by Tanya Huff
“And as you’re dressed at school, you can’t change at school?” They seemed pleased she was so quick on the uptake. “It must be frustrating. . . .”
Marie shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”
“Don’t you ever want to tell people what you can do? Show them your other shape?”
Stuart’s growl sounded very loud and very menacing in the shocked silence that followed. The girls looked as though she’d suggested something obscene. “Okay. I guess not.” Don’t judge them by human standards. Try to remember that. “What about special friends?”
Storm and Cloud were unreadable. Marie and Jennifer looked puzzled. “Boyfriends?”
Both girls wrinkled their noses in identical expressions of disgust.
“Humans don’t smell right,” Stuart explained, shortly. “That sort of thing never happens.”
“They don’t smell right?”
“No.”
Vicki decided to leave it at that. She really wasn’t up for a discussion of werewolf breeding criteria, not at this hour of the night. There were, however, two things that had to be covered. The first still made Vicki uncomfortable and, in almost a year of working for herself, she hadn’t come up with a less than blunt way of bringing it up. “About my fee. . . .”
“We can pay it,” Stuart told her and only nodded when she mentioned the amount.
“All right, then,” she laced her fingers together and stared into the pattern thus formed for a moment, “one more thing. When I find whoever is doing this, what then? We can’t take him to court. He can’t be held accountable for murder under the law without giving away the existence of your people.”
Stuart smiled and, in spite of the heat, Vicki felt a chill run up and down her back. “He will be accountable to our law. To pack law.”
“Revenge, then?”
“Why not? He’s killed two of us for no reason, no cause. Who has better right to be judge and jury?”
Who indeed?
“There’s no other way to stop him from killing again,” Henry said quietly. He thought he understood Vicki’s hesitation, if only in the abstract. Ethics formed in the sixteenth century had an easier time with justice over law than ethics formed in the twentieth.
What it came down to, Vicki realized, was a question of whose life had more value; the people here in this room or the maniac, singular or collective, who was picking them off one by one? Put like that, it didn’t seem to be such a difficult question.
“The three people you have, then, I’d like to check them out.”
“We already checked,” Donald began but Stuart cut him off.
“It’s too late to do anything tonight. We’ll get you the information tomorrow.”
As Vicki had already been told, they’d attempted to deal with this themselves after Nadine’s twin had been shot. She wasn’t surprised that they’d done some checking. She wished they hadn’t; in her experience, amateurs only muddied the waters. “Did you find anything?”
Stuart sighed and ran both his hands back through his hair. “Only what we already knew; Dr. Dixon is a very old man who hasn’t betrayed us in over forty years and isn’t likely to start now. Arthur Fortrin went north at the end of July and won’t be back until Labor Day weekend. And Colin’s partner, Barry, had both the skill and the opportunity.”
Vicki tapped her pen against the paper. “That doesn’t look good for Barry.”
“No,” Stuart agreed. “It doesn’t.”
“Hey, Colin! Wait a minute. . . .”
Colin sighed and leaned against the open door of the truck. There really wasn’t anything else he could do; leaping inside and roaring off in a cloud of exhaust fumes would certainly not make things any better. He watched his partner cross the dark parking lot, weaving his way around the scattered cars belonging to the midnight shift, brows drawn down into a deep vee, looking very much like a man who wanted some answers. Exactly the situation Colin had been trying to avoid.
“What is with you, Heerkens?” Barry Wu rocked to a halt and glared. A line of water dribbled down his face from his wet hair and he swiped at it angrily. “First you act like a grade A asshole all shift, then you slink out while I’m in the shower without so much as a ‘See you tomorrow,’ or a ‘Go fuck yourself.’ ”
“You’re my partner, Barry, you’re not my mate.” As an attempt to lighten the mood, it was a dismal failure; Colin could still smell the anger. He did his best not to react to it, catching the growl in his throat before it rose to an audible level.
