps she’d be home today. But that was before this storm. Everything is closed down—airports, buses, restaurants. When we drove out to where we’d staged the camp, everybody was gone, but a tow-truck driver was just returning from bringing the van here and asked if we were in trouble.”
Larry interrupted. “And we knew that if someone was hurt, you would come to Charles—well, actually to Amber before getting on a plane. It wasn’t too hard to find out where he lived, even with my rotten German.”
“But your car broke down? You’ve walked all this way in the snow? What about the tow truck?”
Bruce laughed. “It didn’t break down. We didn’t need the tow-truck driver when he first showed up, but we sure could have used him later.” He waved his hand toward the window. “It’s out there somewhere, buried in the snow. We came around a curve on the private entrance and wham! Right into a snowbank that had blown over the road. The engine stalled and we couldn’t get it started again. It took half an hour just to walk the quarter mile here to the house, but at least the car isn’t out on the main road.”
Tahira had been sitting quietly on the couch and was watching Larry with carefully observant eyes. “You’re a snake.” Her voice had deepened an octave, nearly to her cat voice.
Antoine could tell that she was struggling to keep the distaste from her voice. All of the Sazi cats had a difficult time with the snake shifters, but it spoke well that she didn’t attack him on sight. It was still close to the moon, and he knew just how difficult it was to fight the instinct of the animal inside.
He watched her closely, looking for any danger signs. Larry had been around the cat show long enough that most of the animals knew and trusted him. But he was understandably cautious around strangers. Fortunately, he was also very fast when he needed to dodge attacks. Larry’s voice was carefully neutral when he responded, but his knuckles were white from clutching the spoon in his hand, and his scent held the light tang of fear. His smile didn’t match the look in his eyes. “Yes. I’m a rat snake. My family emigrated from the UAE to America when I was an infant. Does it help any that I’m harmless? Or are you going to eat me in my sleep?”
His voice had a lighthearted tone, but the question was serious. Antoine noticed that he and Bruce were waiting tensely for a reply. It had been hard on Bruce all these years, having his partner constantly under suspicion. But Larry was a good soul and people eventually saw past their initial instincts. As with several of the Wolven members who were snakes, it was just a matter of education.
“I can vouch for him, if that will help, Tahira,” Antoine offered. She didn’t take her eyes off Larry, and was breathing with flared nostrils, but she wasn’t being openly aggressive. He turned to the two men. “Tahira isn’t Sazi, gentlemen. She’s part of a splinter group of shifters called the Hayalet Kabile. Her tribe doesn’t often encounter our people other than their own kind.”
She shook her head a few times as though clearing her mind. A deep breath seemed to calm her. “But I’m from America, land of the weird, and home of the strange. Heck, I’ve spent most of my life outside of San Francisco. There’s not much that can surprise me. No, I don’t plan to eat you in your sleep. Although—” she admitted ruefully, “You might keep your door locked tonight. It’s the third night of the moon. I don’t have to change, but my senses go wacko.”
Around the room, everyone relaxed. Larry nodded. “I usually do anyway. Even Antoine gets a bit—snappish.”
“Moi?” He held up a hand to his chest in innocent surprise. “Is it my fault that you smell like dinner a few days a month? I think it speaks well that you’ve been with us for nearly a dozen years.”
Larry snorted lightly. “Yeah, it says that I’m fast on my feet and can slither into small places.”
“Speaking of dinner,” Matty said with a sour expression from the kitchen doorway. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance anyone has sweets? I just fossicked about and there’s nothing even resembling bikkies in the place. I’d even settle for some fairy floss right now.”
Bruce lifted a hand and cut short a sip of tea. “Actually, you have some sweets, Matty. The postman stopped by the vacant field while we were talking to the city driver, not realizing the show had left. You got a package from your friend Paul in Sydney, and I’ll bet I know what’s in it.”
Antoine nearly laughed at Matty’s expression. Everyone has their drug of choice, and Matty’s was chocolate. But not just any chocolate. No, it had to be Tim Tams biscuits—for which he would spend every last dime he earned, and often did.
With a move that would do any Sazi proud, Matty blazed a path to the soaking wet backpacks and dug through both in a frenzy. Finally he pulled a slightly rumpled box covered with stamps and stickers into view with a triumphant cry.
“You’re a prince, Bruce! A bloody angel!” Matty pulled at the sturdy tape that completely covered the brown-paper covering while everybody watched in amusement. When he finally resorted to tearing at the tape with his teeth, Antoine removed a small folding knife from his pocket and tossed it to him.
Giselle stared at him significantly. “You plan to share? Yes?”
Matty’s face grew panicked and he clutched the package to his chest as he looked from Giselle’s stern expression to the five other people around the fireplace. It was obvious to Antoine that he hadn’t even considered the possibility before Grand-mère spoke.