“That’s right, your partner—let’s set aside the fact I thought I was your friend—and as your partner I have a right to know what it is that’s got you tied in knots.”
“It’s pack business. . . .”
“Bullshit! When it affects your job—our job—like it did tonight, it’s my business! Three to eleven shift has enough problems without you and your attitude adding to them.”
All right. If you really want to know, we think you’ve murdered two of my family. Except Colin didn’t think it, couldn’t think it, had to think it. He’d searched Barry’s locker, the trunk of his car, even quickly searched his apartment one evening when they went back there for a few beers after work. Nothing beyond the rifles the pack already knew he had. No indication that he’d been casting silver bullets. Nor had his scent been anywhere in the woods. If Barry was responsible for the two deaths, he wasn’t leaving evidence lying around. If he wasn’t responsible, Colin had found nothing that could clear him.
Colin wanted to confront him. The pack leader had refused to allow it. Torn between pack law and this newer loyalty, Colin had almost reached the point where he couldn’t stand it any longer.
He swung up into the truck and slammed the door. “Look” he snarled, “I want to tell you but I can’t. Just leave it!” Slamming the truck into gear, he screeched out of the parking lot, knowing full well Barry wouldn’t leave it. He’d worry at it and tear at it like Shadow with a slipper until he had it in pieces and could see what it was made of. Colin wasn’t looking forward to going to work tomorrow night.
Still, tomorrow night was a long time away and maybe this hotshot Toronto PI Henry Fitzroy had convinced the pack to hire could turn something up.
“When I get out of the city,” he told his reflection in the rearview mirror, “I’m going to have a good long howl. I deserve it.”
He watched Colin return home, bad mood obvious even through the scope. Finger resting lightly on the trigger, he tracked him from the truck to the house but, although he had a clear line of sight, he couldn’t apply the necessary pressure. He told himself it was too dangerous—there were too many others too close—but in his heart he knew it was the uniform. Colin would have to die in his other form.
Shadows moved against the windows, then the kitchen light went off and the farmhouse stood in darkness. Fire would take care of the lot of them, but he doubted he could get close enough to set it.
Staying carefully downwind, he worked his way back to the road and his car, old skills put to new uses. Although tonight’s reconnaissance had brought him little new information and no chance of making a kill, his penetration so close to their home had convinced him it would only be a matter of time before he won.
There were, however, the visitors to consider.
Until he found out who, and what, they were, he would not act against them. He would not have the murder of innocents on his conscience.
Henry stood by the bed and watched Vicki sleep. She had one arm thrown up over her head, the other across her stomach. The sheet, like the darkness, did little to hide her from his sight. He watched her breathe, listened to the rhythm of her heart, followed the path of her blood as it pulsed at wrist and throat. Even asleep, her life was like a beacon in the room.
He could feel his hunger growing.
Should he wake her?
She slept with the corners of her mouth curved slightly upward, as though she knew a pleasant secret.
No. There had been
enough strangeness for her to deal with for one night. He could wait.
Lightly, very lightly, he drew his finger along the soft skin of her inner arm and whispered, “Tomorrow.”
For the first moment after waking, Vicki had no idea where she was. Sunlight painted molten gold across the inside of her lids and, as pretty as it looked, it shouldn’t be there. Her bedroom window faced a narrow alley and across that another bedroom window so, even if she’d left the curtains open, which she never did, it couldn’t possibly be this light.
Then she remembered and opened her eyes. The ceiling was a blue blur with a yellow blur across it. Reaching out to the right, her fingers scuttled across the bedside table until they found her glasses. She settled them on her nose and the blurring vanished although the ceiling didn’t change significantly. It was still blue. The yellow was a slanting bar of sunlight streaming through the space between the thin cotton curtains. Her room, Sylvia’s old room, was obviously on the east side of the house. That settled, Vicki sat up.
The black shape stretched across the lower left corner of the bed gave her a second’s panic until she recognized Shadow. Sliding carefully out from under the sheet so as not to wake him, she was just about to stand when she noticed that the bedroom door was wide open and, given the angle of the bed, she’d be fully visible to anyone who walked by.
Fully visible.
Vicki hated wearing pajamas and although she’d brought a T-shirt to sleep in, it had been so hot she hadn’t bothered. She supposed she could handle Shadow—mostly because so far she’d avoided thinking of Daniel—but Shadow’s cousins or uncle or father—especially Shadow’s father—were another kettle of fish entirely and what’s more, she could smell coffee so she knew someone was up.
Well, I can’t stay in bed all day. . . . Girding her loins, metaphorically speaking, she dashed across the small section of open linoleum and eased the door closed. Shadow scrubbed at his muzzle with one oversized paw but didn’t wake. Feeling considerably more secure, Vicki got into a pair of clean underwear and began to hook on her bra. She’d have to have a word with Sha . . . Daniel when he woke up as she knew she’d closed the door last night.
The door opened.
Jennifer, or maybe Marie, came into the room.
It didn’t really help that of the two, Vicki was wearing more clothing.
“Hi. Mom sent me up to see if you were awake. Like it’s really early still but Aunt Sylvia always said the sun in this room was like an alarm clock. You coming right down?”
“Uh, yes.”
“Good.” She shook her head at the bra. “Boy am I glad I’ll never need one of those things.” Glancing around, she sighed volubly. “So that’s where the runt got to. If he bugs you just throw him out.”
“I’ll, uh, do that.”
Vicki pushed the door closed again as soon as the bushy tail of the long legged, half-grown wer had cleared the threshold.
Something Henry had said last night as they walked up the stairs together now made sense.
“Inside the pack, the wer have no sense of personal privacy.”
She got dressed in record time and decided to skip having a shower. After her father left when she was ten, it had been just her and her mother. With the exception of a year in university residence when she didn’t have a choice, she’d lived alone all her adult life. Something told her that all this family togetherness she found herself in the midst of was going to wear thin pretty quickly. . . .
Elbows on the kitchen table, sipping at cup of very good coffee, Vicki tried to look as though a half-naked woman joined her for breakfast every morning.
“The vinyl seats stick,” Nadine had explained as she sat, smoothing her cotton skirt. It had been wrapped so that a single tug would release it.
Apparently Stuart’s decision the night before to leave off the despised sweatpants had given the rest of the family the opportunity to dress as they chose. Or not. Given that the heat had already left a damp vee down the back of Vicki’s T-shirt, she supposed the “or not” wasn’t such a bad idea. She couldn’t help but notice the various items of clothing scattered all over the house, ready to be pulled on if an outsider arrived. “Although if it’s someone we don’t want to see, ” Nadine had confirmed, “we just stay in fur-form and ignore them. ” Considering the size of the fur-forms, Vicki was willing to bet the wer had no trouble with trespassers.
From where she sat, Vicki could see out the largest of the three kitchen windows. The view included a scruffy expanse of lawn, a weathered building with a slight list to the west that appeared to be a garage, and beyond that, the barnyard. Cloud and Storm were stretched out under the huge willow tree in the center of the lawn. As Vicki watched, Storm lifted his head and yawned. He got slowly to his feet, stretched, and had a vigorous shake, dark russet fur rippling with highlights in the early morning sun. He sniffed at Cloud who ignored him. Dropping into a half crouch, he pushed his muzzle under her jaw and lifted. Her head rose about six inches off the ground and then dropped. She continued to ignore him. He did it again. The third time, Cloud twisted, changed, and Rose grabbed his muzzle with both hands.
“We’re at the end of a very long lane.” Nadine anticipated Vicki’s question. “You can’t actually see the house from the road and, with the exception of mail delivery, almost no one uses the road but us.”
Out on the lawn, Cloud chased her brother twice around the tree and out of sight.