He didn’t answer until the package was fully open. The Australian’s sigh of relief moved his entire chest, because there were two packages of the biscuits under the wrapper, rather than just one. Kicking the wrapping to the side, he walked across the room and handed one package to Giselle with a flourish. “For you, my dear lady, and the rest of the crew.”
Tahira picked one of the biscuits from the tray when it was passed by her. “I’ve never heard of Tim Tams. Are they cookies?”
“Fuck me dead! Bite your tongue, woman!” Matty exclaimed after finishing his third biscuit. “Tim Tams aren’t cookies. They’re manna from heaven. You Yanks have no concept of what a true joy you’re missing, thank the good lord.”
Margo leaned closer to Tahira. “They’re not sold in America, so Matty has to beg friends to ship them. They usually make him pay out the nose for the trouble. But he is right. They’re terrific!”
Tahira bit down into the biscuit and Antoine watched her reaction. “Wow! These are good. Chocolate cookie with chocolate cream and covered in chocolate. Rabi would probably eat the whole package in one sitting. He was insane for chocolate.”
She stopped mid-bite when she realized what she’d said. Everybody else, save for Bruce and Larry, noticed as well, and the scents of sorrow and sympathy nearly overwhelmed Antoine’s nose. The two men on the couch looked at each other and shrugged.
Margo placed one hand on Tahira’s shoulder, but she smiled and shook her head. “No, it’s okay. That was just a slip because I’m stressed. I really believe my brother’s still alive. He’s out there somewhere and I’m going to find him and take him home.”
Antoine stood and walked over to the fireplace to add more logs. “Bruce, Larry—you should know what’s been happening. Tahira’s brother was captured by persons unknown and she was also abducted while trying to save him. I was able to spirit her away from the police when they raided a tiger poaching operation. But Simon is dead, and Rabi’s body was not with the other large cats. You haven’t finished your story, Tahira. Did you ever find your brother?”
Shock set into the face of both Larry and Bruce, but they didn’t ask any questions. Tahira nodded. “Well, like I said earlier, I followed the tracks and his scent until I found the truck. I saw him for a moment, caged with another tiger, a leopard, and two lions. All of the cats were fighting, and the men were using stun sticks on them to break them up. I was able to sneak closer because they were busy and he saw me, too. He warned me off when one of the men started to turn around, but they were getting ready to leave, so I decided to isim and move closer.”
Antoine held up his hand. “Isim? What is that?”
Tahira immediately blushed and stammered, “It’s…um…that is, it’s a way to move closer. It’s something Grammy taught me.”
Matty opened his mouth, but Antoine shook his head. He was going to let it drop for the moment. “Go on, please.”
She took another bite of the Tim Tam and collected herself while she chewed and swallowed. “Anyway, I isi…I mean, I moved closer and let the air out of one of the front tires while they weren’t looking. I planned to go back to the village to get Granddad while they fixed it.”
“Obviously, something happened before you could?” Margo’s voice was hushed and nervous, like listening to the calm before the storm.
“When I moved back into the brush to wait for them to notice the tire, I was still in tiger form. I didn’t realize they had a third man in the truck with them, who had wandered off into the brush behind me. Before I could even turn around, he hit me with two darts in my hip and I was out for the count. But I know that Rabi was still alive, and if he wasn’t with your Simon, then he’s still alive. He’s strong. He could have escaped on his own.”
Antoine nodded. “Definitely possible. But you don’t remember anything of your time with your captives? No clue that might help us find them? I presume that they knew you were a shapeshifter. You couldn’t have remained in tiger form for a full month.”
Tahira clenched her hands into fists and stood with a frustrated sound. She slammed a fist on the mantel above the fireplace hard enough to make the antique clock on it wobble. She quickly reached for it and stopped it from falling with an embarrassed scent that didn’t quite overshadow her frustration.
“Not enough. I’ve been trying, but all I get are flashes—being fed rancid meat through a cage, shackles on my hands and feet; so yes, I had to have been human for some periods. But I can’t remember faces or even scents. It’s driving me nuts! I know that if I could just remember something, I could find Rabi. I won’t give up. I have to at least get out there and try.”
Antoine shrugged. “There is little any of us can do until the storm ends, I’m afraid. Hopefully tomorrow we will know more and can reach the outside world. For now, I have some contract details to work out for our next show, and you should probably get some more rest. Bruce, could you perhaps show Matty how to feed Babette? He needs to learn the proper method, and you and Larry should rest after your ordeal.”
Margo sighed, slapped her thighs with her hands lightly, and stood up. “And I need to pay some bills, if I can get online, or we won’t have any electricity or water by the time we get back to Reno.”
“Yes, and if you would, Margo, if we have a connection, please help Tahira reach her family in America. They must be terrified having her missing this long.”