The sound of claws on linoleum shifted Vicki’s attention back into the house but it was only Shadow coming down the stairs and into the kitchen. He sat in front of the refrigerator, had a quick scratch, then changed so he could open the door.
“Ma, there’s nothing to eat.”
“Don’t stand with the fridge door open, Daniel.”
He sighed but obediently closed it and Vicki marveled at how universal some things could be . . .
“If you’re hungry why don’t you go out to the barn and hunt rats?”
. . . and how universal some things were not. Daniel sighed again and dragged himself over to lean against his mother’s shoulder. “Don’t know as I’m hungry for rats.”
Nadine smiled, brushing the hair back off his forehead. “If you catch one and you don’t want to eat it, you can bring it to me.”
This apparently solved all problems because it was Shadow who put both front paws up on Nadine’s lap and swiped at her face with his tongue before bounding outside. The screen door, Vicki saw, had been hung so that it swung freely in both directions with no latch to prevent a nose or a paw from pushing it open.
“They grow up so fast,” Nadine said reflectively, snatching a fly out of the air.
For one horrified moment, with the rats still causing her a little trouble, Vicki was afraid Nadine was going to eat it but the older woman only crushed it and threw it to the floor. All things considered, lousy housekeeping was much easier to deal with. Vicki brushed a fly off the edge of her own mug and tried very hard to be open-minded. Rats. Right. If I don’t eat until sundown maybe Henry’ll take me to MacDonalds.
“Cloud comes into her first heat this fall,” Nadine continued in the same tone, wiping her hand against the fabric of her skirt, “so pretty soon now, Peter’ll be leaving.”
“Leaving?” Back on the lawn, Shadow was stalking the waving plume of Storm’s tail.
“It’s too risky to have him stay. We’ll probably send him away in early September.”
“But . . .”
“When Cloud goes into heat, Storm’ll go crazy trying to get to her. Better for all concerned if the males are far away when their littermates—their twins—ma—ture.” Her voice shook a little as she added, “The bonds between twins are very strong with our kind.”
“Rose said something similar.” Vicki traced the pattern on her mug with the tip of one finger, unsure if she should say anything about Sylvia’s death. The pain shadowing Nadine’s eyes was so intensely personal, sympathy might be seen as an intrusion.
&nbs
p; Nadine’s nails tapped against the tabletop. “The wer see death as a natural result of life,” she said, reading Vicki’s hesitation. “Our mourning is specific and soon over. Jason was my brother and I miss him, but with the loss of my twin, I feel as though I’ve lost a part of myself.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t. You can’t.” Then Nadine’s voice twisted into a snarl and her lips lifted off her teeth. “When you have found this animal with a coward’s weapon, he will pay for the pain he has caused.”
It was so easy, Vicki realized, to forget why she was here; to get caught up in the strangeness and lose sight of the fact that two people had been murdered. So some aspects of the case were a little unusual. So what. She put down her mug, unaware her expression almost exactly mirrored Nadine’s. “I’d better get started.”
Five
“Why can’t I come?” Daniel scowled fiercely up at Peter. “You always took me with you when you went places before.”
“It’s too dangerous.” Peter shimmied the track shorts up over his hips. Vicki tried not to watch and wasn’t significantly successful at it. “What if the human who shot Silver and Ebon is out there?”
Lips pulled back off small, pointed teeth. “I’d bite him!”
“He’d shoot you. You’re not coming.”
“But Peter. . . .”
“No.”
“Cloud?”
She growled, her meaning plain.
“Okay, fine.” Daniel threw himself down onto the grass. “But if you get in trouble out there, don’t go howling for me.” He thrust his chin into his cupped hands and only glowered when Cloud gave him a couple of quick licks as she went by.
Vicki fell into step beside Peter and the three of them headed for the nearly overgrown lane behind the barn.
“Hey, Peter!”
Peter turned.
“Ei kee ayaki awro!” The words rose and fell in a singsong cadence, practically dripping with six-year-old indignation.