Tahira’s eyes lit up and she smiled at him warmly. Perhaps he couldn’t allow her to leave, but neither could he just stand by and let her people worry.
If Charles saw that the family would come for her, then somehow they must learn she’s here, after all.
In a few minutes, the room was emptied of people and Antoine sat down at the computer. Margo and Tahira would use the spare already hooked up in Margo’s room.
A few clicks of the mouse later and he was already shaking his head. Merde! Sixty-seven e-mails in a day. However did we survive before the internet? Contacts from his attorney, publicist, council business, plus a variety of spam. He was only interested in two at the moment. One was from his online chess partner, who was his source for the rare cognac, and the other showed no sender name.
He clicked to open the message from Leland Behr, “chssmstr” in his online persona.
“O-O-O +” read the first line of the message, and Antoine swore under his breath. He had hoped Le wouldn’t see that move. Castling to the queen’s side placed the white rook in position for an attack on Antoine’s king. He was in check. I’ll have to set up the board again and think about how to get out of that move.
He continued reading.
The bottle reached me, and I believe it truly is one from the first run! :D But he still will not provide information about where he found it, Antoine, and that concerns me. If he discovered an entire case, he could flood the market and the value would drop into the dustbin. Are you still in Germany and can you come to my home in Berlin? I want you to see it with your own eyes before I release the funds to him. Pressing my thumbs for you. —Le.
Antoine leaned back in the chair and tapped one finger on the mouse without clicking the button. Leland was correct, as usual. But he could own one of the original bottles of cognac produced by Hugo Asbach in a small basement distillery before partnering with Albert Sturm and creating a dynasty. Yes, even if a full case existed, it might still be worth the price of three thousand Euros.
He clicked on Reply.
As usual, you have the better of me on the board, old friend. My plans are in a bit of an uproar right now, so my response move to your check on my king must wait a day or two. As for the bottle—I will trust your judgment. I don’t want to risk the transaction for days of indecision. You’re the expert, or so say the auction houses.
Antoine sent the message and moved on to the next e-mail. As usual, Tony Giodone, using his new alias of Joe Giambrocco, leapt to the point without preliminaries.
I thought of another one. Fear smells like hot and sour soup to me.
I tried your suggestion on the case file that got destroyed. It didn’t work. Apparently hindsight doesn’t work on someone who just *read* the information in the past. Oh, and I can’t seem to turn it on and off well enough to interview the suspect. Based on what I’ve seen, I’m pretty sure that if he thinks we’re sniffing at the door again, he’ll bolt and I’ll have to take him out. Although, that *would* solve the case.
Nikoli asked me to remind you that you still owe him for the chair. Apparently, it rode the boat with him from the motherland and he’s been a PITA to deal with since it got clawed to toothpicks. Never mind that we saved humanity. Pfft! Let me know if you have any suggestions about the hindsigh
t.
Joe
Antoine furrowed his brow. Chinese soup has the same scent as fear? He tried to think back to the last time he’d made hot and sour soup. It had been a number of years, but it hadn’t reminded him of any particular emotion.
He took another sip of the fine Cordon Bleu from Charles’s bar, took a bite of chocolate biscuit, and considered the concept.
It would be an interesting experiment to find scents to match emotions. He’d never tried before. He was actually enjoying corresponding with Tony Giodone. He understood the wolf’s frustration with a gift that was just as often a curse. Antoine just didn’t think he could help him. Hindsight wasn’t anything like foresight. One could be controlled, the other couldn’t.
The only other seer with hindsight was his own sister. Antoine couldn’t understand why Charles didn’t simply have Tony train with Josette. Then again, Tony was a trained assassin, and his sister was prone to making people mad enough to kill. Pity that Charles is so blasted honorable. Somebody ought to put Josette down.
“Antoine?” Margo’s quiet voice from behind him interrupted his thoughts. “Tahira’s family sent a reply e-mail. How would you like me to respond? I don’t know if I’m allowed to give out Charles’s phone number or address.”
His voice was harsher than he’d planned, but thinking about his older sister did that. He didn’t turn around and opened his clenched fists to let blood flow back to his fingers.
“Absolutely not! This address and phone are private and unlisted. Tell them that if they wish to send someone, they can contact us when they arrive in town and we will meet them.”
Margo’s scent held surprise at his tone, but it passed quickly. She was accustomed to the quick temper of cats, both wild ones and the Sazis that surrounded her. Her tone was quiet and respectful, intended to soothe. “Of course. I’ll send a reply. But,” she said, putting a light hand on his shoulder and lowering her voice even further, “you might want to explain your reasoning to Tahira. She would like to speak to them by phone when the lines are back up. She’s excited and also worried, because nobody has heard from her brother yet. He’s still missing.”